I nodded. “You don’t recognize him?”
“My father and I aren’t close. We never have been,” she admitted, rubbing her arms like she was cold. “He has a lot of people who work for him.”
“I’m just throwing this out there, but I don’t trust the guy.”
She pinched her bottom lip. “My father does, but I get it. He’s a little eccentric.”
“He’s fucking weird.”
She nodded. “Let’s go check on her.”
“I’m going to check into this,” I promised.
Morgan tried to smile. “I certainly hope so.”
I held the door open for her and waited as she stepped back inside. “Why’d she pass out? She doesn’t seem like the type to swoon over bad news.”
“Oh, she isn’t. But she only ate a salad today and wouldn’t eat anything before the show.”
“Why the hell not?” I could feel my face get hot. Damn woman. She’d better not be starving herself!
Morgan giggled. “It’s not like that. She gets nervous and didn’t want to puke. And she made me promise to take her to Lyra’s for a giant cheeseburger afterward.”
That brought a smile to my face. “Got room for a couple more at your table?”
She snorted. “As long as you mean Dalton and not Archer, that’s fine.”
***
The next morning, Jennings’ background check was on my desk. I’d called in a favor. He was employed by Sinclare and had worked for him for the past eight years. Thirty-seven years old, lived alone, apartment in D.C., recent flights to New York, California, D.C., Chicago, Atlanta and Las Vegas.
What the hell was he doing there?
No siblings. Parents were dead. Owned a Cadillac Escalade, black. No priors. Nothing stood out. Jennings was boring as hell.
Dalton thought I was crazy, but he had my back. He combed through the details after I did. Nothing was there.
I told Willy about the situation and he promised to keep a close eye on “Miss Brooklyn”, as he called her. Morgan’s boyfriend, Shane, was livid. He was searching for a flight back home for both of the girls.
Morgan was cool with it, but Brooklyn refused to leave. “If he wants to find me, he will. What’s the point in running anymore?” The statement was true, but it also felt like she was giving up. She was just done. Brooklyn wanted it to end, one way or another. I knew she believed in Pinky and I knew I could protect her if I was able to stay by her side 24/7, but with my job, that would be impossible.
When I left this morning, Brooklyn was hauling a giant canvas outside. “I need to paint,” was all she said in explanation. I started her way to help carry the load, but she stopped me with a sharp sound; her eyes leaving no question about what it meant. She didn’t need help, or rather she didn’t want it. Either way, I stopped and ground my teeth in frustration. Sweet as the saccharine smile she gave me, she called out, “Have a good day, C!”
I turned and walked to my cruiser, slammed the door, and took off toward the station. From my cell, I texted Willy. Watch her today.
Will do, Boss Man.
“I can hear you moving around, Willy.”
He had watched me all morning, trying to be stealthy about it, but come on. My paintbrush flew across the canvas in streaks that matched the deep, angry red I’d mixed.
“Whatcha paintin’, Miss Brooklyn?”
I sighed. “Red.”
“Red?”
Nodding, I watched his bare feet walk toward me. “Just red. It’s how I feel today.”
“Can I say something?”
“Of course. You’re one of the best friends I have in this world, Willy.”
He smiled. Standing beside me, looking at Red, his eyes darted between it and me. “This is you, not how you’re feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, your life is a mess. I could see that you were good at what you do last night—the dancing and singing. But this is what you’d do if you could, right? You’d paint. Throw in what Boss Man told me about that stalker freak following you and running you off from home, and I’d say that you’re angry red. You’re mad about him, but you’re at a turning point in your life and you seem frustrated.”
Spot on, my friend. Spot on. “Is your name William?”
He smiled. “No. But they call me Willy because of the braid. I’ve had it since I was in my twenties, back when it was brown and not gray, but even back in the day, my friends called me Willy. Said I looked like Willy Nelson.”
I puffed out a laugh. “You sort of do.”
Willy beamed, nodded his head, and stood a bit taller. “I know. He was a good lookin’ man.”
Staring at Red, he tucked his hands behind his back.
“Boss Man—he likes you, ya know.”
I blinked a few times, surprised he was so blunt about that. “He’s still hung up on something or someone, though.”
“That’s his story to tell, but the longer you stay, the happier he gets. He’s been sad for a long time. Heartbreak will do that to a man. But I can see life in him again. You did that.”
Nudging him with my arm, I teased, “And here I thought you were after me, Will.”
He grinned. “Won’t say it didn’t cross my mind in the beginning, but seeing Colt get all frustrated with you, I knew there were real feelings beneath the surface there.”
“Dirty old man.”
“Manther,” he corrected, rocking onto his tiptoes and back to his heel.
“Dirty old manther.”
***
Three canvases later and I was spent. Morgan was inside Photoshopping when I came back inside. And believe me, with Morg, ‘Photoshopping’ was a verb.
She looked up and I saw the worry in her eyes. “Shane just called. He said Riley called and has new information. They’re on their way to the airport now. I hope you don’t mind houseguests.”
Palms flat against the counter, I exhaled loudly. “They don’t need to come here. I can take care of myself.” I turned around, the small of my back hitting the counter’s edge. “I do think you should go stay with your Dad for a few days, though.” Her Dad was a former United States Senator and a proud representative for the great state of Nevada. He was also an asshole. To lure in a known human trafficker, he offered Sin up on a plate to the sick bastard. Of course, in the end, Morgan ran and when she did, she smacked headlong into Shane. Shane fell for her immediately. He protected her, even from her own father. So I understood her reluctance to go anywhere near him. Asking him for help must have been difficult for her, but again, Shane was with her, standing by her side.
She shook her head. “I am not leaving you.”
“What about New York?” Her deadline was looming with the gallery. She would have to deliver the goods.
She swallowed. “I actually want you to come with me and I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Whatever it is, the answer is yes—as long as it’s not for me to come with you. I’m staying here.”
“If Riley stays with you, then maybe you don’t have to go with me this time. But someone is going to be here. Here, as in staying in the apartment with you, and it’s not going to be Archer. Colt doesn’t trust him and I trust Colt.”
“You trust Colt?”
“Absolutely. That boy has it bad. He’s just scared, Brook.”
Muttering under my breath, I shot back, “That makes two of us.”
“Anyway, the guys will be here this evening. They fly in to Dulles and will rent a car and drive in.”
“Two rentals? The charges have to be crazy at this point.”
She waved me off. “The company sponsors Shane,” she explained. “And about my favor. I was wondering if I could have the canvases you just painted. Please?”
“Why would you want three gigantic canvases?”
Morgan patted the seat beside her so I hefted myself over to her. My muscles were heavy and sore, but the couch cushion absorbed the shock of my derriere hitting it and bounced me up agai
n. She patted my leg. “I want them to be part of the exhibit. The photos are my work but they show you, the subject. So to show everyone that you truly are an amazing painter, why not add them to the exhibit and showcase your work as well?”
“Sure. You can do what you want with them.” I didn’t say that I couldn’t care less, because I couldn’t. But I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or be negative about her dream just because mine wasn’t working out.
“Are they dry?”
“They should be soon. It’s hot outside and the sun is sort of baking them—which isn’t great for the artwork, but I was just blowing off steam.”
Morgan picked at her fingers, which meant she wanted to ask me something else. “What is it?”
I laid my head on the back of the couch while I waited.
“Do you think Willy could drive me to the nearest UPS store in Colt’s truck? I can’t fit even one of those paintings in my car.”
I smiled and yelled for Willy. He hadn’t been far away all day and sure enough, he was at the front door in a heartbeat. Stepping inside, he ran up the steps. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Morgan needs some man muscle.”
He snickered. “Oh, yeah. You called the right guy.”
Being the amazing person he was, he agreed to help her, but not before making me promise to lock the door behind him, check the other locks, and not open them until he came back or Colt came over. He warned that he was texting him about the change in plans.
“It’s a forty minute drive round trip, Willy. I’m going to be fine.”
“You got Pinky handy?”
I sat up and raised my t-shirt so he could see the hidden holster and Pinky nestled safely inside the soft leather. Technically, it was illegal to conceal the weapon because you needed a permit for that around here, but technically I didn’t give a shit.
When they pulled the door closed behind them, I breathed, locked the deadbolt and started back up the steps.
Colt called. “Are you okay, B?”
“Helicopter Landlord.”
“What?”
“Have you heard of Helicopter Moms? They won’t let their kids more than three feet away from them. They hover. You’re like that with me. You’re my landlord, too. So…Helicopter Landlord.”
He huffed. “Is that all I am to you? Your landlord?”
“I don’t know what to think of you. One minute you’re like my best guy friend, the next you’re about to fuck me against your cruiser. One minute you’re scared, the next you’re confident. It’s maddening.”
“I’ll give you maddening,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah. Promises. Look, I’m going to go. Willy will be back soon, since they just left and it’s such a short drive, so I’m pretty sure you can go about your daily policing without worrying about ‘lil old me. ‘Kay?”
“Stubborn.”
“Hoverer.”
I disconnected the call first. Hah!
From a forgotten deer stand twenty feet up a tree in the wooded area across from Brooklyn’s townhouse, I waited all morning for that old man to go somewhere.
It was humid and hot. The binocular lenses kept fogging up and I repeatedly had to wipe them off with the fabric of my t-shirt. I had Morgan to thank for his departure, but wasn’t sure how long they would be gone.
Using the peg steps drilled into the tree trunk, I climbed down and rushed across the grassy field. Jogging up the steps to Brooklyn’s condo, I took a deep breath before knocking. Morgan told Brooklyn that Shane and Riley were on their way to Swift Rapids, and that they would be staying in Brooklyn’s condo. They would fill her head with more nonsense about her having a “stalker.”
I was no stalker. I loved her deeply.
Now, just to show her. And fast.
Colt’s old truck didn’t have air-conditioning, so it was au naturale with the windows down and the breeze in my hair. The vinyl seats were hot on my legs, but this would be so amazing! I just needed to make sure the paintings would arrive on time and unscathed. I reached down for my purse, hoping to text Geneva from the gallery to let her know they would be a part of the exhibit and were on their way. My hand came away empty. “Oh no! I forgot my purse. I hate to ask, but can we turn around, Willy?”
He smiled, the skin around his eyes wrinkling deeply. “Sure! Hold on tight.”
Willy did not drive like the stereotypical old man. In fact, I wondered if somehow he was Brooklyn’s long lost grandfather or something. He was hell on wheels. Waiting for traffic to pass, he slowed with his left blinker on and then gunned it. I think the old truck was on two wheels at one point. A quick glance into the truck bed and my heart calmed down. The paintings were secure.
The trip back home always seemed shorter than the trip leading away from it, and this was no exception, but I think Willy was nervous to leave Brooklyn on her own, even for a little while and I understood why. “Maybe we shouldn’t have left. I mean, do you think she’s okay?” A feeling of unease settled in my stomach. I couldn’t explain it and I couldn’t shake it.
As Willy pulled off the main two lane onto the freshly-paved road at the end of which the condos were situated, something dark streaked across the grass and hid in the bushes. “Was that a man?”
My hands shook. It was a man, dressed in dark clothes in the middle of a hot summer day. It was him—the bastard who was terrifying my best friend in the world. Willy eased the truck to a stop, careful not to let the brakes squeak. He put it in park and unbuckled his belt. “Listen to me,” he said sternly. “You slide over here, turn this truck around, and you go straight to the police station. I don’t have a phone and you don’t have yours either. Go find Colt. Don’t you dare come back unless he says it’s okay. I’ll take care of her. I promise.”
I nodded, a tear streaking down my face as I slid into the driver’s seat. Willy crept along the road, hiding among the landscaping, easing around each condo until he approached Brooklyn’s.
As quietly as possible, I turned the truck around and eased down the road. But when I hit the highway, I drove like Brooklyn and Willy combined. I flew.
The police station was a tiny building of painted white cinder block; non-descript. And thank the good Lord above, Colt’s cruiser was parked right in front of the door. I didn’t even bother to turn the truck off; I just put it in park and ran, leaving the door wide open.
When Colt saw me, he knew something was wrong. “What is it?”
“He’s at Brooklyn’s. Willy and I saw him sneaking around. We were going to the UPS store and I forgot my purse, and when we turned around we saw him running through the field and he’s there. He’s inside. Willy made me come get you!”
Grabbing my arms, he looked down at his radio. “You stay here, Morgan. Understand me?”
Colt released me and ran, radioing to Dalton as he rushed out the door.
When I heard the knock at the front door, I looked around. Morg’s purse was on the coffee table. I snatched it up, jogged down the stairs to the landing, and released the lock on the handle and the deadbolt. But it wasn’t Morgan standing outside, it was Archer. He looked…hot, but not in the yummy sort of way. Droplets of sweat clung to his hairline, occasionally dropping onto his neck and running down his skin.
“Archer?”
“You have to come with me, Brooklyn. There’s been a sighting. You’re in danger. He’s in town.”
My heart thundered. “Um, I have to get my shoes on.” Call it a gut feeling, the still, small voice, my conscience…but inside I was screaming. Archer looked frantic, his eyes darting around outside. Was he looking for him?
Was he out there?
I was in shorts and a Marilyn Monroe t-shirt. At break-neck speed, I pulled on a pair of socks and my tennis shoes. I brushed my hair back, tucked it beneath Colt’s SRPD ball cap, and grabbed my purse. With shaking fingers, I clipped my holster and Pinky onto my side, pulling the shirt down to cover her up.
Mentally, I tried to remember how to shoot.
Feet spread apart. Steady.
Safety off.
Arms raised.
Aim.
Breathe.
Fire.
Gun Down.
Safety On.
Feet spread apart. Steady.
Safety off.
Arms raised.
Aim.
Breathe.
Fire.
Gun Down.
Safety On.
Feet spread apart. Steady.
Safety off.
Arms raised.
Aim.
Breathe.
Fire.
“Are you ready?” Archer said from the doorway of my bedroom. I hadn’t heard him climb the steps. My skin hummed with nervous energy.
“Yeah. Where are we going? I don’t see a car out there.”
He smiled, again glancing behind him. “I came through the woods. I’m parked beneath some trees near the highway. We’ll have to run across. There’s a trail.”
I nodded, took a deep breath, and walked toward him.
When we reached the living room, Willy stood there with his fists balled like he was Muhammad Ali. “Jesus, Willy! You scared the crap out of me!”
He kept his eyes on Archer. “Sorry, Miss Brooklyn.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I saw someone skulking around outside and thought I’d make sure you were okay.”
“I am for now. Archer said that the stalker freak is in town. He’s going to get me out of here.”
Willy shook his head. “I think you should wait for Colt.”
“Is he on his way?”
Willy nodded, eyes trained on Archer.
“Fuck!” Archer roared from behind me, knocking me to the side. I tried to catch myself, but my left foot didn’t have anywhere to land. I was next to the staircase and the next thing I knew, I was falling, then landing, with a loud thud at the bottom of the steps. The cold tile floor broke my fall, but may also have broken my back, I decided.
Trying to sit up, a sharp pain came from my left shoulder and my head was splitting open. I was sure of it. It hurt so damn bad, radiating from the side of my head all the way around to the base of my skull.
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