by Rebecca York
They returned to the car and drove a few blocks.
“There used to be more pay phones,” she murmured.
“Yeah, before everyone had one in their pocket or purse.”
They finally found what they were looking for in the parking lot of a gas station, and Steve pulled in.
“Is there some way you can come up with a meeting place that only the two of you will know about?”
“Why?”
“In case her phone is tapped.”
Her head jerked toward him. “You think it would be?”
“I think we have to be prepared for something like that. I mean, why not if Warren sent cops to my mom’s?”
Leah closed her eyes and thought for a moment. “She and I came to a restaurant in Greek town for my birthday. I mean, we were with my parents. It was an unusual treat. She should remember that.”
“Okay.”
When she pressed between the plastic shields on either side of the phone, Steve came up right in back her. As she held the receiver to her ear, he brought his head close to hers and clasped his arm around her shoulder.
Her hand was shaking as she pushed the buttons on the keypad, then waited with her nerves jangling while the phone rang. Finally her friend picked up.
“Candy, this is Leah,” she said quickly, hearing the strained quality of her own voice.
“Leah, what’s wrong? You sound . . . strange.”
“Long story. I left Warren.”
“I know. He called looking for you.”
“What did you say?”
“That I hadn’t seen you, of course. Thank God you contacted me. What can I do to help?”
She fought tears when she heard the concerned tone of her friend’s voice. “I always acted like everything was okay with me and Warren, but things have been getting—bad.”
“Like how?”
“He started getting abusive.”
On the other end of the line, Candy drew in a quick breath. “Oh you poor thing. I’m so sorry.”
“He seems to be under a lot of pressure. I was hoping to lie low while I figured out my next move.”
“Are you with anyone?”
Leah glanced at Steve, and he shook his head. “No. There was nobody I could call. Then I got scared, and I was hoping you could help me.”
“Of course. You should come to my house.”
“No. I don’t think that’s safe. I think he has people looking for me.”
“Leah.”
“I know I sound paranoid, but I can’t help it,” she answered, considering telling Candy about the police showing up. But she knew that would only lead to a bunch of questions she wasn’t prepared to answer. “Do you remember my seventeenth birthday—with my parents?”
“Yes, of course it was . . .”
Leah cut her off before she could name the restaurant. “Don’t say it. I can meet you there.”
“Okay, good.”
“How soon can you get there?” Leah asked.
“I’m at the DC house. I can be there in a couple of hours.”
“Okay. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
She hung up and looked at Steve. “Was that okay?”
“Perfect, and we have time to get over there and make sure you’re not gonna get trapped.”
“It’s Candy.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
She took in the set of his jaw and wondered what he was planning, and wondered even more when they drove to an area that was more run down than Pig Town. As she looked around, she saw men standing on street corners making furtive transactions.
“They’re selling drugs?”
“Yeah.”
When Steve turned onto a narrow street that was little more than an alley, she gave him a questioning look.
“I need to make a stop.”
“For what?”
“A weapon.”
He pulled up in front of a shop with three gold balls painted over the door and a wide variety of merchandise displayed on shelves in the window—everything from what looked like diamond rings to Crock-pots and power tools.
“A pawn shop?”
“Yeah.” He hesitated, “I’d like to leave you in the car again, but this isn’t the greatest neighborhood.”
“I noticed.”
They both got out and walked quickly into the shop, which was packed with more of the items displayed in the window.
A short dark man with a fringe of hair at the sides of his head and a shiny bald scalp covering the rest looked up and focused on Steve.
“Outlaw?”
“Uh huh.”
“What you doin’ back in town? You come over to the dark side?”
“I’m in private security now, Davie, and I need a piece.”
The guy cocked his head to the side. “You ain’t got one?”
“I do, but it’s at home. Long story.”
“You want something that can’t be traced?”
“Right,” Steve agreed. The two men walked over to a case against the wall and entered into a complex negotiation that Leah couldn’t follow. But fifteen minutes later Steve had a handgun, a box of ammunition, and a light jacket.
“Aren’t you supposed to have a background check and a license?”
“Yup.”
“But you didn’t.”
Steve shrugged as he tossed the jacket in the backseat. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
She kept her gaze on him. “What was that business about a piece that couldn’t be traced?”
“Davie thinks I’m into something illegal.”
“And you are.”
“We’re going to come out smelling like orange blossoms.”
“Oh sure. Now you’ve got the cops after you—and you’re carrying an illegal gun. How much did it cost?”
“You don’t want to know.”
He used the GPS to navigate to the vicinity of the restaurant and drove around the area. It was much like what she remembered from the birthday visit, with Baltimore row houses plus restaurants, bakeries, coffee shops and small retail stores. But now there seemed to be as many Latino businesses as Greek. There was also a lot of new residential construction.
“Looks like a thriving neighborhood,” Steve commented.
“Yes. It’s hard to imagine you’re going to need a gun here.”
“Better safe than sorry.”
He drove past the restaurant, which was on a corner, then found a parking place a few doors down.
“Unfortunately, you have to go in alone,” he said.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll go around the back to the kitchen entrance. Once we’re both inside, I’ll keep you in sight.”
“Okay.”
“Try to get a table where you can have your back to the wall.”
“Like a Mafia don?”
“Yeah.”
Despite that last exchange, Leah told herself there was nothing to worry about when she got out of the car. However, as she walked back to the restaurant, she felt a shiver of apprehension.
But it was too late to back out now. When she stepped inside, she saw that the interior was much as she remembered it. The walls were painted to resemble the exterior of buildings on the Greek isles with white stucco and blue trim. The tablecloths were white, and the chairs were light-colored bentwood.
There were few diners in the middle of the afternoon. When a fifty-something waiter wearing a white shirt and black slacks approached, she said, “I’m meeting a friend. Could I have a cup of tea and a piece of baklava?” The sweet pastry of honey and ground nuts layered between leaves of phyllo dough was one of her favorites, but she wondered if she could choke any down this afternoon.
“Certainly.”
Following Steve’s directions, she found a table along the wall and glanced toward the back of the restaurant. When she saw the corridor was empty, she felt a dart of panic. Had something happened to Steve out on the street? Then she heard a door ope
n at the back of the restaurant, and he came striding down the hall, stopping just before the dining room.
She nodded at him in relief before he took several steps back, turning a corner where he couldn’t be seen from the eating area.
She thanked the waiter when he brought her order, then stirred milk and sugar into her tea.
Was Candy going to stand her up, she wondered as she broke off a piece of the baklava and forked it into her mouth, but she could hardly taste the familiar confection.
Leah had just taken a sip of tea when Candy came in, looking her preppy put-together best.
The petite brunette glanced around the dining room, spotted Leah and hurried across the room, her high heels clicking on the tile floor.
Wearing a slim sleeveless dress, she could have been on her way to a garden party—making Leah conscious that she was dressed in a rumpled shirt and slacks.
“There you are.”
Leah stood, and they hugged.
Candy gave her a critical inspection. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“You really scared me with that call.”
“I scared myself. I mean, I had to take off. Then I didn’t know where to go from there.”
“What happened?” her friend asked in a sympathetic voice as she joined Leah at the table.
“Life with Warren has been getting—rough. He hit me a couple of times.”
The other woman shifted in her seat. “Why?”
“I’m not even sure. I didn’t have to do much to set him off.
Candy reached over and laid a comforting hand on Leah. “Oh you poor thing. What are you going to do?”
Leah closed her eyes for a moment, fighting tears. Her friend’s support meant a lot. “I thought I could stay with you while I figured it out.”
“Of course. That’s a good idea. Let’s get out of here now.”
Leah glanced toward the back of the restaurant, but Steve had vanished. Should she get up and go out front without him?
“Come on,” Candy urged, standing up.
Leah pushed back her chair uncertainly. This wasn’t going exactly the way she’d expected. Candy was rushing her, but maybe she was thinking it was best for Leah to get out of sight quickly.
“Probably you’re short of cash.”
“Uh huh.”
Her friend put some money on the table, then took her arm and led her toward the door. Again she glanced back to where Steve had been but didn’t see him.
Candy propelled her toward the entrance. Taken by surprise, she followed along.
As they stepped outside, two large, rough men converged on them, one from either side of the door. Leah didn’t recognize them, but she knew the type—men Warren hired for guard duty.
Chapter Nine
A look of triumph on her face, Candy ducked out of the way as the men closed in on Leah.
“Candy?”
“Warren’s been frantic. Thanks for letting me know where you were.”
Leah fought the sick feeling rising in her throat. She’d been so willing to trust her oldest friend. Now that looked like a bad miscalculation. “What are you doing?”
The woman who was supposed to be her friend raised her chin. “Bringing you back where you belong.”
“Why?”
“Because it was naughty of you to run away like that,” she said in a voice that reminded her of the honey in the baklava—with flies stuck in the syrup.
One of the men stepped forward, hooked his arm around Leah’s and tugged. She looked wildly up and down the sunlit street. At this time in the afternoon, she saw no one nearby. Would anyone hear if she screamed?
Knowing she was in a world of trouble if these guys brought her back to Warren, she pressed her feet against the sidewalk. For all the good that did. She could only slow her forward momentum as the man with his hand on her arm pulled her toward a car that stood at the curb.
“Come on,” the guy growled.
Leah stamped on his foot, and she was rewarded with a grunt of surprise. Too bad Leah wasn’t wearing Candy’s high heels so she could have done more damage.
“You little bitch,” he muttered as he shifted her in front of him where she had less chance of mounting another attack. The other guy opened the car door, and Leah reached for the metal frame, bracing her outstretched arms.
“Hold it right there,” a voice rang out.
Steve had come around the corner, the gun in his hand.
The two men and Candy froze.
Leah let go of the car, ducked under her captor’s arm and started toward Steve.
“Get her purse,” he said.
“What?”
“Candy’s purse.”
Leah pulled it from the brunette’s hand, resisting the impulse to kick her so-called friend in the butt, then moved to Steve’s side. “Walk back toward our car,” he said.
With her heart almost blocking her windpipe, she did as he asked, walking rapidly down the street, looking back to see that he was following, but walking backwards.
When they reached the car, he handed her the keys. “You drive. I’ll keep them covered.”
She slid behind the wheel and turned on the ignition, then waited for him to get into the passenger seat. When he was beside her, he rolled down the window, pointing the gun back toward the trio on the sidewalk.
“Go.”
She pulled away from the curb and headed down the block.
“Take the first right, then the next right, then a left.”
She did as he asked, gripping the wheel to keep her hands from shaking.
“How, how did you get there so fast?” she asked.
“I slipped out and came around to the front entrance. I saw Candy come in and those guys take up positions near the door.
“Thank God.” She kept driving. “Now what should I do?”
He looked around the residential neighborhood of row houses. “Pull over.”
When she did, he waited a moment to make sure the bad guys weren’t in sight, then asked her to switch places with him.
oOo
Behind the wheel again, Steve glanced at Leah, who looked pale and shaken. He wanted to take her in his arms and reassure her that she was safe, but this was no time to let down his guard. Instead, he drove back to the bar where they’d been hiding out.
After collecting their luggage from the trunk, he led her up the stairs to their room. As soon as the door closed behind them, she reached for him, and he felt her shaking as he folded her close.
“I thought Candy was my friend,” she said in a broken voice. “My last real friend.”
“Obviously, that’s what she wanted you to think. Or it could be that Warren has some hold on her.”
“Maybe,” she whispered.
Steve ached to keep holding her, but he knew that they didn’t have a lot of time to figure out their next moves. Which meant he had to take the shortcut route.
“I think I can find out,” he said, hating that he had only one option if he wanted information quickly. When she gave him a questioning look, he went on. “You remember the way I saw that Warren was abusing you?”
“Because you wrapped your hand around something of mine that was important to me. My locket.”
“Yeah.” He clenched his teeth, then fought to relax his jaw. “I’m sure there’s something in Candy’s purse that will be similar. But . . .”
“What?”
“I don’t usually do this in front of anyone else. Well, I never do it in front of anyone else,” he amended.
“Why not?”
“You saw the tail end of it when you came back from the bathroom. I’m probably going to look like I’m having a seizure.”
She kept her gaze steady. “I could leave.”
“No,” he answered immediately. “I don’t want you on your own—especially when I’m out of commission.”
Without getting into further discussion, he went into the bathroom and returned with a towel, which he wra
pped around the purse. Then he straightened the covers, plumped up one of the limp pillows and lay down on the bed.
Leah sat down beside him. He glanced at her, then at the little package he’d set on his stomach. Anticipation mixed with trepidation as he pushed aside the towel and reached inside the purse.
At first nothing happened as he moved his fingers through the objects inside—feeling a lipstick, an emery board, a comb. Then his hand brushed against a folded rectangle, her wallet. As he made contact with the leather, he was instantly somewhere else—somewhere he’d rather not be. Like the last time he’d done this, he was in an upscale bedroom, but this time it looked like a hotel room. Candy and Warren were standing beside a bed, passionately kissing while he lowered the zipper at the back of her dress, and she kneaded her fingers into his butt.
It was like watching a scene from a porn movie, a parody of a warm and loving relationship.
Disgusted, Steve tried to pull away. For a few seconds the ugly scene kept its claws in him, and he was forced to watch the torrid action until he could wrench himself away. When his eyes blinked open, he was back in the downscale bedroom, breathing hard. Leah was leaning over him, her eyes filled with concern and her hand on his arm.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yeah. What did I look like?”
“Like you were seeing something that made you sick, and you were trying to get away.”
“That’s a good description.”
She waited for him to continue, and he knew there was no easy way to tell her what he’d seen, so he simply blurted out, “Candy and Warren are having an affair.”
She caught her breath. “How do you know?”
“I saw them in a bedroom.”
“Not my bedroom,” she said immediately. “I mean, how could they? I never get out of the house.”
“Maybe a hotel.”
“What was she wearing?”
“A long green dress.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Khaki slacks. A light blue knit shirt.”
Her gaze turned inward. “I remember when he put on that outfit. He said he was going to a business meeting.”
Steve reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”