She began to massage her forehead as she continued to pace. “I just wanted to chill. That’s why I moved to Tallinn. That’s why I came back here. I’m sick of all this damn drama. I hate it. I never signed up for any of this. Now Cash . . .”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something move. I realized it was Zane. I couldn’t tell what he was doing. Suddenly, the car luched forward. In an instant, they turned their attention to him. Zane slammed on the brakes when one of the men jumped in front of the car. Distracted, he didn’t noticed the other man rush to his side of the car and open the door until it was too late. Before I could blink, Natalie’s friends had pulled Zane out of the car. The taller man was stronger than I imagined. He twisted Zane’s arms behind his back. Despite the size difference, Zane was unable to break free. The shorter man searched his pockets.
He removed a cell phone, wallet and the revolver. He flipped through the wallet. Credit cards, coins, and cash rained onto the concrete at varying intervals. After opening every fold of the wallet, he extracted a card. Glancing up from the card, he took the gun. He struck Zane in the face. He then waved the card at Natalie. He began to cry out in his native language. She grabbed the card. She glanced at it, then me.
“D.E.A?” She waved the card. “D.E.A!”
I blinked.
“D.E.A.” She threw it at me, a disgusted look on her face.
Cautiously, I bent down to retrieve it. I made sure to keep my eyes trained on them. As soon as I was upright, I glanced down. In my hands was a business card. On the left side was an embossed blue and gold image of an eagle on top of a circular cross with U.S. Special Agent in the center. To the right, the contact information for a Zane Matthews, Investigator.
27
“You have got to be kidding me.” I shook my head.
Zane stared past us. His expression was unreadable. A trail of blood trickled from his nose down his lips. A reddish bruise was beginning to form on his left cheek.
“God, all I wanted was a break!” Natalie wailed.
The shorter man began speaking to her with a frantic tone. She replied with increasing agitation.
I couldn’t help keeping my eyes trained on the gun.
“Um, Nat?”
I knew I was taking a chance interrupting her. Never in my life would I have imagined Natalie Weisman would be anything other than a carefree spirit with a mild disdain for her serial stepmothers. She was always the fun friend. The one who took chances but made danger exciting. The one whose disregard for conventions I secretly envied. That was not who I was looking at. The woman before me was someone completely different.
I had no idea who she was. I had no idea what was going on. And I had no idea what was going to happen. All I knew was the jerk who had been harassing me all night was in fact a government agent. It explained his continued presence. I still didn’t know how everything fit together, but I knew one other frightening fact. Some creepy-looking foreign slug had his gun. Natalie glared at me.
“Um, what is this?”
She just stared.
Feeling a little braver, I continued, “What’s going on? I mean, last night you disappeared. When I went to look for you, you were gone. Then Cash was shot. I thought you were kidnapped.”
She laughed. “Kidnapped? These two? Please.”
“Okay,” I said. “So, what’s going on?”
“What’s going on is I married an obnoxious piece of crap who doesn’t know how to back off. I don’t have an issue with drugs. But I draw the line at trafficking.”
The knot in my stomach tightened. “Trafficking?”
“Yeah.” She glared at the two men. The taller one continued to maintain his hold on Zane.
“Um, Nat, still kinda at a loss here.” I glanced at the cargo container behind her. Her father’s face flashed across my mind. “Are you smuggling drugs?”
“Come on, Jordan.” She rolled her eyes. “You really think I’m dumb enough to try something like that? Here?”
Again, I thought of her father.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “So . . . what? You smuggled drugs over there?”
“I haven’t smuggled anything.”
“Her husband did,” Zane replied.
Natalie glared at him.
“Am I wrong?” he challenged.
She didn’t reply.
“Taavi Tiitus has been in and out of jail on drug charges for years. He’s part on an elaborate network that's been moving drugs from Eastern Europe into the United States. And he had Princess here do a test run in time for Christmas.”
Natalie scowled before turning her attention to me. “Seriously? I can’t believe you hooked up with this guy. I mean, what the hell, Jordan? All the guys in New Orleans. You picked him?”
I raised my hands defensively. “Whoa. Uh-uh. I didn’t pick him. I don’t even know him.” She shot me a dubious look, her eyebrow raised. “You left me. Next thing I know, you’re gone. I was worried about you!”
“Sorry, Mom,” she mocked.
“That’s not funny.”
“All I wanted to do was have a good time,” she said with a shrug. “I thought you got that. Didn’t know I was supposed to babysit you.”
Zane lunged forward in an attempt to break free. The taller man flew forward, still holding on tight. His accomplice once again struck Zane's face with the gun. Grunting, Zane spit blood at him.
The shorter man glared at Natalie and said something.
“I didn’t sign up for this.” Natalie shook her head in response. “This is on you. You and Taavi.”
The taller man, struggling to maintain his grasp, snapped at Natalie in what I assumed was the native language of Estonia. The shorter one began to wave the gun in her direction. She glared at them both. She grabbed the gun.
“That has nothing to do with me,” Natalie snapped, using the weapon’s barrel to accentuate each word. Pausing, she said something else I could not understand. They continued to argue. She pointed the gun at me. “Right?”
“Huh?” I jumped back. The sight of a loaded weapon aimed at me left my heart racing. A cold sweat enveloped me. My eyes shifted from Natalie to the men to Zane and finally, back to the gun. “What?”
“You’ll back me up. Say they kidnapped me. They shot Cash. I had nothing to do with this.”
My throat was dry. “I . . . uh . . .”
“You’re not gonna walk away from this.” Zane stared at her. His jaw was purple and puffy. He didn’t appear intimidated by having his weapon trained on him. “The drugs. Those girls. Your husband. Your father—”
“I had nothing to do with those girls! Nothing. I left!” Her eyes narrowed. She glared at Zane suspiciously, waving the gun. “What about my dad?”
Zane glanced at me.
“What about my dad?” Natalie demanded, her eyes, and gun, trained on me. I stood there, frozen with fear. My mind flashed back to London. All I saw was that gun . . .
I held up my hands. “Wait,” I had pleaded with Oliver. “We can work this out. Please, give me some more time.”
Oliver stared at me with dead eyes. “Time’s up,” he had replied as his finger slid in front of the trigger. “You could only save one and you didn’t choose.”
BANG, BANG! BANG!
“Jordan!” Natalie’s words pulled me back to the present. My shoulder throbbed at the memory. “Dammit, someone better say something fast. What about my dad?”
“You didn’t know daddy was working with your husband, too?” Zane cracked. “There’s a marriage based on trust.”
The shorter man whipped around. He punched Zane as hard as he could. I heard the sound of bone meeting knuckle. Both men flinched.
Natalie returned her focus to me. “Jordan, we’ve known each other way too long for
this crap.” A frightened look clouded her light eyes. “Is my dad okay?”
I tried to ignore the gun. “Your dad’s fine.”
“Your stepmom’s been better,” Zane added.
His heartless comment filled me with a mixture of anger and nausea. I wished I could have been the one to give him that black eye. Natalie frowned, obviously confused. I swallowed hard and cautiously, touched her arm.
“Your stepmom . . . she . . . well . . . she’s dead.”
I don’t know how I expected her to react. Natalie had been indifferent at best, and often outwardly hostile, to her stepmothers. There were almost too many to count. And from my own personal experience with the late Mrs. Weisman, I myself had to struggle to feel any form of sorrow. After a moment of stunned silence, Natalie let out a laugh.
“Are you kidding?”
I shook my head.
Another laugh. “What’d she do, take one too many Xanax with her morning martinis?”
I winced at her callousness. “Something like that.”
“Saves my dad alimony.”
“So much compassion,” Zane marveled. “Considering your dad caused her death.”
“God, Jordan, I mean, seriously!” She paused, the anger returning. “D.E.A.!”
“Are you missing the fact she’s dead?” Zane called out.
“Natalie, your stepmom . . . she overdosed. She took something your dad had that, I think, he must have brought back with him from Belgium.”
She blinked.
“Did you know anything about that?”
She just stared at me.
“Um, look, Nat, I have no idea what’s going on,” I hesitated. “But your stepmom is dead. Cash is in the hospital. And your dad . . . do you know why he was over there?”
“A conference,” she replied, almost robotically.
“Right. You mentioned that.” I bit my lip. I looked around. “Nat, when you disappeared earlier . . . and being here now . . . what is this? What are you doing?”
Natalie didn’t reply. She stared past me, bored. I realized that she didn’t care. The moment brought me back to a similar incident in high school.
When my boyfriend, Greg Bell, dumped me, I was devastated. I wore the romantic blinders of a first love. I knew we were meant to be together. Nothing could break us apart. Except, of course, him.
Natalie was with me during that epic break up. How I managed to hold back tears, I still don’t know. But, being six months older than me, Natalie had gotten her license first. The drive home from school was agony.
“How could he do this?” I wailed. The tears found their way out by then.
“Guys suck.” She shrugged.
“Before the dance? I’ll never live this down.”
“Who cares?”
“I do. I love him.”
We drove the rest of the way with me silently crying. I could barely breathe. I was heartbroken. As soon as we got to my house, she dropped me off. No words of comfort. Didn’t ask if I needed anything. Just “Guys suck.”
Heather, on the other hand, had left school early that day for a dental appointment. As soon as I walked in the door, she was calling. Somehow, even in those days before social media when texting was in its infancy, she found out right away.
Within an hour of that call, she was at my house with a box of tissues, a pint of rocky road ice cream, and three of our favorite chick flicks. We stuffed our faces between the passing showers of my tears. She was there for me.
“Come on, Princess,” Zane quipped, pulling me back to the moment. He tightened his shoulders as he tried to break free from the tall man’s steel grip. “Your little friend here’s in denial. Why don’t you tell her? About the drugs? The girls? You’re the reason I was downtown last night.”
Natalie gave him an icy glare.
Her reaction seemed to amuse him.
“That’s right. Got word you were in the States. Believe it or not, we have been watching you.”
My head was swimming. “Nat?”
She shook her head. “All I wanted was to get away.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to sort it all out in jail,” Zane replied. “From what I saw at your house, we’re going to have enough to put you and your daddy away for a long time. Should’ve left your goodies in Amsterdam, Princess.”
The shorter man attempted to punch Zane again. This time, he caught both men off guard, ducking. His sudden movement resulted in the taller man lunging forward. The shorter man clocked the taller one in the nose, hard. He cried out. And let Zane go. Suddenly free, he grabbed the taller man by the shoulders. Using the man’s own momentum, Zane slammed him, head first, into the cargo container.
The sickening sound echoed and the taller man collapsed. At this, the shorter man rushed at Zane. Adjusting his stance, he grabbed the man and body slammed him. With both men down, Zane stood up. He glared at Natalie.
“Play time’s over, Princess.”
Natalie’s expression morphed from shock to rage in a matter of seconds.
Still stunned by it all, I stood next to her, motionless.
Then, before I could blink, she grabbed me. And pressed the gun’s barrel to my head.
28
“Sorry, Jordan,” she said with a sniff. “I’m not going to jail.”
“Man, you sure know how to pick ‘em.” Zane shook his head.
“Shut up!” we screamed in unison.
With his hands raised, Zane took a step closer. Then, another one. Crunch. Loose gravel crunched beneath his shoes. Crunch. Another step.
“I’m not going to jail,” she repeated, jamming the gun even harder against my throbbing temple.
“Not helping your case, Princess,” he replied. Crunch. “Why don’t you give me my gun? Then let’s have a nice chat.”
“Nat?” My heart was racing. My head, throbbing. “Nat?”
“Why the hell are you helping the D.E.A.?” she demanded, craning her neck to view me past the revolver. “I thought we were friends.”
“We are friends,” I agreed. My tongue felt like sandpaper. I tried to swallow. My throat remained dry. “But friends don’t hold guns to each other’s heads.”
“They also don’t rat each other out.”
“I swear, oh I swear, I didn’t rat you out. All I was trying to do was find you. I thought you were kidnapped.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed, nodding at the two, motionless men crumpled on the pavement. “Real intimidating kidnappers, Jamestown.”
“I was just looking for you,” I insisted. Zane watched us both. “He was helping me. I had no idea he was—”
“D.E.A.? So, the D.E.A. helped you find me. Why? Just to be nice?” She raised an eyebrow. “You do realize how unbelievable that sounds, right?”
“Yeah.” My heart was about to explode. “Looking at the current situation, I probably wouldn’t believe it either. But it’s the truth. I swear.”
“Your friend wasn’t helping me, Princess,” Zane chimed in. Crunch. He took another slow step forward. “She didn’t even want me around.”
“If you take one more step . . .”
“What?” Crunch. “What are you going to do? Shoot your friend? How’s that a threat to me?”
“Gee, thanks,” I barked.
“Your friend means nothing to me.” Crunch. Another small step. “Apparently, she means nothing to you. You, on the other hand, must mean something to her.”
Natalie stared at him. I stood as still as possible. I wouldn’t let myself believe that one of my oldest friends would shoot me in the head. Then again, I would never have thought she’d hold a gun to my head in the first place.
“She’s done more for you in a day than I’ve ever done for any friend in my life.”<
br />
“You’re a crappy friend.”
“Says the woman holding a gun to her friend’s head?” he retorted. “Look, Princess, you’re not a priority. Your hubby? Your daddy? Yes. You? You’re lagniappe.”
“My dad has nothing to do with this,” she snapped.
“Hate to burst your bubble, but he’s the reason we were tipped off about you. Your daddy may be a smuggler, but he’s no mastermind.”
“You’re full of crap. My dad has nothing to do with this.” Her voice began to rise.
“Nat, look, maybe—”
“Shut up, Jordan.” She jammed the barrel a little harder. In the distance, I heard what sounded like a train horn. “You have no idea what’s going on. Neither of you.”
“Enlighten us, Princess.”
“My dad has nothing to do with this,” she exclaimed. “Taavi . . . yeah. He’s crap. I left him. But my dad’s no criminal.”
“Such loyalty.” Zane sighed. “Look, I could give you all kinds of facts. Show you intel on the network. Proof of your hubby’s and daddy's connection to it. It’s bigger than you could imagine. But none of that matters right now. What matters is that you have a shipment that just arrived from overseas. I know that’s what’s in there.” He nodded at the cargo container. “And, considering it’s open, I really don’t need probable cause and a warrant to search its content.”
Silence.
“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” he continued. “You give me the gun. I pretend this little incident never happened. You can avoid a few extra federal charges. You come with me, peacefully. We have a nice chat about hubby and dear old dad. We call it a day. What do you say?”
I could not begin to imagine what must have been going through Natalie’s mind. Zane stood there, only a few yards away. Natalie remained silent. The gun remained pressed against my temple.
I’ve found myself in many difficult situations due to my chosen profession. Many times, a lead would take me down a path I would have never considered. I’ve always made it my practice to go with the flow, trust my instincts. But now? How do you trust your instincts when they put you, once again, in harm’s way?
Simple Misconception (Jordan James, PI Series) Page 23