by Annie Dean
She thought about that for a minute and grinned. “That'd be funny as hell."
"Yeah.” Lorene looked as if she'd discovered a cure for cancer, but her pleased expression dissolved into a yawn. “You mind if I take a nap? I had to cover midnights last night and I didn't get much sleep."
If she'd worked all night and then been back in the store by the time Addie called, she couldn't have. Addie felt a momentary twinge of remorse for having kidnapped her. But she needed an accomplice, not just for logistics, but for moral support too. There was no way she had the nerve to try this alone.
"No, sure don't. There's a blanket wadded up behind the seat, if you want to try to use it for a pillow. I know this isn't exactly an air mattress.” She winced as they went over a rut that made the whole truck rattle.
"I've slept worse places,” Lorene said simply.
And Addie knew that was true.
They got a few honks from semis on the way to LA, although whether that was because of the truck or the ladies in it, Addie couldn't say. Her friend dropped off right away and slept for over two hours while she watched the road and thought about what she was going to do. Maybe some people would say she shouldn't take the law into her own hands, but they hadn't been screwed over by Fast Eddie.
Her ass felt numb by the time they hit LA and she pulled over once to check the map. She'd printed a sheet from Mapquest that gave very good directions to the slimeball's apartment building. Lorene stirred then, knuckling the sleep from her eyes.
"Hey, is that a plane?"
Addie glanced up at the white trail in the sky. “Yeah, I think LAX is around here somewhere. Now we just have to find Eddie."
"Can we get tacos first?"
"Huh?"
"We can't go out to eat after we beat a guy up and steal his stuff,” Lorene said reasonably. “And there's a great place near the airport. I could really go for some Tito's right now. Did you bring any cash?"
"I bought gas and Ding-Dongs!"
Lorene turned her face skyward again. “Fine,” she muttered, after a long moment of silently asking God why. “I'll buy the tacos. It's over on Washington Place. But if we ever go beat up one of my exes, you're springing for dinner."
"Deal."
They had to ask for directions at a gas station, but shortly thereafter, they took the 405 to the Venice exit and found themselves parking on the street. The line seemed to bear out Lorene's claim that the food was great, but the service came fast, so they tipped the counter girl. Once Addie took a bite of her juicy, shredded beef taco, she closed her eyes in bliss. Not even her own mama's tasted this good.
"We should get some to go,” her friend said, crunching a homemade chip. The salsa was fantastic too. Not much ambiance, but who cared?
"Are you sure you're not just trying to stall me, hoping I'll chicken out? Or are you eating for two?"
"God, I hope not.” Lorene looked genuinely appalled.
Addie polished off a third taco. “Then it's show time."
Chapter Eleven
Sean liked to cook.
That was just as well because he did the bulk of it at home. His wife could actually burn water when she got in the kitchen; before they got married, he hadn't known that was possible, but she took pride in it. Her mother was old school, a June Cleaver type who had fresh cookies in the oven each afternoon and probably vacuumed in her pearls.
So Cami had gone the other way, but he'd always been proud of her professional achievements. To his mind, cooking had nothing to do with sexism, however. It had to do with wanting to eat. But he understood her feeling on it because her dad was old school too; he expected a pot roast, vegetables and a homemade dessert on the table, every night at six, or there would be hell to pay.
It worked out well enough because he enjoyed the sense of creating a delicious dish out of disparate parts: chop this, slice that, sauté something else, and pretty soon you had something fabulous. At least, that was the result most of the time, although he'd had some pretty spectacular failures in his day.
As he scraped the tomatoes into the sauce pan, he remembered the time Cami had invited her boss to dinner. The man had been talking about missing his grandma's chicken and dumplings, so Sean gamely tried out an ‘authentic southern’ recipe, but he got distracted and wound up with what could most kindly be called chicken pudding. In a panic he'd ordered Chinese, which they served on their best china, but Cami was mad for a week after, having promised the man delicious traditional home-cooking.
Still, she got the promotion, so it hadn't worked out too badly. This sauce smelled good, the right amount of fresh basil, tomato, garlic, onion and green peppers. He lifted the wooden spoon to lips, tasting. Yeah, just right. Another half hour should do it.
Addie's kitchen made it obvious she took cooking seriously, and he understood how she stored her accoutrements instinctively. Usually there was some adjustment, making a meal in a strange place, but he'd been laying hands on pans, knives, and spices almost automatically. With a faint sigh, he realized he wanted to impress her.
So he took a look in the refrigerator and started assembling a cold cucumber salad to accompany the pasta, which he would toss with virgin olive oil and Parmesan cheese. She didn't have fresh on hand for him to grate, but he doubted anyone would complain. Once he finished the vegetables and put the dish away to chill, he glanced at the clock. Dinner time, pretty much. It occurred to him that this was, hands down, the weirdest vacation he'd ever taken.
He washed his hands and made his way to her room. Nobody had seen her all afternoon, and while he didn't want to borrow trouble, all his instincts insisted something was up. So when Sean tried the handle and found her room unlocked, he couldn't resist going inside.
Just to make sure she's all right, he told himself.
Her bedcovers were rumpled, as if she'd taken a nap, and her laptop sat open on the night table. Before he could let scruples get the best of him, he shut the door and went to take a look. The minute he touched it, though, the screensaver asked for a password.
He sighed and glanced around the room. Unlikely she was dumb enough to write it down somewhere—if she kept secrets that required security, she wouldn't be careless with the information. There was no telling how much time he had in here, though, so he began to search.
The only thing he discovered about her, though, was that she apparently had a real thing for panties: lace, satin, cotton, thongs, briefs, string bikinis. He only found three bras, so maybe she went without quite often. Her breasts were certainly pretty enough.
Thinking like that reduced him to pervert status, however, so he shut her underwear drawer and continued to look around. Finally, there was just the closet, so he pulled the double doors open and stood there in amazement. Now why would she hide a $500 combination printer/fax/copier in here? They had a similar model at the office, and unless he was mistaken, it scanned images too.
If he'd found a web cam, given all the sexy undies, he'd suspect Addie was into online performance porn, maybe operating a live cam site, but he just couldn't tie Cami to that, no matter what else he suspected. Frustrated, he gave the laptop a considering glance. People often picked names of pets, social security numbers or birthdays for passwords, but he didn't know any of that about Addie.
The pressing question then became: Where did she go? And why?
Sighing, he acknowledged there was nothing he could do in here and stepped into the hallway, where he found Manu waiting. The big man's brows shot up when he saw Sean coming out of her room by himself.
"What were you doing in there?” The mild tone didn't fool Sean; he'd never been closer to getting his ass kicked.
He decided to play it straight. “Looking for Addie. Dinner's done but I can't find her. Do you know where she went?"
Manu hesitated, and he could tell the exact moment when concern won out. “No. Let's go see if her truck's here."
He followed the Samoan, marveling at the way the man could walk over the gravel drive to
the garage in his bare feet without wincing. When Manu pushed the door up, the empty garage told a story they didn't necessarily want to hear. Sean sighed.
"The truck's the only vehicle between the three of you?"
For the space of a few heartbeats, Manu measured him with dark, somber eyes. “Now, yes. I don't go to town much and Lem doesn't drive anymore. The truck used to be his, but Addie started driving it when her car got repo'd."
God, he hated hearing that. The signs were all around him now that he was paying attention; there was a clear demarcation between the weathered façade and the new landscaping. This place had gone through rough times and then recently seen an infusion of money. But where was it coming from?
"What kind of car did she drive?” That probably wasn't anything he needed to know. The question just popped out as he followed Manu back to the house.
The other man glanced over his shoulder, obviously puzzled, but he answered, “Black Volkswagen convertible."
He could see her driving that, a cute, efficient ride. Oddly, he wondered how she'd feel about his black Mazda truck back home, not that she'd ever see it. “So you don't know where she's gone then?"
Manu shook his head. “Strange. She usually tells me her plans."
"She didn't mention anything to me either.” Realizing that sounded presumptuous, he added, “Not that she necessarily would have.” There was an awkward moment as they stood in the foyer. “Well, dinner's done. Should we wait?"
The other man smiled for the first time, and it lent his broad features a warmth Sean hadn't noticed before. “I'm not a fan of letting food get cold, as you can probably tell. I'll call Lem."
Strange didn't begin to describe the subsequent meal. Lem came up from the cellar and peered at Sean as he sat down. He seemed slightly interested in why someone else was serving dinner. “Did we hire you?"
"No, I'm just giving Addie a break."
Not that she's around to appreciate it. That pissed him off, more than a little bit. He hadn't spent the whole afternoon making homemade pasta sauce just to impress Manu and Lem. They were nice enough guys, sure, and they needed to eat, but they weren't the reason he'd gone to the trouble.
Lem twined the spaghetti around his fork with surprising grace and took a bite. “We should,” he said thoughtfully. “This is really good."
It took him a moment to realize Lem was still talking about hiring him. “Cooking is just a hobby, but thanks for the thought. Did Addie say anything to you about where she was going?"
Too late he noticed Manu shaking his head fiercely from across the table, but the damage was done. Lem laid down his fork, glancing between them with the air of a man coming up from underwater. “She's gone?"
"I'm sure it's nothing,” Manu said, glaring at Sean. “She probably just went to do some shopping."
"She wouldn't leave, would she?” The older man glanced around the kitchen, seeming to see its shabbiness for the first time. “I mean, I know she has a right, if she wants to ... but she wouldn't? She'd say goodbye at least?"
Sean winced, suddenly conscious of Lem's age. Addie's father didn't seem thin so much as frail, and the hands he folded before his dinner plate were seamed with spidery blue lines. He felt like an utter bastard.
What could he say? He didn't belong in the middle of this. Honestly, he had no idea whether she'd be back. He didn't even know her well enough to say if things were missing from her room. Manu probably did but this wasn't the time to suggest a search.
"I'm sure she'll be back soon.” Sean spoke the reassurance on automatic, aware for the first time just how much rested on Addie's shoulders here. “How's your work going, Mr. Buckley?"
"Lem,” the older man said, seeming to relax. “And it's going very well. I think I'm pretty close to a breakthrough. Maria would be proud of me."
"I bet she would,” he agreed.
Sean chanced a look at Manu, who no longer appeared to want to smash his face into the table. He didn't ask Lem for clarification. Maybe the Samoan would feel like answering some questions later.
They finished dinner and he dug up some cookies Addie had baked to round out the meal. Lem thanked him with a vague stare that said he was already thinking about whatever he was doing in the basement, and shortly thereafter he went back to it. The old man lived with a single-mindedness that was almost spooky.
To his surprise, Manu stayed to help him with the dishes. He thought there might be an admonishment coming but they worked in silence for about fifteen minutes before the other man said quietly, “We try not to worry Lem. He hasn't been all there since his wife died."
"Maria? Addie's mom?"
Manu nodded. “She was a great lady, always smiling. The Grail was her idea and for a while, it really thrived. It started to die, after she did."
His heart twisted, imagining Addie stepping into the breach, trying her best and feeling like nothing she did was ever enough. He didn't say anything, though, just continued to rub the sponge over the plate, long after it was clean. After a while, Manu plucked it from his hands and rinsed it.
"I don't mean to pry, but ... are you adopted? I mean..."
The Samoan's laugh rang out, the first time Sean had heard it, a jolly, booming sound. “There isn't much family resemblance, huh? No, I was married to her sister. I could have left after Mel died, but...” He shrugged. “I had nowhere else to go. And when you're unhappy, it's you, not the place. I'm glad I stayed. It would be lonely for Addie without me. Lem isn't much company."
"No, I imagine he isn't.” Ridiculously, the revelation stung him; he hadn't even known she had a sister, once. So much loss, no wonder he sometimes surprised sorrow in her eyes before she covered it with a smile or a joke. “But I guess she keeps busy with all the guests coming and going."
"All the guests,” the big man repeated. “Sure, she's working all the time."
Sean felt rather than saw the sharp look Manu bestowed on him and guessed that question qualified as prying. Still, he wasn't sorry he'd asked. Pieces were falling into place and the big picture had shifted closer to focus, but he was still missing something vital. When he had that last bit, he would understand everything and how it related to Cami as well.
But maybe that was a question he could ask. “Did she go to college?"
That earned him another look, this one searching. “No, she grew up here and then spent some time in the city, before coming home a few years ago.” The big man put down his dishcloth and folded his arms over his broad, brown chest. “You're asking an awful lot about her, Sean. Maybe it's time I ask some questions of you, huh?"
"Uh, sure.” Sean poured himself a cup of coffee and went back to the table, preparing himself mentally for what was sure to be a long siege.
Chapter Twelve
"You have the mace?” Addie wondered as they mounted the steps to Eddie's crappy apartment.
Well, to be fair, she hadn't actually seen the place; it might've been nice when he moved in, but there was no doubt his crapulence would've seeped into the walls and fixtures by now. The place was old, but fairly well-maintained, a white stucco building on a quiet street. She couldn't see Eddie living here long.
Lorene patted her purse. “Yeah, it's right on top. You sure you want to do this, though? We could go to Cheesecake Factory and then go home."
She glared over her shoulder. “I did not drive three hours for cheesecake. Besides, you already had tacos and Ding-Dongs. If you eat anything else, you'll get sick."
"Probably."
They stopped outside unit 2B. At the other end of the hall lay 2A, a stretch of speckled gray indoor-outdoor carpet between the two doors. Addie took a deep breath, aware of a sick sinking in her stomach. She hadn't seen Eddie in over a year, but adrenaline insisted this was the way to go. You couldn't reason with Eddie. He came from a world of fist and boot, and he only respected that kind of conversation.
When she married him, she thought she could heal him, the classic mistake where bad boys were concerned. Inst
ead, he'd come to believe he could get away with anything. Even if it didn't change him, he probably would've respected a kick to the head more.
Taking a deep breath, she pounded imperiously on the pressed wood and then hissed, “Get ready!"
"Yeah, yeah, keep your panties...” His words trailed off as he flung the door open, bare-chested and beautiful.
God, even though he was a total bastard, the sight of him still sent a shock through her. An indisputably mongrel lineage had produced Eddie Alger, a polyglot of Hispanic, Israeli and German ancestry contributed to the chiseled, gorgeous creature standing before her, gazing at her out of gunmetal eyes set in a dark, narrow face. The only thing that kept him off the cover of Abercrombie catalogues was his height, and like many short men, he felt like he had something to prove.
"Well, well,” he said with a smile that made her palm itch. “Look who missed me. And you brought Lorene to liven things up. Guess that means there are no hard feelings. How's Bette Boudreaux doing anyway?"
"Lorene!” Addie hissed, and her friend sprayed him full on in the face.
Eddie flinched and said, “What the fuck...?” Rubbing at his eyes.
She was no expert on mace, but the product guaranteed a stronger reaction, unless Eddie had been maced so often he was immune to it. Now that wouldn't surprise her at all, but the strong scent lingering in the hallway indicated that Lorene had just unleashed the awesome power of Peppermint Blast Binaca on her ex-husband. Well, shit. This wasn't going to end well.
Enough was enough. Addie gave him a hard shove, hoping Lorene had the presence of mind to follow as Eddie stumbled back a step. It was good he was small. This wouldn't work at all on Sean, for instance, not that she thought he'd ever need his ass kicked in such a way. There was a steady air about him.