Dangerous Comforts (The Ruby Danger Series Book 3)

by Rickie Blair

  Ruby tried not to raise her eyebrows.

  “Thanks for your help, I appreciate it.” She slipped the paper into her purse. “Listen, I don’t suppose you could take care of—”

  “That yappy little dog? Not a chance.” She pushed the door open and held it as Ruby walked through. Ruby turned on the stoop to ask one more question, but the door had already closed. She thought about pushing the bell so she could hear Blue Danube again, but decided against it.

  Back in the car, she held the yellowing paper in one hand while tapping Norris’s number into her cellphone. A mechanical voice answered.

  ‘The number you have dialed is not in service.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Zeke Turner leaned back in his chair and gazed with satisfaction at the bank account displayed on Big Blue’s screen. His new scheme was working perfectly. He had more than enough money to leave town. Best of all, there had been no blowback from Luca even though Zeke’s deadline had expired over twenty-four hours ago. Drumming his fingers on the desk, he glanced at the front door. It was odd that he hadn’t heard from Luca, but his thugs probably had better things to do on a Friday night.

  His clothes were jammed into a single duffel bag by the door, ready to go. Big Blue was not yet packed, though. That would have to wait until the last minute. Meanwhile—he cracked his knuckles and let his hands hover over the keyboard—Luca would have to find another patsy. Zeke Turner was running his own show now.

  His stomach rumbled as he glanced at the clock on Big Blue’s screen. Not enough time for a pizza delivery. He got up to open cupboards at random until he found a half-empty box of Bugles. He popped a corn chip into his mouth and tentatively munched. A little stale, but better than nothing. Tucking the box under his arm, he took a Red Bull from the fridge and snapped the can open while the fridge door swung closed behind him. He leaned against the counter, alternately pulling on the energy drink and tossing a Bugle into his mouth, to gaze at his one-room apartment for the last time. His new digs in Santa Monica would be much more impressive.

  Too bad he couldn’t take the wooden dining table that dominated the room. He would miss it. It was big enough to hold Big Blue, another smaller computer, five monitors, spare routers, his laptop, three external hard drives, and towering stacks of old computer CDs, with room to spare. The table was littered with tangled electrical cords, empty cans, crumpled tissues, electronic charging stations, pens, and cellophane-wrapped sticky note pads. Half a dozen action figures from his two favorite movies, Kill Bill and Kill Bill 2, were taped to the monitors and the tabletop was scored with round stains the exact size of Red Bull cans. Home sweet home.

  He would also miss the squishy leather sofa bed that faced his TV. Zeke kept wrinkled sheets, a blanket, and a pillow shoved between the sofa and the wall for easy access when he felt like stretching out. On the wall over the sofa hung a Japanese katana, like those wielded by the characters in Kill Bill, his favorite possession after Big Blue. The wall mount also supported the sword’s leather saya and strap. Not that Zeke carried the katana much. Its twenty-inch blade was razor sharp, though. He and the boys had taken it out last Halloween and sliced open jack ’o lanterns with it.

  Zeke winged the empty Bugles box into the recycling box by the door. Then he walked back into the living room and sat down at Big Blue. He had made enough money for one day. Time for a little action. He leaned over the keyboard, clicked on the Pokermania icon, and signed in. Then he did the same thing on two more monitors, at different poker sites. He drained the Red Bull can.

  Beep, beep. Two messages popped up.

  hey Melonball, wr have u been? ready to get ur ass kicked?

  And,

  ur going down, melonball!

  Zeke cracked his knuckles again and settled in. Soon he had three Texas Hold ’em games going simultaneously. He winced at the flop on the first, and on the second. What the hell, take a chance.

  all in.

  lose ur head, melonball? better chk ur ass!

  Cursing at the reveal, he tapped, getya on the next one. A few keystrokes cued up a new game, but there was nothing friendly about it. His opponents slammed out rapid-fire hands, using computerized algorithms to plot their moves. They knew their ROI per hand, and the number of hands they could play per hour. But to make the algorithms work, they had to play dozens of games. Hundreds of games was even better, and that took a lot of cash.

  Before long, Zeke’s newfound riches were tapped out.

  A flashing red light indicated he was down to zero. Shit. His fingers hovered over the keys, waiting for his nerves to settle. He shook it off, remembering the $45 in his PayPal account. After topping up his poker account with that, he started three new hands. He cleaned up on the first, then the second. Yes! He pumped his fist. The cards were finally going his way.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  Zeke jerked his head at the hammering on his door. Should he answer it? If some messy domestic dispute had spilled over from another unit, he didn’t want any part of it. Maybe if he ignored them, they’d go away. A tap of his foot flicked off the floor lamp and a swipe of his finger dimmed Big Blue’s screen to barely visible. He turned his head to the door, listening. His scalp prickled. It could be Luca’s thugs. But they wouldn’t come to his apartment door, where anyone could see them. They were more likely to ambush him outside. This was probably a neighbor.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  What if it was an emergency? What if someone was bleeding to death outside his door and he did nothing about it? How would he explain that? His hand closed around a metal flashlight, lying by the computer, as he slowly rose to his feet. After tiptoeing to the door, he peered through the peephole. It revealed an empty hall. Shit. Were they lying on the floor? His teeth chattered and he took a step back, staring at the door.

  Beep, beep. Messages popped up on Big Blue’s screen. Zeke scurried back to the table. A single click activated a macro key to send the pre-programmed message, sitting this one out. He clicked on the power saver and the screen went black.

  Zeke returned to the door and peered through the peephole again. Either his neighbors had already left, which meant he didn’t have to open the door at all, or they were injured and lying on the floor, which meant he did have to open it. Theoretically, anyway. Did Nevada have a Good Samaritan law? Could he be penalized for not helping someone in distress?

  Holding his breath, he put his ear to the door. Silence. Not even loud breathing. The hall must be empty. His heart hammered as he stood to one side, untwisted the dead bolt and cracked open the door with his foot. Hinges creaked as the door swung in. Light from the hallway spilled across the threshold.

  A gun-holding hand entered the room.

  Zeke’s heart stopped.

  An arm followed the gun and a heavyset man stepped across the threshold. Before he could turn his gaze to the right, Zeke swung the flashlight against his skull. It connected with a satisfying crunch. The intruder crashed into the floor, sliding headfirst across the hardwood floor. He lay still, the gun a few inches from his hand.

  The flashlight quivered in Zeke’s hand as he took a few steps nearer, holding his breath.

  The man groaned, pushed up from the floor and reached for the gun.

  Shit, shit, shit. Zeke’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t draw breath. Move. Sprinting across the room, he jumped onto the sofa bed and grabbed at the display rack above it. He swiveled, struggling to keep his footing on the squishy cushions. The man came at him, pointing the gun, his bulk blocking most of the light from the hallway. Zeke swung wildly in the gloom. A jolt ran up his forearms and elbows, followed by a strange gurgle. Warm liquid sprayed across his face, soaking his T-shirt.

  The darkened shape sank to his knees with a thud, his head slightly bent. His gun clattered onto the floor and slid into the strip of yellow cast by the light in the hall.

  Zeke looked down at the sword in his hand. Even in the gloom, the blade dripped black. With the weapon wobbling in his hand, h
e stepped down off the sofa. He reached out his toe, from as far away as he could manage without toppling over, and nudged the kneeling man with his running shoe.

  The man’s head slid forward until it hit the floor, rolling and coming to a rest with the eyes staring at the ceiling. The mouth lay open, displaying one solid gold tooth.

  It was Petru, the hamburger eater from the diner.

  Beep, beep. Across the room, Big Blue’s screen lit up with messages.

  Hey Melonball, git ur ass back hr! R u watching porn again?

  Zeke slumped to the floor, his mouth agape, and stared at the severed head.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Butterflies fluttered in Ruby’s chest as Sam pulled out her chair in Calliope, the Starlight’s new restaurant. He gave her shoulder a friendly squeeze before sitting across from her. Sam grinned and she grinned back. Ruby looked at Felicity, who was reading the menu.

  “Why didn’t you tell me that Sam was coming?”

  Felicity smiled without looking up and flipped over a page.

  Ruby turned to Sam, but before she could say anything he held up a hand.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m not the social convener here.”

  Felicity studied the menu as if it was printed in Hindi, and Sam reached for the wine list, frowning as he turned the pages. Ruby settled into the leather banquette and craned her head to admire the curved and frosted glass partitions and intricate hanging light fixtures. Trust Felicity to get them into the hottest restaurant in town. Waiters ferried plates from the kitchen, bearing colorful compositions that trailed mouth-watering aromas. The room buzzed with the the clink of cutlery against china and the hum of animated conversations.

  Except at their table. With a glance at her silent friends, Ruby picked up her own menu and flipped it open. A server hovering nearby walked over and Ruby turned to face her.

  “I’ll have the scallops with pomegranate and lemon grass, please.”

  Felicity snapped her menu closed and handed it over.

  “Sounds good. Me, too.”

  The waiter turned to Sam. “And for you, sir?”

  “The fried catfish.”

  The server picked up the menus and left. Felicity waggled her fingers, admiring their turquoise polish. Sam leaned one arm over the back of his chair and drummed the fingers of his other on the table, scanning the room. Ruby studied her dinner companions, feeling a little uneasy. Were they planning to spend the entire evening in silence? She cleared her throat.

  “Guess what, Sam?”

  “What?” When he smiled at her, crinkles appeared around his eyes.

  “I figured out how we can fix that fight in the bar scene. Look.” She lined up the salt and pepper shakers between their plates. “Say this salt is Andrew, the pepper is me, and these spoons are the bad guys,” she picked up two spoons and walked them upright along the tablecloth, “coming toward us, here, we can turn, here, and—”

  Sam grabbed the salt and pepper shakers with one hand and held them above her head.

  “No work. We’re here to have fun.”

  Ruby reached for the shakers. He pulled them higher and grinned.

  “No condiments for you.”

  “But it’s a good idea, and you haven’t heard it yet.” Ruby laughed.

  “You can tell me all about it next week.” He replaced the salt and pepper on the table.

  Felicity eyed them with a wry grin.

  “Are we having fun yet?”

  The Calliope’s wine steward walked over.

  “The 2009 Hanzell Sonoma Chardonnay, please,” Sam said, handing the wine list to the sommelier. “One bottle to start.” He turned to Felicity. “That okay with you?”

  “An excellent choice.”

  A smile tugged at Sam’s lips.

  “Don’t look so surprised.”

  After the steward had returned with the wine, Felicity raised her glass.

  “Let’s have a toast.”

  Sam and Ruby picked up their glasses and waited.

  “To Secret Assassin,” Felicity said. They clinked their glasses.

  As they sipped the wine, Felicity shot Ruby a questioning glance.

  “I’m fine,” Ruby said with a smile. Alcohol had been a refuge after her sister Lily’s death, but those days were behind her. For now, anyway.

  “Let’s toast to Lily,” Felicity said, squeezing Ruby’s arm. “She would be so proud.”

  “To Lily.” Ruby raised her glass.

  “To Lily,” Sam and Felicity repeated. Ruby rubbed a tear from the corner of her eye and smiled at them.

  The waiter arrived with their salads, so they put down their wine glasses and picked up their forks. Felicity speared a kale leaf and looked up.

  “Guess what Philippe sent me this afternoon?”

  Ruby’s fork shook in her hand as she looked up sharply.

  “My termination notice?”

  Sam put down his own fork and stared at her, his eyes wide.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “You’re a little behind events, Sam,” Felicity said. “Ruby Danger here,” she tilted her head at Ruby, “has been tracking criminals again.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  Felicity gave her a playful nudge before popping the kale into her mouth.

  Cocking his head, Sam narrowed his eyes at Ruby.

  “What does she mean, tracking criminals?”

  “Felicity’s exaggerating,” Ruby said. She recounted the tale of Millie and Tinks.

  “And now Ruby wants to find the fraudster,” Felicity said.

  Sam looked from one to the other then shook his head vigorously, pushing his salad plate away.

  “Not a good idea.”

  Ruby looked down at her plate. “I think—”

  “No,” Sam interrupted, “you should leave it alone.”

  Ruby jerked her head up, her mouth falling open as she glared at him.

  “Wait a minute. Are you telling me what to—”

  “I’m suggesting you leave it alone. You don’t know what you may be stepping into.”

  “That’s not any of your—”

  Felicity broke in with a heavy sigh.

  “Do you want to know what Philippe sent me or not?” She pulled out her phone with a flourish and held it up. “The first trailer for Secret Assassin. Preliminary cut. Let’s watch it.”

  Ruby grimaced. She hated to watch herself on film.

  “Let’s not.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam rolled his eyes at her. “Of course, we should watch it.”

  Felicity cued up the video. Ruby’s character backed against a wall in a dimly lit alley, her chest heaving. When a burly man came around the corner, she lashed out with a high-heeled boot and deftly connected with his torso. He puffed a surprised, ‘Oomph,’ staggered, and then came straight at her. Ruby’s character easily won the ensuing fight.

  “Good job,” Sam said, applauding.

  Felicity raised her glass.

  “To Ruby Danger.”

  Sam raised his glass, clinked it on hers, and repeated, “to Ruby Danger.”

  Ruby tried to change the subject.

  “This wine is excellent, Sam.”

  Felicity chuckled while she cued up the video.

  “Yeah, like that’s going to work. Let’s watch it again.”

  They viewed it several more times, with Sam pointing out the more intricate moves. They chatted about the movie, about Philippe, about the unusual weather—the forecast called for showers—and the best way to win at blackjack. Their conversation eventually petered out. But now the silence was a comfortable one, a normal pause during a meal shared between friends. Ruby pushed her plate away, sat back and smiled with contentment at them both.

  “So, how’s your mom, Felicity?” she asked brightly. “I haven’t seen her in years.”

  Sam jabbed a fork at the last of his entree.

  “Yeah, Felicity, how is your mom?” he muttered under his breath. “Still telling
you what to do? And who to do it with?”

  Ruby drew in her breath and held it, staring at Sam. She swiveled her eyes to gauge Felicity’s reaction.

  Felicity’s eyes flashed and she placed both hands on the table.

  “What did you say?”

  Sam looked up and his face reddened.

  “Did I say that out loud?”

  With a heavy sigh, Ruby rested her elbows on the table and leaned her chin on her hands. What the hell had she been thinking? How’s your mom? If Mrs. Chan had found Sam wanting, he was far from the first. When would she learn to keep her mouth shut?

  The waiter walked up with another menu.

  “Dessert?” he asked.

  “Definitely,” Ruby said, pointing at the table in front of her, “and keep it coming.”

  Sam’s phone, lying next to him, beeped with a text message.

  “Excuse me a moment,” he said, and walked out.

  Ruby turned to Felicity.

  “What was that about?”

  Felicity ran a finger across the tablecloth without looking up.

  “Sam and I were an item once, briefly. We’re not anymore. That’s all there is to it.” She picked up the dessert menu and flipped it open.

  Ruby watched her friend turn the pages. If Felicity was even contemplating dessert, something was definitely wrong.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It happened after Lily’s death, when you were … preoccupied.”

  Ruby nodded. The months following her sister’s funeral were still a blur. No wonder she hadn’t noticed. With a glance over her shoulder at the restaurant entrance, she picked up her fork.

  “Is he coming back?”

  “I’ll go see.” Felicity sighed, closing the menu and pushing back her chair.

  “Don’t be too hard on him.” Ruby grinned, reaching for the dessert menu. “He’s awfully cute.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sam stood near the entrance to the casino, talking to a man Felicity did not recognize. She walked closer until she could hear their voices and then stopped. Sam had his back to her.