by Diane Rapp
Zina’s black eyebrow arched as she strutted closer to Tamara. “You gave us quite a chase, Suzanne. Did your little dog suffer when Max wrung his neck?”
Tamara gasped and slumped her shoulders.
Grabbing Tamara’s chin with long purple fingernails, Zina tilted her head to examine Tamara’s short haircut. “I’d have feathered the style more, but our buyer probably won’t care about the fine points. He’s more interested in the flesh under your black dress.” She frowned at Tamara’s makeup. “You used too much blush.”
She snapped her fingers and Dana promptly handed her a tissue. Zina deftly wiped the blush until the intensity met with her satisfaction. She turned her gaze to the other women and her red lips curled into a disdainful grin. “Bet you never figured a stylist might be giving you orders now!” Her voice sounded harsh and cruel.
Charlotte bristled at Zina and asked, “How could you treat fellow women like commodities to sell?”
Zina’s eyes narrowed. “Men have bought and sold women for centuries. If women don’t take control of the market, greedy men reap all the rewards. Believe me, I know how the system works.”
She cocked her hip and struck a seductive pose. “After years of practice, I learned to use my brains instead of my beauty. I’ll make millions on this deal and my future will finally be secure. Deal with your new status in life, Marilyn. Maybe you will figure out a way to escape the harem. Probably not.” Her laugh sounded like a witch’s cackle.
As a private jet landed, the loud shriek of jet engines drew her attention. She barked, “Max, get the merchandise into the open hangar. We don’t want flying gravel to mar their gowns, since I paid a bundle for those rags.” Dana scrambled through the open garage door, her heels clicking as she ran across the concrete. Paxton guided the four women into the building.
Tamara noticed a white blur from the corner of her eyes. Bentley and Josh ducked behind a stack of crates inside the hangar, but everyone else watched the private jet taxi toward the hangar. The long pointed nose of the aircraft made it look fast even rolling across the ground. The shiny white body sat upon wings with tips bent upward and two jet engines rested near the tail of the sleek fuselage.
While the others were distracted, Paxton sent a text message to his team so they would know the focus of their investigation had shifted to Zina. As he pressed the send arrow, his gaze met Zina’s cruel stare.
“You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you?” she scoffed. “I made you as a cop the minute you climbed out of the limo. It doesn’t matter now. We’re all leaving in this jet so don’t try to stop us.” She held a small silver gun, pointed at Tamara’s head, and smirked. “If you make a wrong move, your girlfriend will pay dearly. I don’t mind losing the money I’d get for her, since I’ve got a replacement waiting.”
The jet rolled through the hangar door and the engine powered down. A door in the side hissed open and stairs folded down. A bearded man stood in the opening, dressed in white robes with a red turban wrapped around his head. He slowly climbed down the steps, grinning. His white teeth gleamed as he scrutinized the four women.
“You did not exaggerate. These women are perfect, and I am happy to hand over the agreed price in gold.” He handed a fancy briefcase to Zina, who opened the lid and nodded.
Waving the gun, she stated, “We’ll also need a lift on your jet. The cops have discovered our little operation and are coming to arrest us.” She snapped the briefcase shut and gestured with her gun. “Dana, get the women into the jet. We don’t have any time to waste.”
The buyer’s eyes grew round with panic and he held his chubby hands up. “No! I have diplomatic immunity and did not agree to help you escape from the authorities. Our transaction is finished.” He stomped up the stairs, gesturing for the women to follow him inside the plane.
With Zina standing between herself and the other women, Tamara knew she was trapped. Charlotte frowned and whispered to her companions. All three women linked elbows and sank onto the ground, refusing to move. Slapping their heads and pushing their shoulders, Dana tried to force them into action. Nothing worked. She turned to Zina and asked, “What do we do now?”
Zina hissed, “This is his problem now. We’ve already been paid, so let the buyer get them inside. We need to leave right now.” She slammed Tamara in the ribs with the briefcase and ordered, “Walk toward the limo. Stay in front of me or I’ll shoot.”
The second time Zina swung the briefcase into her side, Tamara grabbed the handle and twisted the latch open. The lid flew open and valuable coins went flying.
Zina shrieked and Bentley flew through the air, growling and snapping his teeth at the hand holding the gun. Tamara dropped to the ground amid bouncing gold coins, and she prayed the gun wouldn’t go off and hurt her dog.
Bentley connected with his target. Unfortunately, the woman was not wearing protective padding, so sharp teeth sank easily through the expensive leather covering Zina’s arm.
She screamed as Bentley clamped down tight and shook with all his might, just the way his trainer had taught him. Blood flew through the air as Zina tried to jerk her arm away from the snarling dog. The gun fired and a bullet zinged off the wing of the jet. Angry, Bentley kicked the woman’s chest with his rear feet and shook even harder. Zina fell to the concrete with the poodle still attached to her arm, and her gun clattered across the concrete.
Paxton reached the thrashing pair, put his foot on Zina’s chest and shouted, “Stand down, Bentley.” The dog immediately dropped the woman’s bloody arm and sat, quietly staring up at Paxton with a doggie smile.
Josh scrambled under the jet to retrieve the gun. He ejected the clip of bullets and cleared the chamber before he sauntered over to Paxton. “Weapon is secured, sir.” He bent down in front of Bentley and used a handkerchief to wipe blood off of dog’s mouth. “Permission to give this soldier a drink of water, sir?”
“Permission granted. His owner might need something a bit stronger.” Paxton glanced at Tamara, who sat with the other women talking quietly. Their faces looked pale and their eyes sparkled with unshed tears. Paxton knew every one of the women was incredibly brave to take action despite their terror.
Josh produced a water bottle from a large pocket in his cargo pants, and poured some into the palm of his hand. “We have brandy stowed in the limo, sir. I’ll get it right away and give it to those women. I couldn’t believe those plucky gals would drop to the floor and stage a sit-in.”
Paxton agreed, “They gave us an extra minute just when we needed it. I was too focused on the gun waving in Tamara’s face.”
The rest of Paxton’s team stormed the hangar with guns ready. Troy said, “We heard a shot! Is everyone okay?”
Shrugging, Paxton pointed at the damaged jet fuselage. “The only harm was to the buyer’s pride and his aircraft. The civilians are just fine.”
More police officers rushed into the hangar and up the steps of the jet, shouting for the pilot to turn off the engines which had suddenly fired up. The buyer spewed a string of foreign words and the pilot complied.
With police guns pointed at his large belly, the buyer stomped down the steps into the hangar. He claimed, “I have diplomatic immunity! You will return my briefcase and allow me to leave this place.” He handed Paxton a business card and folded his arms over his ample chest with a huff.
“Sir, your briefcase and its contents are evidence in a human trafficking case. We will discuss your claim of diplomatic immunity with your consulate. In the meantime, you must come with us for questioning.
With a scowl, the buyer hissed foreign words which no one needed to translate.
By 2:00 a.m. the group of tired women arrived back at the house on Brinkerhoff. Bonnie’s brother, Sam, and Maureen’s husband, Frank, were waiting in the upstairs living room. With tears and hugs, the women greeted their loved ones. Phyllis and Josh thanked Jessica for offering them a room but decided to return to their own home. Charlotte plopped onto the sofa and watched the re
unions with a wry smile.
Tamara sat next to her. “They called your husband but he said he’d meet you in court. Sorry.”
Charlotte huffed, “I wouldn’t expect anything else. Our problems started years ago and I’ll be happy when the divorce is final. My perspective has changed over the last couple of weeks. When someone tries to take control over your life like Zina did to ours, freedom becomes very important. My husband might think I only want money, but I really want to gain command over my future. Sure, I’ll get my fair share of our money, but only what a judge decides to give me. I won’t waste time arguing.”
Still wide awake, Aunt Jessica distributed cups of calming chamomile tea or brandy to her various guests. She guided everyone staying at the house into their respective bedrooms. She quietly asked Tamara, “Did you capture the entire gang?”
Tamara hugged her aunt and said, “They’re all in jail right now, and Paxton is processing the paperwork. The real ringleader was the lowly-seeming stylist, a woman named Zina Jones. Bentley took her down with a perfect attack.”
“Oh, my! I hope he didn’t get injured.” She gazed down at the dog, who peacefully licked his paw while sitting on top of Tamara’s feet.
“No. The last I heard, Zina was screaming that the dog attacked her for no reason at all. She vowed to file a complaint with animal control and have him killed. It gave me a few minutes of terror, but Paxton assured me perpetrators always tried the same tactic against canine officers. It never works. Bentley was trained by a licensed professional and broke off the attack when ordered.”
Aunt Jessica chewed her lower lip. “That woman, Zina, sounds like a cunning criminal, like a character straight out of an Arthur Conan Doyle novel. What happens now?”
Tamara yawned. “Bentley and I will go to bed! Paxton wants each of the participants in the arrest to make statements when we’re fresh. Bentley will need a thorough bath to get all the blood out of his coat, and I’ve been told an offer came into my office on the listing in Montecito. Life goes on, I guess.”
“I’m sensing a doubt in your voice. What’s wrong, my dear?”
Slumping into a nearby chair, Tamara admitted, “I got caught up in this investigation and felt really alive for the first time since Jeffery passed away. I’m not sure how I can go back to life as normal.”
“I’d bet you’re wondering about your feelings for Paxton,” Jessica interjected. “I couldn’t help noticing how you looked at each other.”
Tamara cringed. “Am I so transparent?” She patted Bentley’s head as he leaned against her leg. “Paxton works for the governor’s task force, and I’m afraid they will reassign him to another investigation. Is there really a future for us?”
Jessica laughed. “Life is never easy, sweetheart. You’re a clever woman and you’ll make adjustments as you go along. Don’t manufacture problems before they actually crop up.”
“So true. A few months ago, I started my life over again. Now I realize that I’m definitely a survivor. Thanks so much, I’m grateful we spoke and now I can sleep peacefully.” She got up and kissed her aunt on the cheek before following Bentley to her room. “Don’t wake me until noon,” she called out and closed the door.
Inside the bedroom, she sat gazing at the wedding ring on her left hand. Bentley watched her intently as she removed the ring and opened a small wooden box on the night stand. Placing the ring inside, she closed the lid. “I think Jeffrey would understand.”
She pointed toward his bed. Bentley trotted over, turned in a circle his usual three times, and finally snuggled into the comfy dog bed.
Tamara knew she’d see Jeffrey on the beach. He sat on their favorite bench throwing sunflower seeds to the pigeons, and Tamara rubbed her thumb against the empty place on her ring finger.
She sighed, knowing she must tell him about removing her wedding ring.
Jeffrey gazed into her eyes and smiled. “I know, honey. You don’t need to explain your reasons to me. I told you to move on and start a new life and I meant it.”
“I met someone who makes me feel alive again, but I feel like I’m cheating on you.” She rubbed her bare feet in the gritty sand. “We vowed to remain married until death, but it still doesn’t seem right to fall in love again.”
Jeffrey nodded. “Would you have wanted me to remain alone forever if you’d died before me?”
Surprised, she shook her head. “No. I wouldn’t want you to be lonesome.”
“Then you have my answer. I want you to find someone who will love you as much as I did. Then I know you’ll be happy.”
“Okay. I guess I’ll try dating, but my standards are very high. If Paxton doesn’t measure up, I’ll keep looking until I find someone better.” Tamara grinned and her face glowed in the sunlight.
“I knew I married a clever girl and feel grateful that I measured up to your high standards. You’ll have a long and happy life ahead, my love.”
She wasn’t surprised when he faded from view but sensed a warm glow from the spot he had occupied. She lovingly stroked the smooth wood on the bench and let herself go back to sleep.
Max brooded over his bad luck as he sat in the interview room with his public defender. The nightmare kept getting worse. The sweet deal he wanted had fizzled away, all because of Paxton Johnson and Tamara Owens.
He’d never get out of jail at this rate.
“What?” he asked the lawyer, who just finished talking a blue streak. “I wasn’t paying no attention after you gave me the bad news.”
Sighing, the attorney handed Max a written offer. “To get a reduced sentence, you must admit your part in all the kidnappings, and you must testify in court about Zina Jones and her human trafficking ring. Do you understand the offer?”
Max smirked. “Yeah! I rat out Zina and the rest of the gang in court.”
“In a nutshell, you’re right.” The attorney offered him a mealy-mouth smile.
“So what’s the bottom line? How many years will I get for being a snitch? And the most important part, how will the government protect me from Zina’s gang? You know, she’s got goons in prison ready to stick a shiv into my gut.” Max scowled as he waited for the attorney’s reply.
“The government is willing to reduce your sentence to twenty years, which is five years on each count of the indictment. It’s better than life behind bars. You’ll serve time in a maximum security facility back east, where Zina won’t have as much influence. We’ll bring you back for the trial to complete your part of the deal.”
“Shoot! Twenty years? How long do you figure Zina will get?”
“Life without parole, once she’s convicted.”
“Well, let me read that there paper, and I’ll think it over. You don’t suppose we could get my time reduced to sixteen years? I didn’t really hurt nobody, at least not where it would show.”
The lawyer frowned and shook his head. “Twenty is the best they’ll do. Human trafficking is getting more press nationwide. With time off for good behavior, you might get out in sixteen.” He started to remove the paper from the table, but Max snatched it back.
“Don’t be so quick to give up on me. I’ll do the time, but it’s against my better judgement. Never thought I’d be a stool-pigeon, but Zina didn’t treat me right once I got caught.” He read the agreement, nodding his head and signed it.
Leaning back, as far as the chains on his wrists would allow, he thought about all the dirt he knew on the gang. It might be fun to say his piece in court. He’d get his deal, just the way they wrote it down on the paper, and then the cops couldn’t come after him when they learned the full story.
Life in prison was never too bad if you knew the ropes, and he could get him some body building time and new tats—maybe a mean looking snake. Yeah! A snake would help him get a new status in the yard.
As the wrist chain rubbed against his hand, he felt twinges from the dog bites. He’d heard through the grapevine that Zina got her a fair share of chomps from the poodle. Other inmates in jail
admitted they’d hate to face an acrobatic poodle during a brawl, so he didn’t bash their heads no more. Time in the joint would also let him build up a new gang, but he’d never try kidnapping women next time. Drugs, running numbers, and robbery were all better ways to make a living.
Chapter 16—The Santa Barbara Courthouse
One year later
Jeffrey materialized on the beach, knowing Tamara waited for him. She sat on their favorite bench, leaning back to enjoy the warm rays of the sun on her glowing complexion. Her bare toes dug into the sand.
“Hi there, beautiful,” he said. Her smile seemed to make the world brighter as she patted the empty bench beside her.
“You certainly took your time to respond. I’ve waited here for you night after night and almost gave up coming.
He sighed. “We must clear these meetings with management and there was quite a debate. If it were up to me, I’d have come right away.” He felt tempted to reach out and run his fingers through her hair. It had grown longer in the past year, hanging below her shoulders. “You look very happy, so why did you need to see me?”
“Since those kidnappers were caught, my whole world has changed. I thought it was time we talked again,” Tamara stated. “Tomorrow the trial begins, and I’ll be pushed into the paparazzi circus. I wanted to reflect back on our life together.”
“We’re not allowed to interfere, but I wish I could make it easier for you.”
“It’s okay. Paxton will be at my side.” She rubbed the new wedding ring on her finger and a smile tugged at her lips. “He’s my rock.”
Jeffrey rubbed his hand along the polished wood of the bench. “I’m glad to know you’ve found a new man to love.” He nearly choked on those words.
“You will always be my first love. Paxton understands, but we have something to ask you.” She rubbed the baby-bump under her maternity blouse. “We’re going to have a boy and plan to name him after you and my dad. His name will be Jeffrey Dean Johnson. Would you watch over our son from Heaven for me?”
