Frank smiled benevolently at her, and said, “I am so sorry, my dear. You must think my manners atrocious. I had thought we would be able to have a nice dinner with Thomas but, alas, he needed to leave early. And of course,” he nodded his head toward their guest, “I had no idea that Anatoly would join us.”
Before she had a chance to speak, Anatoly leaned in and said, “I can’t imagine why a beautiful woman like you would want to spend this lovely dinner discussing business with Frank.”
“Well, that’s why I came,” she replied, leaning back as subtly as she could muster. Once more, his fingers drifted next to her knee, this time moving ever so slightly up her thigh. Jerking her leg back, she said, “I’m afraid you’ll need to excuse me, please.”
Anatoly’s dark eyes narrowed as he asked, “Surely you’re not leaving? I have just begun to get to know you.”
A growl emitted from Frank, but as she glanced toward him, he gave no indication of coming to her rescue. Plastering a smile on her face, she said, “Of course not. I just need to visit the ladies’ room.” She began to move out of the booth, bumping Anatoly’s hip painfully, forcing him to slide out first. Tucking her clutch up under her arm, she smiled tightly as she turned and walked toward the stairs leading upward. Having eaten in the restaurant before, she knew the restrooms on the second floor were less crowded. They also gave her the added time to come up with a plan of escape.
At the top of the stairs, she hurried into the ladies’ room, thankfully finding it empty. Pulling out her phone, she called her best friend, Janice. As soon the call was picked up, she began her rant. “Oh my God! I was supposed to meet with Frank Tercelli to find out how much he was willing to help some of my charities when he changed our meeting to dinner—”
“What’s so bad about dinner?” Janice interrupted. “There might be somebody yummy at the bar, just waiting to be picked up.”
Ignoring Janice’s one-track mind, she retorted, “It’s not the dinner, it’s the company. First there was his son, Thomas—”
“The hot, new Senator?”
“Jesus, will you please let me finish my complaining! Yes, the Senator was supposed to be having dinner with us, but he had to leave. He doesn’t want to be away from his very pregnant wife for too long. Plus, I’ve known him since we were kids and that would be like perving on my brother. Anyway, it’s not him that I’m bitching about.”
She heard Janice huff, and quickly continued. “I know that should’ve left me with plenty of time to just talk to Mr. Tercelli about the donations, but then this creepy man showed up and joined us for dinner. He kept leaning over, getting way into my space, and then his hand began to drift onto my knee and up my thigh!”
“Eww. What are you going to do?”
“Well, right now, I’m in the upstairs ladies’ room of the Olde Towne Restaurante, but I can’t hide here forever,” she said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had ditched her comfortable pants and blouse to dress up for her meeting with Mr. Tercelli, and now felt like the effort was completely wasted. Well, at least wasted on Mr. Tercelli. Unfortunately, it seemed to work well for Mr. What’s His Name.
“I know that place,” Janice said, excitement in her voice. “I used to work there when I was in college. There’s a back elevator that will take you to the kitchen. You could slip out that way.”
Eagerly peering out the door, her breath rushed out in frustration and she said, “I can’t. There’s an Out of Order sign on it.”
“Damn, that sucks for the servers who have to use the front stairs to lug all that food up—”
“Janice, focus! Anyway, I can’t leave without a good reason,” she complained, hating how whiny she sounded. Sighing heavily, she said, “I just can’t stand the idea of going back out there.”
“Send Mr. Tercelli a message. Just tell him that you don’t feel well or something.”
“But I was fine a few minutes ago when I left the table. That will just sound weird, if I use that as an excuse. After all, I don’t want to offend him because I really hope that he will donate to the organization.”
“Well, then give him an excuse that he can’t really check up on. Tell him that your dress accidentally ripped or the zipper broke. Something that will mean that you really should have the excuse for slipping out of the restaurant.”
She laughed. “How do you come up with these crazy ideas?”
“Hey, I’m the queen of bad first dates, remember? I’ve probably used every excuse in the book!”
Sucking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, she said, “I think I’ll have to try it. I can’t think of anything else on my own.” Peeking out of the ladies’ room door again, she suddenly realized that the stairs were in plain view of Frank’s table. “Oh, shit. His table is right near the stairs. He’ll see me try to slip out.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Janice encouraged. “If you look out of the ladies’ room door to the left, you’ll see another door to the outside.”
“I’m on the second floor and that door says fire exit!”
“It’s not alarmed. It just goes to the fire escape in the back. It’ll take you straight down onto the street right behind the restaurant.”
“Janice, do I even want to know how you came about this information?”
She heard laughter coming across the phone, as her friend explained, “We had a fire in the kitchen one night when I was working and I had to go out that way. Seriously, Helena, it’s no big deal. Slip out the back, go around to where your car is, and send Mr. Tercelli a note that says your dress has a rip and you need to go home. Don’t worry, nothing can go wrong!”
Too tired to try to come up with an alternative plan, she decided to follow her friend’s advice. Placing her phone back in her clutch, she pulled out the thin, black strap that allowed her to wear it as a cross-body.
When there appeared to be a break in the partygoers upstairs, she stepped out of the ladies’ room. Moving directly to the fire escape door, she sucked in a fortifying breath, and gave a push. Grateful that no alarm sounded, she slipped through the door, holding it as it eased its way closed so it would not shut loudly.
Leaning her head against the cold steel for a moment, she took a deep breath. Icy wind suddenly whipped through the dark alley, lifting her skirt and she jolted, quickly pulling the material back down. She blushed deeply, considering she was only wearing tiny satin panties underneath, and looked around hurriedly. Thankfully, it was so dark, even if someone had been around, they would not have seen anything. She had imagined the alley would have more lights, but it was cast in shadows. No longer sure her actions were a good idea, she tugged on the door, but it was locked. Nowhere to go but down.
She remained motionless while she considered her options, but could not come up with an alternative plan. Unless she wanted to bang on the door or call 9-1-1 to come rescue her, she had to climb down the rickety ladder to the ground. Taking a fortifying breath, she squared her shoulders. There was no time for thinking. She had to get to her car so she could text Frank before he came looking for her.
Sliding her foot carefully to the ladder, she remembered just how much she hated heights. Breath, Helena. Breath. Just as she began her decent, she heard voices below and froze with her hands just on the rungs. Where did they come from? Afraid to breathe for fear of discovery, she remained as still as she could, but her legs quickly began to shake from nerves, cold, and strain. Re-adjusting for better purchase, her stiletto slipped on the rung and she nearly fell. Stiffling a scream, she clutched the rungs tighter and clung on for dear life.
After a moment, she let loose her breath and sighed in relief.
“You’re okay,” she whispered to herself, releasing one hand and moving a foot to continue downwards. “You can do thi—” The ladder suddenly began to descend quickly and her words were cut off as her other foot slipped completely free and she swung wildly, trying to grab on with the hand she had released as she had begun to move.
T
his was it. This was what they needed to know. Leaning forward so he could hear Lawrence’s shaky voice clearly, Rank jerked as he heard a loud noise from directly above just as Josh radioed, “Movement on fire escape.”
He whipped around just in time for the fire escape ladder to descend right in front of him, a scream drowning out all other noise. Instinctively throwing his hands up in defense, he did not have time to cover his head before was hit in the face and attacked. Grabbing on to his adversary, his hands came into contact with a silk-covered ass and he realized his face was buried against the same silk in the front.
Arms and legs flung about him and, as he tried to move backward, it was as though he was ensnared in an octopus’ grip. Trained as he was, though screaming continued all around him he was just able to make out the sound of Lawrence’s fast retreating footsteps echoing in the distance.
“What the fuck?” he roared as the clawing on top of him continued, followed by the sound of ripping material. Unable to see with the woman’s crotch pressed against his face—and it was most definitely a woman—he staggered once more as fingernails dug into his back. Reaching up to grab her waist, he jerked her back just enough to look up, and was stunned to see the woman from the restaurant. “Stop. Stop fighting,” he ordered, trying to ignore the scent of her sex right in front of his nose.
She looked down at him, panicked, one hand still attempting to hang on to his back and the other hanging on to his long hair.
“I’m stuck,” she cried, her chest heaving with exertion as he jerked underneath her, trying to release her.
When tugging did not work, he reached up a hand and grabbed the skirt material caught on the metal grating, giving it a sharp pull and ripping it away from the ladder. No longer trapped, the full weight of her body fell forward and, with her legs still wrapped around his shoulders, he staggered back, attempting to right himself.
“Goddammit!” he growled as he tried to still the whirling dervish on top of him. Her fingers clawed at his hair and her frantic squirming pushed her silk-covered crotch further against his face. Taking another step back, he unexpectedly slammed into the brick wall, eliciting a loud grunt from both of them. “Stop fighting!” he ordered. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Finally, her movements quieted and he managed to lower her feet to the ground, her body sliding down his front. She immediately wobbled and he held onto her shoulders to steady her. Looking down, he saw that she only wore one shoe and his vision snagged on the bright red toenail polish of her bare foot. His eyes drifted upward, over her long shapely legs to the ripped skirt that she was desperately trying to pull around her hips, hands shaking as she did a full body shiver.
Jerking off his suit coat, he threw it around her shoulders and she looked up at him, startled. Who the fuck is she? Even in the dark alley, he could see her large green eyes and perfect complexion, her thick hair, having escaped her ponytail, hanging about her face. Her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip, a sign of her fear rather than sensuality.
Lifting his hands in supplication, he took a step back and said, “You’re okay. I’m not here to hurt you.”
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before finding her voice. “I’m sorry. I fell,” she stated unnecessarily.
Shaking his head, he accepted the mission was aborted, considering Lawrence was nowhere in sight. His eyes drifted upward to the old fire escape with the ladder stuck halfway down to the ground and a large piece of black material fluttering from one of its rungs. It struck him as a symbol of defeat, although it was black instead of white. Shaking his head, he huffed out a humorless breath. The defeat of a perfectly planned mission.
He dropped his eyes back to the woman as she clutched at the lapels of his jacket, pulling it securely around her. Uncertainty filled her eyes as they darted around the alley. Her movements slow, as though not to draw attention to herself, she slipped off her lone shoe, mumbling, “I…I need to go.”
“Who are you?” he asked, stepping back another foot to give her some breathing room.
Shaking her head, she said, “I’m sorry…truly…for…um…falling on you. But…um…I need to go.” She whipped off his jacket and tossed it toward him before turning and running toward the street at the end of the alley, her bare feet slapping against the pavement.
He started to follow but did not want her calling the police in fear. “Goddammit,” he cursed again. Hearing a noise close to him, no louder than a whisper, he tensed just as Walker appeared at his side.
“Who the hell was that and what the fuck was happening?”
He stood for a minute with his fists on his hips, staring at his feet and shaking his head. Slowly lifting his head, he stared at his friend, and said, “That? That was a total mission fuck up.”
Frank felt his phone vibrate in the pocket of his suit jacket and slid it out, looking down at the screen. Sorry to cut dinner short. My dress zipper ripped and I need to go home. We will set up another time to meet. His brow furrowed for a second before he said, “It seems Ms. Jernigan will be unable to return to our table. The zipper has broken on her dress. She’ll see herself home.”
Anatoly narrowed his eyes at the news. “I see. Well, that’s too bad. I was enjoying the lovely young lady’s company.”
He looked up quickly, his nerves taut. “I did not expect to see you this evening, or I would not have invited others to join me for dinner.”
“Surely you are not ashamed of our association?” Anatoly said, his dark eyes piercing as he stared at him.
Keeping his voice steady, although low, he replied, “We are business associates, but do not underestimate me…and do not fuck with me.”
Anatoly sat statue-like for a moment before a slow smile curved his lips. Dipping his head slightly to the side, he said, “I see we have a similar view of business. I advise you not to underestimate me either.” Sliding from the booth, he ended with, “I bid you a good night, Frank.”
Anatoly walked away leaving him alone at the table. Signaling for the server to bring him the check, he maintained his professional demeanor, all the while quaking with anger on the inside.
Outside the restaurant, Anatoly signaled for his driver to approach. Sliding into the back of the black sedan, he pulled out his phone. “I need you to find someone. Helena Jernigan. Find her address and let me know when she gets to her house.”
Leaning back against the plush leather interior of his sedan, he breathed deeply. Since Frank’s son had become Senator, he had become less inclined to meet with him. A set back, but nothing he could not handle. A smile settled across his face as he thought of the surprised look on Frank’s face when he joined him at the restaurant. His smile increased as he thought of the beautiful Ms. Jernigan. What a pleasant diversion she would make.
4
Helena made it to her car panting from her run, her feet in amazingly good shape for having run through an alley and down the street. Grateful for her flip-flops in the back seat, she slid them on and then sat for a moment, her hands gripping the steering wheel as she willed her nerves to calm.
Bending her head forward so that it rested against the steering wheel as well, she jolted as a sharp pain radiated from her forehead. Jerking back, she peered into the rearview mirror and pushed her hair away from her face. Seeing a scrape on her forehead she lifted her fingers and touched the abraded skin. Trying to remember when that occurred, she thought back over the embarrassing encounter.
Closing her eyes, the memories came back to her as though she were watching a movie…a particularly bad horror-comedy. Stepping onto the ladder, its sudden and unexpected descent. Trying desperately to gain purchase but failing, leaving her whirling around, her skirt catching on the metal, until she lost all grip and landed, legs spread, onto a man’s shoulders. It had all happened so quickly, she had barely had time to think before it was all over. When she had hit something other than ground, her arms had instinctively reached out to try to stop herself from further injury.
<
br /> Oh. My. God. I can’t believe there was a man below me and I landed on top of him. Heat rushed through her face and she did not need to look into the mirror to see that she was blushing furiously. Refusing to think any more of the incident, she started her car and pulled out onto the street. Blasting both the air conditioner and the radio, she drove the twenty-five minutes it took to get to her apartment.
Parking in her assigned spot, she grabbed her briefcase and purse before stepping from her car, surreptitiously looking around in case anyone saw her. The cool night air blew about her and she grabbed the tattered ends of her dress around her hips in an attempt to cover her ass. Glad that none of her neighbors were out, she hurried through the lighted parking lot and up to her front door. Clutching her torn skirt and the items in her hand, she punched in the security code, quickly entering and hurrying up the stairs to her apartment.
Stepping from the shower twenty minutes later and onto the plush bathmat, she reached for the long, thick, cotton towel. Drying off quickly she grabbed another small towel to wrap around her wet hair. Finally warm, she walked over to the marble topped vanity and looked into the mirror at her pale face. The angry-looking abrasion on her forehead was sore and she rummaged through her drawer to find the antiseptic cream. Applying it gently, she winced at the sting.
“You’re lucky that’s the only thing that happened,” she said to herself. “God, that was the dumbest thing I’ve done in a long time.”
“Meow.”
Looking down, she smiled at the cat slinking figure-eights between her legs. “Hey, Oscar. Did you finish your dinner?” The large, shaggy cat stared woefully up at her before emitting another loud yowl. Almost on cue, her two other cats wandered into the bathroom, staring up at her as well.
“Grover, Prairie Dawn…you guys were fed. Just because Oscar is in here meowing doesn’t mean he’s getting anything extra.”
Rank: Lighthouse Security Investigations Series Page 3
