frowned, looked at her watch, and her heartbeat accelerated. She'd left him only forty minutes ago. Why did he want to meet at that fleabag motel? What was he up to?
"You might want to bring along any cash you've got on hand as well. I've run into some unexpected expenses."
"Are you kidding me?" She fought to keep her voice down. "I just brought you a quarter of a mil a few days ago. What's going on? Are they onto us? Stop this secret agent bullshit and tell me what's going on!"
"I'm not really in the position to discuss it right now. Nothing is wrong. Just meet me there…say in about a half-hour? I've already called ahead and reserved room fifteen. Whoever gets there first can pay, but we're going to both have to register. The asshole that runs the place is a real stickler about that."
"I don't like this. I'm not sure I'll come."
Zippy's voice was soft but venom-filled. "If you want to survive, you'll be there."
A click in her ear indicated he'd hung up.
Pilar went into the bathroom and promptly threw up. After a few minutes of nothing but dry heaves, she moved to the sink where she rinsed her mouth and brushed her teeth. Then, she stood staring at her reflection in the large mirror. The fright in her wide eyes was accentuated by the deep, rich, auburn of the wig.
Something was wrong. The tone in Zippy's voice was…controlled fear. He tried to sound like everything was okay, but the fact he wanted her to bring more money told her something was seriously wrong.
She didn't want to go, and considered her options. She could opt to not go at all, but she knew, without a doubt, Zippy would seek revenge. He'd have her killed, or more likely, do it himself just to see her suffer. That's just the way it worked.
On the other hand, she wasn't sure she wouldn't be killed by going. She'd been thinking about snuffing Zippy because he was becoming a liability. He probably thought the same thing about her. Maybe he was luring her to the motel to kill her.
Maybe the situation wasn't that catastrophic, but she had no idea what had gone on at the bar after she'd left. Maybe that Detective Divine had arrested him for the murder of Heather McCall, and the police had orchestrated the phone call to take her into custody as well. What to do?
She considered calling her LAPD security detail to accompany her, but quickly rejected that idea. If nothing were amiss, they'd wonder about the wig, the location and why she was having a clandestine meeting with Zepeda Sorriano in a run-down motel in the Valley. Her protection officers might feel obligated to mention her strange meeting to their supervision.
The thought of having Preston accompany her flitted through her mind. Then she laughed out loud at the thought of bringing Preston to defend her from the man she'd hired to kill the love of Preston's life.
No, she'd have to go alone. Maybe her guilty conscience had gotten the best of her and nothing was wrong. Zippy probably just wanted more money. At this point, it didn't matter what he wanted. It was time to cut him out of her life—for good. She'd use the travel time to get in the right frame of mind for what she was about to do.
MADDIE – 98
Sorriano and I walked to where I'd parked my detective ride. He was on my right with his left hand fused just below my right bicep. My gun, in his right hand, was jabbed into my ribs. I could hardly breathe. Thoughts of the 1963 onion field murder of LAPD Officer, Ian Campbell flitted through my mind as well as flashbacks of the night I was attacked and raped. I cursed myself that once again I was at the mercy of a man holding a gun—my gun.
As we picked our way past vehicles wedged into ridiculously small parking stalls, I made up my mind that if I was going to get capped I was going to do it on my terms and not like some meek lamb being led to slaughter.
We were in the last open space and about fifteen feet from my car when I took action. I spun toward Sorriano and at the same time drove the heel of my left palm toward his nose. At the same time, I thrust my right foot in the direction of Sorriano's family jewels.
I took satisfaction that my face jab connected. I was dismayed when I realized he'd seen it coming and my blow landed on his forehead and had little impact. Worse yet, he'd anticipated my groin kick and had swept my left leg out from under me. I slammed into the asphalt with my knees. He kicked me hard on the left side of my head. My ears were ringing so badly I could barely hear him.
"Listen you fuckin' bitch, I ain't got time for this crap." One-handed, he jerked me to my feet. Directly in front of me, he pressed my gun into my stomach. "That was your freebie Detective Divine. Another stunt like that and I'll make you watch while I rape and torture the governor's daughter. Do I make myself clear?"
I hadn't caught all of what he'd said. I could barely hear. But I'd heard enough to know if I tried to get away again, Tiffany was going to pay. I limped over to my car with Sorriano so close to me we could have been mistaken for Siamese twins.
"You know, you should let me drive," I said. "We're so close to my office, it might raise questions if some unknown man was seen driving the detective vehicle I checked out earlier today."
My captor narrowed his eyes, and the furrow between his brows deepened. I could tell he was weighing my words. "All right, but there'll be a bullet splitting your skull and the governor's daughter if you zig when you should have zagged. Understood?"
I nodded. Thank God I'd convinced Sorriano to let me drive. For once I was grateful for the agonizing crawl of Los Angeles traffic. It gave me time to think. I'd been considering whether or not I should stage a minor collision with my police vehicle and, within the confines of the car, try to disarm Zepeda Sorriano. It might work, but I was in a bad situation.
If I tried to take my gun away from him, the chance of injury or death to some working-stiff fighting traffic to get home was high. Sorriano would be desperate, and the freeway offered him too many potential hostages and vehicles. But the real reason I had to go along with him was he'd said he had Tiffany Truesdale. I couldn't take the chance of missing an opportunity to recover her.
As we drove, I tried to think of why he'd kidnap the governor's daughter. It didn't really make any sense. Yet, I couldn't take the risk he wasn't telling the truth. I mean, taking a cop hostage is serious business, so he obviously was into some deep shit. I just needed to sort it out.
Sorriano pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and called someone. It sounded as if he was talking to someone in power and they were freaking out. Who would that be? Drejohn? There'd been no ransom demand. Whoever had Tiffany operated with another motive. Although he seemed to be in charge, Sorriano asked for money. If Tiffany were under his control, why not just ask for the ransom? The whole thing didn't make sense.
He must have some connection to Tiffany's disappearance, though. Why else grab me? I needed to get this figured out and quick. I knew from the phone call we were en route to a motel. There was no doubt in my mind he would kill me there.
Well, he could try. I wasn't planning to go easily.
TRAVIS – 99
Pulling his truck up to the valet parking area at the Temple Street Towers, Travis got out into the sticky heat of a summer night in Los Angeles. The parking attendants worked quickly, but there were only two on duty. Waiting for one of the parkers to break free and take his pickup, he peered through the front glass doors of the hotel, hoping to catch a glimpse of his wife. It was no use. The lobby was busy and he was too far away. He hoped the recovery of Tiffany Truesdale hadn't gone down yet. He knew it was silly, but he'd feel better if he was there to back up his wife should she need it.
Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye something caught his attention. He scanned the scene in front of him trying to decipher what had given him pause. It was Maddie. She was getting behind the steering wheel of her 'plain wrap' cruiser that was parked in a lot used for the valets. There was a man Travis didn't recognize sliding into the passenger seat. Where in the hell are you going Maddie? Travis started to call out to her, but he knew with the noise from the traffic, she'd never hear him.
T
he car jockey appeared before him. "Good evening, sir. Will you be checking in at the hotel?"
Staring as his wife pulled out of the parking lot, Travis forced his attention to the kid in front of him. "Sorry. Change of plans."
Travis yanked open his door and leapt behind the wheel. Gunning the engine, he burned rubber as he almost collided with a taxi vying for space at the same exit. The cab driver honked his disapproval and displayed a one-fingered salute.
Not having Maddie's car in sight, he felt panic start to enter his body and he had no idea why. Was the stranger somehow connected to her case? Had the arrests been made and she was heading to PAB? No. There was something totally wrong about the body language between Maddie and the mysterious unknown man. Just as he had on his way to meet Maddie, he dialed her cell phone. Just like before, she didn't answer. That didn't make sense either. Something was wrong.
He caught a glimpse of the silver detective vehicle turning north onto the Hollywood Freeway. Travis pressed the accelerator to catch up. Unfortunately, an amber light turned red about a hundred feet before he entered the intersection. He gripped the wheel tighter and went through anyway.
Thankful he'd made it safely onto the freeway, he spotted the silver sedan his wife drove in the number two lane. With the experience of a seasoned
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