Oh great! Just great! What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? “Um…I’ve got to go. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” Bristow said. “This is serious. If you get any more calls from Mexico, we need to know immediately.” His tone made me flinch a little. He noticed and tried to sound more agreeable. “We have some good men down there, and any info we can get to help them would be appreciated.”
“Sure,” I said. “If they call me back, I’ll let you know.” I didn’t add that I didn’t think they would, but they could tell from my tone that was what I thought. They both stood, and Bristow handed me another one of his cards.
“Be sure to do that,” he said.
I took the card and led them to the door. They left and I flopped onto the couch. What was I supposed to do now? Maybe I should come clean with Jackie. If she could get in touch with Ramos, maybe she’d find out what was going on. I could just let her handle it, and then I’d be off the hook.
I picked up my cell phone and hesitated. This is what the CIA would be waiting for. I’d seen it a hundred times on TV. Right after the agents left, the guilty person always called his cohorts and told them what the agents wanted. The agents were always listening, and the poor guy got caught.
Well that wasn’t going to happen to me. I checked out my window to make sure they had really left. They were gone, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t parked down the street out of view. Next, I felt under the end table, just to make sure Shaw hadn’t planted another bug.
I couldn’t feel anything, but I checked the whole area again just to make sure. Nothing. Did that mean it was okay to make my phone call? I had no idea. Maybe I should leave to call Jackie, just to be safe.
I grabbed my keys and got in my car. I could drive to the grocery store and see if anyone followed me. Then call from there when I was sure the coast was clear. I sat in the parking lot for ten minutes. Nothing seemed suspicious, so I picked up my cell phone and dialed Thrasher Development.
While it rang, I remembered Uncle Joey’s warning not to tell anyone about the money and my heart sped up. Maybe this was a mistake.
“Thrasher Development, may I help you?” Jackie answered. I froze, my breath caught in my throat. “Hello?” she asked.
“Hi, Jackie…this is Shelby,” I said. “Um…do you have a minute to talk?”
“Is this about Joe? Do you know what’s going on?” Her voice sounded a little frantic.
“Not really,” I stalled. “I was hoping you could tell me.”
Silence on the other end made me wish I knew what she was thinking. “I was just leaving for lunch,” she said, her tone in control and calculating. “Would you like to join me?”
“Sure, sounds great,” I answered, not really sure at all. We decided to meet at a café that was famous for its sandwiches and espresso. I hung up and wondered if I’d done the right thing. Doubt and frustration coiled in my stomach, giving me heartburn. Hang Uncle Joey. I was tired of worrying. Sharing this with Jackie would take some of the pressure off of me. If something needed to be done, she could take care of it.
At eleven-thirty, it was a bit early for lunch, and easy to spot Jackie in a corner booth. She gave me a curt nod and I hurried over, realizing she was one of those people that I wanted to please, mostly because I had a feeling it wouldn’t be good to be on her bad side. Which didn’t bode well for me at all.
“Hi,” I said, smiling. She returned my greeting and we made small talk until our food arrived.
“I had a visit from the CIA this morning,” she said, jumping right in. “Is that why you’re here? Did they visit you too?” Her thoughts were quiet, totally focused on what I had to say.
“Yes, but that’s not why I’m here. I mean…it’s not the only reason.” I tried to figure out a way to sugarcoat the phone call from the inspector, but finally gave up, and told her about the kidnapping and demand for ransom. “I don’t think it’s for real,” I explained. “I was sure it was a scam, at least until the CIA came around. That’s when I decided to call you.”
“What did the CIA tell you?” she asked.
“Just that Uncle Joey’s dropped out of sight, and there was a woman, Carlotta something, whom he was helping.” Jackie’s eyes widened, and then a glint of cold steel came into them. “They thought she might be involved with the drug cartel…” Jackie blinked and the coldness was gone, replaced with worried concern.
“How much money did they want?” she asked.
“One million dollars,” I said. “I told the kidnappers I didn’t have that kind of money and to get…” I stopped, realizing that Jackie knew I did have the money but wasn’t willing to pay the ransom.
She smiled at the fact that I had told them off. But how they knew to call me in the first place was a mystery. She was pretty sure I had the money, but how did they know? Unless I’d called Joey ‘Uncle Joey’, and it was just a fluke. That would certainly explain it. “You handled it well. If anyone understands bribery, it’s Joe Manetto. You were right to tell me. I’ll call Ramos and see what I can find out. In the meantime, you should watch your back. Those kinds of people will stop at nothing for a few bucks.”
“All right.” I was surprised that she wasn’t mad at me for not giving in to their demands. She didn’t seem too worried either, and I was grateful to have her handle things. “Let me know how it goes.”
All the way home, I was counting my lucky stars that she’d taken it so well, and I didn’t have to worry about Uncle Joey anymore. Hopefully it would all blow over, and I could focus on the more important job of keeping a vengeful assassin from killing me.
That night, Chris got home from work, unhappy about his day. A couple of things had gone undone, and it put him behind. He used to keep his frustration to himself and leave work at work, but now that he knew I could hear his thoughts, he wasn’t sure what to do. Plus he was worried about me and everything I was involved in. It was starting to get to him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked. He exhaled, puffing his cheeks out to keep from saying something he’d regret. “Oops,” I said. “I guess that means no.”
“Shelby,” he hesitated to get under control. “Yeah, it means no.” At least he toned down what he was thinking. He could have let me have it about how I wasn’t supposed to read his mind and answer his thoughts without him vocalizing them. And where the hell were my shields? So even though he was thinking he wanted to strangle me, he was really being nice about it. “I’m going to go for a run,” he said instead.
He hurried from the room with a tight smile, and I got out of his way. Hmm, this might not be a good time to tell him about the visit from the CIA, or my lunch with Jackie where I spilled the beans. There was also the bad news that I hadn’t heard any news from Dimples about Mercer.
Yup, this was one of those times I needed to put up my shields and try to act normal. Which was easier said than done, but what choice did I have? Savannah came home from Madi’s house with Ryan on the brain. Lately, that was all she thought about and it was driving me crazy. Of course, the fact that I wasn’t supposed to know about it was even worse. What do you say to your teenage daughter who has a crush and can’t think straight?
That was one reason why I worked hard to keep my shields up around Josh. I didn’t think I could handle the thoughts of a hormonally- challenged teenage boy. So far, it was working out, and I decided to do the same with Savannah. I would work on having an open relationship without being intrusive. Of course, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t put my foot down if I thought for one minute she needed it.
What about Chris? I realized I hadn’t held up my end of the bargain. I listened to his thoughts when I shouldn’t. He needed the same boundaries as my kids, and I hadn’t given him that. He had every right to be upset with me.
After his run, he seemed more relaxed, which was a huge relief. He showered and was getting dressed when I walked in on him and softly closed the door. “Honey,” I began. “I’m sorry that
I listened when I shouldn’t. I promise to work harder on that.”
He paused; his boxers were on, but nothing else. He reached for his t-shirt, and I wandered over to him, taking the opportunity to touch his bare skin. He exhaled, letting me run my fingers over his chest. “Am I forgiven?” I asked.
“You are such a manipulator,” he said, his voice low. But he didn’t pull away, and I put my arms around him, circling my fingernails lightly over his back the way he liked it. He moaned and caught my lips in a kiss. We came up for air, and I smiled sweetly.
“Um…are you hungry?” I asked. “Because dinner’s ready.”
“Yes, definitely,” he replied, not thinking about food.
“Great.” I pulled away. “We’ll save that for later.” My eyes widened, wondering if he’d be mad again, but he just smiled. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by telling him my shields were up, so I pulled away.
He was having none of that, and jerked me back in his arms. “Where do you think you’re going?” I squeaked in alarm and his smile deepened. “Is dinner going to burn if we’re not there right away?”
“Not this dinner. It’s in the crock-pot.”
“Good. Then since you’re groveling for my forgiveness, I know just how you can earn it.”
I laughed, more than willing to do what I must. “There’s only one thing wrong with your plans,” I said between kisses. “Josh is starving.”
“He can wait a few more minutes,” Chris answered.
It was a little longer than that before we sat down at the dinner table, but all in all, the evening was going much better than it started. I did my best to keep my shields up, and Chris could tell how hard I was trying.
“I’m sorry I was such a grouch when I got home,” Chris said later. “I guess I just needed some time to unwind.”
“I know what you mean,” I agreed. “It’s been nice to relax and not worry about everything.”
“Yeah,” he answered. He took a breath and with reluctance added, “Did you hear anything about Mercer? Have they got him back in custody?”
“I talked to Dimples this morning. He said it should happen today or tomorrow. So he might be in custody by now. I’ll call him in the morning.”
“Good. I’ll feel a lot better about things once he’s back in jail.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “Do you want to watch something on TV?” I asked, knowing how worried he was, and that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
His face cleared, and the tightness around his eyes relaxed. “Sounds great.”
***
The next morning after Chris left for work, worry hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn’t told him about my conversation with Jackie or the CIA, mostly because he was already worried about Mercer, and I didn’t want to make it worse. The thing that churned my stomach was wondering if Mercer was still out there gunning for me. If he were smart, he’d leave town and forget all about me.
I called Dimples for an update, but he wasn’t available, so I left a message to call me ASAP. It had been a few days since I’d last seen Mercer, and if what Ricky said was true, my reprieve was probably over. I checked my stun flashlight and made sure it was fully charged.
The gun Chris and I bought over the weekend was safely put away, and I couldn’t bring myself to load it. I didn’t feel comfortable with a loaded gun in the house, even with the safety on. Of course, I would probably change my mind if I didn’t get good news from Dimples. Soon.
After locking all the doors and windows, I put my nervous energy to work and started the laundry. Then I decided to clean the kitchen cabinets. I kept my eye on the street for anything that looked suspicious, and found that I spent more time watching the street than I did cleaning. Finally, I just gave up.
I picked up the phone to call Dimples again, and noticed a white industrial-type van parking across the street and up one house. My pulse leapt and my mouth went dry. There was no writing on the side to identify it as belonging to a business, and the windows were tinted so I couldn’t see if anyone was sitting inside. The hairs on my arm stood up, and a chill went down my back. I knew I was in danger.
My hands shook, but before I could push any numbers, the phone rang, and I fumbled it in my fingers. The phone number on the caller ID wasn’t familiar, and I debated whether I should answer. I glanced out my window to find that the passenger door of the van had opened, but I couldn’t see anyone. Maybe whoever was on the phone could help me.
“Hello?” I said.
“Shelby! You’re all right.” I recognized the voice, even though it was a little high-pitched for him.
“Ramos? Is that really you?”
“Listen,” he said forcefully. “You’ve got to get out of there.”
“What?”
“I don’t have time to explain, but I’ve been following some people and I think they’re coming after you.”
“Are they in a white van with no windows?” I asked.
“Uh…I don’t know. Why?”
“Because there’s a van parked up the street from my house, and I have a bad feeling about it.”
“Okay…listen…just get in your car and leave. If they follow you, you’ll know you’re in trouble. Take your cell phone and call me. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I answered.
“Good. Go!” The line went dead and I started to shake.
I slipped on my shoes and grabbed my purse. Pulling the back door open, I came face to face with a man whose fist was raised to knock. I screamed and slammed the door in his face. With my chest heaving, it dawned on me who it was, and I cringed. What had I just done?
I pulled it open again, this time with a smile plastered on my face. “Agent Bristow. What a surprise. Sorry about that, you startled me.”
“Do you always slam the door in people’s faces?”
“I was just leaving, and I didn’t expect anyone to be standing there,” I explained. “Usually people come to the front door, not the back door.” I noticed the side door to the garage was standing open. “So…what are you doing here?” I thought it was a fair question. “Hey, is that your van up the street?”
I checked to see if it was still there so I wouldn’t look like a total moron. It was. He didn’t answer, so I turned back to him and he had a puzzled look on his face. Then he started to slide forward and I reached out to steady him. His weight took me by surprise and I couldn’t hold him up. The momentum carried us both to the floor, and I gasped.
“Bristow! What are you doing?” His eyes rolled back in his head, and I struggled to push him off me. My fingers touched something sticking out of his back. Dread that it was a knife turned to relief to find a dart-like thing in his shoulder. At the same time, fear twisted around my heart. My door was standing wide open!
I yelped and wiggled out from under him, trying to get to my feet and shut the door. In complete panic, I lurched to slam the door, but his feet were in the way. I bent down to move them, and something whizzed over my head. A dart hit the stove and bounced across the floor. I ducked behind the door and pushed against it, smashing Bristow’s feet between the door and the doorframe.
Bristow groaned and I worried that I was breaking a bone or something. I let go of the door and shoved against him with my legs. The force rolled him out of the way and I pushed against the door, only to find it blocked from the outside by a person’s foot.
I let out a yelp, and still pushing on the door, looked for something to hit the foot with. Not far from me, the dart was lying on the floor. Keeping my feet firmly planted against the door, I scooted back on my butt and straightened my legs. Stretching, I managed to grasp it. I brought the dart down with all my strength, plunging it through the person’s shoe. The man yelped and jerked his foot away, allowing me to finally get the door closed. I jumped up and locked the dead bolt, then ducked down to catch my breath.
I heard some movement coming from outside my door, but it was muffled. Did that mean the man was waiting for me to make a move? Or was he
now lying in a drugged sleep in my garage? Where was Agent Shaw? Was he the one I just darted? I crawled over Bristow to peer through the window.
The van was gone. I scanned the street, but couldn’t see it anywhere. Was it over? Had they left? Maybe the presence of the CIA had scared them off. Ramos told me to leave and call him. He could tell me what was going on. For now, that was probably my best option. Bristow stirred. He’d be awake soon, and I wondered if I should involve him or leave. Which was safer? The CIA or Ramos? Hoping I wasn’t making a huge mistake, I decided to go with Ramos.
I grabbed my purse, but this time I opened the door a crack and peeked out. I couldn’t see anyone in the garage, although the side door Bristow had come in was still wide open. I took a deep breath and pulled the door wider. I strained to hear movement, but all was quiet. I pushed the remote to unlock the car and made a run for it.
I got to the car door and pulled it open, ready to jump inside. Arms wrapped around me in a tight grip and I screamed. A hand clamped over my mouth, and I struggled for all I was worth, almost missing the sting of a prick against my neck.
My legs went weak, and I couldn’t move. The man holding me began to drag me out the garage door. I kept blinking my eyes to keep the darkness away, but it was getting hard. The man hauled me into the back of the van that was sitting in my driveway, and lowered me onto the floor next to another still form. He closed the doors, shutting out the light, and I couldn’t fight the darkness any more. The last thing I heard was the engine starting and someone speaking in Spanish.
Chapter 8
I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a piece of carpet in the back of a van. It had stopped moving, and I sensed that I was alone. I tried to sit up, but found my hands bound with rope. At least my legs were untied, and nothing covered my mouth.
Loud, angry voices came from outside. My captors were arguing about something, probably what to do with me. I listened carefully, but couldn’t make out a single word they said. Then it hit me. It was all in Spanish. My heart skipped a beat, knowing that these men were probably from the drug cartel or Inspector Salazar. Maybe they were working together, or one and the same. Did they still think I could give them the million dollars? Was there anything I could tell them that would keep them from killing me?
Fast Money: A Shelby Nichols Adventure Page 11
