No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7

by Barton, Sara M.

  Hector really was an experienced killer and that gave him the edge. With an unexpected backward lunge, he sent me flying out of the car. As I fell backwards, my bottom bounced along the pavement, but there was no time to think about the indignity of it all. When I finally came to a stop, I saw that Hector was yet again attacking a blood-soaked Axel.

  “No!” I screamed. “No!”

  The knife rose and fell again and again in the time it took me to get back to the car. This time, I was wiser. This time, I decided, I would have the advantage. With a firm grip on Hector’s thinning hair, I sent his head sideways into the steering wheel, pounding it into the hard edge, and I didn’t stop, even when he tried to body slam me again. I was ready for him when he launched himself into me. I held on tight and pulled him along with me as I flew backwards. I hit the hot pavement first, and when Hector landed on top of me, I felt the breath leave my lungs. Seconds later, Hector rolled over on his side, knife still in hand, and raised his arm, poised to slice right through me.

  “Drop your weapon!” Axel commanded. He was leaning out of the car, blood dripping from the cut above his eye, his handgun raised at Hector. With an evil smile on his face, Hector looked at me and brought the knife down in a sudden, sharp jab. In that fraction of a moment, I cowered, trying to scramble away, and when the blade pierced my skin, the cold heat numbed me. In some kind of animated slow motion, I gazed down at the spot where the blade had slashed my upper arm. There was a sharp crack that rattled the calm afternoon, and then there was darkness. I found myself suffocating under the deadweight of the murderous Hector Fernandez, all two hundred-plus pounds of him.

  “Kelsey!” There were noises all around me as a crowd gathered. I could hear sirens in the distance, growing closer. Hector’s heavy body was rolled off me by an octopus with many hands. And then Axel was bending over me, frantic. “Stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”

  “Me?” I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t do it on my own. My left arm was a bloody mess. Someone grabbed my hand and held it in the air above my head. Someone else supported my back.

  “What about you? You’re covered in blood!” I cried.

  “Superficial cuts. I’m fine! See?” He tried to reassure me, but I remained unconvinced until he wiped away the blood and I saw the cuts on his skin weren’t as bad as I imagined. “I’m very good at dodging a knife. Bullets, not so much.”

  “Looks like Hector wasn’t any good at that either,” I sighed. The dead assassin lay face down in a pool of red a few feet away. I still could see those eyes in his final moments of life, the maniacal gleam as he brought down the knife in his defiant final act.

  The local cops were pouring out of police cars and steering the crowd away from the scene of the crazy chaos. Axel put his gun down on the pavement and stepped back, hands in the air. Moments later, I could see the faces of uniformed cops as they hovered over me. One of them tapped Axel on the shoulder.

  “Ambulance just arrived. I’ll wave them over. And I’ll notify folks we need the coroner.”

  “Thanks.” Axel’s smartphone buzzed in his pocket. With one arm around my shoulder and the other working the phone, he managed to convey the seriousness of the situation to Special Agent-in-Charge Devry, now back in his Washington office. As I listened to the conversation, my bicep began to throb, even as someone wrapped a towel around the wound and applied pressure. I forced myself to think of something, anything, other than the searing heat of the angry wound. From what I could hear of his conversation, it sounded like Agent Devry was putting pressure on Axel to explain himself.

  “No, sir. I did not follow the guy. I followed the girl. I wanted to tell her something. Yes, I know I could have just called her, but it was the kind of thing you have to say in person. Yes, she seems to be alert. Got to go, sir. The stretcher’s here. Okay. Okay. I really have to go, sir. Okay, okay. I will. I’ll call you with an update. Right. Yup. Roger that. Out.” Axel leaned back on his knees and got up.

  “What a grouch! The man wants to know what I was doing following you to St. Michaels. Nosy bugger. Let’s get you patched up,” Axel said, stepping aside as the stretcher was wheeled up.. Two emergency medical technicians toted their paraphernalia, setting up shop at my feet.

  “Looks like a simple flesh wound,” the EMT decided as she examined my arm. “There might be some muscle damage. Let’s get you to the ER for a look-see.”

  The cop in charge was already interviewing eyewitnesses. Apparently, quite a few people had watched in horror as Hector tried to force me into the car, and they had seen Axel rush to my rescue. The 911 operator reported multiple calls of an attack in progress.

  I was eased onto the stretcher, gently reclined to a half-sitting position, and strapped into place. Someone grabbed my purse from Uncle Jack’s car and tucked it between my legs. I felt fingers squeezing my right hand.

  “Listen,” Axel said gently, leaning close to my ear. “I have to stay here because I discharged my weapon and killed a suspect. This is sticky because I’m working undercover and we don’t want to blow the investigation. Can you go to the hospital without hating me for not being there for you? I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. But you need to get stitches for some of those cuts,” I pointed out. “Make sure you don’t hang out here all day. I don’t want you losing a lot of blood because of that creep.”

  “Does that mean you care?” Axel gave me a boyish grin and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  A detective met the ambulance at the entrance to the hospital and followed as I was wheeled in. He was very excited.

  “Ms. Dunham, I want to show you a photograph and ask you to confirm if you’ve seen this man. Can you do that?”

  I nodded and waited for him to show me what was on his tablet. As I gazed down at the mug shot the cop offered me, I saw the face of Hector Fernandez staring back at me.

  “That’s him! That’s the guy from the auto train! That’s the guy who tried to kill me.”

  “I have bad news for you, miss. This man is a professional hit man. He’s wanted on numerous federal charges. We have instructions to coordinate with Washington on this. The DEA is sending a team down here.”

  I did my best to act surprised. Clearly this was not a typical situation for the Easton Police Department, any more than it was for me. At least Special Agent-in-Charge Devry was already taking control of the situation.

  The emergency room at Memorial Hospital wasn’t crowded at this time of day. I was quickly admitted and brought to a treatment room. The nurse came in and took all my vital signs, cleaned up the wound, and called in the intern, who in turn examined me and notified the resident on call. The resident put me through a series of finger and hand movements before calling for an orthopedic surgeon. They held a whispered conference about the knife wound before informing me that the type of knife used on me had created a more serious wound, requiring a specialist, because the edge of Hector’s blade was serrated, designed to inflict maximum damage. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Osmet came bounding cheerfully into the room, looked me over, and gave me a whistle.

  “What do we have here? A shark attack? Don’t you know it’s not a good idea to swim with the big fish?”

  “I do now,” I agreed, grimacing. The burning fire of the wound was almost as excruciating as the pain.

  “So,” said the doctor, slapping on a headlamp as he moved in for a look. “How did this happen?”

  “I was attacked by a professional killer.”

  “No, really. What happened?” Dr. Osmet wanted to know. By the time I finished the recap of my day, he had carefully stitched up the tear in the muscle and the ragged flesh of the knife wound, bandaging me in a neat package. “I’ve had people go through plate glass windows with less damage than you had, Ms. Dunham. It’s a good thing your attacker didn’t have better aim.”

  “Stick around, Doc,” I told him. “My rescuer is going to need stitches, too.”

 
; Axel was driven to the hospital by one of the cops, arriving as I was waiting to be discharged. The emergency room process began anew for him, but luckily he was in the room across from me. I waited with him as the nurse cleaned him up, the intern checked him over, and the resident consulted. When the resident left to call Dr. Osmet, Axel had a chance to drop a jawbreaker.

  “Guess what. It was no accident Hector Fernandez Jiminez deliberately followed you here. Apparently, Kelsey, you got under the guy’s skin. Our inside guy says that Hector told a colleague he was going to teach you a lesson for disrespecting his manhood.”

  “Does this mean the cartel will come after me?” My heart skipped a beat.

  “Nope. They think Hector got out of line with you because his hormones were insulted. The cartel doesn’t like to draw attention to itself, because it brings negative attention and law enforcement scrutiny, and since this is a man-woman thing, they’ll let it go.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  By the time they called Dr. Osmet back to sew up the wounded DEA agent, it was nearly three in the afternoon.

  “Warren must by having a cow,” I remarked as Axel and I sat watching Dr. Osmet take tiny stitches with nearly invisible thread.

  “What time is the opening?” Axel asked.

  “Six.”

  “We’ve got plenty of time. I’ll drive you there and explain it all to the contentiously cantankerous curmudgeon.”

  “What an apt description of my boss,” I chuckled.”He is a curmudgeon!”

  “I do have a way with words, don’t I? Clearly none of this was in your control. Who knows, Kelsey. Maybe I can talk him into letting you go.”

  “Good luck with that,” I laughed. Turning to Dr. Osmet, I explained. “My boss is a jerk.”

  “I’m trying to convince this lovely lady to quit her job and move to New Jersey, to be with me.”

  “How long have you two been dating?” Finishing the last stitch, Dr. Osmet tied it off with a careful loop and a big snip from tiny scissors.

  “Technically, Doc, we’ve never even been on a date. But I knew the minute I laid eyes on her this morning that she was something special.” Axel waited patiently as the doctor wrapped gauze around his wrist. He was sporting an adhesive bandage on his forehead, applied by the resident, and he looked like he had been on the receiving end of a bad beating.

  “Ah,” Dr. Osmet laughed. “I met my wife in the middle of a four-car pile-up in Honduras, when I was a young medical student at a rural health clinic and she was an injured tourist. We’ve been married almost twenty-five years now. If it wasn’t for that bump on the head, she probably never would have paid any attention to the likes of me, but I knew the instant our eyes met that I was going to pursue her to the ends of the earth. Some things just are.”

  I looked at Axel and he returned the glance. Dr. Osmet watched us.

  “It’s true, you know. The eyes really are the windows to the soul. Good luck to both of you. Enjoy the rest of your lives together.” As soon as the door shut behind the doctor, Axel gave me a long, lingering gaze, watching me wistfully from his perch on the examination table.

  “Ah, looks like the eyes have it!”

  “In that case,” I laughed, “can you please take out those hideous contacts?”

  Axel threw back his head. Using his fingertips, he popped them out one by one and tossed them into the trash.

  “I won’t be needing those any more,” he smiled as he looked at me, revealing those beautiful ice blue eyes. “Better?”

  “Much, much better,” I grinned. “So, what made you follow me down here?”

  “I thought you deserved a better goodbye kiss than the one I gave you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Like this,” he said, giving me a demonstration of the prowess of his mouth. Our lips were hungry, demanding, as they locked together. I felt Axel penetrating every cell of my body with his essence, as his tongue danced around mine. My body tingled with excitement and exuberance, building a pathway to desire. We clung to each other with the intensity of drowning swimmers to the life raft. A discreet cough broke the magic. We moved apart only enough to see the speaker.

  “You’re all checked out. You can go as soon as you’ve talked to the nurse,” said the patient assistant, her eyes avoiding ours. She put down the pile of paperwork, including the after-care instructions. “She’ll be right in.”

  We parted, tenderly, reluctantly. I felt the memory of him remain with me, clinging to me like a song I couldn’t get out of my head. A tall woman in a hospital garb arrived in a rush, silenced her pager, and got down to business. Even as the nurse explained the medications and wound care procedures, I barely heard her. I was floating on a cloud, weightless and free. As soon as she was gone, I felt Axel’s fingers merge with mine.

  “That kiss was definitely better than the last one,” I admitted. “I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime in less than a day. There’s something about almost dying that makes you feel more alive.”

  “This has been a hell of an experience,” he sighed. “But I think I’ve had enough adventure to last me for a good, long while. I’m looking forward to some quiet time with you. No guns blazing. No bad guys. Just normal, ordinary stuff, like you nagging me to take out the garbage and not leave my smelly socks on the bathroom floor.”

  “You leave your socks on the bathroom floor?” He laughed as I feigned shock over his bad domestic behavior.

  Ten minutes later, one of the detectives working the case swung by in his unmarked sedan and drove us back to the parking lot of Lowe’s. Axel opened up his SUV, rolled down the windows, and asked me to wait for him to finish up with the scene. There was a walk-through of the crime scene with the cops. He seemed to be explaining his movements. I could see police tape all around Uncle Jack’s blue Camry, the doors still wide open. There was blood on the seats and I wondered how I would ever get it clean enough to sell. When Axel finally slid behind the wheel of his Escape, he told me we could pick up Uncle Jack’s car tomorrow. I told him about my concerns.

  “I’ll be right back,” was all he said before he disappeared into Lowe’s. I wondered what he was doing. He emerged, triumphant, six minutes later, toting a couple of bags. When he got behind the wheel, he gave me a peek.

  “Simple Green, a murderer’s best friend, to get rid of the blood stains, a decent sponge, and some upholstery cleaner, to take up any other stains on the fabric or floor mats. We’ll get that car ready for top dollar.”

  “Thanks, Axel.” I smiled, feeling rather content. “You know, considering what I’ve been through in the last thirty hours, I feel remarkably good. Maybe it hasn’t all hit me yet.”

  “Or maybe something good came out of all that pain. After all, the chances of us meeting would have been slim to none if you hadn’t picked up that gecko.”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to think we have more than just a quarter of a million dollars worth of heroin in common.” Axel pulled out of the parking lot and we headed down 322 and then took Route 33, towards St. Michaels. As we drove towards the late afternoon sun, I didn’t even seem to care whether Warren fired me.

  “I don’t know much about you. Where did you grow up?”

  “A small town up in New Hampshire, Hampton Falls,” he told me.

  “You’re kidding me. I grew up in New Castle. Where did you go to college?”

  “Providence. Baseball scholarship.”

  “Rhode Island School of Design,” I laughed. “It’s like we’ve been living parallel lives all this time. Only you worked in Virginia and I worked in New York.”

  “Actually, this isn’t my first stint in New York,” Axel confessed. “And we lived in Stamford.”

  “Maybe we do belong together.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed, his eyes on the road and a smile on his face. “Where are we going?”

  We headed up Talbot Street and pulled into the parking lot behind the gallery. Axel put the SUV in park, turned off the engine, and gave me his full a
ttention.

  “Okay,” he patted my hand, “what are you going to say to Warren if he gives you any crap?”

  “‘Warren, you’re a complete idiot for not appreciating me.’”

  “And?”

  “‘And if you don’t treat me the way I deserve to be treated, I’m going to find a boss who will.’”

  “That’s my girl,” he grinned. “Smart, sassy, and sweet.”

  “Am I?”

  “What?” Axel responded, feigning innocence.

  “Your girl.”

  “Maybe.” A little smile played on his face, but his eyes were serious. I knew now that Axel was a passionate man who kept his heart protected from harm while hiding beneath a jovial faҫade.

  “I should get going,” I announced.

  “I’ll be in as soon as I make all my phone calls,” he promised. He already had his smartphone out and I could see he was itching to get started.

  “Sure.”

  I crossed the parking lot, planning on entering Bliss Redux through the back door. I had my key in my hand and was just about to slip it into the lock when I realized the door was ajar. Opening the door slightly, I stuck my head in and listened. Something wasn’t right. I thought I heard sobbing. There was an odd odor wafting from the front of the gallery. It smelled like turpentine and smoke.

  Chapter Ten —

  My first thought was that the drug cartel had sent another killer to finish the job for Hector. Carefully extracting myself from the doorway, I held the door and did my best to quietly close it. Then I ran to Axel’s SUV, my hands shaking, my heart pounding.

  “Something’s wrong in the gallery!” I told him breathlessly.

  “You stay here,” he insisted. “Don’t move.”

  As I climbed up into the passenger seat, Axel was already covering the distance to the back door of the gallery. He reached under his pant leg and took out a gun. I could see smoke pouring from the door as he opened it, weapon drawn. Slowly, carefully, he backed up. His gun was aimed at someone. Even as I watched, I could see the thick smoke part long enough for Prudence, Warren’s former assistant, to emerge with her hands in the air. My hands shook as I dialed the phone.