The bartender looked up at me startled. I realized then that he hadn’t even noticed that I had been standing there. Wow, was I that forgettable? I guess in my line of work that was a good thing, but jeez, I might have been pale, but I wasn’t a ghost. I narrowed my eyes at him and then made myself relax. I couldn’t force him to talk to me and I figured I was frightening the poor guy by loitering at the bar and not ordering anything anyway. He finally shrugged in reply. Apparently, he wasn’t expected to actually speak with the guests. I stared at him waiting for him to say something more, but when he just grunted and started cleaning the counters, I supposed I’d just go to the bathroom and hang out there instead.
I wasn’t exactly an introvert, but I didn’t feel like making chitchat with any of the guests who most likely would eventually ask how I knew Cooper or Hillary. I wasn’t the type who told lies just for the fun of it, too risky in my opinion. I preferred anonymity whenever I worked a case and frankly, it was too mentally tasking for me to keep up with lies that I would have to tell random strangers. After a while, it just all muddles in my head so I normally kept to myself whenever I had to get in character for a client.
I noticed that Hillary was still missing and I wanted to see on my way to the bathroom if maybe she was in the hall somewhere, maybe making a call to her lover or something equally salacious. I hooked a left to the bathroom when I didn’t see Hillary and briefly wondered where she could have gone. I then shrugged to myself remembering that I hadn’t been expecting my appearance here to actually make a big difference in my case anyway, so I figured how much trouble could the misses get into if I was only gone for a few minutes?
I walked into the fancy restroom. The countertops were marble and looked like stone I would expect to see in an old world mansion. I could hear classical music playing in the background. The restroom smelled like candy and roses and there were plenty of little mints for me to help myself. Being a little cheap and given that they were all individually wrapped, I dumped some in my purse, looking around to see if I would get caught. I thought I was the only one in the restroom, but better safe than sorry, I said to myself feeling like a greedy kid in the candy store.
Just when I was about to freshen up the lipstick I had chewed off, I heard a noise. I instantly jerked around to see where it had come from. It sounded as if someone was breathing heavily. Then I heard multiple oohs and ahhs, moans and groans. They were loud enough for me to pinpoint the location to a stall not too far behind me.
I knew the hotel where the party was being held was not a trashy establishment by any stretch of the imagination, but I immediately understood that someone was getting it on, using the bathroom as their own personal hook up room. Not wanting to disturb them, I was about to give them their privacy when I saw a shoe hit the ground and roll from under the stall.
It wasn’t just any shoe. It was vintage Ferragamo, exactly what Hillary had been wearing. The chances that someone else would be wearing the same shoe were slim, I reasoned. Apparently, Hillary had also taken a bathroom break, but she had brought company. Which meant, Cooper had been right: His wife was daring enough to meet up with her lover in public and during their vow renewal ceremony no less. The woman had no scruples. I felt bad for Cooper even if he were a little bossy, he didn’t deserve to be cheated on and I instantly felt guilty for my earlier feelings when I called him a tyrant. Hoping that what I considered a good deed would make me feel better and finally end the weeks of following Hillary around from shop to shop, I immediately sprang into action.
I looked around, knowing I would need to be quick before someone else arrived. I had a little selfie stick that people used to extend their reach when taking selfies. I had doctored it so that it could swivel in different directions. It had come in handy on more than one occasion. I adjusted it so it would face away from me. I knew that if I were careful, I could just stand in the stall next to them, raise the selfie stick and get as many pictures as possible. So that’s what I did. I walked as quickly and quietly as I could into the other stall and took photos of the action going on next to me. There was so much moaning and groaning that no one heard a thing. At least, that’s what I thought as I smugly put my camera away and then heard the words, “Hey! What’s that?”
I hightailed it out of the stall, just barely disappearing through the bathroom doors as I heard their stall door bang open. I dashed into a supply closet that was to the right of me and held my breath. My heartbeat was racing. That had been a close one.
About five minutes later, just as my heartbeat was returning to normal, I moved to leave, but someone turned the knob before I could get there. Instantly, I reached for the nearest item I could find, a broom, and picked it up ready to pounce on whoever it was when a house cleaner in full uniform looked in and screamed upon seeing me.
“Oh wow, I apparently had way too much to drink,” I said slurring my words deliberately trying to appear tipsy, “I thought this was the bathroom. Can you point me in the direction of the party, Eleanor?” I said peering at her nametag.
She nodded, still trying to figure out what I was doing in the supply closet. I gave her a cheery smile and walked away whistling softly to myself.
That evening, as soon as I arrived home, I tossed my dress in the corner, sat down on my couch wearing nothing but my undies, and started going through the pictures. I was pretty impressed by how good the selfie stick worked. I had shots of Mrs. Harris at all angles. Many of them, I hadn’t wanted to see. It seemed that Mrs. Harris was the adventurous sort and very flexible. I turned my head to the side, studying one picture in particular, trying to see how one could possibly get into such a position in the tight confines of a bathroom stall. Feeling impressed, although I knew I shouldn’t have been, I quickly answered my phone distractedly when it rang.
“Hello, this is Lexa.” I said not bothering to look at the caller ID. I only had one client now, Cooper Harris, and he always called at the same time, everyday; hence, I figured it was just my friend Christopher.
When Christopher didn’t immediately say anything, I looked at the phone and realized that it was an unknown number. There was breathing on the phone and I went to hang up when someone began talking.
“Hello, Lexa. You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
“Excuse me?” I said, thinking it was some sort of prank, but then how would they know my name? I looked down at the phone about to demand to know who was on the other line when the voice continued, “You have some photos that you shouldn’t have. And we want them back.”
I felt a chill go up my spine. I didn’t scare easily, but the voice was ominous. I was instantly afraid, but was determined not to show it. “Who are we?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just bring the camera and the pictures to 3rd Street Bridge tomorrow at 8pm. Wait for us in front of Jackson’s Bar and Grill or we’ll break every bone in your body. Is that clear?”
“I don’t have to do anything you say.” I managed to get out trying to add defiance to my voice.
“You don’t have to, but you will. By the way, nice undies.”
Abruptly whoever was on the other line disconnected. I looked around my home, scared to death to move from my place on the couch, afraid that someone was in my home at that very minute looking at me. I then saw the lights outside, shining in the direction of my window. The phone dropped from my hand and I tried to breath, but my heart was beating so fast. I jumped up from my sofa, ran to my window, and sucked in a breath. A car was parked in front of my home and I could see clearly a man stood in front of a car waving at me with a smile on his face. I slammed the curtains shut; now shaking all over. What had I gotten myself into?
I didn’t call the police. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Christopher, who was not just my best friend, but also my mentor and I spoke to him in broken sentences, still trying to get my heartbeat under control. He insisted on coming straight over and he also wanted me to contact the police but having grown up in and out of juvie, I wasn’t exactly a fan of the cops
.
I heard a knock at my door minutes later and I jumped startled. Then my phone rang and I recognized Christopher’s number.
“Is that you at the door?” I asked him.
“Yeah. No one’s out here. Open up.”
I quickly went to the door and he looked me up and down as he came in: Inspecting me for any outward signs of distress. I had changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top, so at least I wasn’t still in my undies.
“You sure you’re okay? You’re shaking.”
He was right. I couldn’t stop shaking. Knowing that that man had been in front of my home, watching me walk around scantily clad unsettled me. I was visibly upset still.
“Go sit down. I’ll make a pot of coffee,” Christopher said gruffly. He had salt and pepper hair and brows that extended low on his forehead when he was frowning or angry, as he was now. He was a stocky guy with a bit of a gut. He had been a pro wrestler back at one point, but when an injury ended his career he had been smart, funneling his money into other endeavors, including establishing several charities, such as the foster home where I grew up.
“You’ve definitely gotten yourself into something.” He said as he perused the photos after I had a chance to calm down. The heat of the coffee was soothing in my hands. He stopped talking suddenly and intently stared down at one of the photos. His face was tense in concentration. I expected him to make a comment about the crazy position attempted in the picture, but instead he said, “You didn’t recognize the guy from this photo, did you?”
I looked down and shrugged, “He looks familiar, but I assumed I was just imagining things.”
“He should look familiar. That’s Tony Palazzo. He was a presidential candidate. He’s married to a hothead in corporate America, from what I remember. They were in the news because of how costly and bitter their divorce proceedings are going. Rumor is that an organized crime family partially funded his campaign. Distant cousins of his or something like that.”
“Are you kidding me?” I shook my head. Maybe I needed to find a new job, preferably one where taking not so innocent photos didn’t lead to situations where I had to fear for my life.
“It’s probably Tony Palazzo who wants the photos. He must have seen you and did some snooping to find you. Now he wants the pictures. I bet they would be ammunition for the wife and he doesn’t want them leaked. Like I said, she’s one scary character from what I hear.”
“What am I going to do?”
Christopher said, “Leave it to the cops.”
I thought about that for a second and then said, “And tell them what? I was in a bathroom stall taking pictures of a couple engaging in sexual activity and I need the cops’ help to do what exactly?”
“I see your point. You should probably still call them.”
“Chris!” I said exasperated.
“I’m just saying... ”
“Well, say something else.”
He sighed deeply, “I’ll go with you. It’s dangerous, but maybe they just want the pictures back. No harm no foul.”
I nodded, but I didn’t feel half as sure as Christopher did.
Chapter 2
It was a little bit before eight o’clock. I was admittedly scared and nervous. I hoped that I wasn’t sweating and I tried to keep my expression impassive although I felt anything but cool and collected. I hadn’t chosen my career because I was fearless. In fact, if anything I had chosen it because it gave me the ability to do something that wouldn’t attract anyone’s attention to me. Now here I was a sitting duck with eyes probably everywhere on me and I couldn’t help but get mad at myself. I had messed up royally. I didn’t feel all that better safety wise even though I knew Christopher wasn’t too far away from me. I wish I could say that I felt everything was fine since he was there, but no. I was scared. I’d never been in this type of situation before. I’d never been threatened before. The worst thing that had happened to me was a disgruntled spouse who threw her drink in my face.
Moreover, how in the world did they know I was taking pictures in the first place? Someone must have looked up and saw my camera at the last minute. I felt stupid now for taking the risk, but from all the noises that were coming from the stall, I honestly thought I would get away without being noticed. I kicked at a rock and thought bitterly, “No good deed goes unpunished.”
I started to observe the people around me. I watched a woman, with a poodle, reach down, kiss her dog, and wondered why people did that. It always grossed me out, but then again I wasn’t a big fan of animals. I continued to survey the area around me. At least I wasn’t alone. A man wearing an expensive looking black sport coat was facing the water, looking at the sunset about twenty feet away from me. I was comforted by the fact that there were witnesses around and I saw Christopher sitting at a bench, pretending to be playing on a tablet, so that gave me a little more courage. That courage left me when a voice spoke up from behind me, breaking me out of my reverie and clearly wanting my attention.
“Lexa Charles, I presume?” said the voice.
I turned around slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. The man behind me was short and chubby. His nose was slightly crooked, making me think he had been in more than a few fights in his life.
“I have the photos,” I said instantly reaching into my pocket.
“I’ll take those,” he said. “And the camera.”
I sighed and handed it to him. He carefully took them out of my hand and turned away and as he did, the woman walking the dog blocked his path and said in a dark voice.
“Give me the photos, Marcos.”
I stood there in between them. Marcos looked at me and then back at the woman. “Mrs. Palazzo. What a nice surprise. Funny running into you here.” He said with false charm.
She gave him a mean look and then said evenly, “Just stop while you’re ahead, Marcos. Give me the photos.” It was then that I could smell the stench of alcohol permeating through her pores and floating through the air.
“This is business, Mrs. Palazzo.” Marcos said with steel in his voice, no longer trying to appease her.
“My husband cheating on me is my business.”
“No one said anything about cheating.”
“I’m not stupid, Marcos,” she growled. “I have a right to know what whore of the week my husband is seeing now.”
I grimaced and tried to back away, trying to leave the scene without being caught up in any further drama, and that’s when I heard it. The click of a gun being cocked and I saw that it was pointed at Marcos who was too close to me for comfort. I went to move away and she swiveled the gun in my direction.
“Are you his whore?” she said and I finally noticed how crazy her eyes looked. They were red-rimmed and swollen from crying. It looked like she was a mix between being high, drunk or in mourning and from the sound of her voice and smell of her, I would say it was a mix of all those things.
“I don’t even know your husband. I’m just a private investigator.”
“Likely story,” she hissed.
“Put that gun down, Beth,” Marcos hissed, clearly angry but not wanting to deal with a deranged woman with a gun.
“No. You think I’m just going to let Tony keep running around on me. No. I’m done. It’s over. Daddy said he wasn’t good enough. I should have listened.” Her voice became enraged, getting louder as she continued, clearly losing the little amount of control she still exercised over her emotions. “Your whole family is nothing but a bunch of sleazy----”
She didn’t get to finish as Marcos sprung in her direction and she spun instantly trying to avoid him, unwittingly pulling the trigger in the process and I heard the sound of the bullet being discharged, knowing fully well that I would become the accidental target. I knew I was going to die and as I prepped for the pain and agony in my chest, I felt a hand grab me and push me down. Only milliseconds passed. I stared up at the stranger in disbelief; on top of me was a man, the man in the dark jacket who had been watching the su
nset. How he had gotten to my side so fast, I didn’t know. I would have assumed that it was humanly impossible. Then I reasoned, he could have moved closer when I wasn’t looking since I had been too busy being sure I wouldn’t be shot.
I looked past the stranger on top of me and I saw that the bullet had pierced the tree that was directly behind me. I sighed, whispered a prayer of gratitude to be alive, and looked up at him, “Thank you,” I mumbled. “You just----”
Too beguiled by his eyes, I couldn’t continue speaking. They were an incredibly light grey, the irises barely perceptible in the light, and his body on top of mine felt warm as his chest pressed against my breasts. I was tongue-tied suddenly and he responded by smiling at me, deftly raising up, and extending his hand to me.
I was so mesmerized by the stranger that I didn’t feel insulted at all, as he undressed me with his eyes. He started by taking in my legs. I was wearing tight leggings that left nothing to the imagination when it came to my modest curves and then he slowly brought his eyes up to my small waist, barely there breasts and then his eyes paused not at my face, but my throat. He reached out and ran a finger down my throat. It was unexpected and I felt a jolt that went from where he touched me and spread across my entire body. My skin felt increasingly warm. My breasts suddenly felt heavy and I slowly reached up and let my hand hover over his as our eyes met. Instantly I felt as if I knew this man. I opened my mouth to ask his name when I heard a noise and I turned in its direction, broken from the trance I felt I was in.
So focused on the stranger who saved my life, I didn’t notice the brawl that was going on right next to me. Even the barking poodle had escaped my attention. Distractedly, I turned to say thank you to him again, but when I looked, he was no longer there. I looked around ignoring Christopher holding the disgruntled Mrs. Palazzo down while Marcos seemed to be calling for reinforcements or for the authorities. I couldn’t be sure which one. Mrs. Palazzo was now screaming and wiggling around spewing obscenities and spitting. I shook my head and looked around again. Where had the man with the beautiful eyes disappeared to so quickly?
Kane (Alexander Shifter Brothers Book 1) Page 97
