Jack stared down into her strangely beautiful yet unblinking gaze.
She was spectacular.
A long-forgotten memory shot to the surface of his mind. He had been twelve and on a school trip to the zoo. As the other kids hurried to get lunch, Jack had stubbornly remained staring through the bars of the cage of a black panther that remained frustratingly hidden from view. He was about to give up when, soft and silent, the panther sprang forward. Jack had stood mesmerized – staring into the creature’s coldly glittering eyes. An electric sensation coursed through his body and, for what felt like an eternity, he had the sensation that he and the panther had become one.
The panther vanished.
Jack had sprung forward, gripping the bars. He remembered wanting to break them, wanting to climb inside the cage and be the panther.
Jack was jolted back to the present when Eve pulled a bundle of cash from her purse and placed it on his desk. “Ten thousand dollars. The job will require discretion.”
Jack abruptly stood. He walked across the room, turned. “Let’s start over.”
“In what way?” Eve said, puzzled.
Jack walked to her, leaned in and said in a menacingly soft voice, “Get out of my chair.”
Their eyes locked.
A bolt of electricity shot through Jack and he felt the dizzying sensation of being back at the bars of the panther cage.
Jack shivered.
Eve gave a quicksilver laugh. With cat-like grace, she glided around the desk.
Jack looked at her, his eyes greedily drinking her in.
Eve held out her hand, “Eve Hargrove.”
Jack’s eyes flickered in surprise. Jack recalled how Sam had told him about the three sisters: Legs, Brains and The Ghost.
Eve Hargrove sure as hell ain’t no ghost!
“I believe you met my sister?” She sat in the client chair.
Jack remained leaning on the desk, waiting.
Eve raised her eyebrows, “Jeni did hire you?”
“Confidential.” Jack nodded toward the cash, “What’s that for?”
“Ten thousand dollars. I want you to drop my sister’s case.”
“What you want, you get – is that it?”
She raised her eyebrows in an amused “of course.”
“Why?” Jack rapped out.
“I’d prefer not to explain myself,” Eve said haughtily.
“I’d prefer you did,” Jack retorted.
Eve examined him, sizing him up. “Does it matter?”
Jack raised his eyebrows in his own version of an amused “hell yes.”
Eve stood, haughty as a queen. “My fee includes you keeping your nose out of my business.”
“My job includes putting my nose where I damned well please,” Jack shot back.
Eve’s eyes flashed with indignation. She quickly recovered. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Fox.”
“Never said I’d take the case.” Jack ignored her outstretched hand.
She stood, stubborn, hand outstretched.
Reluctantly, Jack took her hand. At the touch of her fingertips, heat surged through him. Startled, he glanced at their hands and back up to her face.
She smiled, her eyes glinting with…
Triumph?
She turned and, in a moment, was gone.
Jack leaned against the desk, the air going out of him fast. He looked around the room, which suddenly felt empty.
His thoughts on Eve, he was reminded of the stories his grandmother had told him as a child. Stories of the werepanther – a magical creature masquerading as human.
Rachel entered, her eyes probing his.
He felt too bereft to speak. He might was well be twelve and standing at the bars of the cage – alone.
“Well?” Rachel said, curious.
He looked at her blankly.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asked.
Jack pushed himself off the desk, and paced.
Rachel’s eyes caught sight of the cash and she gave a low whistle. “Who do we have to kill?”
Jack scowled. “Get me everything you can on Eve Hargrove – the whole family.”
Rachel hurried out.
Jack walked to the window. Looking down, he saw Eve crossing the street, moving with fluid grace toward a gleaming red Ferrari that two boys were examining with admiring eyes. She slid gracefully behind the wheel. She glanced up, catching and holding Jack’s eyes.
Jack pulled back from the window, feeling like a damned fool.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A king should die on his feet.
–Louis XVIII
Bud lay in the hospital bed, listening to the man in the next bed moan in his sleep. His moans were rhythmic and steady, like Chinese water torture. If the guy missed a moan, Bud found himself tensing, holding his breath in anticipation of the next moan.
I have to get out of here!
Bud sensed more than heard the approach of Bunnie. As she got closer, he could hear the telltale Z-Coil heel strike and the pausing of voices in the wake of the Bunnie avalanche, which he knew so well and welcomed. Bud relaxed and forgot the moaning behind the curtain that separated their beds.
“What the hell, Bud?” Bunnie jerked aside the curtain. “You been havin’ heart pain and didn’t tell me?”
The sleeping moaner woke with a snort.
Bunnie hit the curtain. “Keep it down over there! You’re not the only heart attack on the ward.”
“I’m okay,” Bud smiled weakly.
“Like hell you are!” Bunnie said angrily, lifting an electrode line. “How come Chip has to call me from school – tell me you’re in the hospital? How come he knows before me?”
Behind her, Chip entered the room. He froze with the terrified expression of easy prey.
Bunnie paused, sniffed the air as if sensing his presence.
Bud subtly gestured for Chip to leave.
“Bud Orlean, you are about as subtle as a shithouse on fire!” Bunnie spun around. She gave a cry of joy, sprang forward and grabbed Chip in a bone-crunching hug. “Chip-ster! I thought Bud was waving off a doc he didn’t want me to talk to…”
“Good to be home,” Chip said, awkwardly trying to plant a kiss on her cheek.
“What are you doin’ home? Don’t you have some big exam next week?”
Bud sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He winced, stopped to catch his breath.
Bunnie spun around. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Bud pulled off an electrode, grimacing. “I’m going home. Against medical advice – yes – but I’ll follow up with a cardiologist. I promise.”
Bunnie’s eyebrows shot into a sharp V of anger. She stepped forward menacingly. “So help me Mother-Mary-Louise, if you get out of that bed, Bud Orlean, I will write you a new one.”
Bud tore off another electrode. “Chip dropped out of school. He wants to do some soul searching.”
Bunnie’s body went rigid, a joint somewhere deep within her body cracked like a knuckle. She did a dangerously slow one-eighty.
Chip’s face went grey. “I – I can explain…”
Bud struggled to pull on his pants. “Chip says you’ll understand.”
Her eyes glittered dangerously. “Yeah, Chip, why don’t you explain so I’ll – understand.”
“Wallet, please,” Bud said, pointing to a table.
Bunnie handed it to him.
“Thank you.” Bud said.
Chip glanced at his dad, who gave him a “don’t-mess-with-me” look. Chip took a ragged breath and, after a long hard moment, turned and ran.
Bunnie spun toward Bud. She slapped his hands away from a button that he was struggling with and began undressing him. “He’s going back to school.”
“We can’t force him.”
“Speak for yourself,” Bunnie said grimly as she continued to undress him.
Bud fought to stop her. “I’ll make an appointment with a cardiologist, Bunnie. I can’t stay here.”
/>
“You’re staying.” Bunnie said as she relentlessly undressed Bud.
“It was an ‘episode’ – not a heart attack. I promise, I’ll make an appointment today.”
“Bud, if you die, you’re going to die like a man and an officer of the law – naturally. Murdered on the street in the line of duty. Not dropping dead of a heart attack like you have a wife who doesn’t give a shit and never forced you to eat a stick of broccoli.”
“I’m not…!”
“Bud, this is not about you!” Bunnie snapped.
Bud looked at her in surprise.
“Do you remember those ‘episodes’ I had – when I went into menopause?”
Bud nodded, disturbed.
“Well, I’m feeling something akin to that right now. So, let’s keep in mind that I am not on medication anymore. You have a choice: glue your backside to that bed and jump through every hoop Nurse Ratchett and Doc Martin put you through until they give you the green light to come home or – check yourself out against medical advice and I will personally make sure you drop dead of a heart attack if I have to hand-deliver it myself and FYI, I will bury you in the backyard with your ass sticking out of the ground so my new husband has a place to park his bike.”
Bud got back into bed.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary.
–Edgar Allan Poe
Loud pounding on the door startled Enid out of her doze. She sat up, blinking. For a moment, she felt disoriented and couldn’t remember where she was.
“Open up, Jeni!” A man’s voice demanded angrily from behind the door. “I know you’re in there.”
Like cold water in her face, Enid remembered that she was in Jeni’s apartment – just her and the baby. She grabbed the gun and pointed it at the door.
“Open the door or I’ll kick it in!” the man shouted.
Enid undid what Henry called the “safety” of the gun and tiptoed to the door. There was a window covered with a broken blind, but she was too scared to look through it.
“Jeni’s not here,” she called out in a hesitant voice.
Silence.
Enid glanced at Faith, who was awake and crying.
“Who’s that?” the man’s voice demanded.
“The babysitter. Jeni isn’t here. Come back tomorrow.”
Footsteps stormed down the walk. A car door slammed. Enid cautiously peeked out the blinds. A sports car sat in the street. The flare of a match momentarily illuminated the thick scowling face of the man in the driver’s seat. The glow of a cigarette hovered. After a moment, he gunned the engine and sped up over the curb and toward the front door.
Enid’s scream was lost in the squeal of brakes. The car stopped three feet from the front door, its headlights harshly illuminating the tiny apartment.
Enid ran to the kitchen and grabbed the bars across the windows, but they didn’t budge. Her only way out was blocked. The roar of the engine was deafening and Enid heard him shouting about…
Pissing in my skull?
Enid covered her ears, terrified.
The baby wailed. Enid gasped, realizing that she left Faith behind. Trembling, Enid got on all fours and crawled into the living room. Making her way to the crib, she grabbed Faith and crawled behind the sofa.
The man pounded on the door. “I know you’re in there, Jeni! If that’s your new girlfriend – I’m going to kill you, kill her and then I’m going to kill myself!”
Enid reached over the couch and grabbed the cell phone that Jeni had left her.
The sound of breaking glass reverberated through the tiny room, followed by scraping and thudding. Enid’s head shot up over the couch. A baseball bat was knocking out jagged shards of glass, which was all that remained of the window. A thick, hairy hand reached in and tore down the twisted blinds.
Certain she was going to die unless she did something, Enid hid the baby behind the sofa, grabbed the Glock and, with a primal scream, barreled toward the front door. She flung the door open and was blinded by the headlights of his car. She saw a blur of boots flailing in the air. Enid went back in and, hands shaking violently, she pointed the gun at the man’s head.
“Stop!” Enid shrieked, tears running down her face.
The man’s eyes went from crazy to zero. Balancing himself in the window, he dropped the bat. “Hold up, little girl!”
“I’m the babysitter! I told you – I’m the babysitter!” Enid screamed, tears running down her face.
“Take it easy.”
Sirens screamed up the street. Through the glare of headlights, Enid could see a knot of neighbors. A police car screeched to a stop, lights flashing.
Enid’s hand with the gun dropped to her side.
Cursing, the man wriggled backwards, trying to escape.
Enid darted into the kitchen. She opened the freezer and shoved the gun inside a half-eaten box of ice cream. She ran into the living room as a young Hispanic cop was making his way in.
“Police! Drop your weapon!”
Enid’s hands flew up. “I’m the babysitter!”
The policeman’s eyes seemed to be everywhere at once. Gun leveled at Enid, his eyes found the wailing baby hidden behind the couch. “Who else is here?” He demanded.
“Just me.”
“She tried to kill me! That bitch had a gun to my head!” The angry man shouted from the front yard where he lay facedown as another cop snapped on cuffs.
The policeman shot Enid a suspicious look.
“I’m the babysitter,” Enid said, trying to look innocent.
“Stand there,” the policeman shoved her to the wall, patting her down. “The man said you had a gun,” The policeman persisted.
“Nah-uh. Not me.”
“If you have a gun on the premises, you need to tell me,” the police officer said.
Bursting into tears, she wailed, “I’m the babysitter!”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Promises and piecrust are made to be broken.
–Jonathan Swift
Jack walked into Mid-First Bank on Central Avenue. A skinny bank teller with big hair and a name tag reading ‘Kelly’ greeted him. “Welcome to Mid-First Bank, sir. How can I help you?”
Jack pulled the bundle of cash that Eve had given him out of a rolled-up newspaper and placed it on the counter. “I’d like to make a deposit.”
“Certainly, sir. Is that over…?”
“Nine-thousand, nine-hundred and eighty,” Jack said, aware that depositing ten thousand or more in cash required paperwork.
Kelly smiled and ran the cash through a money counter. Jack enjoyed watching the cash fly and the sound it made. “Hey, isn’t this the bank that used to be owned by that guy who got murdered?”
Kelly glanced around, uncomfortable.
“Daniel Hargrove – that was his name, right?” Jack said.
Kelly smiled uneasily.
“Did you know him?” He asked.
Kelly frowned, shook her head.
“If I remember right, the daughter – Eve Hargrove, she sold the bank for a boatload of money. I heard everybody loved her – especially the employees.”
Kelly shot him an incredulous look. She leaned closer, hissed. “Everybody hated that bitch! Talk about take the money and run. Forget about the people who worked here since the beginning – one of them thirty-three years. To hell with us, our benefits, our pensions – she knew if she sold the bank that a bunch of us would get laid off, but did she care? All she cares about is getting her daddy’s money and the rest of us can eat dirt and die.”
A sallow-faced manager walked toward them.
Kelly straightened, smiling brightly, “Here’s your receipt, sir. Would you like to talk to a personal banker today – about investment planning?”
Jack answered in the negative, thanked her, took his receipt and left. On the way to the car, he dialed the office to find out if Rachel had dug up any info on the Hargrove family. Rachel had an
uncanny ability to dig up dirt on even the most elusive persons of interest.
After a brief conversation with Rachel, Jack found himself driving across town to a strip club called The Candy Store, which was a seedy dive specializing in cheap beer and neon-bathed flesh.
Rachel had also told him that it was also Jeni Hargrove’s current place of employment.
Jack hadn’t been surprised that Jeni had lied about being in nursing school. Her appearance had pretty much pegged her for a stripper – and not a very bright one. Jack knew that the smart strippers dressed like college girls while the dumb college girls dressed like strippers. The dumb strippers – they just dressed like dumb strippers.
What surprised him was that Jeni was working in such a dive. Her legs were her calling card to any skin club of her choice and yet, she had chosen to work in the dregs.
As a rule, Jack avoided strip clubs. He had figured out long ago that he had an irrational and extremely inconvenient urge to “save” the girls, which only got him into trouble – and broke.
Heart broke and bank broke.
Jack entered the dimly lit club. Rhythmic music pounded and a stripper hung upside-down in a gymnast move. Her breasts had the telltale volleyball firmness of an augmentation. A smattering of men and one lone lesbian gazed up at her as they sipped cheap beer.
On a second stage, Jeni was gyrating on a pole in white bikini bottoms and a Candy Striper’s hat. As good as Jeni looked in her clothes, she looked even better without.
Jack took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.
The song finally stopped and another instantly started pounding.
Jack turned around in time to see Jeni’s eyes home in on a five-dollar bill suspended in the air. She sauntered toward the construction worker holding the bill.
Jack stepped forward, hoping that she would see him before she landed on the guy’s lap.
She did see him. Compressing her lips, she leaned over and whispered in the construction worker’s ear. He scowled, watching her walk toward Jack. She grabbed a flimsy wrap from a chair and pulled it around her protectively.
Gunning For Angels (Fallen Angels Book 1) Page 6
