by JL Simpson
“Sorry?”
“I’m a businessman, lady. I’ve got something to sell, and if you want to buy, then you need to give me a number.”
“For the guitar? I have no idea what it would be worth.”
His laughter had a sharp edge. “Levi said you were very specific about what you wanted, and that you were a big guitar nut, and yet you have no idea how much it’s worth?”
“Well, a unique piece like that?”
Daisy took her glass of wine from the barmaid and swallowed a mouthful as the young girl placed a shot glass in front of Zut. Laughter and whistles filled the air as the barmaid strolled back across the room. Daisy turned her head. Mick seemed to be in the swing of things. He looked to have his tongue down the girl’s throat as she lay splayed across his lap. Not that the girl was fighting him off. God help him if his bride-to-be walked in.
Zut’s grip on her hands got her attention, and she flinched and tried to pull away. His skin was cold, like he had no blood circulating in his veins. He refused to let go. Instead he lifted each of her hands in turn and examined them in detail. “You’ve never played a guitar in your life.”
When he let her hands go she shoved them back in her lap, out of reach. “I never said I played. I collect them.”
“A collector who has no idea what a one-off unique instrument is worth. No matter.” He leaned back. “If it was for sale, you couldn’t afford it.”
Daisy gritted her teeth. “So, there is no guitar?”
“I never said that.” Zut took a mouthful of his drink and swallowed loudly. “We both know you’re not in the market for a guitar.”
“I’m not? What am I in the market for, then?”
She hugged her bag to her chest, fiddling with the catch. Now might be a good time to call Solomon. Perhaps she’d inadvertently agreed to meet a dealer and autographed guitar was code for some weird modern designer drug?
*
Solomon opened the door to the bar. He’d been convinced she’d come back into the office and ask for a ride once she realized she had no wheels. Not that it mattered. Since he’d dropped the tracking device in her handbag he had her on a leash without her knowing it. Of course if she found the device or changed handbags, as women were in the habit of doing, then he would have to come up with Plan B. Currently Plan B was to handcuff her to him all day. That would make visiting the bathroom awkward, but if she wouldn’t behave and do as he said he would learn to live with it. Daisy on the other hand, would freak right out. He grinned.
Solomon closed the door behind him and glanced around the gloomy interior of the pub. Her strawberry blonde hair stood out like a beacon. She was deep in conversation. From the way she was hugging her bag he guessed she was far from comfortable with whatever her strange companion was talking about.
The pub was full of men. If he went in all guns blazing they could both end up in the middle of a brawl. Last time he’d started a fight to save her from herself he’d lost Paul. Lesson learned. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
He sauntered to the bar and sat on a stool. The barmaid turned and smiled. “Solomon?”
“Melanie. I see you’ve still no taste in jobs.”
“You know me. I’ll go wherever the money is.”
“How are you getting along now?”
She smiled. “Better, thanks to you.”
“I’m sorry I had to break your heart.”
“Tommy did that. But your attention helped to put a Band-Aid on it.”
“Happy to help.”
Melanie lifted a glass from under the bar. “Whiskey?”
“Please.”
She filled the glass and held up her hand when he offered her a twenty. “On the house.”
Solomon winked and lifted the drink to his lips, glancing across the room at Daisy.
Melanie leaned on the counter. “Is she your target?”
“Nope, my sort of business partner.”
“What’s she doing with Zut?”
“That I would like to know.”
Daisy started to get to her feet, but Zut grabbed her arm. Solomon growled. He desperately wanted to go over and give the guy a smack. He turned his attention to the rowdy bunch in the middle of the room. One of them was busy putting money in the juke box. A raunchy pop song drowned out the babble of voices.
Solomon put his glass on the bar and sauntered across the room, stopping next to the guy who appeared to be the center of the group. “How would you like tickets to take all your mates to the new club on Central?”
The guy stared up at him. “Slades? You can’t get in there unless your name’s on the list.”
“So give me your name, and I’ll see that you’re added.”
“What’s the catch?”
“I need a small favor. How are you at dancing?”
“With you? Not on your life, mate. I’m an almost married man.”
“So you won’t want to be dancing with the pretty girl in the booth over there, then, either?”
The guy glanced over his shoulder. “Her? I would do her in a heartbeat.”
Solomon leaned closer. “I don’t want you to do her. Just ask Daisy to dance, and don’t take no for an answer. Once you get her away from her companion I’ll take it from there.”
“And you’ll get me into the club?”
“What’s your name?”
“Mick. Mick Taylor.”
“Will tonight suit you, Mick Taylor?”
“Fine.”
Solomon moved to hide among the shadows in the corner as Mick approached Daisy. He would have gone over himself, but he bet his life she’d make a scene. Besides, better the man she was meeting had no idea he had anything to do with her. This way he would never see it coming if Solomon was ever obliged to kill him.
Chapter Thirteen
Zut reached across and grabbed a hold of Daisy’s upper arm. She tried to shake him off.
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t think I want it.”
“Sure you do, Daisy. But you’re not the only one in the market. How far are you prepared to go to find it? What about your family? Would you risk your family for what you want?” He leaned closer until she could smell the sweet alcoholic scent of whatever he was drinking. “If you don’t back off, maybe I’ll tell the people who would be interested that you’re sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted. I’m sure they would give me something in return for turning you over to them.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, and the icy tone made her shiver.
Was he threatening her family? He was a thug. She only wanted to find Toby’s guitar. Talk about over reacting. Even if she offered him money, she doubted that would be the end of it. He would be back for more, and what would stop him turning her over for cash? Assuming he did know she was looking for Toby, and there were people who really wanted to take her out of the heir hunting game.
“I don’t want what you’re selling. Let me go.” She tried to pull free.
“You heard her.”
She turned, and Mick shook his head slowly. Daisy frowned. “Can we help you?”
Zut let her arm go. “We were just doing a bit of business.”
Mick glared at Zut. “And now you’re done.” He shifted his attention to Daisy. “My mates bet me fifty quid I wouldn’t have the guts to ask you to dance, and a hundred that you would never say yes.”
“Dance?”
Mick shrugged. “You know—wiggle your hips to the beat.”
“I know what dancing is. Why would I want to dance?”
“Come on. It’s my buck’s show. You don’t want me to look bad, do you?”
Daisy sighed. “I guess I’m finished here, so why not. Thank you for your time, Mr. Zut.”
Zut leaned back and lifted his glass in salute. “I’ll be in touch, Daisy. Count on it.”
Mick grabbed her hand and led her across the room. He took her bag and dropped it on a table before pulling her into his arms. She smiled at him. “Thanks. I should probably get goi
ng.”
“My pleasure. Although rescuing you wasn’t my idea.”
“It wasn’t? Whose idea was it? Pimples didn’t tell you to make me strip, did he?”
Mick laughed. “No. Pimples isn’t your knight in shining armor either.”
A warm Irish brogue broke into their conversation. “I am, Princess.”
A hand rested on her shoulder, and she turned her head. “Solomon.”
Solomon smiled. “If you don’t mind, Mick.”
Mick let her go. “Not at all. Happy to help.”
“Enjoy the club.”
Daisy frowned. “What club?”
Solomon turned her to face him, wrapped his arms around her waist and tugged her close as the music slowed to something sultry. The boys started to whoop, and Daisy glanced in their direction. The barmaid was taking it in turns to dance with them, and her moves were very provocative.
“Never mind the club.”
She looked up into Solomon’s blue eyes. They weren’t dark with rage like she expected. “Are you pissed off at me?”
He pulled her arms around his neck, and she had to admit he wasn’t a half-bad dancing partner.
His face pressed close to hers he whispered, “Who’s the guy in the corner?”
“Zut.”
“And what was it you were talking about?”
“Belinda knows Toby. She said he would never go anywhere without his white Strat autographed by Keith Richards, and if I found the guitar I would find Toby. I went asking about it at a music store that specializes in guitars. The dude said he knew someone, who might know someone, who might own one. He must have given my number to Zut.”
“And does Zut know anything?”
“If he does he won’t tell me.”
“Why did he scare you?”
“I wasn’t scared.”
“Much. Just tell me, Princess. Or do I have to go over and beat the living shite out of him until he tells me?”
“Why do you have to be so violent?”
“Daisy?”
“He said he had information about who has what I’m looking for. I don’t think he was talking about the guitar. He also said if I didn’t back off they would give him something for turning me over to them.”
With their faces pressed together she felt Solomon’s jaw tightened.
“Are you pissed at me now?”
“Why do you keep walking into trouble?”
“I don’t do it on purpose.”
“Sure you do. Now shut up and dance; he’s watching us.”
“And?”
“We need to convince him we’re strangers so he won’t be expecting me to follow him.”
“And how do we do that?”
Solomon pulled back and lifted a corner of his mouth in a lopsided smile. He moved so fast she never saw it coming. One minute they were dancing, and the next he plastered a hot one on her. She momentarily melted under the onslaught of his kiss, and then rage filled her gut and she pulled away.
“Bastard.” The sound of her slap rang out in the silence between songs.
Without a backward glance she grabbed her bag and stomped out the door. How dare he? How dare he kiss her? Paul would be mad as hell when he found out.
When the door to the pub opened behind her, she turned to see if Solomon was following, but it was Mick. He held out a bunch of keys. “The man in the pub said to give you these.”
Daisy took them. “His keys?”
“Says he’ll make his own way back to the office and see you tomorrow. He wanted me to make sure you got away safely.”
“Is he beating on the guy I was talking to?”
Mick shook his head. “Not that I noticed. Last I saw he was dancing with Melanie.”
“Melanie?”
“The barmaid.”
“Of course he was.”
Mick stuck his hands in his pockets. “You gonna be all right?”
Daisy nodded. “Sure. Go and enjoy your buck’s show. Your future wife is a lucky woman, even if you do have terrible taste in friends.”
Mick smiled. “Thanks.”
“Good luck, Mick.”
“See ya, Daisy.”
She kissed him on the cheek and strode across the car park toward Solomon’s black SUV. Once she was safely inside, and the seat was adjusted for her, she started the engine and sped out into the late afternoon traffic.
*
Mick assured Solomon Daisy had got away safely and he relaxed a little, making the call that would get the boys into Slade whenever they were ready to go.
Solomon kept an eye on Zut. The man finished his drink. He seemed to be in no hurry, ordering another and then making a couple of phone calls before sliding from the booth and strolling toward the door. He had a self-satisfied smirk on his face that made Solomon grind his teeth.
Melanie tapped his shoulder. “When you’re dancing it’s usual to look at your partner.”
“Sorry. I was a bit distracted.”
“By Zut?”
“Do you have a car here?”
Melanie smiled. “Sure. Why?”
“How about you let me borrow it?”
“And how will I get home after my shift finishes at nine thirty?”
“I’ll pick you up and escort you.”
“And will you want a coffee for your troubles?”
Solomon raised an eyebrow. “Coffee and cream. I seem to remember you have a well-stocked fridge, and I’ll devour anything you want to give me.”
“What if I want you to give me something?”
“Anything I have is yours for the taking.”
“I bet you say that to all the ladies.”
“Only the sexy ones.”
“God, you’re so bad.” Melanie tugged her keys from her pocket. “It’s the Volkswagen Beetle.”
He dropped a kiss on her lips. “See you later, gorgeous.”
By the time Solomon reached the car park Zut was climbing into a white Porsche Boxster. Whatever the man bought and sold, he was making money at it. The sun was low in the sky, and Solomon kept to the shadows as he hunted out Melanie’s car. Its cherry red exterior wasn’t hard to spot in a sea of silver, black, and white. What was it with women? Why couldn’t they drive something subtle?
Solomon got in the car and gave Zut a chance to pull into the traffic before following. If he’d known what Daisy was up to he would have come with her. While she was inside talking to Mr. Zut he could have been outside planting a tracking device on the man’s car. Now he was forced to do things the old-fashioned way. He grinned at the opportunity to pit his skills against a lowlife. “Come on, Zut. Let’s see what you’re made of, you feckless maggot.”
Zut weaved in and out of the evening traffic. Solomon kept him in sight. When the Porsche turned left onto the motorway slip road, Solomon cursed. He didn’t relish tailing him in heavy traffic at high speed. The light was fading fast, which meant the red Beetle would disappear into the background, becoming just another set of headlights in Zut’s rearview mirror. Hopefully he would pull off in a couple of exits, but for all Solomon knew he could be headed as far as Cornwall, or further. He glanced at his watch, mindful of making sure he was back by nine thirty to collect Melanie. A smile curled up the corners of his mouth. Helping her get over her heartbreak with Tommy had involved chocolate sauce and whipped cream. The girl knew how to have a good time and then let go. Not like some women. He shoved the thought aside. Lisa wasn’t going to ruin the prospect of one night of passion, or the rest of his life.
The constant lane changing to keep up with his quarry kept Solomon occupied. Zut drove like a nut case. A move from the outside to the inside lane in front of a truck made Solomon shudder. He took the safer option of waiting for an opening and pulled into the inside lane just in time to see the Porsche exit the motorway. Solomon followed. He knew this route. The man was headed to the New Forest. Once they were free of the traffic a car following in your rearview mirror would stand out like dog’s balls. He wou
ld have to call off the chase without making it obvious.
He held back as Zut kept going. Thankfully the man drove with a little more care. Only a maniac with a death wish drove at high speed through the forest. A pony or deer could step out at any minute and put a huge dent in your car and your evening. When the Porsche pulled into a small town, flicked on its left indicator, and slowed, Solomon smiled. The gods were smiling on him.
After stopping at the side of the road, Solomon killed the headlights and waited fifteen minutes before pulling into the pub’s car park. He chose the darkest corner to hide the cherry red VW. Apparently Zut was planning to drink at Solomon’s local. Not that Solomon ever drank there. He preferred somewhere quieter with the ambience of Ireland. A dark Range Rover rolled into the car park and pulled into the empty space next to the Porsche. Solomon scooted lower in his seat and watched to see who climbed out. He was probably being paranoid. The pub was popular with locals and tourists. It was picture-postcard perfect with local ale on tap and a chef who could actually cook. Two men stepped from the vehicle. Their voices carried on the cool night air but not loud enough to hear what was being said. One turned, and Solomon caught a glimpse of his face highlighted by the single streetlight.
“Bleedin’ hell.” Hiding in Melanie’s car had been the right decision.
Chapter Fourteen
Daisy pulled back from Paul’s kiss and wiggled into a sitting position against the headboard. “What do you know about Solomon?”
Paul frowned. “Really?”
“What?”
“You want to talk about Solomon now?” Paul raised an eyebrow. “I know he gets my engine running, but from the way you’ve been grumbling about him all evening I thought you hated him.”
“I do hate him. He’s an egotistical pig.”
Paul flopped down on the mattress beside her and sighed. “So why are you killing the mood by talking about him?”
Daisy chewed her bottom lip. Usually Paul only had to glance in her direction with a twinkle in his eye and her libido sat up and panted for attention, but kissing Solomon felt like cheating. She hadn’t wanted to kiss him. The palm print on his face proved that. Since the day she’d first met Paul she’d never kissed another man, other than on the cheek. There had been a couple of times during the evening when she could have mentioned it. The truth was, she had no idea how Paul would react.
