by Jenifer Ruff
She sent Quinn a text. Hi, babe. Call me when you have a chance. I miss you.
Yes, he might wonder who had stolen her phone. They hadn’t exactly been sweet to each other lately, but she wanted a fresh start. She waited patiently for his response, four minutes, then five, her enthusiasm receding. “Call Quinn,” she told her phone.
“Hello,” Quinn said.
“Hi, it’s me.” She was surprised he answered, but glad.
“What’s going on?”
“I have something special to tell you. I want to tell you in person. Spend the day with me, Quinn. We’ll go somewhere nice for lunch and go shopping to buy some new things for our trip. And after you hear my news, you just might want to take me home to celebrate.”
“I can’t, Holly. I can’t leave work today.”
“Just for lunch then.”
“Holly, I can’t.”
“You always say that. Every time I ask it’s the same thing. Surely you can leave for a few hours”
“I’m sorry.”
“What the hell is so important that you can’t leave for an hour or two to have lunch with me? You get four weeks of vacation every year and you don’t take any of it. You’re at work almost every weekend.”
“I’m taking a week off to go to Spain with you in a few days.” Quinn sighed. “What is it you want to tell me?”
“I wanted to tell you somewhere nice, so it would be special.”
“I’m sorry. Can’t it wait until I get home?”
“Forget it. I don’t know why I even asked.” She hung up on Quinn and called Reese.
“Hey sweetie. What’s going on?” Reese said.
“Quinn just blew me off again.”
“Is something important happening, like an attack somewhere?”
“No. There’s nothing like that. We would have heard something if there was.”
“Want me to send him a text? I’ll let him know how wrong he is.”
Holly laughed. “He is wrong. But no, I can handle it. What are you doing?”
“I was about to go out and grab a bite. Do you want to come?”
“Yes. I would love to. Where should we meet?”
“Hmmm. How about the Improper Penguin?”
“Perfect. I can be there in thirty.”
Holly touched up her lip gloss, grabbed her purse, and left the house. She drove down Pacific Coast Highway and met Reese walking in through the front entrance. Perfect timing. They sat at an outside table with a view of the ocean and ordered lemon splash martinis and chilled appetizers. By the time their drinks arrived, Holly’s phone had alerted her of three texts.
“Who keeps texting you?” Reese asked, taking a sip of her drink.
“Christian.”
“Ooh. He’s a doll. A doll with a nice ass.”
“He claims his good looks come from the skin product line he sells—Fisque and L’aron. It’s just a ruse for his drug business. But he sells his clients at least one expensive beauty product along with every bag of pills, coke, or meth.”
“Hmm. You never told me that.”
“Good idea, isn’t it? He’s one of the top sellers for that company because of it. My last purchase came with a small jar of intense firming day crème. I tried it. I have to admit it’s good stuff – the pills and the lotion.”
“He has a lot to offer a woman, doesn’t he?”
Holly laughed. “But he’s needy. He’s always texting me. Asking what I’m doing. Asking me to come over. Asking me questions. Asking me out to dinner and to go to the movies, like he’s my boyfriend or something.”
Reese raised her eyebrows. “How cute. Sounds like he might have fallen for you. Sweetie, why don’t you go meet him after our lunch? Since your husband doesn’t have time for you. Consider this your revenge.”
Holly’s peach colored lips formed a sly smile. “You’re right. Maybe I will. I need to stock up on products for my trip anyway.”
“It’s always good to be stocked-up for a rainy day.” Reese turned to a passing waiter and gestured to her empty drink. “When you get a chance?”
“Quinn can be a serious bore sometimes. Maybe I’ll slip a little something into one of his drinks and see what happens.” Holly lifted her chin and smiled.
“That’s the spirit, sweetie. Now text Christian back and go visit him after lunch. He’ll cheer you right up. And can you pick up a few of those pills for me? You know the ones?”
“Of course.”
“Just let me know how much it is.”
“Consider it an early Christmas present.”
“Ooh, that reminds me. Give me your phone. You must watch this video. It’s that couple we met last week at the studio.”
“Edward and Matthew?”
“Yes! They do these song parodies. There’s a few of them. So hilarious! Believe me when I tell you, you’re going to die laughing.”
After lunch, Holly called Christian and headed east to visit him in the San Fernando Valley. She had friends in Los Angeles she could ask for prescription pain killers. She didn’t need to venture outside the city. But today, her trip to the valley was as much about getting revenge on Quinn as it was about the goodies Christian had for her. She smiled, thinking of how glad he’d be to see her. At least someone would be.
The temperature rose with each mile she drove. The mountain ranges and the lack of an ocean breeze worked together to trap a layer of gray smog over the valley. Eventually she pulled over and raised the top of her car to surround herself with air conditioning. She thought, who would want to live out here? Way too hot. But the houses had some space in between them rather than being an arm’s width apart like her contemporary home two blocks away from the beach. And the area seemed as quiet as a ghost town, which allowed Christian the discretion his business required.
Holly glanced in her rearview mirror. A black sports car followed her. A young man with sunglasses and a hoodie sat behind the wheel. What if Quinn sent someone to spy on me? What if he knows what I’m doing? Her eyes repeatedly darted to the mirror and back. I’m being paranoid. I don’t need to worry. He’s too busy chasing down terrorists and analyzing other people’s business to pay attention to me. But what if he does know? A little spark of hope fired up inside her. She eased up on the gas. The sports car drove around her and sped away. He hadn’t been following her. The realization brought disappointment instead of relief. She wanted Quinn to care enough about her to send a tail, just in case.
Holly wondered how much farther she had to drive, but after her accident with Reese, she was nervous about glancing at her phone. Over a minute had passed since her phone last provided directions. She took a quick look at the screen. It was black.
“No! No! Damn it.” She fumbled around inside the middle compartment, searching unsuccessfully for a car charger and cursing the stupid videos she’d watched at the Improper Penguin. They had drained her phone battery. The Mercedes had its own navigation system, but she didn’t have the slightest clue how to turn it on, she had always relied on her phone.
She crept along the suburban neighborhood at ten miles an hour, squinting to read house numbers and regretting her decision to drive to the valley. Finally, she spotted someone she could ask for directions. A man with olive skin stood alone on the sidewalk. He wore an average sort of white-collar work outfit; one Holly thought would only suffice in a boring office where no one cared or knew any better. She stopped her car against the curb and rolled down her window.
“Excuse me,” she called, the car idling.
The man turned slowly, as if he was thinking about whether to respond. Holly thought he was a little out of it. Aimless. Slow. She wondered if he was on something. He staggered from the sidewalk to her side of the car. Covering the short distance seemed to take forever.
“Umm, hi. Can you tell me where 7816 Rancho Verde is?” Rancho dried-out brown is more like it. “Which direction at least?”
He paused to concentrate. Or maybe he didn’t understand. It wasn’t
a difficult question—either he knew or he didn’t. Why was it taking him so long? Holly pressed her lips together and raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response, aware of the cool air from inside her car exiting through the open window. After a long and awkward pause, the man took a few unsteady steps toward her. Smudges covered his eyeglasses. He gripped a business envelope between his fingers and it shook along with his hand. He leaned against the driver side of the car, one arm on the back edge of the window, too close for Holly’s comfort. Beads of liquid dotted his brow and lip. Circles of sweat darkened his shirt under his arms and across his chest. He looked sickly and smelled strange. She wished she hadn’t stopped to ask him, but by then, there was little else to do except wait for his response. He lowered himself down, moving even further into the open window. Holly shifted away toward the passenger side. His eyes were bloodshot, hardly any white left around his irises. What the hell is wrong with this guy? He’s so gross. I would stop using in a heartbeat if something compromised my looks like that.
“Rancho Verde is behind you,” he mumbled. With no warning, his eyes opened wide with apparent surprise and he coughed, without moving away from Holly’s open window. A spray of liquid hit her arm and face. She grimaced and tilted farther toward the interior of her car.
“Thank you.” Holly jammed her finger against the button to raise her window. She shifted the car into gear and shook her head. She wanted to erase his face from her mind, but couldn’t resist a peek in her rearview mirror for the same reason people paid to see freak shows. The mirror revealed the man crouched on the ground. Maybe he was too messed up to remain on his feet. Holly shuddered, and kept driving. She pulled a Kleenex from her purse and wiped her arm and cheek in disgust.
When she finally located Christian’s rental home—an uninspired, small terra-cotta ranch with nonexistent landscaping—all she could think was, Really? This was the best he could do? So far from the beach and the cool air to live in a place like this? It was a lot to sacrifice for privacy and discretion. She stood on the uninviting front porch and looked around. Perhaps the drug business wasn’t as profitable as she imagined. Then again, nothing was as profitable as the porn industry. Thanks to her father, she’d never had to live in a shack like this, and never would. Yes, she had many reasons for which to thank her father. He took care of the important things in her life.
The front door opened before Holly rang the doorbell, revealing a grinning Christian, sexy in a black T-shirt and jeans. “I’ve been waiting,” he said. His smile revealed his white, almost-perfect teeth.
“I got lost.” Her eyes took in the scuffed entryway floors and the pink painted walls. She tried to hide her distaste. The trip already felt like a big mistake.
“Come here,” Christian placed his arms around her small waist and pulled her against him, closing the door with his foot. But Holly backed out of his embrace.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Do you have an Indian-looking customer who lives a few streets away? Not the Native American kind, but, you know what I mean. A guy?”
“Nope. Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.” Christian’s smile grew wider. “Why do you think he’s one of my customers? Did he have beautiful skin?”
“No, he didn’t. Definitely not. My phone died and I couldn’t find your street. There was no one around except for this guy. I stopped to ask if he knew your address. Oh my God. He was a total wreck, but also nerdy, with those small wire-framed glasses and a plain office type of shirt. I hardly expected someone like him to be an addict.”
“Hmmm,” Christian said. “People need to know their limits.”
“I do,” Holly pressed her shoulders back. Suddenly she shivered.
“What’s wrong?” Christian reached out to stroke her arm.
“He was just…just awful. That’s all. Disturbing and creepy. He coughed on me. Like right in my face. Ugh, I can’t stop thinking about him.” Holly twisted her diamond ring from side to side between her fingers.
“I’m going to make you forget about him. Come on,” Christian said, taking her hand in both of his and leading her toward his bedroom.
“Wait. Maybe you could start me off with something to relax me,” she said, offering her most seductive smile.
Christian stroked her hair. “How about waiting until later?”
“Seriously? Are you trying to convince me not to use your drugs?”
“No, I just thought it would be…. Never mind. I’ve got you taken care of, don’t you worry. I know what you need.”
“I need a pill,” said Holly.
Christian nodded and gestured with his arm. “Right this way.”
“Okay then, whatever.” Holly followed him down the hall and into his bedroom.
An hour later, Holly stretched her arms overhead and laid back against Christian’s pillows. “That was certainly worth the trip out here. It was exactly what I needed.”
Christian smiled. He kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her cheek. “I told you I would take care of you. You’ll have to visit more often.”
“Hmmm.” She suddenly remembered Quinn and felt a wave of sadness dampen her good mood. She sat up and placed her feet on the floor. “I better go.”
She dressed and left Christian’s house, having received everything she’d come for. The prescription pain pills were stacked neatly inside her Fendi purse beneath a jar of age-defying eye cream and nighttime lip conditioner.
A combination of sex, Oxy, and guilt had erased the awful man with the bloodshot eyes from her mind.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Los Angeles
November 3rd
For three weeks Quinn’s team had worked with other federal agents to dig up intelligence to prevent the mass transit plot. Only three days remained before the subway attacks. They still hadn’t located Hasaan Fayad, the alleged leader. They were running out of time.
Ken cracked his knuckles. “Chatter is high across the internet. We’ve intercepted an abnormal amount of contradictory information. The attacks are on. The attacks are off. They’re using peroxide bombs. They’re using petrol bombs. They’re using TNT. The target cities change. They change again. Fayad is not in charge. Then he is. It’s ISIS. Then it’s Al-Qaeda. We’ve been spinning our wheels following up on false leads.”
“Consider that we first heard of this plot from Redman, a total outsider. This organization, whoever it is, they’re controlling us like puppets. Feeding us dead end cues on purpose,” Rashid said. “At this point. I don’t know what else to think.”
Quinn listened, twisting the remnants of a paper napkin between his hands.
“Listen,” said Stephanie. “I know we need to catch them before they attempt this attack, but let’s remember, no one is going to bomb the subways. It may not be ideal, but we can shut the transportation systems down if we must. If it comes to that.”
Stephanie touched Quinn’s arm. He flinched. “Sorry,” she said. “I wanted to get your attention. Come with me to the break room for a minute. It’s almost fourteen hundred hours. I have to eat something. You should too.” She gestured toward the hallway with a tilt of her head.
“Okay.” Quinn got up and followed her out.
Inside the break room, Quinn opened a refrigerator and pushed aside Sprites and root beers. “We need more cans with caffeine.”
“There’s more in the other fridge,” said Stephanie. “Do you have an itinerary for your big trip?” She reached under Quinn’s arm to remove a yogurt from the shelf before the door closed.
“Uh…” He paused as if the trip was the farthest thing from his mind. “I think Holly does. She met with a travel agent who planned it out for her.”
“So, it’s just going to be a surprise for you?”
“You could say that.”
“Do you even know where you’re going?”
“Spain.”
Stephanie laughed. “That’s not what I mean. Which cities?”
“Right now, I’m just focused
on catching Hasaan Fayad and stopping the bombings.”
“There’s always going to be something about to happen at work. You need to be able to walk away from it occasionally. Once a year, anyway, at least.”
“Yeah? Tell me, Stephanie, when was your last vacation?”
Stephanie leaned against the counter and opened her yogurt. “September. I spent a week with my parents in New Hampshire. I’m always with them on the 9/11 anniversary, if I can help it.”
“Oh. That’s right.”
“Besides, I don’t have anyone to go away with, so it’s different.”
Quinn didn’t know what to say. Was he supposed to say he was sorry? There had to be plenty of men who wouldn’t mind spending time with Stephanie, assuming she was into men, sometimes it was impossible to know and she’d never spoken of a boyfriend. Anyway, he wasn’t in the mood to chat about personal situations.
Quinn’s phone lit up. He looked at his screen and sent the call to voicemail.
“No one you want to talk to right now?” Stephanie said.
“It’s a woman from the Los Angeles Times. She wants information on Redman. I can’t comment. But I do owe our internal legal department a call, though I’m not going to deal with it today. We’re running out of time on this one.”
“Then we have to pick up the pace.”
Quinn smiled. “Yes, we do. Come on, let’s get back to work.”
Stephanie hurried to finish her last spoonful of yogurt and said, “Nothing like a leisurely lunch.”
They tossed their empties into the recycling bin and walked at a brisk pace back to their work area. The rest of the team was still busy chasing down leads. Quinn stopped close to Rashid and said, “How are you holding up?”
Rashid put down his phone and spun around in his chair. “Fine, and—”
Ken interrupted from behind him. “You don’t look fine. Your breath is rank.”
Rashid grinned. “Thanks, Ken, luckily my appearance doesn’t affect my work. I just located Hasaan Fayad.” With exuberance, he thrust his fist toward the ceiling.
