"Got dangly earrings?"
"I have the pair I was wearing when I came here. I left home in a hurry."
"Put them on." She disappeared and quickly emerged fitting into her ear lobes large white hoops with little balls hanging loose.
"I’m glad I don’t have a mirror. I just know I look like a tramp."
"Right, you do. Lose that goody-two-shoes act. Behave as my woman--got it?"
"No! I don’t ‘got it.’ Where are we going?"
"You’ll find out when we get there. Now, to the car."
Spooky had been uncharacteristically quiet considering the roughneck’s vicious approach, but at the word "car," he pranced around in tight little circles.
"The mutt’s not coming."
"He goes where I do, or I stay put. Spooky is the only thing in my life I can rely on."
"Dammit. You’re more trouble than you’re worth." Mitch’s brow furled to an indecisive frown. "He’ll have to stay in the car."
"That’s no problem. The car is his second home. I’ll wait with him." She studied Mitch’s face and saw a weariness she hadn’t noticed before; it stopped her irritation dead in its tracks. He was keeping too many late nights, she surmised.
Mitch snapped his fingers for the pup to follow them and, not surprising Jen, he did. With Mitch’s hand at Jen’s back, he ushered her out of the cabin, pausing long enough for her to lock the door. She heard him mutter, "This will work well, after all."
Faced with actually going with him, Jen no longer cared where he went at night. She pulled on her brakes and turned. "I’m not going anywhere with you. This whole thing is ridiculous."
"You’re thinking of giving me trouble now when we’re on our way?"
Sarcastically, she snipped, "Well, I never said I was bright."
"Bucking me would be downright stupid, Jen."
She agreed and took a deep breath to collect herself. She was toast either way, so she might as well stick with the program. "You can drive, I’ll be too nervous with you watching for every mistake."
"Smart girl. Give me the keys."
Her keys sailed through the air, forcing him to lunge to catch them before they could hit the underbrush. He grunted with the lengthy stretch and tripped over the lumber pile but came up fisting them tightly.
"Couldn’t you have passed them to me? I almost broke my neck. What’s that lumber doing there?"
"I’m going to build a new porch floor."
"You?"
"Me."
"You’ve got enough wood to build a whole house."
"Hardly."
Mitch picked up Spooky. The pup’s high-pitched yip sent animals of the night rustling for cover. Jen snatched her pet away from him and climbed into the car. Once she buckled up, Spooky settled on her lap.
The road from the cottages wasn’t much more than a lane and called for driving a car with caution. Mitch wasn’t taking care on this ride. Jen’s lower lip quivered with the rough handling of her pride and joy. She’d bought the car only a month ago--before her problems started. Her companion’s grim stare at the roadway forbade her intrusion into his thoughts. Being quiet had never been her strong suit. She glared at the oncoming ruts, her patience wearing thin.
"Slow down!"
He slowed slightly.
"Okay, it’s time to tell me what this is all about, Mitch. The last thing I want to do is return to the city."
"We’re going to a bar. I’m treating you to a drink."
"I don’t like bars, and thank you so much for thinking of treating me, but I don’t drink."
"Tonight you do."
"What’s going on?"
"You’ve stuck your nose into trouble, Ms. Murray."
"Explain it to me."
"I have to see a guy who’s got information I want. You don’t need to know anything more so just play along as if you’re part of my life. The less you know, the better. Then we’ll go back to the lake, and we’ll stay the hell away from each other."
"The last part suits me just fine."
They drove in silence. Why is he so possessed about meeting someone? Could it be a girlfriend that he wants to make jealous? I hope not. I don’t want to be caught in any catfight. She can have him and good riddance. I should have refused to come. Hmm, I wonder what she looks like? Probably a tough-looking ticket ready to spread wide for anyone of his caliber. She shook her head. Stop it, you’re letting your mind go down the tube. Spooky’s happy tongue swiped her ear, then he hopped onto the console looking for Mitch’s attention, too. He didn’t get it. When Mitch navigated the city streets, his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel lent an ominous tone to the already tense atmosphere.
Jen’s apprehension rose when the car pulled up to a bar in the seediest neighborhood. The blaring music shook the car. She stayed put when her escort motioned for her to get out. "I’m not going into that dive."
"Yes, you are."
"I said, I’m not, and you can’t make me. I made it possible for you to get to your precious meeting. That’s the end of my cooperation."
Mitch grimaced but calmly reached over and grabbed Spooky by the scruff of his neck. Clutching the pup to his chest, he opened the door and got out.
That did it. He wasn’t taking her pet anywhere without her. Jen stormed out of the car. A sickening rise of bile in her throat choked her protest--his firm hold on Spooky forced her to follow him.
A smoky pall hung in the dim interior and made it almost impossible to distinguish faces. As far as she could tell, the sturdy tattooed bodies hovering at the bar were all cut from the same cloth as Mitch. A hard rock tune blasted her eardrums. The air, rank with sweat, threatened to do her in, if the pervasive stench of cigarette smoke didn’t suffocate her first.
"We’ll sit at that corner table," Mitch bellowed above the noise, tilting his head toward the far end of the room. When she held back, he yanked her hand in a torturous grasp and led the way. Spooky didn’t even try to wrestle from his grip, obviously preferring to watch the action from a good height.
Jen plunked down in a chair with her back to the other patrons, keeping her head low. She knew from interviews she’d done that a few of the battered women she dealt with frequented this dump. If they saw her, her chance to consider her future at her leisure would be over. She didn’t want to be hounded or pitied. Most of all, she didn’t want to meet any unruly partners who might take offense for the help she’d offered their significant others.
Mitch ordered two beers and flashed a leering smile at their waitress’s overflowing bosom. Her white peasant blouse made a pitiful attempt to hide her goodies. Then he slumped in his seat and scratched the terrier’s ears. Spooky yelped in pain.
Jen popped out of her seat, and reaching across the table, tugged on Mitch’s arm. "Watch it, his ears are sensitive." When he immediately stopped the motion, she withdrew her hand and rubbed it nervously against her thigh, his hot flesh still searing her fingers. She sat back down, her knees weak from the revelation.
Instead of getting furious, Mitch’s squinty eyes focused through the smoke and probed the surroundings. She wondered if she’d embarrassed him and he was searching to see if anyone had noticed her charge. Apparently no one had because he leaned back and fixed his eyes on her. She expected a blast, but it didn’t come, and she couldn’t help but notice he avoided touching the pup’s ears. When the drinks were served, Mitch palmed a couple of bills into the waitress’s hand and waved her off. He lit a cigarette. Jen took a gulp of the beer and choked.
"It’s a wonder they don’t toss Spooky out on his ear, and you too, for that matter; it’s illegal to smoke in bars."
"That’s why I gave her a generous tip. I wouldn’t want to have to chase you down the street when you tore after him."
"Who are you, Mitch?"
He hunkered over the table, his expression intense. "It’s not important that you know. Now listen. If anyone comes over, I’m going to introduce you as Jan Harding. It’s for your own protection--so
you won’t have creeps from here trying to trace you in an effort to get even with me or just plain thinking you might be a good lay. Let’s try and act natural. Lean over here."
Once more, she did as he ordered, struggling with her compliance, expecting him to pass her the dog. Instead, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her closer still, planting a swift, full kiss right on her mouth.
"Don’t pull back. Act like you enjoyed this, another one’s coming."
The thundering crush came before she was ready; she wondered how he liked to kiss gaping lips. The crunch of teeth on teeth wasn’t her speed for sure. His heated breath warned that the biggest danger she faced lurked in his developing a liking for this kind of clash.
"Okay," he muttered, their heads mere inches apart, "at least try to kiss right, this time."
"Are you saying I don’t know how to kiss?"
"I haven’t seen any evidence you do."
"Shit!" Jen sucked in her breath and made the first move, firmly planting her waxy red lips on his. She held them there, finding the connection surprisingly warm. Her fingers grabbed hold of his ratty beard for support. "Ugh!" Her break in contact lasted only seconds because he quickly tugged her head back to him by her hair. She couldn’t help notice how soft his lips were, not firm and grizzled like the rest of him. Pliant and yielding and... he let go before their lips touched again. When her body bounced to the chair’s back, she exploded. "If you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I’m going to scream."
"If you scream, you’ll attract more attention than you want, and it’ll be the wrong kind. There are guys in here who’d like nothing better than to tussle with that red hair. Besides, I could be fondling you and no one would care diddly about your dignity. In fact, they might even come over to join in. I suggest you control your outbursts."
She knew he had a point. Yuck! She wouldn’t welcome other hands pawing her. And with the way her mouth was searing from the heat of his kiss, she wanted nothing to do with provoking him into touching her elsewhere, either.
"Here comes my contact. Now for both our sakes, play it cool."
A barrel-chested, bald, mustached giant hunkered down beside her in the chair Mitch kicked from under the table.
"It’s always good to see you, Bull." Mitch said, smiling pleasantly.
"Howdy, Mitch. You gotta claim on this gal?" Bull’s arm snaked over the back of her chair.
"Yeah, I do. Meet Jan Harding."
Jen’s stomach started doing leapfrogs. Now I have two imbeciles in front of me.
"Okay, just checking. Got me some friends back there mighty interested. He pulled his arm back and stared her up and down. "Hi, ma’am."
She could smell his bad breath. Under the table she felt a toe nudge her ankle. Whose toe she didn’t know. A fake smile froze on her face.
"Word’s out the trial’ll be over shortly, Mitch," Bull advised. "The prosecutor don’t have a leg to stand on. His witnesses have all just up and disappeared."
"Christ, ain’t that a shame." Mitch laughed. "Maybe he’ll realize there’s no sense in wastin’ his time when witnesses are so unreliable these days."
Bull looked around, lowered his head, then beckoned for Mitch to lean closer. "Scuttlebutt has it there might be one left to go."
Jen thought she caught a momentary flash of surprise in Mitch’s eyes, but it disappeared so quickly she wondered if she’d imagined it.
The masculine monstrosity, well described by his name, Bull, gazed over Jen’s face. "She safe to talk in front of?"
"Yeah, she won’t blab. She knows what’s good for her."
"Just the same, Mitch, I’d rather she go to the ladies room... if you know what I mean. Can I hold the pup?"
Mitch passed him over. "The mutt’s name is Spooky. Here, take him, but watch he doesn’t wriggle loose. He’s scared of his own shadow."
"Dogs like me. C’mere pooch. Hey, he’s shaking."
"Take off, babe," Mitch said, tipping his head in the direction of the washrooms. "Come back in about ten minutes."
Jen’s mouth dropped at Mitch’s cruelty in allowing this scum to hold her pet. She was tempted to put up an argument, but the glint in Mitch’s eye warned her off. She welcomed an excuse to get away from these misfits of society and breathe clear air. It was all she could do not to smash the beer bottles over their heads. With the brute holding Spooky, Mitch guaranteed she wouldn’t leave the building. Her main worry now was getting to the washroom without hassles from the sleazy clientele lining the bar and without running into anyone who might recognize her from the shelter.
Jen squeezed around tables, avoiding the line of toughs and entered the washroom labeled MOLLS. Twice she’d felt a sharp prick on her rear where some obnoxious male chose to pinch. She figured the best course was to ignore the disgusting acts and make a beeline for seclusion. If she hadn’t had Spooky to worry about, she’d hightail it out of here; Mitch be damned.
Her sigh of relief withered in her throat when she noticed the dingy walls and paper towel-strewn floor. She refrained from reading the graffiti she knew would gross her out and went straight to the mirror to check on her makeup. Inspection of her artificial rouged cheeks roused the heavy perfumed taste of her lipstick. It almost made her forget the taste of Mitch from his kiss. Her only hope lay with the jerk that had no use for her other than for transportation. Damn it all. Maybe I’ll go back to the table, plead sickness, and insist on going home.
Jen was in the midst of smoothing a finger over her red cheeks, when a nearby flush startled her. She hadn’t known anyone else was in the room. Curious, she looked down and saw someone’s three-inch black heels beneath the first stall. The movement, as the owner twisted around, amused her. She could hardly wait to see who wore such lofty heights.
A fortyish woman clad in a tight black dress appeared from behind the gray metal door. About six feet tall, she wasn’t gorgeous like Jen had expected a hooker might be, but she knew how to dress with seduction in mind. Her low-cut neckline allowed spillage of magnificent proportions, yet some miracle of design prevented revealing all of the merchandise. As Jen stared with more than a slight interest, the woman sashayed to the mirrored counter and studied Jen from head to toe. Jen cringed, trying to haul in her own boobs. Checked out by another female felt twice as icky as when that hooligan did it.
Long red nails walked gingerly up Jen’s arm. "I like your sweater, it feels so soft," the woman purred.
"This place could stand some improvements don’t you think?" Jen answered as she sidled sideways. "A lick and a promise with a strong disinfectant would be a good start," Jen added. She tossed her voluminous curls in a nonchalant manner. She had no wish to pussyfoot around here in conversation that might go someplace she didn’t want to travel. But she wasn’t supposed to go back to Mitch, yet.
The trollop smiled and edged closer; their hips grazed. She sprayed a mist from an atomizer into her mouth and cleared her throat. Then, staring into the mirror, she ground out her words to Jen, "I saw you outside in the bar and wondered where you got that divine sweater."
"Wal-Mart."
"You come here often?" The woman pursed her lips, confirming she had adequate lipstick coverage.
"This is my first time." Jen licked her finger and ran it across her eyebrows. The woman moved closer and her cheap perfume almost knocked Jen over. She glanced down at the short skirt that advertised the rest of the hooker’s wares. She inhaled the woman’s flowery breath blasting from her slightly parted purple lips. Jen glided sideways again. The woman did likewise.
Nervous, Jen yanked at the paper towel roll and used a small piece to remove lipstick from the corners of her mouth. The door behind opened and closed softly. Reflected in the brightly lit mirror, two tough-looking babes leaned against the wall. The hair rose on the back of Jen’s neck when they silently glared at her. She fluffed her loose curls and pretended not to notice the glimmer in one gal’s eyes. The gum-chewing brunette nodded to her companion, then wiggled up t
o the woman accosting Jen. "Take a hike, Lily. We have business with this one. Lily shrugged, then left, but not before casting a look of disappointment at Jen. Like a lioness feeding on her kill, she’d obviously hoped to add Jen to her diet.
"My friend and I were thinking we’ve seen you someplace before."
Jen switched her attention to the speaker. "I’ve been here a few times," she lied, her voice restrained. She straightened her sweater’s neckline.
"Bull ‘pears to be interested in you," the other female said as she lit up a smoke.
"Yeah? Well his tough luck, I’m already taken." Jen was in luck. There was no outward sign of her quivering.
"Looked to us like you might be interested back considerin’ his high rankin’ with the boys."
"Like I said, I got my own man." Jen reached in her pocket and withdrew her lipstick. She applied a thick, fresh coat.
"Trish and I thought maybe we’d make it clear we don’t need your kind of interference. Thought we might just mop up the floor with you, bring you down a peg or two."
"That so? Think you two floozies can do it?" As floozy number one moved closer to her back, Jen twisted around and was nearly bowled over by the woman’s liquored smell. She noted the burning cigarette in the other one’s raised hand as she glared into eyes oozing jealousy and scorn. Her fingers ached from the hard press of her hands against the counter, and she stretched to maximize any advantage extra height might lend.
The blend of their sickly-sweet perfumes hit full force and made her want to vomit even more, but like Mitch had said, she had to be cool. She’d been trained for control, though it had cracked under pressure previously. Now her safety depended on maintaining it. Problem was, last time her life depended on staying calm, her training had abandoned her, and all hell had broken loose.
"Bull wouldn’t take too kindly to me being messed up, ladies."
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