Chapter Twenty
Wesley, busy in his own thoughts wasn’t paying attention as he stepped to the curb from Katherine’s apartment building. “Pardon me,” he muttered as he jostled into a short man, whose face was hidden by a low hat entering the building. Grant looked up and refocused his attention. Hadn’t that black car been parked in the exact spot across the street when he arrived? Was he being tailed?
His nerves were all keyed up and his mouth was dry. He’d barely taken five steps when the driver’s door opened and Wesley glimpsed a man’s silhouette from the corner of his eye. He quickened his pace to keep up with his racing mind as he began to imagine all sorts of horrendous possibilities—Doug armed and after him, Johnny tying up loose ends . . . Crap. Where the heck was he supposed to go? He couldn’t go back to Katherine’s—that’d surely put her in danger—and the hair bristling on his neck told him there was danger. That left him on his own. Leading the man away from Kate’s was the least he could do.
The sound of his heart pounding in his chest was almost enough to muffle the soft fall of footsteps on the sidewalk behind him. But he still heard them. He sensed a shadow falling over him. Suddenly his legs were moving faster, and so was his heart, as he broke into a run. At least the sidewalk offered less resistance to run on than sand.
“Wesley!” He ignored the shout behind him. “Wesley Grant, stop!” The running steps behind him spurred him on faster. If he’d ever thought running would be this handy he would’ve been a lot more consistent about working out—the thought flashed briefly across his mind—maybe Mike was a lot smarter than he seemed.
Out of breath and panicky, he reached his car and was fumbling with the car door. He glanced over his shoulder. A man was running straight for him, not ten feet away. He finally found the right key and inserted it into the lock. Too late. His heart nearly stopped and the rest of his breath was knocked out of him when the man slammed him into the car door.
“All right, Wesley.” The voice was official sounding. “Give it up.”
Grant gasped and twisted his body awkwardly in order to see the guy’s face. “Wait a minute—I’ve seen you somewhere before.” The sentence was more of a drawn-out gasp as he fought to control his breathing.
“That’s right. My name is Green. I work with Detective Bailey Marsh.”
A big splash of red crept over Wesley’s now-flushed face and he responded sheepishly, “Sorry about that, running and all. My, well, my nerves have been a bit tight lately.” He grinned.
“So I can see.” Green cracked a stiff smile, but his mouth looked like it wasn’t quite sure what muscles to use for that action. “Bailey told me to not let you leave until he got here. Would you rather wait here, or in Miss Hale’s apartment?”
“I think we better give Kate a break. I had to take cover in her closet when Johnny came over trying to take her out of the country with him.”
“Interesting. I wonder if Bailey knows.”
“I doubt it. It just happened within the last hour.”
“Well, let’s get back to my post; I’m stationed there for a reason, you know,” Green flung over his shoulder as he turned back the way they’d come.
“It may be hard for you to believe, but I’ve actually never been inside a squad car before, much less a covert one,” Wesley remarked as he rubbed a cramping calf muscle, limping after Green to his car.
“Of course,” Green stated emphatically as they emerged from the alleyway onto Norton Street. “The one time I’m gone from my post Bailey had to arrive.” They approached to see the latter leaning, weight relaxed against the side of Green’s car, drinking from a thermos. His mood looked rather less than pleasant.
“I had to keep Wesley from leaving,” Green called when they were in earshot.
“Thank goodness you got him in time,” Bailey replied flatly. “I’ve about had enough with this message leaving business. It’s about time someone invented a machine for that.”
“I thought that’s what your secretary was for,” Green remarked as they came up beside him. The only response he got was a dark glare. Then Bailey turned his attention to Wesley.
“I just got your message. Sorry about the delay. What’s up?”
Wesley shot a nervous look over his shoulder that brushed the border of cowardice. “Are we safe here?”
The Italian hid an amused smile. “Yes, you’re perfectly safe here, Mr. Grant.”
“Good, I’m a bit tired of running for my life just at the moment.”
“Here, you can sit inside.” Bailey nodded to Green who unlocked the back door.
“Oh, the backseat?” Wesley looked at it sarcastically. “Why not the front seat?”
“I figured you had enough of views from the front, or should I say the top?” Bailey said. “Either take a seat or not, but tell me what’s going on.”
“I’ll take the seat.” Wesley almost jumped in the car.
Retribution Page 32
