“I hope that’s true,” John replied.
“But, if you have a friendship with one of the guys you know uses drugs, and told him a friend of yours in Syracuse is looking to buy, you think they’d give you the dealer’s contact info?”
John was quiet for a few seconds as he mulled over Derek’s question. As much as he wanted to help Derek find out who might be behind the strange occurrences in Ravenswood, he didn’t want to do anything that might jeopardize his standing in the fire department, or in the community of Ravenswood. After releasing a couple stress-filled sighs, he said, “The problem is the can of worms you’re asking me to help open. Let’s say I call one of the guys at the department and he gives me the dealer’s number. I give you the number, you call him, meet with him and do whatever the hell it is you’re thinking about doing. This whole plan can come back to me in a heartbeat. If you and I are right and drugs and drug dealers are really the cause of the shit happening here, I’m putting myself in harm’s way. I’d be putting the member who gives me the dealer’s contact info in harm’s way as well. If things go sideways and anyone gets hurt, I won’t be able to live with myself.”
Derek considered what John was saying and found himself agreeing with him. He couldn’t ask John to put himself into the middle of what had the potential of becoming the 2016 version of the shootout at the OK Corral. And John was right about putting the member of the department he would ask for the dealer’s contact info in a potentially deadly situation. He needed to come up with a different approach. A way to get the drug dealer’s phone number that didn’t put John or anyone at the department into a compromised situation.
That’s when Nikkie tapped him on the arm. “I can do it,” she said.
“Do what?” Derek said to her.
“Ask John to tell me which members might know the drug dealer we’re looking for. I’ll get the information from them and no one’s name will ever be brought up.”
Derek covered the mouthpiece of his phone, turned his body towards Nikkie, and said, “And just how the hell will you do that?”
Nikkie smiled her brilliant smile, tossed her long, dark hair to one side of her beautiful face, titled her head, and said, “I might have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
“John,” Derek said into his phone, his voice flat and void of any apparent emotion, “I’ll call you right back.” He disconnected the call, placed his iPhone between his legs, and said to Nikkie, “If you think, for one second, that I’m going to let you put yourself into a potentially deadly situation, you’re crazy. I already feel responsible for what happened to Crown, there’s no way in hell I’m going let you play whatever tricks you may have, as effective as they probably are, and put yourself in danger.”
Nikkie’s face turned instantly stern, her eyes fixed and wide. “If you and I didn’t have whatever feelings for each other we do, would you still feel the same way about me doing my job?”
Derek looked away, a sudden flash of heat raging across his body. “What I’m feeling for you has nothing to do with this,” he snapped back.
“Then what is it? Do you really blame yourself for what happened to Crown?”
“She wouldn’t have been here if I didn’t allow her to come with us.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” Nikkie said, her voice softer, calmer. “This whole case is about her son and no matter what you or I may have said or done, there was no way she wasn’t going to be by her son’s side.” Nikkie clasped her hands around Derek’s right hand. She held it in her warm, almost electric embrace. “Like it or not,” she said when his eyes finally met with hers, “I am in the business of doing things that can get dangerous at times. That’s what I do and what I’m damn good at. You can’t keep me safe by keeping me away from potential harm, you can only make me less of who I am.”
Derek held the gaze into her eyes. He saw something beneath the soft brown eyes staring back at him. Something he had known for several months but hadn’t allowed himself to admit. It was more than a mutual respect or admiration playing gleefully behind those eyes. Something much greater.
“The thought of losing you,” he said, “after what I’ve already lost, is something I can’t even imagine.”
“You’ve just found me. We just found each other. But, keeping me from doing what I was made to do is what will make you lose me. Make me lose you.” She raised his hand, kissed it, sending a warmth through his body he hadn’t believed still existed. “I can do this and we can figure out what exactly is behind everything happening. I can do this.”
ˇˇˇˇˇˇˇˇˇ
Derek was still learning his way around his phone and still was amazed at times at what it could do. After calling Siri from her perpetual state of kinetic readiness, and having stated his request, Siri responded with the phone number of Route 69 Bar and Grill. Lance Mahoney answered the Siri-placed call.
After Derek had finished filling Lance in on the most recent, up to date events, and after Lance agreed to assist in the execution of Nikkie’s plan, Derek ended the call then immediately dialed John Mather.
“John,” Derek said, “we have a plan we’re going to run with that doesn’t include you having to jeopardize your safety or position with the fire department.”
“I’m willing to help, but, if it’s all the same to you and you already have a plan, I’m okay with helping in any other way I can.”
Derek went over Nikkie’s plan, to which he only received an occasional, “Okay,” or “Uh huh” response from John. When he had finished, Derek asked, “So, if you can stand by at the station with a team ready to roll in case things go sideways, we’d really appreciate it.”
“And she’s going there this evening?” John asked, his voice revealing his relief in having such a small part in the plan.
“Around seven,” Derek replied.
“I’ll be at the station by six at the latest.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It didn’t take long for Nikkie to be noticed. Having persuaded Derek to make a few additional stops at a clothing store to assemble the right outfit, Nikkie looked amazing when she walked through the front doors of Route 69. She sat alone at the end of the bar, and waited. She had the head turning, jaw dropping, pornographic mental-image creating looks even when she wasn’t trying to demonstrate what a near perfect body and beautiful-faced woman should look like. But when she wanted to be the center of attention of lust—a want she so seldom indulged—her pull and attraction were virtually impossible to resist.
“There’s no way you’re walking into that bar looking like that,” Derek had told her. “Not without me sitting in the corner with a bazooka at my side.”
“I’ll be fine,” she had said, then dismissed Derek’s concerns and alternate suggestions with a wave of her hand and a simple but powerful reminder: “We’re running out of time with this case and, so far, we only have a few ideas but we don’t have enough time to chase those ideas down.”
Derek continued mounting a defense but began to realize Nikkie was probably right: They had found nothing substantial to either clear Bo Randall’s name or to be comfortable knowing he was the arsonist. Nothing but suspicions. The final push that had broken through his line of defense occurred after they had received a call from Crown’s doctor, telling them that Crown’s condition had improved significantly and they were going to take her out of the medically induced coma. Nikkie, filled with relief, kissed him with such passion, desire and hunger, that they felt compelled to drive back to their hotel and to spend an hour building up their appetites.
Nikkie’s plan included having Derek calling Lance Mahoney to let him know when she’d be entering Route 69 and for him to ensure he would be behind the bar serving her heavily watered down drinks. Derek also called John Mather who shared with Derek two names of fire department members who John knew to be drug users and who frequented Route 69. When the names were shared with Lance, he told Derek he would let Nikkie know when one or both of them entered his bar.
Nikkie smiled, gave Lance’s hand a gentle and quick squeeze, then spun her bar stool so that her body was perpendicular to the stretch of the bar. She let her long, dark hair fall over her right shoulder as she scanned the bar. She noticed him directly. He was standing near the dart boards, tall beer in his right hand, gazing at her. Brenden Lull was making no attempt to hide his interest in Nikkie and as soon as she locked eyes with him, he confidently strutted towards her.
She almost had to hold down her vomit as well as a flash of discontented laughter, after Brenden Lull approached her, smiled and asked her if she was from Tennessee.
“Tennessee?” Nikkie responded.
“Well you must be,” Brenden said after adding a bit more width to his smile, “‘cuz you’re the only ‘ten I see’ in this place.” With that he laughed and leaned in a bit closer to Nikkie.
“Actually, I’m from LA.”
“The city of angels. Never been there but it makes sense.” Brenden waved to Lance, then, when Lance acknowledge the wave, Brenden raised two fingers then waggled them between himself and Nikkie.
“What makes sense?” Nikkie asked, forcing a smile that she hoped didn’t look too manufactured.
“If you’re not from Tennessee, then you must be from heaven. Get it? City of angels? You being from heaven? Come one, that’s a classic.”
Nikkie laughed, partially because that’s what she believed would continue reeling in Brenden, but mostly because the lines Brenden was using were so often employed, tired and downright ridiculous, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“So,” Brenden continued, feeling more confident as a result of Nikkie’s laugh, “what brings you to little old Ravenswood?”
“Can’t say, really. I was visiting family in Auburn and was driving down to Manhattan and saw the name on a road sign, and figured it sounded like a decent place for a girl to spend the night.” Keeping her eyes fixed on Brenden’s, she took a sip through her straw, smiled again, then asked, “You think I made a good choice?”
“I think you made a fantastic choice but, the night is still young; plenty of time to make some bad choices.”
Brenden was pouring it on thicker than Nikkie had ever seen. Women who looked like Nikkie were accustomed to being hit on. Most had grown generally immune to the awkward glances, the cat calls and the cheesy, overplayed pick up lines. While she was never one to rely on her good looks and instead preferred men (like Derek) who appreciated the beauty she possessed inside, she was far from ignorant of the powerful effects her stunning looks granted her.
Lance continued to serve Nikkie watered down drinks as was the plan and double or even triple strength drinks to Brenden over the next hour or so. By the time the ice cubes in their fifth drinks were sitting alone in the bottom of their glasses, Nikkie put her arm around Brenden’s neck, pulled his head close to hers, and whispered, “A guy like you probably knows how a girl could get some action around this little town.” She moved her mouth away from his ear, then kissed him gently on his nose.
“I know a lot of things about this town,” Brenden said as he adjusted his position on the bar stool in hopes of hiding the growing firmness between his legs. “What kind of action is a girl like you looking for?”
She kissed his nose again, then smiled and touched her index finger against the side of her nose. “I dunno,” she said, in a voice more fitting for a woman who earns her rent money swinging naked on poles. “Just a little something to give me a push so I can feel better about all the bad decisions I’m thinking about making.”
Brenden’s smile practically reached both of his ears. He held up one finger as he stood, saying, “Do not move and do not make any of those decisions till I’m back.”
Nikkie watched Brenden walk outside with his cell phone pressed against his ear. Lance, seeing Brenden walking outside, walked down the bar to where Nikkie was sitting. “Things going okay?” he asked.
“Perfectly,” Nikkie said.
Five minutes later, Brenden came back inside and walked quickly to Nikkie’s side. “I have a fantastic idea. Wanna hear it?”
“Please.”
“Why don’t you and I go back to my apartment and talk about those bad decisions you’re thinking about.”
“What kind of girl do you think I am?” Nikkie said, a seductive smile playing on the corners of her lips.
“The kind of girl that wants a little powdery courage. I have a friend who says he’ll meet us down in a parking lot in a strip mall a few miles from here. It will only take a few minutes, if that, before we can get back to working on those decisions.”
“As long as your friend won’t be expecting to share in whatever bad choices I make,” Nikkie said.
“Honey,” Brenden said as he pulled Nikkie’s face to within an inch of his, “ain’t no one on God’s green earth gonna share in your bad choices but me.” He kissed her then, and, despite the foul taste of cheap booze and stale cigarettes in Brenden’s mouth, she accepted his kiss and added a bit more passion to it.
“Give me five minutes to use the ladies room.”
“I’ll be outside. Dark green Accord. I’ll have it running.”
Nikkie kissed him again quickly, waved to Lance then walked to the bathroom. After checking to make sure she was alone, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Derek’s number. She spoke briefly, telling Derek she was leaving Route 69 with Brenden, making a stop somewhere to meet with Brenden’s presumed drug dealer, then onto Brenden’s apartment. Before Derek could have even begun to try to dissuade her from going through with the next steps of the plan, she ended the call by saying, “Make sure you don’t follow us too closely. If he notices someone following him, he may just take me back to his apartment and expect me to do whatever the hell it is he thinks I’m interested in doing.”
She walked outside, giving one final wave to Lance who was standing behind the bar, arms folded across his chest and a deeply etched look of worry and concern on his face. Nikkie knew, as did Derek and Lance, that any meeting with someone who makes a living selling illegal drugs is a dangerous way to spend an evening. Though the plan had Derek keeping Nikkie within eye sight at all times, the chances existed for things to turn south in a heartbeat. And considering how Derek’s innocuous enough planned meeting with John Mather had turned out, both his and Nikkie’s guards were raised.
When she spotted the dark green Accord, she took a deep breath, painted a smile on her face and walked to the car. Once she was seated and buckled in, Brenden reached across the front seat, grabbed Nikkie by the back of her head and pulled her face into a passionate and extended kiss. She felt his hands wandering across her breasts and had to steel herself to prevent knocking a few of his front teeth down his throat. Instead of flying elbows, Nikkie gently pushed Brenden back, saying, “Not in the front seat of your car. I’m not some sixteen year old, you know?”
“I don’t care if your sixteen or sixty-seven,” Brenden said, “you got me so fucking turned on right now, I can’t wait to be inside you.”
Nikkie noticed a few reactions welling up inside her. First, the possibility that she was sitting beside a man who, apparently, thought urges trumped morality and the legal system, made her wonder if ripping his balls off might be a better plan than what she and Derek were in the process of executing. Secondly, she wondered how many girls and woman had fallen for Brenden’s continual mastery of assholery. He was vile and, she noticed by the slur of his words, he was also about to drive drunk: an act she could not have thought less of. Her best friend in college was paralyzed by a drunk driver. A childhood friend was killed by another. And she had seen o
r heard about way too many accidents where alcohol was the main factor in the crash. Now she was sitting in a car, with an intoxicated driver behind the wheel, driving to some unknown location to meet with some unknown man, to purchase drugs so that Brenden might continue his hallucination that she was going to make “bad choices” with him in his apartment. As he shifted the car into gear and applied pressure the gas pedal, getting to the drug dealer in one piece was foremost in her mind.
“You want me to drive?” she asked, sliding her hands across his thigh and settling it onto his crotch.
Brenden twitched a bit, causing his foot to press down harder on the gas pedal. “Damn,” Brenden said, “you keep that up and I promise you we won’t make it back to my apartment.” He didn’t bother answering Nikkie’s question.
Nikkie was relieved when, after less than three miles, Brenden pulled into the parking lot of a Rite Aid drug store. He circled the lot a couple of times before noticing the car he was looking for was pulling in, parking as far away from the road and the store’s entrance as the lot allowed.
“Here we go,” he said in a staccato voice. He drove his car towards where the Pontiac Grand Am was parked, then backed in right beside it. “Bad choice number one, coming right up.” He leaned over, kissed Nikkie again, then scurried out of the car. Nikkie wiped her lips clean, wishing it were possible to wipe away the sickening feeling Brenden’s kiss had created.
She watched him walk over to the Grand Am, open the passenger’s side door and then climb into the car. Her phone, which she had tucked beneath her right leg, vibrated. She pulled it out, and read the text message Derek had sent.
“U OK?”
“So far so good,” she responded.
The Devil's Snare: a Mystery Suspense Thriller (Derek Cole Suspense Thrillers Book 4) Page 21
