Revenge for Hire (The Get Even Agency)

by Lynn, Janice

  “Anyway,” Mandy continued. “I thought you might have reconsidered in light of the day’s events.”

  “You thought wrong.”

  “Face facts, Jude.” Nails tapping against a desk—his desk—pounded in Jude’s ears. “You need me,” she said. “I’m the only one who can pull you out of this mess.”

  “What mess?”

  “This problem with your job, your reputation, your accounts, your apartment.”

  His apartment? What was wrong with his apartment? And how the hell had Mandy known about his accounts?

  “All of which are none of your business.”

  “Fine,” she practically cooed, “but if you change your mind, you know where to find me.” She paused. “And, you will change your mind, love.”

  The second he closed his phone, he told Marcus, “Mandy’s behind this.”

  Marcus placed his hand over the mouth piece of the phone he held. “Mandy Sims? She isn’t smart enough to be behind this.”

  “She knew about the accounts.”

  Marcus’ eyebrow rose.

  “She mentioned my apartment.”

  Marcus frowned. “Your apartment? What’s going on with your apartment?”

  “Hell if I know, but I’m going to go find out.”

  * * *

  “Cockroaches?” Jude stared at the building’s superintendent. “Since when?”

  The barely over a hundred pounds man shrugged his bony shoulders and spoke around an over-sized wad of bubble-gum. “Got a call that your place was crawling with them. Couldn’t risk an infestation settling into the whole building, so your place got sprayed. It’ll be Monday before you can go in due to the chemicals used.”

  He couldn’t go into his apartment?

  “Why wasn’t I notified? What the hell am I supposed to do about clothes?”

  The man scratched his head. “I called and spoke with your secretary—-nice lady, by the way. She said to go ahead and do whatever was needed.”

  “My secretary?”

  “Whoever answers your office phone. She said you were out, but to go ahead and do the apartment as you were going to be out of town till next week.”

  Angela said that?

  “I’m not out of town.”

  “You don’t say?” The man chomped on the piece of chewing gum and rocked back on his heels, eyeing Jude.

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  He shrugged, the blue coveralls shifting to reveal a gaunt collarbone. “Stay at your Mom’s or your girlfriend’s. A nice looking bloke like you shouldn’t have any problems finding a place to stay the night.”

  “I don’t have a girlfriend.” True enough. Angel was much more. Yet, he couldn’t even call her his girlfriend.

  The man blew a bubble and popped it. His amused gaze ran over Jude’s stylish hair, designer jeans, and leather shoes. He shook his bald head. “Pity.”

  Pity? That’s all he had to say? The man was denying him access to his apartment and all he could say was pity?

  “Aren’t you that gay fellow in the papers? Maybe you could stay with that lawyer buddy.”

  Jude was reaching his boiling point. The place where he was going to lose his cool and snap at everyone around him.

  Deciding he should leave before he snapped on the super, he left.

  He whipped out his cell phone and called the editorial assistant who had gotten him the information on Joy Long.

  “Harriet? Shh, don’t let on that it’s me,” he quickly warned at her gasp of surprise. “I know you’ve probably heard all kinds of crazy rumors, but anything negative about me isn’t true. That’s not why I’m calling.”

  He took a breath.

  “I need to know a couple of things to sort out what’s really going on and am hoping you’ll help me.” He took a deep breath. “Just so you know, there’s probably nothing I’ll ever be able to do in return, except to be grateful.”

  Silence, then a quiet, “What do you need to know?”

  When Jude hung up the phone, he felt some better. Among other things, Harriet was going to track down the temporary agency Angela worked for. If by no other means, he’d trace her through them.

  According to Harriet, she hadn’t stayed at the office but a few minutes after he’d left. Odds were someone else took the super’s call and gave the go-ahead on doing his apartment. Probably Mandy since she’d known.

  His apartment. He’d been there for several years and had never seen a single cockroach. Not a one. He was supposed to buy that today his apartment was full of them? He didn’t. Nor did he buy that any of this was a coincidence.

  Someone was screwing with his life, and he knew exactly who to blame for the whole mess.

  * * *

  Jude offered the doorman, a different one on duty than the night he’d picked up Angela, a hundred to let him inside the building.

  The forty-ish black man scoffed at the bill. “Perhaps you should leave before I call for backup.”

  “You don’t need backup. I’m not here to cause problems. I just want to speak with Angela Greene. She lives in the building.”

  “Angela Greene?” The man scratched his head. “Man, I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but there isn’t an Angela Greene in this building.”

  “You personally know every occupant?” Impossible.

  “Most of them, Man. I’ve been working here for over fifteen years. Same folks go in and out every day.” He shook his head. “No Angela Greene.”

  “There has to be. I picked her up here just two nights ago.”

  “Perhaps it was a friend’s address or your woman friend gave you a bogus name, but no Angela Greene.”

  Jude rubbed his hand over his face, trying to figure out what was next. He needed to talk to Angela. Without the Playhouse connection, he had no way to get in touch with her until Harriet came through with the temporary agency information. It would probably be Monday before Harriet got back to him on that. Monday was too long to wait.

  A taxi pulled up and a redhead got out. A familiar redhead. Angela’s friend. What had her name been?

  “Patrice?”

  The doorman frowned, but didn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Jude could tell by the man’s face that he knew the woman by a different name.

  Red glanced up, met his gaze, and never showed the slightest bit of surprise at seeing him. Which shocked him. It was the middle of a workday, she couldn’t have been expecting him, she should be surprised.

  “Jude,” she drawled his name. “What are you doing here?” She clucked her tongue and pretended to be thoughtful. “Oh wait, I know. You’re looking for your favorite temp. Unfortunately she’s not here and won’t be back.”

  “Won’t be back? Where is she?”

  Red shrugged. “Not really sure. She asked if she could meet you here a couple nights ago and my friend and I let her.” Her face took on a scandalous expression. “I think she’s hiding something, but that’s just a hunch.”

  “A hunch? Don’t you know?”

  Red shrugged again. “I barely know the woman. She’s the friend of a friend of a friend who asked to hang out with me a while back. Occasionally she hangs with us.”

  “Do you know how to get in touch with her?”

  “She’s very private.”

  Jude glanced around, finding his earlier frustration didn’t begin to compare to that surging through him at the thought he had no way to find his Angel.

  “Do me a favor.” He pulled out his wallet and removed a business card. A Playhouse Magazine business card. He sighed, then scribbled his cell phone number on the back of the card. “If you see her, give her this.”

  “Jeeze, you’re just full of needing favors, aren’t you?”

  She referred to Marcus at the club.

  “Yeah, I guess I am.” He raked his fingers through his hair, glanced around the street in vain hope of spotting Angela. “And,” he hesitated, hating to bare his soul to a practical stranger with the doorman listening in, but he had to i
mpress the importance of getting the message to Angela, “tell her I’m willing to work through whatever issues she has.”

  “Issues she has? After the stuff I read in the papers today, I’d say you’re the one with the issues.”

  Jude frowned, not liking the way the doorman and Red watched him. “Yeah, well, you’re old enough to know better than to believe everything you read in the papers. If you see Angela, tell her to call me.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because,” damn it, he did not want to lay it on the line, but something in Red’s eyes said she wouldn’t accept anything less than the truth, Jude exhaled, called himself a hundred kinds of fool, then admitted, “I love her.”

  * * *

  Randi burst into the apartment, causing Avery and Cassidy to both jump. Payback Puss raised his head, yawned, then curled back into Cassidy’s lap. “Were you guys watching the front entrance surveillance camera by any chance?”

  Avery took in Randi’s flushed cheeks and her livid with excitement eyes. What had happened?

  “Uhm, no,” Cassidy said, caressing the cat. “Should we have been?”

  “Oh yeah.” Randi stood at the end of the sofa and placed both hands on her hips. “Jude Layman was trying to bribe the doorman to tell him where ‘Angela Greene’ lived.”

  Avery’s heart slammed into her throat. Jude was here? She touched her hair. “What?”

  Randi walked over, gave Payback Puss an apologetic stroke, and grinned. “You heard me. Lover boy was downstairs trying to give the doorman a hundred to tell him which apartment was yours.”

  Avery ran her hand over her long braid, making sure it was in place. Just in case Randi had invited Jude up. Which was ridiculous. Of course Randi wouldn’t do that.

  “But what cash he has on him is all he’s got until you release his bank accounts.” It didn’t make sense. “Why would he waste his money like that?”

  Cassidy eyed her knowingly, stroking Payback Puss’ fur and eliciting a contended purr. “Perhaps he doesn’t view finding you as a waste of money.”

  It was a thought, but not one she’d entertain. To do that just caused her ovaries to ache all the more. She did ache. Not from her nightly activities, but from the gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “Just your cell number and to call before six since we’d be on a plane to Nashville after that.”

  Avery’s gaze shot to Randi, who grinned like her crap didn’t stink. “You did not.”

  Randi waggled her brows. “You sure?”

  Avery hesitated only a moment before answering. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  Randi laughed. “Then you’d be right.” She took a card from her jean pocket and flung it. “Here, he wanted me to give you this.”

  Avery caught the business card and stared at it. Playhouse Magazine ran across the top in bright letters. Underneath it read “Where Men Come to Play” in smaller letters. At the side was Jude’s office information. Office information that was no longer a viable way of reaching Jude thanks to TGEA. With less than steady fingers, she flipped the card. Boldly scrawled across the back was a phone number. His cell number and the message, “Call me”.

  “Maybe he wanted you to call him,” she told Randi, her pulse pounding at the thought. “Because he’s already given me this number on two occasions.”

  But as quickly as she said it she dismissed it. Jude wouldn’t try to hit on Randi, not after last night. This morning.

  Which was a downright foolish thought.

  Jude was a player, a known playboy. That’s why they were hired in the first place. Of course he’d hit on gorgeous Randi. Randi was male orgasm waiting to happen. The only reason he’d dissed her before was because of his “No Sex” vow. Otherwise it would have been Randi in that back hallway with Jude. Randi sleeping, loving, showering with Jude. Only because of a ridiculous vow that led him to resist Randi had Avery ended up on the case.

  “Or maybe he thought you might have lost or thrown it away since his phone hasn’t rang,” Cassidy helpfully provided, looking quite smug.

  Payback Puss raised his head and grinned equally smug. Know it all cat.

  Avery shot a silencing glare. Truth was, Jude hit on Randi. His world was collapsing around him and he’d been attempting to get into Randi’s painted-on jeans. So much for his supposed affections. Not that she’d bought into his lies anyway. He was a total scumbag player who deserved everything they’d done to him.

  “Or maybe,” Randi paused for dramatic effect, “he was feeling desperate because the woman he loves slipped out of his life with no way for him to find her. Seems she didn’t bother to leave a glass slipper calling card for her prince to discover who she is.”

  Avery gasped. She hadn’t told Randi what Jude said. Which meant she was guessing or he’d said something to make Randi think that. In which case, he hadn’t been trying to get Randi naked.

  “What did he say? Exactly?”

  “That if I saw you to tell you to call him and,” Randi paused again until Avery gave her an exasperated look, “that he loves you.”

  Randi dragged the words out in much the same way a five-year-old teasing a friend might have.

  Avery rubbed her hands over her face.

  “Quit that,” Cassidy scolded, ever conscious of skin and health care. “It’ll cause wrinkles.”

  “Wrinkles are the least of my problems.” Why would Jude tell Randi that?

  Randi’s mouth twisted and she plopped onto the end of the sofa, once again causing Payback Puss to lift his head. Crossing her arms, Randi pinned Avery beneath her gaze. “What’s going on, Av? What kind of problems?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing, except what Mandy intended. Like what we intended,” she corrected. “Jude’s life has fallen apart.”

  “Why’s that your problem?”

  “It’s not.”

  Randi’s gaze narrowed. “You’re second guessing yourself because of what he said?”

  “That he loves me?” Avery gave a wry smile. “He told me that last night. If I’d believed him or wanted to stop this, I could have called you.”

  “Oh hell.” A light dawned in Randi’s eyes. “You did call me last night.”

  Yeah, she had, but she’d not been able to go through with asking Randi to hold off on taking away Jude’s life. It would have been too late anyway. Randi entered in the bank deposits yesterday afternoon and made them appear to have occurred sequentially once a month for the past three months. She’d entered the transfers on Hustled’s account as well and had Simon’s call to Hustled rerouted to where Randi took the call. All bases were covered to ruin Jude’s career, before she’d called. They’d also ruined his reputation. His credit. Bumped him out of his apartment for the weekend to keep him more flustered and less likely to make correct assumptions.

  “I spoke with Mandy,” Randi said, breaking the silence. “You’re right, she’s a witch.”

  Avery nodded, tired of the whole mess. She glanced at her watch. Almost three.

  “You want me to undo everything?” Randi’s question was low, but had the impact of nitroglycerin.

  Not that she could. Some things couldn’t be undone.

  Avery’s stomach twisted into knots, her shoulders tensed, her blood thundered through her veins.

  “No,” she denied. “Jude made his bed many times over. Now he can lie in it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Man, someone has screwed you up.” Marcus didn’t mince his words, nor did he say anything Jude didn’t already know.

  Although the press would likely have a field day with it, Jude had gone to Marcus’ for a place to stay. Where else could he go? Sure, he probably could have picked up a woman for the night, but hell if he wanted to. Besides, he’d have had to endure the “Are you really gay?” question, and he’d bust someone’s lip if he heard it a single time more.

  Flying to his parents would look too much like running home with his
tail tucked between his legs. No way would Jude give whoever had done this the satisfaction of appearing whooped.

  Particularly if that someone was Mandy.

  Marcus’ spare bedroom would do for the remainder of the weekend.

  He took a sip of the beer he nursed. Despite wanting to drown his sorrows and hopefully wake to find this day had been a horrible nightmare, he refused to give in to the urge to get rip roaring drunk. He needed his mind alert to figure out this mess.

  Funny, the day started great. With him inside an Angel and feeling like he could leap tall buildings and race speeding locomotives. Like he’d found a woman who would never bore him and that he’d spend the rest of his life making love to. Who could have guessed just how low the day would go?

  “How bad is it?”

  “On selling secrets to Hustled? If what Simon says is true, you look guilty as sin, but I doubt he’ll be able to make any criminal charges stick. Your reputation will be shot, but you won’t go to jail.” Marcus shrugged. “We won’t know until we can get copies of your bank statements, but the fact you have the monthly statements and there’s no record of any deposits helps. You’re sure he said you’d been having deposits for months?”

  Jude nodded.

  “On your apartment, nothing to do there but wait the weekend out and hope nothing’s been messed with, including those statements.” Marcus looked grim. “My guess is those statements won’t be there when you go back.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a hunch.” Marcus took a sip of his long neck. “Someone’s set you up to take the fall for selling secrets to Hustled.”

  “I can understand keeping me out of my apartment for the weekend, and even locking my bank account up so I can’t go straight to Simon and prove it’s all a lie, but my credit cards, too? Mandy’s the likely culprit except it doesn’t make sense. Why the hell would someone trying to set me up to take the wrap for selling secrets bother with the other stuff? The gay stuff? Who at Playhouse has those kind of connections? To have the government close down my financial life?”

  Marcus shrugged. “Someone who wanted you gone from the magazine for good.”

  Jude took another sip, ignoring how the liquid sloshed in his otherwise empty belly. He probably should have eaten, but food hadn’t been a priority, hadn’t appealed. The last thing he’d eaten had been breakfast with Angela.