by Darcia Helle
Forenzi’s throaty voice barked out, “Who is it?”
“Room service.”
The door swung open. Forenzi frowned. “You’re a laugh a minute.”
Jesse stepped inside. Keeping Forenzi in view, he glanced around the room. Just a few empty beer bottles, one nearly full, and a bunch of empty vodka nips. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“Sit down.”
Forenzi walked over to the floral print chair and sank into it. He snatched a pack of Camels from the ridiculously ornate table and lit one, inhaling deeply. Jesse sat in a matching chair across from Forenzi. The guy looked ridiculous in the floral print, using a crystal ashtray and drinking from a Michelob bottle.
Jesse studied Forenzi. He took in the beginnings of a scruffy beard, the bloodshot eyes. He said nothing. Just waited.
“I know you’re gonna bury Covington,” Forenzi finally said.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Jesse said.
“Who gave you that info on me?”
Jesse shrugged. Forenzi’s eyes narrowed. “Was it Alison?” he said.
Alison? Who the hell was Alison? That wasn’t a name that had come up anywhere before. Jesse kept his expression blank. He just sat watching Forenzi’s scar twitch.
“Damn that bitch.” Forenzi took a long drag from his cigarette. “I knew all along she was only fucking me to get to Covington. Course, I didn’t give a shit what her reasons were.”
Jesse leaned back. He still didn’t know who Alison was. He wasn’t sure it mattered.
“So what you got on me?” Forenzi asked. “They pressing charges?”
“Wouldn’t you expect a D.A. to do that?”
“Covington wants you dead.”
“And I should be surprised?”
“This time for real,” Forenzi said. “Before was just to scare you.”
“I appreciate the warning.”
“I don’t do it, I’ll be dropped alongside you.”
Forenzi stamped out his cigarette in the crowded crystal ashtray. His movements were jerky, his words slightly slurred. He was not the image of a man in control. More like a man who was watching his end approach.
Jesse said, “Why don’t you tell me what you want.”
“I know if I drop you, your buddies will see that I go down for it.”
“You’re right.”
“That’s part of the reason Covington’s been slow to act.” Forenzi’s voice was low, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “You would’ve been dead a long time ago but Covington wanted to pull you over to our side. He thought you had potential, that’d you’d be an important ally.”
“I’m honored.”
“Then things went bad fast, and it was suddenly too dangerous to take you out.” Forenzi lit another cigarette. “I don’t snitch. But I don’t like being backed against a wall. Things are getting stirred up, trouble’s brewing I tell him. Then he springs this on me.”
Jesse remained still. He kept his gaze fixed on Forenzi but said nothing.
“Asshole,” Forenzi muttered.
“Me or Covington.”
“Both.”
Forenzi’s legs couldn’t remain still. He crossed them, uncrossed them. He leaned back in the chair, then quickly sat forward. Jesse briefly caught the outline of a gun beneath Forenzi’s sweatshirt. Looked like a nine-millimeter Glock, much like his own. His muscles tightened. He sat more erect and mentally prepared himself.
“He’s losing his grip,” Forenzi said. “It’s all falling apart on him. You know, there was a time when he had the whole world by the balls.”
“Maybe he was squeezing too tight.”
“Now the bastard’s gone crazy. He wants me to drop his wife after I’m done with you. I told him he’s nuts. This is getting way outta hand.”
Jesse said, “Why don’t you tell me what the hell you want.”
“I wanna bail.”
“And you want my help?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you offering in return?”
“Your life.”
“Yeah?” Jesse laughed. “I thought my parents were responsible for that.”
Forenzi crushed his cigarette butt into the ashtray. “I ain’t hanging around ‘til Covington finds someone to drop me next. So either you help me or I kill you.”
“Help you how?”
“Get me out of the country,” Forenzi said. “Mexico. Today. Now.”
“Hell, I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”
“I know better.”
“Forenzi, there’s no way in hell I could get you out of the country today,” Jesse said. “I wouldn’t, even if I could. The only way I’d help you is if you helped me in return. Talk to the DA.”
“Fuck that,” Forenzi said. “I told you I ain’t no snitch.”
As Forenzi leaned back, his hand reached toward his pants. Jesse pulled his Glock from his jeans, sprang to his feet, and pointed it between Forenzi’s eyes. “I’m a little faster this time,” Jesse said. “Helps that I’m sober.”
Forenzi sank back against the chair. His hands dropped in his lap. “Shit. You ain’t usually carrying.”
“Don’t even twitch.” Jesse reached down and slid the gun from Forenzi’s waistband. “I’ve got enough to put you away for awhile. Jail might be safe, ‘til Covington posts your bail…”
“I ain’t talking to the cops,” Forenzi said. “So don’t even go there.”
“You’d rather Covington took care of you his way?”
“No, I’d rather kill you and split.”
“Not an option.” Jesse slid the safety on Forenzi’s gun, then tucked it into the back of his jeans. “I’m sure you won’t mind the cops coming for you. Especially once Covington finds out I’m still alive.”
“Fuck off.”
“Same to you, my friend.”
After spending a few hours mulling around the police station, Jesse went back to his office. Dawn greeted him with a smile and a handful of messages. “You’re popular this morning,” she said. “A woman has called three times already. She didn’t want to leave her name or a message.”
“Great,” Jesse said. “Must be my lucky day.”
He took the messages, went into his office, and flopped into his chair. He hadn’t even read the first message when the intercom buzzed. “Tom Eldridge is on line one,” Dawn said.
“Thanks.” Jesse rubbed his temple. He really disliked the slimy little District Attorney. He grabbed the receiver and pressed line one. “Hello Tom.”
“What’s going on with Forenzi?” Eldridge said.
“I believe you have him in custody.”
“Why the hell didn’t you go through me with your information? You know damn well it’s a criminal offense to withhold -”
“Did you call for the sole reason of bitching me out?” Jesse said. “Because I’ve got work to do.”
“I told you to back off this case.”
“I can’t help it if I keep getting sucked back in.”
“Damn it, when I say -”
“Look Tom, I’m in no mood for your shit,” Jesse said. “I handed the guy to you. I didn’t ask him to invite me to that hotel, confess a bunch of shit, then make an inept attempt to kill me. So back the fuck off. Was there anything else you wanted?”
“Chris Nyles was found dead in his cell this morning.”
Jesse slammed his fist against his desk. “What the hell happened?”
“He was due to be transferred tomorrow,” Eldridge said. “The paperwork was done. He was going to talk as soon as he was moved.”
“And?”
Eldridge cleared his throat. “He hung himself.”
“Who had access to him?”
“Suicide, Ryder. He used his bed sheet.”
“Suicide? Why the hell would Nyles kill himself now? You think he waited ‘til you met all his demands, then he decided to kill himself instead?”
“Have you got anything more on Forenzi?”
&
nbsp; Jesse stared down at the files on his desk. “Ask him about Nyles.”
“What about Nyles?”
“Ask him. See what he tells you.”
“Is there a connection with Forenzi and Nyles that you aren’t telling me about?”
“Of course not.”
“Don’t think that sarcasm eluded me,” Eldridge said. “Forenzi give you anything you didn’t put in the report? Maybe on Covington?”
“Nothing comes to mind.”
Eldridge blew a heavy sigh through the phone. “Anything I should know about?”
“Yeah, you need to lay off the garlic.”
Jesse put the phone down. He stared at nothing in particular, rolled all the puzzle pieces over in his mind. Covington had gotten to Nyles. Who else would he eliminate before this was over?
The intercom buzzed and Dawn said, “That woman is on the phone again. Do you want to talk to her?”
“Sure, what the hell.”
Jesse rubbed a hand over his face. His left eye throbbed. Given the way his day was going, he was fairly confident that he wouldn’t like whatever this anonymous woman had to say. He punched a button on his phone and answered.
“Jesse Ryder?”
“That’s me. You are?”
“I need to speak to you right away.”
Jesse closed his eyes and rubbed his left temple. “I’m pretty sure you’re speaking to me right now.”
“Alone. In person.”
The voice was soft, very feminine. Reminded him of a phone sex operator. Not that he had any reason to be calling sex lines. He’d worked a case awhile back that dealt with a few. They rarely looked anything like they sounded.
He shook his head to clear his mind and stop it from wandering. “What’s this about?” he asked.
“Not on the phone.”
“Okay, why don’t you come to my office.”
“No, not there either.”
Seriously. This day was going to push him right over the edge of his tolerance level. “I see. So are you wanting to meet in a dark alley at midnight? You want me to wear a disguise?”
“The Crestview Hotel,” she said. “Room 1002. In an hour.”
Crestview. The hotel where Senator Foley supposedly hung himself. Coincidence? Jesse didn’t believe in coincidences. And this woman now had his full attention. “Want to tell me who you are? Or why I’d agree to meet you there?”
“Please. It’s important.”
Rain thumped against the window behind him. He sighed. “Should I bring the champagne?”
Jesse took the click in his ear as a no. He replaced the receiver and swiveled in his chair. He could barely see beyond the avalanche of raindrops. This would have been the perfect day to stay in bed. With Lauren. Her body pressed against his, the light scent of her perfume, her soft lips…
Damn.
Jesse strode through the lobby of the Crestview Hotel. Businessmen in their power-colored suits and ties sat in black leather chairs arranged by the fireplace. More than half of them were hunched over laptops. The others were deeply engrossed in discussions that bordered on obnoxious.
As Jesse moved past them, he took in the stomachs that protruded from too much late-night persuasion dining. And the eyes, heavy and bloodshot with too many polite cocktails. But what struck him most was a stress level that threatened an anxiety explosion. Walking past them was like entering a pulsating vortex. The negative energy was electric and stifling.
These men were probably much like Covington had been in his youth. Had this been how he’d started out? Had he been swallowed up by the highly competitive, cutthroat business world? Had his quest to reach the top driven him to uncontrollable extremes?
Why was the desire to be the best so strong in some people? Did something snap inside them once they entered the competition? Or was that desire the thing that drove them to the quest for power to begin with?
A question for philosophers, Jesse decided. Not an issue he had time to dwell on.
He found room 1002 on the back corner of the tenth floor. Before he could raise his arm to knock, the door swung open. The woman was tall, maybe 5’9”, blonde. Model quality looks. Definitely a head-turner, though not one that would hold his attention. She had a superficial gloss, like she’d stepped straight off a magazine cover and wasn’t quite real.
She took his hand and gently tugged him inside. She stepped behind him, twisted the lock on the door. All very James Bond-like.
Jesse said, “I normally know the women who lock me inside hotel rooms.”
“My name is Kristen.”
“What is it you want, Kristen?”
“I need to talk.”
“I got that,” Jesse said. “That would be why I’m here.”
“I heard you’ve been asking questions about Alex Covington.”
Jesse kept his expression blank. He did a slow scan of the room. Nothing unusual popped out at him. No loaded guns or six-inch hunting knives lying around. He almost laughed at the absurdity. He turned his attention back to Kristen, said nothing. He would stand here, wait her out. Eventually she’d get to the point.
Kristen walked, or more like sashayed, to the middle of the room. “I’m very nervous about doing this,” she said. “If he knew…”
Jesse stayed where he was. He watched her but still said nothing.
Kristen posed in a way that said she was used to being stared at. Expected it. Craved it, perhaps. She didn’t appear to like Jesse’s lack of reaction. She licked her shiny lips, held his eyes. “I understand you’re looking for certain information,” she said. “I might be able to help you.”
“And why would you want to?”
“Because I can.”
Jesse nodded. He waited. Neither of them spoke.
He didn’t trust her. Something was seriously off. She was posing like this was a photo shoot, speaking as if reading from a script. She was wearing a designer blouse, all sheer and unbuttoned to expose expensive cleavage and a lacy black bra. A tiny skirt that wouldn’t allow her to sit with any dignity. Knee-high boots with four-inch heels. She was working every inch of her body, batting her pasted on lashes. He wasn’t sure what her intended effect was. But he felt like he should have brought condoms and a couple hundred dollar bills.
“What is it you want to tell me?” Jesse asked.
Kristen glanced at the door. “This really scares me.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Can we get away from the door? Just in case someone is listening.”
Jesse moved toward Kristen. His gaze flickered from the bathroom to the closet. Nothing seemed out of place, though someone could possibly be hiding in either. He stopped in the center of the room, cocked his head to the side. “Okay,” he said. “Talk.”
“Are you always this abrupt?” Kristen asked.
“This is me being polite. It gets worse.”
“You don’t have to be mean.”
“I don’t like games.”
“I’m not playing games.”
“Then talk.”
“Do you have any idea what I’m risking by doing this?”
“No,” Jesse said. “I would have no way of knowing that, since I have no idea who you are, what you know, or what you want.”
“I’m Alex Covington’s lover.”
“Congratulations.”
“Doesn’t that interest you?” Kristen said.
“Why should it?”
“I know things.”
“Like which positions he prefers?”
Kristen jutted out a plump bottom lip. “I do not like your attitude.”
“I’ve been attending attitude management classes.”
She looked like she wasn’t sure whether he was kidding. He shook his head, sighed. His head throbbed.
“Why don’t we knock off the dancing around and get to the point,” Jesse said. “You called me here. You kept it all mysterious. So you’re hopping in Covington’s bed now and then. Anything else you want me to
know?”
Kristen blinked her fake lashes. “I believe we got off to a bad start here,” she said. “Why don’t we both drop our guards and relax. We’re after the same goal, therefore we should be friends, not enemies.”
Jesse held her gaze, said nothing. Kristen jumped into the silence. “I’m sorry about all the mystery,” she said. “It’s just that I’m fully aware of Alex’s capabilities. I’m sure you can appreciate my need for caution.”
“What made you decide to talk to me?”
“Why don’t we sit,” Kristen said. “Get comfortable.”
Jesse glanced at the table by the balcony door. The heavy drapes were pulled shut. He could easily imagine getting popped in the head by a bullet from the balcony. But the shattering glass would attract too much attention.
“Who’s out there?” he asked.
“What?”
“Who’s on the balcony?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Then open the drapes.”
“You’re acting like a lunatic,” Kristen said. “Maybe I made a mistake by calling you.”
“Maybe you did.”
Kristen strode to the table, all hips in motion. She sat and crossed her long legs. The skirt barely covered her hips. “Please sit down,” she said. “You’re making me nervous.”
Jesse remained standing. He waited. Time ticked on in silence.
Finally Kristen stood. “Fine,” she said. “If it’s so important to you, I’ll open the drapes.”
Kristen stepped way off in the corner of the room before grabbing the plastic cord. Just as she pulled the drapes open, Jesse moved to the side and pulled his gun. As he’d expected, the glass sliding door shoved open and a dripping caricature of a man jumped inside. He was a few years younger than Jesse and a few inches shorter. Beneath the dripping leather trench coat, he had an average build. A large nose protruded on an average face. But the gun he directed at Jesse was anything but average. The snubnose barrel was fluorescent purple. Jesse had never seen anything like it before.
