Jennifer Apodaca - Samantha Shaw 04 - Batteries Required

by Jennifer Apodaca

  I pulled my keys out and unlocked the front door. Angel might be mad at me, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d be OK. Tomorrow, I’d apologize for brushing off her worries about Hugh. Opening the door, I was glad to be home.

  Ali ran out from the hallway and across the living room to greet me. She sniffed my shirt with her elegant nose.

  “It’s Diet Coke and wine spray, Ali.”

  Satisfied, she licked my hand, then turned and went back to the boys’ room.

  Grandpa had his nearly bald head bent over his computer screen. He waved a blue-veined hand at me. I walked through to the dining room, set my purse on the glass-topped table, and sank into a chair. “Hi, Grandpa. How are the boys?”

  He leaned back and turned to look at me. “They were disappointed that the skateboard pro didn’t show up. Apparently, the guy fell in practice and had to get some stitches. That’s the rumor they heard there, anyway. We cheered them up with a game of poker.”

  I smiled. “We” consisted of the same group that I had confiscated the sex-toy kit from earlier that night. What a day. Tiredness sank through my skin into my bones. “I bet you did. Whoever cheated the best, won?”

  “Sammy, we’re a bunch of old men—would we do that?” He laughed at himself, his face crinkling up. Then he said, “You look beat, and your shirt looks worse.”

  “So I’ve been told.” I leaned back in the chair and rubbed my eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting some information on Zack Quinn. Where’s Angel? She’s not staying at her house, is she? I thought she’d come home with you.”

  I decided not to scold him for Internet-snooping on Zack. “Angel’s going to stay at her mom’s house because she’s a big redheaded chicken.” I quickly told him the story of going to Gabe’s house, then locking Dee in the closet.

  Grandpa’s milky blue eyes widened. “You locked Gabe’s new assistant in a closet inside his house?”

  I smiled at the memory. “Yep.”

  “Well, then.” He turned back to his computer. “Guess I’d better give you what I have before Gabe gets here.”

  I frowned at Grandpa’s bony back. “You mean you want to escape to your room before he gets here.”

  “Hey, I’m a magician. I know when to make my exit.” He reached into a side drawer of his rolltop desk and pulled out a yellow tablet. He handed it with a pen to me.

  “You aren’t going to get arrested for hacking, are you?”

  “Pshaw!”

  Alrighty then, I guess that was my answer. I scooted around in my chair, got the tablet positioned on the table, and said, “Let’s just hope the police find and arrest Zack Quinn.”

  Grandpa started reading from his computer screen. “Zack Quinn lives in an apartment on Poe Street over by the police station and Swick Matich Field.” He rattled off the address.

  I wrote it down. Swick Matich was one of the older parks in Lake Elsinore. It was really just a field in a V of a couple of roads that somehow got dubbed a park. There wasn’t any playground equipment, but these days it was carved up into three diamonds for Little League. There were some lower income apartments in that area, and the police and sheriff’s station was practically across the street.

  Adding to the ambience was the lake, just a few streets over from the other side of the park. On cool nights, a damp breeze blew off the lake. But on a hot day after fish kills, the sick smell of decaying fish lay like a heavy, rank fog over the field. Lately, Lake Elsinore had been spared that particular misery.

  “Sam, are you paying attention?”

  “Sure.” Now, anyway. “What do you have besides Zack’s address?” I was glad Angel wasn’t there, or I’d have to tie her up to keep her from going to Zack’s apartment to confront him. I just hoped the police would get Zack’s address, find him at home, arrest him, and make this whole thing go away.

  But I was going to be prepared in case that didn’t happen. One thing I had learned from my life, and from Gabe, was to be ready to take care of myself and my family. Angel was part of my family.

  Grandpa went on, “He’s worked at Daystar for two months.”

  I looked up. “That’s all?” Then I frowned. “How do you know that?”

  “I kind of peeked into his files.”

  “Ugh. Grandpa, you are going to get into trouble!”

  “Nah. I got his Social Security number and birth date. I’ve already made some discreet inquiries to see if he has any criminal past.” He turned to look at me. “I bet he does. Using a gun to threaten Angel in her house—that’s pretty bold.”

  The entire top of my head tightened. “There weren’t any marks on the door to indicate forced entry into Angel’s house. The back door was open, though, so we think he used lock picks. A real pro could do that.” Or I thought he could. I’d have to ask Gabe.

  Don’t think about Gabe.

  Going back to concentrating on Zack, I added, “But why? What did he want? What does he think Angel has?”

  He shook his head. “What does Angel think, Sam?”

  “She doesn’t know. She’s frustrated, too. Right now, she’s venting her frustration by stalking Hugh.” I still felt bad for brushing her off about Hugh. “Vance said this Zack could be a stalker, but that doesn’t seem right.”

  “Why not?”

  “I guess because he doesn’t really seem to want Angel. He wants something else.” Where is it? he had demanded. Where was what? What was Zack talking about? “And he thought Angel should know what he was looking for.” I shook my head, tired.

  “Angel’s only contact with Zack was at the casino?”

  “Yes, she hadn’t met him before last Friday.”

  Grandpa sighed. “Zack could be a crazy, Sam. I’ll have more information in the morning.” He started shutting down the computer.

  “There’s nothing more we can do tonight, anyway.” I stood up and kissed Grandpa’s dry, weathered cheek. “Thanks, Grandpa. I’m going to say goodnight to the boys, take a shower, and go to bed.”

  He looked up at me. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Sammy?”

  I wracked my brain. “What?”

  He stood up. “Gabe.” Grinning, he turned and shuffled down the hall.

  Damn. “He might not show up tonight!” I said.

  Laughter floated back down the hallway before Grandpa’s bedroom door shut.

  I stopped into the boys’ bedroom. TJ was reading and Joel was listening to his CD player with earphones in. Ali was stretched out on the bedroom floor. She opened one eye when I walked in, then went back to sleep.

  Joel saw me from the top bunk and pulled off his earphones.

  “What happened to you, Mom?”

  I looked down at my shirt. What to do? For now, I decided that I’d skip over Angel’s being threatened with a gun. “Spilled Diet Coke on myself. I heard the skateboard pro didn’t show up at the park.”

  Joel sat up. “It was even in the paper that he was going to be there. That sucks.”

  Skirting Ali, I went to the bunk beds. I was too tired to suggest a better word than “sucks.” “Yeah, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m sure the event will be rescheduled. The city is trying hard to make that skate park work.” The city of Lake Elsinore had commissioned the skate park for a price well over three hundred thousand. Then they charged folks for using the park. Guess they hadn’t been paying attention to the economy and the fact that Lake Elsinore has a large pool of macaroni-and-cheese income folks. Turned out the skate park was in the red, so now the city was subsidizing the park.

  Lake Elsinore was like that. Sure, our city had had some pretty harsh failures. We had built a minor league baseball stadium with multimillion-dollar cost overruns. Then there was the much-touted Camelot Shopping Center that was now just two boarded-up buildings that were once a movie theater and a Kmart. But Lake Elsinore just kept jumping in with both feet, and trying to compete with the surrounding areas.

  So I was pretty sure the city would get the skate pro back for Joel and TJ to see
. They didn’t want to add the skate park to the failure list.

  “TJ had fun. He was hanging out with a girl.”

  “Shut up, Joel,” TJ snapped from the lower bunk.

  I smiled at Joel. “Why don’t you turn off your CD player now? It’s getting late.”

  “ ’K. ’Night, mom.”

  “ ’Night, honey.” I sat down on TJ’s lower bunk. “Hey—”

  TJ cut me off. “Mom, is Angel in trouble? I heard Grandpa on the phone to you. And besides, you got stuff all over your shirt—that usually means you are on a case.”

  True. I did have a knack for ruining clothes. Much like I believed TJ had a knack for changing the subject when he didn’t want me asking questions about girls.

  What to tell him about Angel? I had told them when I thought Angel had been kidnapped because there was no way I could have hidden it, or my worry. But now I didn’t really know what was going on. I skirted it a bit. “Someone broke into her house tonight. We really don’t know why. Just to be safe, she’s staying at her mom’s house tonight. We’ll sort it out tomorrow.”

  TJ’s face was tight and serious. “So how did you ruin your shirt?”

  I grinned. “I swung a six-pack of Diet Coke at the guy who broke into Angel’s house and scared him off.” OK, not exactly accurate, but I didn’t want to mention the gun to TJ and Joel.

  Some of the tension left TJ’s face. “Really? Mom, that’s pretty good.”

  Joel leaned over from the top bunk. “Cool, wait until I tell my friends. Their parents have stupid jobs.”

  Uh-oh. This was what happened when I bragged to my kids. “This wasn’t a job. I just happened to be there.” I didn’t even want to think about what kind of rumors Joel’s story would morph into.

  “But it’s ’cause you’re a PI,” Joel insisted.

  “I’m not a PI, Joel. I just do part-time work for Gabe.” Until I locked his assistant in the closet. Wonder what my sons would think of that escapade. Maybe I should look into bookkeeping as a side source of money to keep building Heart Mates.

  I leaned down and kissed TJ goodnight. “You guys get some sleep.” I resisted asking TJ about the girl at the skate park. That particular subject was going to require a little finesse to get actual answers out of TJ. I leaned down and petted Ali on the way out.

  Too bad Ali couldn’t talk in peoplespeak. She could tell me what girl my son liked.

  In my bedroom, I stripped off my clothes, dropped my white shirt into the bathroom trash can and took a long shower. As I let the hot water ease the ache in my neck and shoulders, the day’s events splattered my mind like a broken puzzle, all jumbled pieces that I couldn’t make fit.

  What did Zack Quinn want? What did he think Angel had?

  Who was the girl at the skate park with TJ? When had TJ stopped telling me everything? Maybe I wasn’t spending enough time with the boys?

  Did I hear a noise? Had Gabe let himself into my house?

  Shutting off the shower, I listened but didn’t hear any noise. Maybe the idea of Gabe’s revenge had me a little spooked. I struggled to turn off my thoughts. I needed sleep. I toweled dry, slipped on my panties, and reached under the sink for my blow dryer.

  My hand touched velvet. The sex-toy kit. I pulled it out, and saw that the white strip sealing the box closed hadn’t been opened. Well, what do you know, one thing had gone right that day. I set the box on the counter and finished the job of drying my hair.

  By morning, my hair would revert to blonde-streaked, frizzy waves, but at least it wouldn’t be as bad as if I had slept on it wet. I pulled on a T-shirt, then looked at the box.

  Where is it?

  Could this be “it?” Could the sex-toy kit be what Zack was looking for? But that didn’t make sense. Mitch had given it to Angel. As far as I knew, Angel hadn’t seen Zack the dealer again after we met with Mitch.

  But maybe I should open it. Just to be sure. Picking up the blue velvet box, I turned off the bathroom light and went into my bedroom.

  My bedside light was on and the romance novel I was reading to review for Romance Rocks magazine was on my nightstand. For once, I was ahead of schedule on my reviews. Usually, I was reading both a book at work and a book at home. The book I was currently reading at work was riveting, full of suspense.

  The one on my bedside table had a too-stupid-to-live heroine. A whiner. I don’t know why the hero didn’t kill her. Honest to God, if she complained about her hips being too slim to find decent jeans again, I would scream. What woman had hips that were too thin? Add to that that this poor creature had trouble with her shirts because her boobs were too big—and not man-made boobs either—I wanted to rewrite this book so that the girl died and came back to life only to die again. Really, I’d make a medical miracle out of her and have her die every single chapter.

  I got into bed and ignored the book. I had to protect myself from the violent tendencies that it induced in me.

  Putting the sex-toy kit on my lap, I thought about Angel. How pissed would she be if I opened it without her? On the other hand, what if there was something inside this box that cleared up what was going on?

  All this internal debating woke up the tight ache that started between my shoulder blades and rode up to knot the back of my neck. The scuffle with Zack must have twisted and strained those muscles. I was just too tired to trudge out to the kitchen for Tylenol.

  I glanced over at the stupid book on my bedside table. I had to read the whole book to write a review. That was my policy, though right now, I hated my policy.

  Dull kill-me-now-so-I-don’t-have-to-read-about-this-heroine book, or sex-toy kit. Oh yeah, like I had to think about this decision. If I made Angel read one chapter of the book, she’d understand. Besides, with my ambition for getting one-up on Gabe escalating, it would be foolish to overlook that this sex-toy kit might have something to do with Zack threatening Angel. If I opened this box and found answers that led to solutions . . .

  Not only would Angel be safe. Gabe would be impressed.

  A win-win situation.

  Smiling, I reached for the sex-toy kit on my lap and broke the seal.

  No turning back now. I lifted the top. The box had a spring hinge that snapped open with a faint crack.

  Well.

  So that was what a vibrator looked like. Actually, there were two of them, secured onto a dark blue velvet bed with little elastic bands. Who knew vibrators came in colors! One was mint green and shaped pretty much like I expected. The second one glowed a lavender color and had a protrusion at the base . . . like a real man, I guess. Sheesh.

  I didn’t see anything that would drive Zack to breaking in to Angel’s house. Unless he had problems with women having vibrators.

  Men could be strange.

  Taking my eyes off the vibrators, I looked at the top of the box. There were elastic pockets that held some small bottles. I pulled them out and read the labels: massage oil, edible chocolate paint, and lickable raspberry spray. These actually looked like fun. They would complement Angel’s lingerie line.

  The two sides of the box had pockets. Carefully, I pulled open one pocket—velvet-lined handcuffs. Checking the other side—a second set of handcuffs.

  Now, these I might have a use for, especially if Gabe showed up tonight in an Italian temper. If I could slip these cuffs on him . . .

  Grinning, I tried to picture the scenario in which I could succeed in handcuffing Gabe. I didn’t think it would be as easy as locking his assistant in the closet.

  Tucking both sets of handcuffs into their pockets, I sighed. All of it looked . . . well . . . normal, I guess. For a sex-toy kit that was supposed to be a sample. Nothing here to induce Zack to tear Angel’s house apart and threaten her with a gun.

  Sample. Wait, wasn’t there supposed to be a catalogue of all Mitch’s merchandise inside? That would have Mitch’s contact information, so where was it? I slid my hands around the vibrators, bottles of oils, and paints. . . . I couldn’t find any more pockets.r />
  Maybe Mitch had forgotten to put the catalogue in?

  Face it, this was a wild goose chase. It was driving me crazy trying to figure out why Zack was after Angel. I had hoped for an easy answer.

  The sex-toy kit was just what Mitch had said it would be. Sex toys. I’d just tell Angel that I had looked in it out of desperation to find answers. With everything else going on, she wouldn’t care.

  Using my right hand, I rubbed the back of my neck but couldn’t reach that spot between my shoulder blades. With my head bent and my gaze on the colorful vibrators, I wondered if I should go to the hallway closet and drag out the heating pad. I hated falling asleep with it plugged in because of the fire danger.

  There was something to be said for batteries. I grinned, remembering Gabe’s assistant so diligently looking for batteries in the closet—right before I slammed the door and locked her in.

  Hmm, batteries. Vibrators. That would work. . . .

  I stopped trying to reach the spot between my shoulder blades and studied the vibrators. Not the lavender one with the . . . uh . . . appendage. But the mint green one. . . . I reached into the box and slid it from the elastic band holding it in place. It was cool and smooth. The casing was made of a moldable silicone. Turning it around in my hands, I saw the base had a battery compartment and a little switch.

  I moved the switch.

  With a low hum, it started moving. Vibrating. Interesting. . . I was too tired to think sexually interesting right now. Besides, this was Angel’s and—ugh—some things just weren’t meant to be shared.

  But as a massager? My muscles cried out for relief. I set the rest of the sex-toy kit on the floor and slid it under my bed but still in easy reach. When I was done with the “massager,” I would put it back in the box, close it, and shove it back under the bed.

  Next, I arranged my pillows, put the “massager” where it would hit the perfect spot on my upper back and neck area, and lay back on it.