Too Far Gone

by Debra Webb

  She tapped the bar top and gave Vanya a sloppy smile. “You’re amazing,” she gushed. “Did you go to dance school?”

  Vanya’s lips curved into a bored smile. “For a time I trained in Russia,” she said, her accent making every word as exotic as her face. “But all you need to dance here is a feel for the music.”

  “Oh, don’t sell yourself short.” Lauren slurred her words a bit. “You have a gift.”

  Vanya’s gaze narrowed and she tossed back whatever had been in her glass. “Excuse me, I must be going.”

  “Please wait.” Lauren stilled her with a light touch on her arm. “I would do anything for my boyfriend. All... I-I want to do is please him, please help me.” She wondered if the stutter would be enough. “I want to do a special dance for him. Do you have a special someone you dance for when you’re not here?”

  Vanya’s dark eyes flared wide and she signaled the bartender for another drink. “And for my friend.” She clapped her hand over Lauren’s and put her face close enough that they were nearly nose-to-nose. “You must not speak of fairy tales here. They do not end well.”

  “But it’s the city of Angels!” Lauren flung her arms wide and then hugged herself with an exaggerated sigh. “And dreams,” she added in a stage whisper. “Let’s be best friends. You can show me how to dance and I... I can...” She hiccupped. “I can think of some way to pay you back.”

  “I know what you’re doing,” Vanya murmured, her hair like a curtain blocking her profile from the man no doubt watching her every move. “I am no fool, my new friend.”

  Lauren held her breath. Would she shout for Kozlov now?

  Vanya tossed her hair back and raised her glass. “To new friends.”

  “To new friends,” Lauren echoed before downing the shot of vodka. “They help each other,” she said, looking down into her glass. She chattered aimlessly until the bartender who’d served them wandered away. “Will you help me, um, dance? My boyfriend likes your style.”

  Vanya smiled. “I cannot. You must leave.”

  Lauren dared to lean closer to her. “But you can help me. You can help others, too.”

  Vanya laughed, the sound brittle under the music and loud voices. “You will go home. Sometimes we do what we must. I will give you my remedy for a hangover,” Vanya countered. “Give me your phone.”

  “But the night is young,” Lauren complained, dropping the device Mike had given her into Vanya’s palm.

  “If you are lucky there will be other nights, my friend.” She returned the phone to Lauren and leaned in to kiss her cheeks in the European tradition. “Andreas would see me dead first. And I am a favorite.” Vanya murmured at Lauren’s ears. “Do not let my fate become yours.” Her gaze drifted behind Lauren and she smiled. “Is this your lady?”

  “I hope she isn’t pestering you,” Mike said. “She really likes your moves.”

  Vanya beamed at him, but Lauren saw the sadness in her eyes. “She has my recipe to prevent a hangover. You will take care of her, yes?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Mike put his arm around Lauren and sheltered her as they moved toward the door.

  Lauren wanted to protest, to ask for one more minute, but she felt the urgency in his touch, his steps.

  He hurried toward the taxi stand and when she shivered, he dropped his suit coat over her shoulders. She pulled it tight letting his scent and the heat from his body envelope her. She’d never felt so safe, despite their walk through a den of vipers. “Thanks.”

  “We’re not clear yet. Laugh.”

  She laughed on his cue and feigned more of that drunken happiness. They stepped up as the taxi line advanced.

  “Lean on me.”

  She did.

  “More. They’re watching.”

  She wasn’t sure how much closer she could get, until his arms came around her and he nuzzled her neck. The small touch sent a bolt of welcome heat through her body. They moved forward again. The next cab would carry them away from Vanya, but closer to safety.

  Mike opened the door and ushered her in ahead of him. When he settled beside her and the cab pulled away, Lauren saw Kozlov standing by the doorman and pointing their way.

  The tremors started in her fingers and her knees felt rubbery. Mike put his arm around her when her teeth began to chatter.

  “Shh. Should we have a fire when we get home?”

  “P-please.” If they were going back to the safe house she’d sit right in front of it and not think about how close she’d been to the man who wanted her dead. Or worse—wanted to own her. She told herself he couldn’t possibly have recognized her as Lauren Marie Woods. She’d used a different name and identification the entire night. Mike had taken every precaution against being followed. But what if Vanya failed to keep her secret?

  “If he knew,” Mike said too low for the driver to hear, “it would be obvious by now. Relax.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from twisting around to see if anyone was following them. A few minutes later the cab dropped them in front of a hotel and they walked through the lobby toward the parking garage at the rear. She returned his jacket as they settled into his Camaro.

  “You up for a drive?” he asked.

  “Please.” She was wired and eager to make sense of whatever Vanya had put into the phone.

  “You’re an excellent drunk,” Mike observed, turning west onto Santa Monica Boulevard.

  “It helps to be sober.” She waited, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to call Claudia and she was half afraid to check the message. What if it was only a recipe for a hangover cure? “Are you worried about tonight?”

  “No. The disguise held up. You did a great job. I just don’t know how productive we’ve been.”

  He sounded as weary and frustrated as she felt. “Vanya was receptive. Once she realized who I was.” Lauren considered taking off the wig and massaging her scalp, but decided she’d better hold off. “I basically asked her to help me.”

  “I figured,” Mike said. “Kozlov sensed something about the conversation,” he added. “They’re keeping a close eye on her.”

  “If she’s Polzin’s mistress why was she with Desmond that night?”

  “Only she knows.” Mike drummed his fingertips against the steering wheel.

  “One cheek looked bruised. She’d done a stellar job with concealer, but I’m certain it was bruised.”

  “And how are you interpreting that?”

  “She’s a victim.” Lauren raised her chin, daring him to argue. “I think if we can find a way to rescue her, she’d help us.”

  “No.”

  Why wouldn’t he listen? “That’s not the answer I was looking for.”

  “It’s the only answer you’re getting.”

  “Mike, come on. She needs someone.”

  “I’m here to protect you. From the mob, the police, even from yourself if that’s what it takes.”

  She crossed her arms and leaned as far from him as the car would allow. “Where are we going?”

  “There’s a quiet spot near the ocean where no one can sneak up on us.”

  “We aren’t overdressed for that at all.” But she wouldn’t mind some fresh air and the roar of the surf to chase away the scents of the club clinging to her.

  “I need fresh air,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “Go ahead and call Claudia,” he suggested. “Get her started on whatever Vanya put into the phone.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lauren muttered, putting the phone on speaker as she entered the contact number she had memorized like a line from a script.

  His technical assistant answered immediately. “I’ve been working the message since it came through,” Claudia said. “It’s an address embedded in a recipe, I think.”

  Lauren and Mike exchanged a look, but Lauren recovered first. “You’re kidding.”

  Claudia grumbled incoherently. “Nothing matches up with the little I’ve gained on her background. Did she say anything helpful?”

  Lauren repeated the con
versation and Mike chimed in with his observations. Claudia continued to grumble as Mike pulled off the road, parking in a small public lot. He rolled down the windows and they listened to the waves crash into the sand below.

  Lauren reviewed the message, while Mike read it over her shoulder. Lauren spotted the problem. “It’s not a street address or zip code,” she said. “It’s written as an acreage address. Search that in Malibu.”

  “Malibu?” Claudia didn’t sound convinced. “Why?”

  “Because no one uses Malibu rum as a hangover cure and I remember Desmond talking about using an area in Malibu as an investment property a few years ago.”

  As Claudia worked on the other end of the line, they listened to the waves and wind. The sounds were like a balm. She could stay right here all night.

  “She’s right,” Claudia said at last. “I’m sending the actual address to you now and will research the property sale, building codes and the rest so you can go in prepared.”

  Mike thanked her and disconnected the call. “There’s something else?” he said, studying Lauren.

  She nodded. “I don’t think this last line is for cover.” Lauren tapped the screen.

  “Serves five?” he said, repeating the words on the screen.

  She nodded. “I think Vanya is telling us there are five women at this address—possibly the school Desmond spoke of—right now.” Tears burned in her eyes and she blinked them away, her gaze drifting out over the darkness of the ocean. “I can’t believe I was such a fool.”

  Mike reached out and she let him take her hand, chafing it between his. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.”

  She clamped her lips together and hung onto his words.

  Mike was stunned that Vanya had possibly given them the address to the school Trinity had mentioned in passing to Lauren. Apparently, the sick bastard had gone through with his plan to create a place to ready prospective clients. Mike could just imagine what he really did there. Beside him, Lauren practically vibrated with what appeared to be an odd mix of despair and excitement. She wanted to end this as badly as he did and he didn’t think it was all about reclaiming her career and lifestyle.

  As much as he wanted to go in there right now, it was past time to call it a night and return to the hotel Claudia had booked for them as part of tonight’s cover. They both needed rest. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “We’re close.” Lauren’s eyes were clear and calm when she met his gaze. “We should do this now.”

  “It’s the middle of the night.”

  “Isn’t that the best time to launch a surprise attack?”

  “First we have to recon. It’s better to recon in the daylight.” He could point out that it wouldn’t be as simple as knocking on the door, pretending they needed help with a mechanical issue. Deep down she had to know that. Unless his instincts were way off, she was spoiling for a fight and he couldn’t blame her.

  Anything to burn off the tension. Well, almost anything. The solution a certain part of his anatomy was begging for—getting Lauren naked for a full evaluation of that amazing starlet body—wasn’t a valid option.

  “We’ll take some gear and pretend we’re recreational naturalists or something—in the morning.”

  “If that’s your final decision.” She exhaled a frustrated breath.

  “That’s the right decision,” he said, his voice gruff. The woman kept him in a constant state of sexual turmoil and staying in a room with more bed than floor space wasn’t a good idea.

  Unfortunately, it was the only option. He didn’t see a tail, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t back there. With Lauren still missing as far as the world knew, Kozlov would keep the entire syndicate on high alert and anyone who’d spoken with Vanya would be vetted.

  Lauren didn’t appreciate being cut off, even if he was right. It felt like he was shooting down every suggestion she made. He might be the expert, but she had skills, too. A streetlight’s reflection glared across the sparkling beads on her skirt and she sighed. There was no denying they were dressed for clubbing, not scoping out what could be a trap. She didn’t want to believe Vanya would do that, but then again, Polzin’s mistress wasn’t in total control of the situation. After all, she had told the police a pack of lies about what happened in Desmond’s office.

  By the time they reached their room, Lauren had reconciled to the idea of waiting until tomorrow to make a move. “As long as we’re resting up for tomorrow, food would be good, too.”

  “Name your take out.”

  “Chinese.” At least she’d get a wealth of cooked veggies that way. Thinking of food made her wonder about the conditions at the school. “How often do you think they bring food in to the women they keep at the school?”

  “Alleged school,” he reminded her.

  She huffed in exasperation. “Allegedly, how often do you think they take food in?”

  “Are you thinking we might be able to sneak the victims out on a food truck?”

  “We might have better luck with a laundry cart?” She could tell by his quick flash of a smirk he found her Hollywood suggestion amusing. Her attempt at humor didn’t last. A frown tugged at his brow and lips. “It must be something like a prison.”

  “Whatever the setup, it’s probably self-sufficient,” he replied.

  Lauren hid her dismay behind a tacit agreement. They’d find out tomorrow. Though daylight was only a few hours away, it felt like far too long to wait. “Can we tell the police about the school?” she asked when they were back in the hotel suite. “Couldn’t they storm the place?”

  He picked up the stack of laminated menus near the room phone and handed them to her. “What place and with what cause? We don’t know anything yet. And let’s not forget that we don’t know who inside the police department we can trust.”

  “Maybe Claudia’s property research will give us options.”

  “That’s possible. We’ll check it out tomorrow and go from there.”

  Lauren had to forcibly ignore the way his shoulders flexed as he removed his jacket. His fingers worked the buttons at his cuffs and he rolled the fabric back over his forearms. When had that become so sexy?

  Maybe when she was desperate to do anything but think about waiting for tomorrow.

  The meager splash of charm he rationed with that ripped body and sexy swagger, made him nearly impossible to resist. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so attracted to a man. Blaming the attraction on stress and proximity wasn’t working anymore. In the clubs tonight she could’ve had her choice of tempting men, but she’d only wanted Mike and not just for safety or protection. Maybe it was the reality that she hadn’t had sex in two years.

  Two whole years. The passing brush of a kiss and touch of a hand in public was all she and Desmond had shared on a physical level since she’d discovered his penchant for cheating. She was not only in serious trouble here, she was truly pathetic.

  “Call in an order for whatever you want to eat,” he said. “Use my name and credit card. I’m grabbing the first shower.” He closed the door before she could reply.

  Staring at the closed door, she cursed the years she’d wasted with Desmond. Their dysfunctional relationship had messed with her head and undermined her confidence. She did the necessary maintenance on and off camera to keep her job and to audition for others, all the while telling herself Desmond would come around. That he cared for her in his odd way. And he did, twisted as that care was. He’d kept her employed and as his loyal girlfriend he kept her visible among the media. He’d told her the other women never mattered. Vanya was different. Lauren knew it with every fiber of her being, even if she didn’t have proof. Yet. As soon as the woman had recognized Lauren, something in her eyes had changed.

  How bizarre was it that the two things she and Vanya had in common were Desmond and his murder? Only Vanya was the witness and possible other woman, while Lauren was the girlfriend and person of interest. She should be angry that the other woman had helped pu
t her in this position, but somehow she wasn’t. They had both been deceived and used by ruthless men. Who knew if either of them would survive what was to come?

  Lauren’s gaze drifted to the closed bathroom door. As awful as all this was, if it hadn’t happened she wouldn’t have met Mike, a man she wanted to know beyond his abilities as an investigator and bodyguard. That startling thought shook her. Now who was twisted? This wasn’t the right time for silver linings and happily-ever-afters. They were both in a great deal of danger and if there really were women being held hostage at that school or whatever it was, they needed help.

  “Lauren?”

  She jumped, the firm tone and gentle shake of her shoulder, startling her out of her thoughts. She stared at him, and then did a double take. Mike wore nothing but a towel slung low across his lean hips and her body responded, going hot. She closed her eyes, but it was too late. Some things couldn’t be unseen. Not that she’d suffer if this image haunted her for a lifetime.

  His torso would’ve kept Leonardo da Vinci enthralled for hours, it was that perfectly defined. Dark hair dusted his pecs and speared down past his navel, disappearing under the towel. She jerked her gaze back up, studying the tattoo of an elaborate compass star that decorated the left side of his chest.

  “You’re... fit,” she blurted, regretting it instantly. “Excuse me.” She stumbled toward the desk chair. “I’ll just make that call for the food now.”

  “I would’ve dressed first, but you didn’t answer me. When I turned off the water it was too quiet in here. I called your name twice.”

  She used the menu as a fan, vainly trying to cool the embarrassment heating her cheeks. There was no point denying her obvious attraction to him. “I was just thinking.”

  “All right.” He returned to the bathroom and fool that she was, she watched him go. He moved with such stealth and grace. “I was worried you’d left,” he said with a glance over his shoulder.

  She shook her head. “You’re stuck with me.” And now she was stuck with the delectable image of his flawless body. When she felt like she could place the order in a normal voice, she called it in.