Bad Guys Don't Win (Janet Maple Series Book 4)

by Marie Astor

  “What happened?” Janet asked.

  “Let me guess,” Dennis cut in, “Jess let him go home early.”

  “Bingo,” Amy sobbed. “That snake— And Mila and I were dumb enough to take her under our wing— It’s all my fault—”

  “She conned you,” Janet said soothingly. “Amy, we really don’t have much time. In order for us to help Mila, we need you to tell us exactly what happened last night.”

  Amy took a deep breath. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything.”

  Chapter 11

  Mila felt a dull ache in her arms and legs and wondered where she was. She opened her eyes, but everything remained dark. It took her a moment to realize that the tight bandage on her head was a blindfold. When she tried moving her numb arms and legs, she realized they were tied with ropes, which was where the ache was coming from. She was tied to a chair, blindfolded, and she had no idea where she was. Mila willed herself to be awake and tried to concentrate. Slowly, the details of last night started coming back to her.

  What a fool she had been to lie to Dennis and sneak out with Amy. She’d decided that she wouldn’t have anyone telling her what to do and now she was paying the price. It all started innocently enough. She thought she was being careful by meeting Amy in crowded Midtown where they could be easily lost in a throng of tourists. She met Amy around seven. They started the night drinking and having fun. Mila knew Dennis would be checking up on her, so she called him at eleven p.m. and told him she was going to bed. She’d even gone through the trouble of buying a caller ID spoof card—you could get one online in a matter of seconds—to make the number on the caller ID look like Dennis’s home number. She’d half expected Dennis to catch her bluff, but surprisingly he didn’t. He treated her like an adult and believed her, and now she was paying the price for her childish sneaking around.

  At least she didn’t tell Amy anything about the note. She was tempted to, but the right moment just didn’t come up. By the way, my convict ex-boyfriend escaped from jail by faking his death in a car accident, and I suspect he set Amy and Mila’s on fire, didn’t exactly seem like a good conversation starter for a girls’ night out. Instead, they talked about their plans to rebuild Amy and Mila’s. Amy teased Mila about being crazy in love with Philip, which of course was true, but as usual Mila didn’t want to admit it. They joked around as if everything was normal, as if nothing had changed in their lives. It was just what Mila had needed—some good laughs and fun with her best friend. She was starting to feel much better—she was starting to feel like her life wasn’t falling apart after all and everything was going to work out. She was about to call it a night and go back to her hideout in Dennis’s apartment and be a good girl when Amy got a call from Jess asking her if she wanted to hang out. Before Mila could stop her, Amy had said yes. Leaving seemed rude—it was her fault that Jess was out of a job—by now Mila was pretty sure Amy and Mila’s burning down and the creepy note being stuck beneath the door of her apartment that same night, was no coincidence. The least she could do was have a drink with Jess and promise her a job once Amy and Mila’s was back up and running. All right, Mila thought, I’ll have one more drink and then I’ll call it a night.

  Jess showed up in less than ten minutes, saying that she was in the neighborhood, looking for a job. She said that for now she was back at Red Door to make ends meet, but something was bound to turn up soon. They ordered another round of cocktails and Mila was about to excuse herself, but then Jess ordered a round of shots and then things got fuzzy after that. Mila remembered feeling unusually woozy as the three of them got into a cab. They dropped Amy off first and were going to drop off Mila next.

  A sound of jiggling locks interrupted Mila’s recollection of last night’s events. She strained her ears, trying to figure out where she was. A few moments later, there was a creaking sound of a door being opened, followed by heavy male footsteps. The way each footstep echoed through the air told her that the floor was concrete. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start. The footsteps grew louder, telling her their owner was walking towards her. The footsteps kept growing closer until she could hear his breath and sense his body heat. The blindfold accentuated all of her other senses. He was really close to her now—his heavy breath was brushing her right ear and tickling her neck.

  “Milochka.”

  At the sound of the familiar voice Mila recoiled, pressing her back into the chair. Her fears had been right all along—Anton Kovar was alive and well and jail-free.

  “Aren’t you glad to see me, Milochka?” he leered. “I thought you’d be happy to see me,” he added, his mouth brushing against her neck.

  Mila raked her mind for an escape strategy. She needed to play dumb. She needed to stall for time. “Who’s this?” she asked. “I can’t see anything. Where am I?”

  She felt Anton’s hands fumbling with the blindfold and an instant later he yanked it off of her. The room was dimly lit, but she had to squint from being kept in the dark for so long. Gradually, she took in her surroundings. She was tied to a chair that stood in the middle of a room. The floor was gray concrete and there were wooden crates scattered all over the place.

  Anton waited, no doubt relishing having her in his power again. “So, Milochka, now that you can see me, are you happy to see me?”

  “Anton,” Mila gasped, “I thought it was your voice, but I was afraid to believe it. I thought,” she paused, quickly faking tears, “I thought you were dead. That horrible article in the paper—I thought I’d lost you forever. But you’re alive!” she exclaimed with fake joy. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “For the very same reason you never came to visit me, you lying snake.” He raised his hand and she flinched, expecting a blow, but he lowered his hand at the last minute, stroking her face instead.

  “Anton,” Mila sobbed, faking more tears, “I didn’t come because I was afraid. The feds—they scared me—they questioned me for hours. They said I’d go to jail if I ever saw you again,” Mila wailed on.

  “Milochka, how beautiful you are—I’ve almost forgotten. But I haven’t forgotten what a lying, deceitful, vermin you are. You crawled to me, asking me for help. I helped you get that stolen money from your ex-boyfriend’s account and held you close to my heart. And what do I get back in return? Betrayal. I should’ve known you’d betray me just like you betrayed David Muller.”

  Mila shivered at the reminder of her past, which seemed like a different lifetime to her now. She’d been frivolous and money-hungry when she took up with David Muller, a white collar crime criminal who’d stolen millions, but she didn’t care as long as David put her up in a swanky apartment and paid her bills. David had promised her the world, but it all collapsed like a house of cards when his scheme got exposed and he got arrested. After David’s arrest, Mila took up with Anton and together they stole the money from David’s account before the FBI could get to it. Anton never let her see a penny of the money—he kept it all to himself, making Mila work like a slave for the Kovars underground businesses. She’d hoped to get the money back eventually, but the FBI got to her first, making her testify against the Kovars. She’d taken the bargain and was given immunity and put into the witness protection program. She’d hoped to be free of her past forever, but there it was, right back to haunt her. “Anton, the FBI took the money. I didn’t get a cent of it. All I wanted was you—” Mila clung to her lie for dear life.

  “Cut the crap, Mila. How stupid do you think I am?”

  Mila blinked, terrified inside, but forcing herself not to show it. “I don’t think you’re stupid at all, Anton. I love you. I’ve always loved you. The day they took you away was the darkest day of my life—”

  “I’m sure you wept for days,” he scoffed. “Only I wonder, if you loved me so much, how come you ratted me out to the FBI?”

  “Anton! What are you saying? I would never do something like that. Who told you these lies?”

  “A friend.”

  “A friend? What friend?
Why would you take someone else’s word over mine?” Mila clung to her charade.

  “Now you’re really starting to insult my intelligence.” Anton leaned in closer. “I have friends in very high places and I’m out for good. I know everything about the evidence you gave against me to the feds and from now on, your life is going to be a living hell.” Without saying another word, Anton turned around and started walking out of the room.

  “Anton, wait! Please, let me explain. It’s not true. They lied to you,” Mila called after him, but Anton’s heavy footsteps headed straight for the door, without him turning around even once. The next thing Mila heard was the door slamming shut and the light being turned off.

  ***

  “So, where do we start?” Janet asked Dennis. They were huddled up in her office, working on a plan of action.

  “I want to learn more about Jess Hall. We need a way to get close to her.”

  “And how are we going to do that?” Janet asked.

  “I’m going to pay Red Door a visit.”

  “Should I come along?” Janet asked innocently, knowing what the answer was going to be, but wanting to make Dennis squirm. The prospect of him visiting strip joints, even if it was work related, didn’t exactly agree with her.

  “You know it’s for purely professional purposes,” Dennis hurried to explain. “How else are we going to get close to Jess Hall?”

  Janet nodded. “Just as long as you don’t get too close.”

  “Janet Maple, I don’t think you have any grounds to accuse me of being unprofessional,” Dennis countered.

  “And I’d like to keep it that way,” Janet busted his chops. She wasn’t exactly jumping at the idea of her fiancé fraternizing with strippers, correction—waitresses—even if it was for a lead. “You know, I could do some digging. Maybe I could get a job there as a waitress, get to know the girls. We might get more information that way.”

  Dennis shook his head. “No way. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Good morning!” Ham caught them off-guard, appearing in the doorway of Janet’s office without knocking.

  “Good morning,” Janet and Dennis replied in unison, a little more upbeat than they intended to be.

  “I see you two have been busy,” Ham observed.

  Janet wondered if Ham had noticed their prolonged absence from the office yesterday, raking her mind for an excuse. She exchanged a brief glance with Dennis—of all the things they talked about, they forgot to come up with a cover for their boss.

  “I must say, I’m very impressed,” Ham continued.

  Janet wondered if her boss was being sarcastic or serious. The memo she’d left on his desk yesterday was pretty good, or at least she thought so, but their being absent from the office for the entire afternoon yesterday wasn’t exactly model behavior.

  “When were you going to tell me?” Ham asked.

  “Sir—” Dennis began.

  Ham waved his hand. “Never mind. I like surprises, especially good ones and landing Philip Barrett as a client certainly qualifies.”

  “So he called?” Janet blurted out. “I mean, Mr. Barrett has decided to retain our services?”

  “Yes.” Ham nodded. “And he was very generous with the retainer, too. He is an excellent client to have. Now, I’d like to hear what it is he hired us for.”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” Dennis asked, baffled.

  Ham shook his head. “He said you had all the particulars. He said the matter was quite sensitive and the fewer people who knew about it, the better. However, since I’m the principal of this firm, I think I need to know what we’re being hired to do, especially when we’re being hired by someone like Philip Barrett.”

  “Philip Barrett hired us to track down his girlfriend,” Dennis said casually.

  “I knew it—some hanky business,” Ham scoffed. “He wants you to track some girl and see if she’s cheating on him? Very well, if he wants to pay for that sort of work. I wonder why he came to us for something as basic as that. Our work here is of much higher caliber, but whatever pays, as the saying goes.”

  Janet cleared her throat. “Ham, to clarify, Barrett hired us to find his girlfriend.”

  Ham raised his eyebrow. “What do you mean ‘find’ his girlfriend? Did he misplace her?”

  “She’s gone missing.” Janet caught Dennis’s disapproving glance and looked away—she wasn’t going to keep this a secret from their boss any longer. “Actually, we believe she was kidnapped. You see, Philip Barrett’s girlfriend is Mila Brabec.”

  The smile disappeared from Ham’s face. “Mila Brabec? She was the key witness in the Kovars case.” He shot a stern look at Dennis. “I need to know what’s going on. These are some very dangerous waters we’re about to tread.”

  “Mila called me for help, Ham,” Dennis explained. “It was wrong of me not to tell you right away, but I had to help her. Turns out I haven’t done such a good job of it, but I’m not backing out now—she needs our help. I suspect she was kidnapped by Anton Kovar—” Dennis proceeded to tell Ham everything about Mila’s disappearance and their meeting with Philip.

  Ham shook his head. “Nicely done, or should I say nicely botched? What made you think you had the bandwidth to protect Mila, Dennis? If you had told me from the get-go, I would’ve made sure we had the resources. There are people you can hire for that sort of thing—professional contractors.”

  “With all due respect, sir, you weren’t exactly enthusiastic when I suggested looking into the Kovars’ newspaper article—” Dennis began.

  “That was when you were chasing supposition based on a headline,” Ham cut him off. “This is serious.”

  “We were worried you’d want to go straight to the FBI,” Janet added.

  Ham shook his head. “Who do you take me for, an amateur? If the Kovars really escaped jail, someone must’ve helped them from the inside. We can’t trust anyone in law enforcement until we know who it is.”

  “We thought you wouldn’t want us to be involved—” Janet began.

  “And I didn’t,” Ham confirmed. “But you got yourselves into this mess anyway, didn’t you? Now we have a commitment and we have to do our best to fulfill it. From this point on, this case takes priority,” Ham instructed. “Walk me through your plan of action.”

  Chapter 12

  Dennis Walker turned up his jacket collar and locked his apartment door. It was ten o’clock at night and he was on his way to Red Door. Most men would’ve jumped at the prospect of visiting a strip club in disguise as a work assignment, but it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The fake mustache and goatee made his skin itch from the glue and tickled his nostrils, but that was the least of his problems. He didn’t want to be going out at ten p.m. to some sleazy strip joint—he would much rather spend the night with his fiancée. He knew Janet wasn’t happy about his idea and it made him feel like crap going through with it. But how else were they going to track down Jess Hall? It was either this or Janet getting a job at Red Door and there was no way Dennis was going to say yes to the second option.

  Half an hour later, Dennis walked into Red Door. Slowly, he made his way to the hostess’s desk and took in his surroundings. The place had a damp smell and looked run down. A few girls were wriggling lazily around stripper poles on a shabby stage. Still, it was pretty crowded—probably due to the five-dollar drink and lap dance special, which was prominently advertised on a banner hanging over the entrance.

  “Would you like a table?” the hostess asked.

  “No, thank you. For now, I’ll sit at the bar.”

  “Suit yourself.” The hostess nodded in the bar’s direction.

  Dennis headed for the bar and took a seat. The bar was pretty full, with men sitting on stools to his left and his right. He waited for the bartender to approach him.

  “What will it be?” the bartender asked.

  “Gin and tonic.”

  A few moments later the bartender placed his drink order before him. Dennis took a swallow, careful
not to upset his fake mustache and waited. He was really on a wild goose chase. He didn’t even know if Jess Hall was this girl’s name and he didn’t even have a picture—all he had to go by was the description that Amy had given him. Most of it was fairly generic—tall, slim, long dark hair and brown eyes—there were hundreds of girls who looked like that. The only useful piece of information he had was that the girl had a butterfly tattoo right above her left breast.

  “Say, I’ve never seen you here before,” a balding, middle-aged man to Dennis’s right was clearly eager for conversation. Normally Dennis would’ve tried to squash his attempts, but right now it was exactly what he was looking for.

  “I was just passing by and saw the five-dollar drink special,” he replied.

  “Yep.” The man raised his glass. “You won’t find a deal like this these days.”

  Dennis took another sip of his drink. “You come here often?”

  “A few times a week. Whenever the missus gets me down,” he said with a chuckle.

  “I hear you.” Dennis nodded understandingly.

  “Trouble at home?” the man asked solicitously.

  “We had a fight,” Dennis improvised.

  “Cheer up, man. Enjoy the night and tomorrow morning she’ll take you back as good as new.”

  “I don’t know, man. We had a pretty bad fight. She threw a frying pan after me when I was leaving.”

  The man chuckled. “That’s a good sign. Means she cares about you, or why would she spend the energy and throw a pan at ya? I’m telling you, you come home tomorrow morning and you’ll be like two lovebirds.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been through a good share of these,” Dennis remarked, genuinely surprised. He knew he was no angel, but in his entire life he’d never managed to upset a woman enough to throw a frying pan at him.