Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers

by Diane Capri

  I shifted my feet uncomfortably.

  “It had a disturbing end as well,” he said.

  I put on my sunglasses. The last thing I wanted to do here was discuss the Williams case.

  “Any new leads?” he asked, leaning down, looking at me.

  I took a little step back, wanting to leave. “I don’t know. I’m not on the case anymore.” Before he could say anything else, I pulled out my gun. “Can we start the lesson?”

  Solomon just looked at me a moment, reading my face. I tried to stay impassive, but the more I looked at him, the more my features melted. He was just so darn hot.

  “Let me see this,” he said as he took the gun from me. He withdrew the clip and examined it like a pro. At least, he looked like a pro to me.

  “This is a good gun—you’ll do well with it,” he said. “Do you have ammunition?”

  I nodded. “I have a box.”

  “Well, we’ll need to go over some safety rules first. The biggest thing about gun safety is knowledge. The more you know…” He laughed and took off his sunglasses. “The more you know.” He laughed harder and held his side.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “The more you know?”

  This made him laugh even harder and he gripped the truck mirror for support. He sucked in some air and straightened, still grinning like a little boy. “The more you know, like Sesame Street, you know, but this would not be a good topic for kids.”

  I smiled at the idea of Big Bird giving gun safety tips. “Everyone needs to use caution around a gun, especially the Grouch.”

  Despite my reticence over his questions, I couldn’t help but like him. As the hour went on, I was impressed with his knowledge and his ability to teach that knowledge in an easy-to-understand way. And after those first few personal questions, he became a professional.

  But I had to be careful—this was, after all, a man. A handsome man. And handsome men were usually dangerous, especially to me.

  After I’d shown him what I knew about cleaning and caring for the gun and he corrected a few of my mistakes, he went through a list of safety regulations I needed to know. He said that by the time we finished five lessons, I would be able to apply for my concealed weapon permit. That thought thrilled me.

  Solomon did a quick overview to make sure I knew my gun safety manual. He showed me the difference between a revolver and a closed-action pistol. He handed me my Glock and explained how to load the clip and chamber a round.

  “Now you’re good to go. It’s better to have a revolver when you’re first starting out because it’s easier to see if it is loaded. But this—” he motioned to the Glock, “—will hold more rounds.”

  I liked learning new things. And knowing more about guns made me feel more comfortable around them. I was starting to see why education was key. The more you know.

  I chuckled and Solomon looked over at me with a lopsided grin. “Something funny?”

  “Nope, just having fun.”

  “Good—this is fun. You’re a fast learner. Now, see if you can knock some of those cans down.”

  Solomon had set up ten or so pop cans against a sandbar. I put in my earplugs, looked down the sights, and concentrated on my breathing. Solomon said the best time to squeeze—not pull—the trigger was at the bottom of a breath. I blew out and fired a second before I breathed in again.

  Three popping sounds pierced the air, and two of the cans flew backwards. I whooped.

  “Good job, not bad—two out of three.”

  But just as we were about to go again, he got a call. His eyes darkened and he turned away. “Yep … Yep … No. I’ll be right there.” He snapped his phone shut and turned to me.

  “I have to go.”

  I was aghast. “In the middle of my lesson? What kind of teacher are you?”

  “Teaching isn’t my only job,” he said. “Sorry.” His mind was already miles away, I could tell. “But, hey, we’ll set up another lesson.” He handed me a card, shook my hand hurriedly, and ran off to his truck like he was running from a fire. Or … to a fire.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  THAT AFTERNOON, I DID everything I could to distract myself from thinking about Williams. I watched TV for about forty minutes until I was bored. I turned on a movie, but it had a character in it who looked just like Tracy Mulligan. So I went to the mall, even though I hated the mall. There was an orange dress that caught my eye, and I tried it on. Maybe I could wear it to the club that night.

  It fit me perfectly. The skirt swayed around my hips, making me feel like a lady. However, when I went up to purchase the dress and the cashier told me how much it was, I backed off. I just couldn’t spend more than fifty dollars on a piece of clothing. I’d never gotten over that side of me from when I lived in poverty as a kid.

  I texted Angela, but she didn’t respond. So I went to the dojo and met Cassandra and Jessie there. We hung out for a while and did some light sparring. They said they hadn’t seen Angela in a couple of days, but that wasn’t new. Sometimes she’d shack up with a guy and not come out until they ran out of alcohol or he pissed her off. Although I didn’t approve of her choices, I didn’t make a big deal about it since she was over eighteen.

  I took them to a café, but they had to run soon after we got there. They had a Saturday class they needed to make. I wished them luck and then sat alone at the table, finishing my coffee.

  It was only one o’clock and I was bored out of my mind.

  So I did what any normal person did on a boring Saturday—went online.

  I Googled Solomon, but without his last name, all I got were references to the biblical character. I typed in “Solomon gun training in Boise,” and this revealed more. I came to a Facebook page, but it had no pictures so I wasn’t sure it was him. However, I found a last name: Cole.

  Solomon Cole. I typed his name into a few databases, but nothing showed up and there was nothing about him anywhere else online, which was weird. Even the average Joe had a small online presence whether they wanted it or not. But him ... nothing. Who was he? And did he have another interest in me than what he let on?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  A PULSE, WITH ACTUAL pressure, went through my body, making my breath catch. The club music wasn’t too loud, it was just really good. Tuned in for the perfect blend of sound and feel.

  Mandy was not going to be good tonight. I knew it the moment I saw her dress—or pillowcase. I wasn’t sure which it was. It was neon green and her red hair was down and wavy. She was dressed to kill. I was a bit uncomfortable being next to her, as every guy in the radius of that dress was looking at her.

  I had gone for a black number I wore once at a wedding a few years ago. It looked good on me, but didn’t bring the kind of attention a dress like Mandy’s brought.

  “Hey, I’m going to have fun. We paid big bucks to get in here, and ... Oh, my ... shirtless and hot!” Mandy pointed to the bartenders. They were, in fact, shirtless, and all of them looked like Abercrombie and Fitch models.

  Rick wrinkled his nose and pulled her chin up so she would look him in the eye. He gave her a reproving glance, but there was laughter behind his expression.

  “For Sarah,” Mandy said. “They’re hot ... for Sarah.”

  “Mmm, I see,” he said, and then pulled her out to the dance floor.

  The club was set up really well, with four bars so that no matter where you were, you only had to walk a few feet to get a drink. In the center was a lowered dance floor and raised areas to dance on. If you were feeling brave, you could cut loose in front of everyone.

  The place was upscale. Huge screens surrounded the dance floor and played the unedited versions of all the hottest music videos. People danced and laughed on the main floor, and the scene intimidated me at once.

  I scanned the place for Hannah Williams, but didn’t see her anywhere.

  When I looked around, all I could imagine were a hundred ways a girl could get in trouble.

  What was wrong with me? This was s
upposed to be fun, and here I was imagining the worst that could happen.

  Put me in a courtroom and I was good. But this ... this was not my natural habitat.

  “What can I getcha?” I turned and looked into the darkest eyes I’d ever seen. He was tall, tan, and shirtless.

  “Uh ...”

  He smiled, and darn it if he didn’t have dimples. “Not sure we have that. How about a— “ He leaned toward me and I turned my ear to him. He cupped my face and whispered, “How about the Lover’s Kiss? Or maybe Ménage à Trois, if you’re feeling naughty.” I felt the heat rise up my neck.

  “Get me a gin and tonic,” I said. I couldn’t handle hard liquor very well, and if there was anything I wanted at the moment, it was a clear head.

  No, screw that. I needed some trouble. The good kind of trouble.

  He turned to go, but I grabbed his arm. “Get me a Lover’s Kiss.” He raised his eyebrows. “Now,” I said.

  He smiled and turned to get me my drink.

  Mandy and Rick returned from the dance floor, faces flushed. “Got a boyfriend already?” she asked.

  “Yeah, but I’ll have to pay his way through college. Ha. No, I don’t think I could go out with a guy who worked at a place like this.”

  Mandy rolled her eyes and sipped her appletini. “You don’t have to marry him, Sarah. Just lighten up, have fun, and try to relax a little. Go ask one of those guys who are staring at you to dance.” She tipped back the rest of her drink. A new song came on. “Ooo,” she squealed. “It’s your favorite, Rick.”

  “It hasn’t been my favorite for, like, five years,” he protested as she pulled him to the dance floor.

  “Okay, okay.” I closed my eyes and sighed. I could do this—have fun, be fun, and relax. I’d bury the darkness deep inside me and play the happy ADA.

  “Here you go. Let me know if you like it.” I opened my eyes, and the hottie bartender was there with that amazing smile again.

  “Sure thing. Here goes nothing.” I picked up the glass and downed the pink drink. It tasted like cotton candy and was ... really yummy. I could take about two or three more of those.

  A deep voice to my left rumbled through the music and sent a shiver down my arms and legs. “Can I buy you another?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “YOU’RE READING MY MIND—” I stopped short when I saw who it was. “Solomon?”

  He smiled and spread his hands. “It’s me.” Adorable. He was dressed nice, in a suit coat and designer jeans. So he had money. Or he went broke buying clothes so he could look like he had money.

  “Well, I won’t force you to have a drink.” He shrugged and his eyes took in Mandy and Rick dancing on the floor. “I only offered so I could talk to you.” He waved a hand toward the club. “You know, the game and all.”

  “The game? I’m confused.”

  He laughed, and the sound made me laugh too.

  “The game. This game. Women dressing up to attract guys or to impress other women, guys hitting on women and trying to figure out who’s a witch, who has daddy issues, who’s just out with her girlfriends, and who’s seriously looking for a man. It’s all so confusing, as you said.”

  He lifted a finger and the bartender, not smiling now, brought him a drink. How did he do that? I looked him over, trying to figure him out.

  “What do you think—good guy, DB, or player?” He looked at me with a hard stare; it was so direct and confident.

  “I, uh, I don’t know. I mean, you dress well. Maybe you come from money and expect to get your way just because. Or maybe you live in your mother’s basement and drive a huge truck to compensate for something.”

  He threw his head back and bellowed with laughter.

  “Who’s your friend?” He pointed to Mandy. “She’s been pretending not to notice me for the last few minutes.” He leaned back and nodded at her.

  “That’s Mandy, and her boyfriend, Rick.” When I nodded toward her, she came over. I put a hand on her shoulder and she smiled and acted all shy. “This is my arms dealer, Solomon.”

  Solomon looked up in surprise and I laughed. “I mean, he’s my firearms instructor.”

  “Hi,” Mandy said. “Good to meet you.” Behind her hand, she mouthed to me, “He’s gorgeous.”

  I ignored her, as I was having no trouble noting that myself.

  Rick and Solomon shook hands.

  “We—ell,” Mandy drawled, taking Rick’s hand, “we want to go explore the lounge upstairs. You have fun.” She winked at me. She had never been the subtlest of my friends.

  But this time, I didn’t mind. I wanted to talk to this guy. Not that I was going home with him or anything, but I figured he was more interesting than any other guy in the club and it would keep me from having to dance with a stranger.

  I couldn’t stop looking at him. Was it the short, neat facial hair, the dark eyes, or the way he seemed so at ease? It was like this was the African plains and he was a lion, king of the pride, not afraid of anything.

  I, on the other hand, was not in my domain.

  “What are you thinking?” He tapped his finger to his temple and I smiled.

  “Just thinking I might need that drink.”

  “Ah ... I see we’ve reached stage two.” He lifted that magic finger again and the same pink drink was placed in front of me. “Shall we sit at a table? It’s a little quieter for conversation between two real people.”

  I nodded and he led me to a back table that overlooked the entire club. I sat down and it felt so good to be off those heels. But I made sure I sat with my back to the wall so I could see if Hannah Williams showed up. Still no sign of her.

  “There, that’s better. Now I can hear myself think. Tell me, Sarah, what brings you to a place like this?”

  “My well-meaning friend,” I said. “Okay, you got me to talk to you, I let you buy me a drink, now answer me this: what’s your other job?”

  His eyes widened and he smiled, making his whole face light up. “Hmm, Sarah with an H at the end, you’re not a club-goer by nature, are you?”

  “What are you trying to do, impress me with your insight into women? You never answered my question.”

  He chuckled. “And you’re a firstborn, maybe an only child.”

  “Really? That’s easy. I’ve been in the papers and you could have Googled me, for all I know.” I thought about the nil info I’d gotten when I Googled his name. How much did he know about me?

  He took another sip from his glass and seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts. What was with this guy? He was smart, I could tell that much, and yet he seemed almost not in to the conversation, as if he didn’t want to be here.

  “So, what are you doing at a place like this?” I asked. “You don’t seem the type to be in the game either.”

  “No, I’m not much of a club guy, not really into the whole dating bump-and-grind thing.” He shifted in his seat and said easily, “I own the place.”

  “What?” I laughed. “Come on—that’s the oldest line in the book.”

  “I know, and it’s a lie. I just saw you over there being dragged in by your well-meaning friend and I figured you wouldn’t mind a simple rescue. And I wanted some grown-up conversation. And here we are.”

  “And here we are,” I echoed. No doubt there was much more to his story than that. He was an expert at dodging questions.

  “Tell me something about you,” I said. I sipped from my glass and waited.

  He spoke quickly, with a crooked grin. “Favorite color is blue, favorite food barbeque, grew up all over—long story. Only child, military background. I like Dr. Pepper, movies, guns, and you.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, then, now that we got that out of the way—”

  “Not so fast—your turn. Hit me. We have to do this ... it’s in the manual.” He winked and sat back.

  “Okay, fine. Crappy childhood, some good parts, but mostly bad—long story. I love working out, pizza, and Pepsi. I’m a workaholic and I let pe
ople get to me, no matter how hard I try. I love watching thrillers and horror, listening to punk and rock, and drinking white wine. One day I would love a real life, with a stupid dog and maybe a kid or two.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a part of Sarah Steele not many people hear about.” Then he leaned in. “But you forgot about one thing you like. What about me? You forgot to say that you liked me.” His eyes sparkled and I put on a serious face.

  “Still thinking on that one. I mean, I’m a hard sell, so keep working. But,” I whispered, “you’re off to a good start.” I smiled into his eyes as if we were long-lost soul mates and then realized what I was doing. I broke the gaze. He took a long drag on his beer.

  My eyes roved over the dance floor again.

  “Are you looking for someone?” he asked. He certainly was nosy.

  “Aren’t we all?” I said. He looked down, as if he understood that I had dodged the question but liked the answer anyway.

  For some reason, meeting Solomon was like meeting an old friend. I don’t know how it can be so hard to connect with most people, yet meet someone and in a matter of one conversation, feel like there’s this underlying bond.

  “Hey, there you guys are!” Mandy and Rick came up to the table. “Sorry we were gone so long.”

  “No worries, I kept her company,” Solomon said. “She’s been humoring me and pretending to like talking to me.”

  “Well, this is my public service for the week,” I said. “No more good deeds for this girl.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I suddenly saw a flash of auburn hair. I craned my neck to see around Mandy. Hannah Williams was dancing with a handsome man with Middle-Eastern features. They moved like long-time lovers.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  I SHOT UP, GLANCING at everyone. “Gotta run. See—there’s—gotta dance. I just love this song. Bye!” I ignored their confused expressions and walked onto the dance floor.

  It was darker there, and I felt the rhythm against my chest. Dipping and swaying, I raised my arms and danced my way to where Hannah and her partner were. Hannah’s eyes were closed as she nuzzled the side of his neck.