by V. K. Powell
“Hey, dudes, there’s a cop coming this way.” A young girl, late teens or early twenties, stood behind the two hulking thugs. She had red hair cropped so close Loane could almost see scalp and a backpack over her shoulder that looked like it weighed more than she did.
The two guys parted like the Red Sea and Loane walked through. She and the kid knew there wasn’t another cop within miles, but the bluff worked. She hoped it hadn’t blown her rogue persona. As they walked away, Loane said, “Thanks, kid.”
“Next time,” one of the men murmured as they crossed the street toward the club.
She couldn’t resist. “Any time, assholes.”
The girl looked at her like she was an alien. “Yo, really?”
Attitude wafted from her as heavily as the goon’s cologne. Loane wasn’t in the mood to deal with an annoying adolescent. The fruits of her surveillance were gone. She’d been challenged by a couple of losers she could’ve taken blindfolded before her injury. And now some street urchin wanted to give her attitude. “Yo, what? I said thanks.” She kept walking.
“You’re like a total mimbo.” She fell in step beside Loane, her black, unlaced Vans slapping noisily against the pavement.
“I have no idea what you said, and I don’t care. Get lost, kid.”
“Stupid. Know what that means?”
Loane spun toward her so fast that she stepped back, probably afraid Loane might hit her. Then she really saw the girl for the first time. She looked younger, maybe mid-teens, with a cherubic face. Her eyes were wide and inquisitive, hard to tell the color in the shadows, but something light. She looked like a tomboy with tattered jeans hanging low around her slight ass and a tight red T-shirt revealing two small nipples as breasts. Earrings lined the rim of both ears like jewelry displays. The overweight backpack completed the picture of a lost or runaway kid looking for a handout. Not interested. “Whatever,” she said, and walked away.
“Look, cop, I did you a solid.”
“What? You want money?” Loane dug into her coat pocket.
“Forget you.” She pivoted and headed away from Loane. “Flash, Einstein, you’ve been made.”
It took a second for her statement to sink in. “Wait.” She thought her surveillance had been pretty well camouflaged in the shadows and from rooftops, until her swan dive tonight. She didn’t want to broadcast what she was up to, but it could already be a moot point. “What do you mean?”
Urchin girl stomped back around the corner, her flat chest puffed a bit. She had something Loane wanted and she knew it. “Could you be any noisier?” Loane asked.
“Could you be any more clueless?”
“All right. What do you mean by made?”
“Not here, Dude. Lower level, LF deck in five.”
“What the hell do you think this is, a freaking spy movie? And why the Lincoln Financial parking tower?”
“That or nothing.” The girl was already heading in the opposite direction.
Kids. Thank God she wasn’t one, didn’t have one, and didn’t work with them. They didn’t even speak in complete sentences any more. What a pain.
All the way to the parking deck Loane argued with herself about showing up. Trust had never been her strong suit, and she was less inclined since the explosion. Not even cops she’d once worked with deserved her confidence anymore. Why would she trust a street kid? She couldn’t possibly have anything Loane needed.
As she reached the bottom step on the lower level, the girl stepped out of the shadows. “Jeez. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”
“Jumpy for a cop.”
She didn’t have the time or inclination to exchange barbs with this kid any longer. “If you have something to tell me, get on with it. If not, I’m out of here. And speak English, none of that street crap.”
“Whatever. Everybody at the Sky Bar knows you’ve been staking it out.”
“How?”
“You suck at it. And you’re like a freaky billboard.”
“What does that even mean?”
“You’re starving-baby thin, and that weird white hair stands out like an elephant on a power line.”
“It’s platinum blond, not white,” Loane said.
“Whatever. The point is you’re too obvious. Students pimp you out. Even the winos are taking bets on how long before the bouncers give you a righteous thumping.”
“I’m trained in surveillance. I know what I’m doing.” She couldn’t believe she was listening to a street kid critique her abilities and defending herself.
“That’s the problem, you’re too trained. You don’t fit in.”
“Look, kid, I—”
“And cut the kid crap. Call me Vi.”
“Vi? What’s that?”
“A nickname, but it beats the hell out of kid.”
“You look like a kid. How old are you anyway, twelve?”
“Why is it always twelve when old people want to insult you? Why not thirteen or fifteen? And I’m twenty-two.”
“Fine.” Loane had enough back-and-forth going nowhere with her. She’d have to be more careful or get the information she needed another way. “Look, ki—Vi, I appreciate the heads-up, but I have to go.” She turned back to the steps. Her hands ached and she couldn’t wait to slather them in vitamin E.
“I could help…if you want.” Her voice was more confident and Loane detected a note of cockiness.
“With what exactly?”
“The fitting-in part, or be your eyes and ears.”
“Why would you help me?” Not that she would trust her for any reason.
“I’m a law-abiding citizen?”
“Right, not buying that one, Vi.”
“Have my reasons.”
Loane had learned that hidden motivation usually equaled dangerous motivation. She didn’t need any more complications. And even if Vi was right and she’d gotten sloppy, she could adjust. Citizens had far fewer restrictions than cops when it came to surveillance and intelligence gathering. “No thanks. I’ll manage.”
“Great job so far.”
“I’ll work it out.”
“Brill, your funeral.”
“If only.” She took a few more steps and called back to the girl. “And thanks again for the save tonight. I owe you.”
“Right. So what’s your name, cop?”
“Loane.”
“As in a-lone…explains a lot.”
Loane felt like she’d stepped out of a bad reality-TV show where a cop encounters a throwaway kid and their roles are reversed. In this version, the kid saved her from an ass-whipping by a couple of thugs. She was out of her trained-and-organized element. She needed to pay better attention.
Chapter Six
Abby whacked the side of the walking cast with her cane, and a dull ache traveled up her shin. Damn it. I have to get out of here before I go crazy or kill myself. The Torre family had doted on her since she and Blake returned to Miami. His father, Nick, had showered her with praise and gifts so often that she dodged him in the compound. She was a hero, and no amount of protesting slowed the accolades. The affirmation felt good, but her guilt fluctuated in direct proportion to their attention.
She’d saved a child’s life—that was something to be proud of. But after so long in the Torre home, she felt more connected to them and more disconnected from her own life. Her contact with Hector Barrio had been sporadic, limited by her ability to move about easily and make discreet phone calls.
The worst part of this whole scenario was that she hadn’t talked to Loane. What if the person who’d set the bomb was waiting for her to make contact? She couldn’t take even the slightest risk of placing Loane in danger. She’d called from a pay phone only once to hear Loane’s voice but hung up when her message came on. Every day she argued with herself that she was doing the right thing, and every night she cried herself to sleep wondering if she had. She raised the cane to tap her cast again but thought better of it.
“Not good for a broken leg.” Mar
ia Torre, Stefan’s wife, stood in the doorway of their South Beach sunroom and smiled. With a plump figure, rosy skin, and gray hair, she was the perfect matriarch, full of nurturing and advice. “How about a trip downtown? You look like you could use some fresh air.”
“You have no idea.” In her enthusiasm, Abby stood too quickly and forgot to compensate for the cast, almost toppling over. She grabbed the chair arm and brought the cane alongside her injured leg. “That would be fantastic, Maria.”
“I remember when my boys were born, I felt trapped after only three weeks in the house. You’ve been here much longer and you’re younger. We could take a slow stroll along Ocean Boulevard. There are lots of shops.”
“Sounds perfect.” Maria loved the Art Deco district, and it would be easy for Abby to sneak away and make some calls. The Torres had given her a cell phone with a new number after hers was destroyed, but she’d been reluctant to use it. They paid the bill and she knew Carl, the elder son, would check any calls she made.
He was stepping up as the new business head of the family, with his father Stefan’s endorsement. But she got the feeling he didn’t trust her. Surely she’d proved her loyalty at the risk of her own life. Was he suspicious of her for some other reason? Had she slipped up during three months of recuperation, given herself away with an offhanded remark? Maybe he held her responsible for the explosion that killed Simon, Sylvia, and Alma. Or maybe he was just being cautious, afraid for the safety of his family and her by extension.
“Are you going out, Mother?” Carl asked from the hallway as Maria walked with her to the front door.
“Yes, we’re going window-shopping. Would you call for the car, please?”
Carl’s tanned face tightened as he swiped at a shock of bleached-blond hair. The surfer look might have been attractive on a younger man, but on Carl it looked like he was trying too hard. “Abby is bored with our company?”
“Not at all,” Abby answered. “You’ve been too generous, nursing me back to health when I couldn’t walk. It’s time to get out a bit, even look for my own place. I’ve inconvenienced you enough.”
“Nonsense. We owe you a great debt. You should be with us. Right, Mother?” His tone was more of a command than a genuine invitation.
“Of course…unless you have family elsewhere.” Maria’s concern and the gentle weight of her hand on Abby’s arm were distressing. Maria truly cared for her, and her thoughtfulness during her convalescence had been sincere.
Abby shook her head. The lie poked at her conscience. Her family didn’t even know if she was still alive, much less that she was in the same city. She meant to remedy that today.
“Good, then it’s settled,” Carl said. “Mind if I come along? I have some business on the strip. It would save taking two cars.”
“Of course not, dear.”
Abby’s enthusiasm dissolved. If Carl came it meant more security. It had been weeks since she’d contacted her family. They would be worried to distraction. And Loane—God, how she missed her. Abby had no idea what she must think of her after all this time without so much as a phone call or text message.
Today she was determined to sneak away from Carl and his bodyguards long enough to reach out again. A person could only live a lie for so long before it became reality. She wasn’t about to become a Stockholm victim, no matter how self-imposed her isolation. The line between the Torres as gunrunners and the Torres as family had already blurred too much. Hector Barrio paid her well as an informant, and the Torres kept her on their payroll as a personal assistant, but no amount of money was worth her sanity. She reached into her purse, fingered the small pouch of coins she’d squirreled away, and prayed that somewhere in downtown SoBe there was one pay phone that still worked.
“It’s such a beautiful day,” Maria said. “A walk will do us good.”
“I don’t have time to walk.” Carl spoke with the arrogance of a man accustomed to a life of privilege. As the long white limousine pulled in front of the house, he dialed a number on his cell phone and unnecessarily shushed them before launching into a conversation about one of the gentlemen’s clubs.
The ride was quiet except for Carl’s self-important chatter. Maria, a woman of elegance and impeccable manners, shook her head apologetically when the car stopped and he was still on the phone. “Men and business.” They stepped onto the sidewalk. “Which way shall we go, darling?”
Maria looked right toward her favorite clothing establishment. Abby pointed left to a row of shops and an electronics store and said, “I’ll be fine. I need the practice. Go treat yourself.”
Carl, still on the phone, stood outside the car, snapped his fingers and pointed toward Abby with his index and forefinger, then repeated the motion toward Maria. Four bodyguards got out of the vehicle behind them, two of them following Maria and two heading after her.
“I don’t need protection, Carl,” Abby said. “Let them take care of Maria.”
Carl shook his head and motioned for the men to follow her. So much for sneaking away. She slowly walked along the storefronts, stopping occasionally to peer inside and simultaneously scan the surrounding area for a pay phone. The guards hung back, but not far enough for her to slip out of sight. The constant supervision was getting on her nerves. If she hadn’t wanted possible criminals to know about her family, she could’ve made her calls in the open like a normal person.
Abby considered her options. Brute force wouldn’t work. She’d have to play to her strengths…being female and acting. She whirled around on the two men and they stepped back off the sidewalk. “Look, guys, I don’t want to be a bother, but I need a little space.”
“Boss told us to protect you.” Obviously the articulate one. The other guy shrugged.
“And I appreciate that, but could you at least wait outside the stores so it doesn’t look like I’m under arrest? I’m feeling premenstrual and your hovering is starting to annoy me.”
That registered. They backed up farther, looked at their shoes, and nodded in mute agreement.
“I’ll be in the electronics store. Unless I yell for help, don’t bother me. I could go off at any minute. Okay?” They nodded again. She loved the power and mystique the female body held over men.
They watched her go in, then positioned themselves on either side of the door. She stared at them and circled in the air with her finger. They obediently turned to face the street. Finally, somewhat alone at last.
She wasn’t sure how long her luck would hold, so she went directly to the cell-phone counter. “Could I have your least expensive prepaid model?”
The young woman behind the counter launched into a rehearsed sales pitch. “We have some nice models on sale this week that come with only a ten-dollar monthly fee. Or I could offer you—”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she glanced at her crooked name tag, “Ellen, but could you offer me what I asked for? And can you activate it now? I’m in a bit of a rush.” She nodded toward her escorts, and the young woman’s eyes widened as she saw the two men standing guard at the door.
“Are you in trouble, ma’am? Do I need to call the police?”
Abby motioned for her to come closer and whispered. “You’re very kind, but I just need a phone, quickly.”
A little added drama seemed just the ticket for speedy service. “Got ya.” Ellen pulled a phone from under the counter, ripped it out of the box, and slid the battery into place. “You only have about fifteen minutes’ talk time before you have to charge it.” She whispered now, the role of co-conspirator obviously appealing. “Let me give you a quick one, two, three on how it works.”
She reached for her lifeline to the outside world. “I’ve got this.”
“Actually, that won’t be necessary.” Carl’s voice behind her sent chills up her spine. How the hell had he slipped in without her knowing? “Is there something wrong with the phone I gave you?”
Ellen’s eyes widened like a scared kitten’s. Abby smiled to reassure her and put on her mos
t innocent face before turning from the counter. “Not at all. It’s time for me to start paying my own way.”
“I thought we covered this back at the house. You’re family now, and we take care of each other. Use the phone. I write it off the business anyway.” Further discussion would only raise suspicion. “Now, are you ready to go? Mother is getting hungry.” He motioned toward the door.
“I need to use the restroom before we leave.” She looked back toward Ellen, who had inched closer to the desk phone as if expecting trouble. “Could you show me the way, please?”
“Of course.” Ellen led her to a back room behind the storefront. Before Abby closed the door, she shoved a phone into her hand. “Use mine. I’ll stand guard.”
Abby didn’t argue. Her first instinct was to call Loane, the same instinct she’d had every time she’d been near a secure phone for the past three months. But what would she say? How could she explain her long absence? She looked back at the restroom door. She was running out of time. She had to make one call and she needed to hold it together. Her mother answered on the first ring.
“Mom.”
“Thank God! Child, are you all right? Where are you? How have you been? Can you come home?”
Her mother’s voice quivered with emotion and Abby stifled a wave of tears. “I’m okay, Mom, but I can’t tell you where I am or when I’ll be home. I’m so sorry. I wanted you to know that I’m fine and that I love you all.”
“Your father and I don’t like this new job, whatever it is. Nothing is worth abandoning your family. It’s not good. Listen to what I say. Your brothers have looked everywhere for you. We thought you must be…dead.”
Abby was grateful her mother didn’t know how close she’d come to being just that. Her mother’s concern carried through the phone as clearly as if they were in the same room. She wanted to surrender, to return to normalcy and safety, to be protected again, but it was too late. She was too far in and too much had happened to too many people she cared about. She had to redeem herself and prove she could stand on her own. Her mother wouldn’t understand how important that was to her…as important as family and love.
