Bad to the Bone

by Wendy Byrne

  Three ceiling fans circulated the air inside. A unique track system was affixed to the ceiling, which carried yards and yards of fabric, which, rather than walls, gave definition to the spaces.

  “I don’t mind sleeping on the couch. I’m much shorter than you. It won’t be so uncomfortable for me.”

  “What kind of schmuck would I be if I let you do that?” Urging her toward the bedroom area, he grabbed a T-shirt from one of his drawers and handed it to her. “I’m fine. Believe me, I’ve slept in worse places than a couch.”

  A jail cell, perhaps? Even with the Cobra tattoo she’d spotted on his arm, somehow the picture didn’t ring true. At any moment she expected him to reveal a less than stellar part of his personality. So far it hadn’t happened. Could he really be a good guy with a bad boy exterior? Had her suspicions about him been misperceptions from the start?

  After changing into his T-shirt in the bathroom, Sammie slipped into bed. She tried to ignore the sultry scent of him clinging to the sheets as she pulled them under her chin. Still, the exotic aroma of spice and ocean breeze enveloped her like a second skin and wafted into her nostrils, bringing with it a sense of longing. Damn it to hell.

  For distraction, she glanced toward the couch, but that only made things worse. The thin fabric wall separating the spaces did nothing to obscure his form as he slipped out of his shorts and removed his T-shirt. She watched in fascination as Enrique lay back on the couch, yanked on a blanket to cover himself to midchest, then crossed his arms under his head.

  “Sammie.”

  She jumped when he spoke. “Hmm?”

  “What color underwear do you have on?”

  Sammie stifled a giggle. “Ah, why?”

  “I was thinking.” He shifted his body to his side so that he faced her. “What if you were prone to sleepwalking, left the apartment, and got amnesia? I’d have to give the police a description of what you were wearing.”

  “Now I understand perfectly.” Sammie couldn’t help the smile. He truly was a master at distraction. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen, Enrique. I don’t sleepwalk.”

  “I’ll tell you what color underwear I have on. You know…just in case. They’re green with little math thingies on them.”

  “Thingies, huh? Is that a technical term?”

  Without another word, he got up and walked into her space. The sight of him standing there in his boxers, no shirt, and looking like temptation in human form was enough to send her nerves endings on a crash and burn mission.

  “See?” He pointed to the geometric shapes of various types that littered the fabric.

  “Now I know what thingies are.” Her voice sounded hoarse and raspy even to her own ears.

  “Now, what color are yours?”

  His arms crossed his chest while he stared down at her. Involuntarily, she pulled the covers closer to her neck. This seemed to be an X-rated version of the good-night scenario played out on The Waltons.

  “I don’t remember.” She shook her head to convey the message more succinctly. This was not the kind of discussion she should be having with him.

  “Then look.” His intense gaze made her want to either strip naked or run for cover—she wasn’t sure which.

  Rolling her eyes, she poked her head under the covers. Clearly, he was not giving up. “They’re purple with little pink flowers.”

  The left side of his mouth lifted. “You’re lying. You’re really wearing a pair of granny panties.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Because you’re embarrassed to say you wear old lady underwear.”

  “I’m telling you they’re dark purple high-cut bikinis with little pink flowers and green leaves.”

  “Show me.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled the covers back up under her chin. “You’ll have to take my word for it.”

  “Hey, I showed you mine. You have to show me yours.”

  “Doesn’t that only apply to playing doctor when you’re five years old? And then the rules involve body parts rather than clothing.”

  He pulled at the waistband of his boxers. “I’m game if you are.”

  Laughing, she shook her head. “I know I’m going to regret this, but it’s the only way I’ll get any sleep tonight.” Pulling down the covers to about her knees, she scooted up the T-shirt, exposing her panties. “Are you happy now?”

  He bit at his lips to keep the smile from surfacing. “Now I know what to tell the police if they need that information.”

  “It’s nice to know I can count on you to deliver all the details.”

  Shrugging, he started to leave but then turned back. “I almost forgot to kiss you good-night.”

  With that, he reached down and planted a light kiss on the top of her head, which confused her even more.

  …

  Between the phone call involving the drug drop and then the snakes, it was amazing Sammie got any sleep at all. Enrique had done a great job getting her mind to focus on other things. At least for a little while. The thought that he’d even attempted to divert her attention made her feel warm and fuzzy inside well into the morning as the sun started to rise.

  “Sammie.” A nudge at her shoulder made her snuggle under the covers. “Sammie, the police are here. They want to talk to you about last night.” His voice finally penetrated the fog of pure exhaustion. Forcing her eyelids up, she only made it halfway before they involuntarily closed once again.

  “They need to ask you a few questions.”

  Pulling the covers up over her head, she snuggled deeper into the bed. “Can’t you tell them what happened?” The words whispered out of her mouth, and she began to fall back into a deep sleep.

  Again, she felt the prodding at her shoulder. “I wish I could, but they need to talk to you.”

  Eyelids cracked open, she stared at him. Then glanced at the clock. Holy crap. She needed to be at the dock in less than an hour. Before that, she needed to mentally prepare herself for coming face-to-face with the people who’d put her uncle behind bars. She shook off the dregs of sleep and focused.

  The fact she wished last night was a dream didn’t work. It was real, and she had to do what she had to do. Quickly.

  “Give me a minute. I need to brush my teeth, try to get a comb through this crazy hair, and get dressed.” Work up some kind of plan on the fly, hope she didn’t get offed by a seasoned drug dealer. Yep, just another beautiful day in paradise.

  “Detective Bryce Sterling is waiting on the front porch.”

  Perfect. Maybe he’d be in and out without much of a fuss.

  She lingered in bed for a few moments and allowed the scent of Enrique to permeate her senses. His cologne clung to the sheets like the whisper of freshness and him. Drawing in a deep breath, she pulled back the covers and padded off to the bathroom.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She had a job to do. And damn it, she was going to figure this out and save her uncle. Where the hell was she going to get the cocaine? Or were they giving her cocaine? Either way, she needed a plan.

  She splashed water on her face and used some toothpaste on her finger to clean off her teeth. She worked through the tangles that had set in during the course of her restless night of sleep with the brush sitting on the counter.

  Opening the door, she straightened her shoulders and walked the length of the loft to the porch along the front. A hammock hung in one corner, while a small table and two chairs were in another. A bamboo shade overhead acted like an awning to keep the sun at bay. Enough light filtered through to make it pleasant without the resultant heat. An outdoor fan stirred, making it even more tolerable.

  Detective Sterling nodded when she walked outside. “We found a couple more snakes than those in the bedroom. The health department wants the bar shut down at least for the night until there can be a more thorough inspection, just to be sure nothing was missed.”

  “Crap.” She rubbed her hands down her face. “I assume they didn’t just decide to slither inside
on their own. Somebody had to put them there. Were you able to get any prints?”

  “We’re working on it. We’ll need yours, Chloe’s, and Enrique’s for rule outs, but I’m not holding out a whole lot of hope we’ll get something.” He shrugged. “There were no signs of a forced entry, other than Enrique breaking down the back door.”

  “Which scares me even more. I’m going to have the locks changed.”

  “Not a bad idea.” He tapped the notebook with his pen. “I’d like to know what happened from the time Enrique left until you found the snakes and called him.”

  “Nothing unusual”—she gulped back the onslaught of guilt clogging her throat—“until I heard the hissing sound. Then I knew I wasn’t alone.”

  “Any other trouble?”

  If she didn’t mention the drug dealer who called last night… “We weren’t open last night.”

  “You’re sure the snakes weren’t there when you left in the morning?” He jotted notes while they spoke.

  “Not positive, but—” Sammie shook her head. “I think I would have noticed.”

  He smiled. “In the good news department, since we had to go through all your drawers and cabinets looking for slithering critters, I brought you a fresh change of clothes. One of the policewomen helped with the selection.” He handed her a pile of clothes and her Doc Martens, along with a pair of socks on top.

  “Thank you.” Sammie touched his arm.

  “They were all poisonous. Every last one of them.” He drew in a breath. “I have another piece of bad news. I assume you know Tony Greco. He worked at Murphy’s for a couple of months. He was found beaten to death outside of Miami.”

  …

  The first thing Enrique noted was Sammie’s death grip on the coffee cup in front of her. Scared didn’t come close to describing what he saw reflected in her body language. But it was more than the snakes alone. No doubt it had to do with the phone call last evening as well as the hit-and-run on the bike the other day. And now the news about Tony.

  Hell, he didn’t blame her. Seemed like someone had deliberately set out to kill her. That would make anyone scared to death.

  Enrique could think of a couple of reasons why someone would threaten Sammie: if she was involved in drug trafficking, it could be a message of sorts for her to toe the line. If she wasn’t involved, it could be about getting her out of the way. He didn’t know which was right, but there was a whole lot she wasn’t saying.

  The list of suspects grew by leaps and bounds. The way he figured it, any number of people could be guilty of trying to scare Sammie half to death: drug dealers unhappy with the competition, patrons not too happy with her get tough attitude.

  “Tony.” She had tears in her eyes when she looked at him. “I feel horrible.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done. If he fell back into the lifestyle, who knows who he was hanging around with.”

  “Yeah, but…I wonder if it had anything to do with Jack?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m not sure.” She shrugged. “I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind.” She avoided his eyes when she spoke. “I’ve got a lot of things to do today.”

  Before he could think too long or too hard about what she was hiding, the detective called to give him an update. Holy shit.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sammie wished she could ask Enrique to come with her. But she couldn’t. Number one, because she didn’t trust him; number two, because even if she did, it wouldn’t be fair to endanger his life, especially after what she’d just learned about Tony.

  Could she pull this whole thing off? Hell if she knew. Although by now, with her numerous dalliances with scum bucket boyfriends, she should be well versed in the drug lingo, so that was a start.

  “Where you off to?” Maybe it was guilt, but she could swear there was a hint of suspicion reflected in his eyes.

  “Errands. I have to get in touch with Chloe and let her know about the bar being closed for the night, post some notices on the windows, maybe go see my uncle if I have a chance.” She shrugged, feigning an innocence she didn’t feel. “It’s all in a day’s work for a bartender slash snake charmer.”

  He bit off a laugh. “You looked like a snake charmer, all right, trembling in the middle of your bed last night.”

  “It was all an act to see how macho you were.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry to report you failed the test. You looked almost as scared as me.”

  “You caught me. Slithering, slimy things are not my friends.” He gave her a cheeky smile. “But sexy blondes with a whole lot of attitude are a different story altogether.”

  “You wish.” She returned his smile and wished her insides weren’t so jumpy. “Thank you again for coming to my rescue last night and allowing me to stay in your bed.”

  “Wish I was in it with you, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Do you have to be so cheesy?” She rolled her eyes and glanced at her watch. “I’ve got to go. I’ll let you know when I hear something.”

  When he laid his hand on her arm, he had a weird expression on his face, like he wanted to say something but couldn’t or wouldn’t. “I’ll do the same.”

  Without another word, she walked out the door and into the street. Luckily, Enrique’s apartment wasn’t very far from Mallory Square, so she had plenty of time to get there. Plenty of time for her nerves to reach maximum velocity as well.

  She slipped on sunglasses that barely dimmed the glare of the sun reflecting off the water. After sucking in a calming breath and letting it out to the count of ten, she strode down the long pier hoping to find whoever had called her last night. What she’d do when she found them—or they found her—was another story altogether.

  …

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Were there enough expletives in the English language to describe how Enrique felt watching and waiting for something to happen? She was there for a drug exchange.

  Except for that niggling hesitation in her voice. Was that his imagination, wishful thinking, or something else he hadn’t yet identified?

  Instead, he watched her nervous movements as she paced the shoreline around the dock. There was a kind of coiled-up energy in her stride, as if this was her first rodeo. He shook off the thought and held the binoculars to his eyes.

  She drew in the corner of her lip while her hands fidgeted at her sides. With a cupped hand she shielded her eyes as she looked out onto the water.

  He could almost see her calculating the time and wondering how much longer should she wait.

  A woman wearing a baseball cap stopped to chat with her. Enrique zoomed in using his binoculars but didn’t see an exchange of either money or goods before the woman moved on. He clicked off a couple of shots of the woman just in case.

  In the end, Sammie held out longer than he’d anticipated. Nearly forty-five minutes later she walked away.

  …

  “Sammie, what you doing down here? Did you get lost or something?”

  Sammie jumped at the contact, reflex bringing her elbow back until she realized it was Enrique. Drug dealing was definitely not in her wheelhouse. “Sorry, I was…ah…looking for a locksmith to change the locks.” Nice recovery. At least she hoped.

  “There’s one a couple of blocks over. I can walk you there if you’d like.”

  “Sure.” She needed to gain some focus if she hoped to get around him. He was much too perceptive not to pick up on her scattered state. The woman had said to wait thirty minutes and then go to Pier 37. She had to get rid of him without raising his suspicions.

  “I’m glad I ran into you. I got some news from Bryce.”

  “Already?” A flutter of hope pinged against the wall of her chest, even while she looked at her watch. She didn’t have a lot of time.

  “They got a hit on the prints.” He grasped her hand in his. “It’s a hit woman named Clementine Roberts. She got out of jail about a year ago—killed the victim by trapping h
im in a room full of deadly vipers. That was her only conviction, although there were several other instances where they couldn’t nail her with evidence.”

  Sammie struggled to breathe. This whole thing was spiraling out of control, and she seemed to be in tornado central. “Why me?”

  “Probably tied to Jack. All the cases she’s under suspicion for involve drug trafficking.”

  “I know you’re getting tired of me saying this, but Jack didn’t sell anybody drugs. I’d stake my life on it.” She fought back the frustration. “Someone has to talk to him. Maybe Jack knows this Clementine woman. Do they have a mug shot?”

  “The one they have is an old one, so they’re working on getting it updated. They said they’d send an officer to question Jack about Ms. Roberts.”

  Sammie shook her head, the enormity of the problem sinking inside her until it weakened her at the knees. “He won’t talk to them.”

  “No shit.”

  “I’m not sure he’d even talk to me, unless he thought he could protect me somehow.”

  “Why don’t you stay at my place until this thing gets resolved? We still don’t know where this woman is, or when or if she’ll come back.”

  Seconds ticked by while her heart thumped. Everything was happening so fast. Nothing was fitting together. “How would that look, me staying with you again?”

  “Who the hell cares? If it makes you feel safe at night, what’s the problem?”

  She forced a smile. “Did I tell you I hate Florida?”

  “You might have mentioned it a time or two.”

  “There wouldn’t be any poisonous snakes to put in my bedroom in Providence. They don’t like the snow, so they can’t be used to terrorize some unfortunate female like me.”

  “Or male. I’m not too macho that I won’t admit the idea of a couple of them slithering around gives me the willies.” He pulled her into an embrace.

  Despite her wish to the contrary, a sense of serenity invaded her body. It couldn’t last, but she might as well appreciate it for as long as it did.

  “What’s next? An alligator?”

  “Naw, they’d be too damn heavy to maneuver up the stairs. Maybe a tarantula, though.”