Head Over Wheels (Spicy Young Romance)

by January Valentine

  "Let's hit the road, Jewel. I doubt she's gonna show." Pete blew warmth into his hands.

  My frustration escalated. "If she's not planning a robbery tonight, she's probably not here," I complained. "I'm not so sure this building is her permanent residency. This is bugging the hell out of me. I can't figure her out."

  "I'd tend to agree with you, but the source of this info is reliable."

  Before leaving our stakeout, Pete said he'd be pulling a nightshift the following week, so I'd be on my own. "I hate leaving you alone, Jewel," he said. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

  "I can handle it, Pete."

  His arms were crossed. I watched a scowl grow on his face. "Remember, I'm just a phone call away." He drew in air through his nose, releasing two vapory streams like a snorting bull. "Make sure you keep your cell phone on."

  "I will." My face was rigid, not only from the cold.

  "You're unarmed and emotionally involved. Keep your head on straight." Pete looked like he was taking a deep drag on a cigarette, this time, exhaling dissatisfaction through his pursed lips. "Don't take any risks."

  "I won't," I promised, but knew inside, I'd do whatever was necessary to beat Vanessa at her own sick game.

  STAKEOUT

  During the first few nights of surveillance others came and went, but Vanessa didn't show her face. I did however see someone moving around inside her apartment. With bright lights and no window shades, living on the eighth floor didn't ensure total privacy. Still, from the distance, I couldn't be sure the wavering shadow was even hers. I made a mental note to borrow a pair of binoculars from Casey, the bird watcher.

  Filled with garbage bags and cartons, along with seclusion, the alley offered a distinct odor. On more than one occasion, my stomach rose to my throat. Sitting lightly on the cleanest piece of cardboard I could find, my mind flew in multiple directions. I had to reel it in so I could concentrate. While I observed, through anxiety and frustration, Indigo was always with me. I had so much time to think, so many regrets. I should have been more understanding. Instead of stomping off, I should have comforted him. Back up, Jewel, you tried.

  I was bored. I was angry. I was tired. I was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Waiting for Vanessa's next move was agony, and when she didn't show, I was so discouraged I felt like taking the next flight out of the country. I didn't know how much more I could take. Each night I'd wait for hours, hoping, and when she didn't show, I'd slip my makeshift seat into the safest place I could find ... between the wall and a rusting drainpipe clipped to its side ... so it would be ready for the next watch.

  The robberies had all occurred on Saturdays, close to midnight, so the perpetrator had earned the name of the midnight thief. Leaving nothing up to chance, I decided to watch the place on a daily basis, making bicycle drive-bys, staked out in the alley every night.

  The sleep I was able to find was fitful. On probation at work, under surveillance at the academy, I felt like an outsider, not to mention a loser. Stress showed on my face, and I lost weight. Emma worried, pleading with me to rest for a while with my family in Poughkeepsie, and leave solving crimes to the authorities. "I'm the authorities," I told her with a hug. "Besides, my parents have no clue as to what's happening." I scrunched the side of my mouth, uncertain but determined.

  For two weeks I holed up, waiting, hoping. Feeling like I was wasting my time and optimism, I started drifting into a state of desperation. The weather was turning, and the news predicted rainstorms and falling temperatures for the weekend. I'd have to pull myself together so I'd be alert, thinking, "If this doesn't end soon, I'm gonna lose my mind!"

  Between her job and wedding plans, Emma focused on me, begging me not to go out that particular Saturday night. First she said she had a bad feeling. Then she offered to accompany me, but there was no way I was getting the soon-to-be-bride mixed up in any legal issues ... or danger.

  "Grandma," I whispered as I pulled a black knit cap over my head, zipped my insulated sweatshirt to my neck, slipped on gloves and unhitched my bicycle from the lobby's bike rack. "Please have my back. I'm really scared, Gram, but it's something I have to do. Don't be mad at me. I have to clear my name. My entire life depends upon it."

  The sudden thought occurred to me, and I ran back up the stairs.

  "You're not going?" Emma looked relieved when I burst into the apartment.

  "I forgot something," I panted as I rushed into my room and pulled open my dresser drawer. I grabbed my cell phone and turned it on. "You're coming with me," I whispered to Indigo. He'd always made me feel safe, and at the moment, I needed him more than ever.

  As I headed back down the stairs, I thought of my family, longing to see them again. I couldn't burden them with my problems, so they had no clue as to what was going on. Besides, they would have locked me up had they known what I was about to take on. Only Emma and Pete personally knew of my plight, and my plan.

  I put my cell on vibrate and stuck it into my pocket. I'd need it to photograph Vanessa in the act. As I clunked through the lobby door, bumping the wheels of my bike down the stairs, the paralyzing thought struck me. If a patrol car passed, for certain I'd be arrested. Dressed all in black, my face half hidden, I looked every inch a thief in the night. And with what they had on me, I'd be charged for sure. I needed to be careful, staying on back streets.

  Tonight was the night. I could feel it in my bones, along with the chilling wind as I rode through lightly trafficked sections of the city. Halloween decorations hung on doors, jack o'lanterns sat on porches. I thought of how Teresa would be trick or treating in a few weeks; Mom setting dinner on the table; the warmth of the living room fireplace, and my stomach contorted. Where did I go wrong? Was I serving this sentence simply because I fell in love?

  A cold drizzle pecked at my face, and I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt over my head as far as the fabric would stretch. All that was visible were my cheeks and mouth as I hunkered, protected by the alley. The front door of Vanessa's apartment, and the dingy windows, were the objects of my undivided attention. Of course she'd hang a witch and black cats in her windows. I wondered if she'd come flying out on her broomstick. Then again, maybe Elizabeth had it tonight.

  The lights were on, which I felt was a good sign, and it became even more encouraging when I detected movement. My eyes clung to the eighth floor, and what had to be Vanessa's floundering silhouette.

  Music blared from passing cars, a few residents walked dogs, but as far as I could tell, no eyes breached my cover. "Let's go, bitch," became my battle cry, and I repeated the phrase again and again. The day was right, and so was the time: thirty-five minutes before midnight, and there hadn't been another burglary since the last which had taken place several weeks ago.

  I crouched, frozen to the bone, my neck stretched and aching. The wind made its way through my lightweight gloves as I shielded my face from what had evolved into pelting rain.

  A film of gloss covered the road, which I assumed was ice, and from beneath the corner streetlight, I watched its erratic fall. Leave it to you Vanessa, to pick a night like this, flashed through my head as the front door of her apartment building flew open, inched closed. She emerged, dressed much like me. My breath quickened. I willed my limbs to find peace.

  I had no idea Vanessa traveled by bicycle. Of course, automobiles had license plates and identifiable features, were traceable, but city streets hosted thousands of bikes, easy to conceal, to flee off road. As she tore off past me, it appeared she rode proficiently. So, she's assuming my entire persona while she turns me into a two-bit thief? Two-bit? The amount of jewelry she'd lifted was rising to a charge of grand larceny.

  I didn't move a muscle until the distance between us felt safe, then I tracked her. She rode in the right lane, where an intermittent flow of traffic trickled by. Now and then her wheels hit puddles, which I avoided. We appeared to be heading uptown, in the direction of my neighborhood. What, was she going to rob me next?

  Possibly feeling the h
eat of headline news, she altered her course, selecting a quiet area in which to carry out her crime. I followed easily down side streets, but my heart rate grew turbulent when we approached corners, where I'd pause, holding my breath, concerned she might have noticed me and was lying in wait; concerned if I didn't accelerate, I'd lose her. We seemed to be riding in circles then squares, or was it my imagination? Was she carrying a weapon? Did she have more on her mind than framing me? I wasn't putting anything past Vanessa. She was evil, and she was out to get me.

  Eyes straining, ears acute, I never let her out of my sight, and when I heard her tires crunch grit, hitting my brakes I coasted. In the distance, where the main road intersected ours, headlights occasionally swept through mist, but the street we were on was deserted.

  With Vanessa secured in my sight, I scanned the area, attempting to fix the location, planning my victory, fearing my demise. We ventured into an industrial graveyard, and a patchwork of structures fell to the wayside as we sped past warehouses, garages, small shops caged with bars. There was no moon, no stars in the city, especially on a night like this. With the scarcity of streetlights, illumination was minimal, and accumulating fog challenged visibility.

  I had been bullied into a scene from a horror movie. With the exception of Vanessa, not another soul existed in my nightmare. I corrected my assumption; Vanessa had no soul. I longed to be home, or accompanied by Pete, better yet, be safe in Indigo's arms. Any place but this hellhole. Pitched through the air, the only sound other than the rumble of thunder came from the lungs of a dog howling in the distance. Soaked and chilled, I felt his anguish.

  My adversary appeared to be heading toward a storefront office, where a single light wafted through the window and its painted sign: Diamonds – Gold – Bought – Sold. The dreary building was backed into the shadows, sandwiched between two others.

  I probably followed closer than I should have, but anxiety bordered panic: slowing my heart, my pedaling feet, was nearly impossible. Governing my breathing I paused, wide-eyed as Vanessa hopped off her bike, pushed it into the alley beside the brick wall where water coursed through a gutter.

  Should I forge into the unknown? Should I hold out a moment longer? Forced to make a split second decision, my stomach rose to my throat. My straining stare pulsed with the same blood that pounded my temples.

  I focused so intently, my vision grew dim; misty air clung to my face making matters worse. While inhaling dampness, my eyes blinked away shuddering circles and black static snow, created by the nerves in my eyes.

  Before leaving home, I'd strapped on a wristwatch, and I timed her. She'd been gone for less than two minutes. I'd give her sixty seconds more, and then I'd head down the alley in search of her. Although I yearned to catch her in the act, I couldn't risk her disappearance, for I knew there would never be a night like this again. No such luck. But what kind of luck was this? I was cuffing her, reading her rights, counting my chickens before they hatched.

  While I debated, she emerged, a bag slung over her shoulder. Something broke from the shadows, and it was beside her; two slithering phantoms. What the hell? The figures merged, divided, reattached, unbraided.

  My eyes followed the burning tip of a cigarette. An illusion or accomplice! I was so not prepared for this. But I'd gone this far; there was no turning back now. I quickly pounded Pete's number, but my trembling fingers misdialed. On my second attempt, the call immediately went to voicemail. As I left him a breathless message: "Where are you Pete? Here's where I am ... Something's going down," my mind screamed, "It's not going to be me."

  Vanessa's double flicked the cigarette and began to shrink, vaporizing into one of the cloud formations floating around us. Unable to discern the direction of her partner's retreat, Vanessa's outline claimed my sole attention. Wiping rain from eyes, panic from limbs, I watched her slide along the wall, past the storefront, to a door on the opposite side of the building. Starting my count, I held my breath. I'd give her a few seconds, then make my move.

  After calling Pete, I'd held onto my phone. Before sliding it into my pocket, I started snapping pictures, hoping the camera would capture her in dim light. I glimpsed the steady fall of rain in the glow of the corner streetlight, but saw no trace of Vanessa's companion. The thought of someone sneaking up behind me was chilling, and I fought the urge to revolve in circles, protecting my own back. What had I gotten myself into? Mine could be the next body found lying face down in an alley. This was even worse than being the discarded candy wrapper, ground to shreds beneath the heels of the detectives' shoes. This was life-threatening ... this was reality ... and it was suddenly sinking in.

  I began to fashion my own fate: I hoped it wasn't Pete who found me. Back up, Jewel: If there's a breath left in my lungs, God, please let Pete find me, but if I'm stiff and bloodless ... I couldn't put him through that. Vanessa's sudden movement curtailed my runaway imagination.

  Crouching, she pulled something from her pocket and went to work on the lock. The realization hit me. Her accomplice disabled the alarms, while she gained entry. Holy shit. Where had she learned this stuff? Certainly not in prep school.

  I can't let her break in, mingled with the other reasoning rounding like a halo inside my head. And I can't let her get away. My hiding place was only a few yards away, behind the cover of a utility pole. Angling my bike, I sucked in my breath, trying to make myself invisible.

  I prayed Pete would get my message soon, and magically appear. I considered the size of her stocky accomplice. How was I going to handle both of them?

  "One, two, three. Are you ready Grandma?" My cross lay buried beneath my clothing, so I patted my neck where I felt the heirloom pressed to my skin. I mounted my bike, devising my strategy. What strategy? I carried no weapon; my saddlebag contained only a pair of handcuffs. What had I been thinking?

  My mind went into overdrive: I'd do a combination drive-by, tripping the guy, and tackling Vanessa, knocking them cold with one swift blow. I knew enough hand to hand to take care of two creeps at once. The only problem was, I had no idea of the location of her partner. Switch to plan B, which was ... pure animal instinct.

  Then my mind slipped into reverse. Creep? Vanessa? Holy shit. Could it be the rude guy who she'd been with that night at The Prestige? After the run-in we'd had, I'd gotten a taste of his strength. It wouldn't be like in the club. I wasn't wearing heels, and I wasn't bombed. Still, a shudder hit my legs first, then targeted the rest of my body.

  Pull it together girl. You're a rookie cop – at least you will be, soon. Dear God, if you get me through this, I promise I'll never sin again.

  I'll repent, I'll repent, I'll repent. I hopped on my bike, sped down the road, wheels slipping on the slick pavement. My jaw clenched; my ears sang. Every ounce of power concentrated in my legs, I gained as much momentum as possible. With the weather and stress everything around me looked smeared, but I managed to lock onto the shock on Vanessa's face as I reached her side, head down, wild eyes lifted, fingers gripping the handlebars as if they were wrapped around her neck.

  Startled, she dropped the object she'd been holding, threw her hands out in front of her, rammed her hip into my bike and took off. "Shit!" I wobbled to a stop. She could disappear down any alley. I could lose her. Not now. Not when I'm so close. She was leaping off the curb, splashing through water gathering in the gutter, and I was in pursuit.

  I was inches away when my tire hit a rut. I remembered thinking; Shit ... Next thing I knew, the wheels of my bike were spinning, I was flying over the handlebars and headlong into Vanessa, who immediately crumbled. While I body slammed her, my bike took its own flight.

  Disoriented, I scrambled to my feet, frantically looking around. She was gone. How long had I been out? I hopped on my bike and launched into the night. Fueled by adrenaline, I was pumped. And I was on a mission. Without the need for anonymity, I snapped the headlight on and the glare washed both sides of the road. This can't be happening. I'm almost there. Please, God. I need help! Not
to mention coffee and a hot shower. I was so cold I could barely feel my fingers, my toes. I licked cold rain from my stinging lips. Everything was happening in slow motion: my movements, my mind. Was I about to pass out?

  Vanessa couldn't outrun me. Her wavering outline shimmered not more than five feet ahead of my light. Then I was rolling alongside her, leaping off my bike, tackling her before she had a chance to veer off in another direction. As I landed beneath my bike, my head hit the curb. Stunned, I had no idea of where I was until I felt her beside me. Her recovery came a moment sooner than mine. Her boot hit my side which exploded with mind-numbing pain, literally knocking the breath from my lungs.

  I heard myself scream, "You bitch," as I reached for her ankle, yanking her down beside me.

  She ripped off my hat, snatched fistfuls of my hair, fighting me like a girl. It would have been humorous had my neck not been on the line. Her body covered mine and she grunted, clawing at my face. Our limbs tangled, we rolled, my calf muscles bracing my weight. I heard her yelling, "Bitch," calling out, "help me Lenny." I felt my forearm dig deep into her throat, jerked her head back, and easily flipped her. On my knees I began pummeling her jaw. Her eyes were closed, her mouth a gaping cavity filling with rain, with blood. Next thing I knew, strong arms were pulling me off, and I was in bathed in the beam of headlights.

  "Kit Kat!"

  "Pete?" Disoriented, I shook my head to clear it.

  "I'll take it from here, babe." He set me aside.

  "No," I argued as my tongue swiped my teeth, my mouth flavored with the taste of blood gushing from a wound just above my right eye, where my head had slammed the curb. "She's got an accomplice." Out of breath, I panted. "He could be in the alley next to the pawnbroker." I gasped for air. "Go get him, Pete, before he gets away."