Perfectly Toxic

by Kristine Mason

Chapter 11

  Cash and Mel’s House, Tallahassee, Florida

  Sunday, 12:42 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  VLAD TOSSED A cigarette into the unlit fire pit Cash had built at the edge of the backyard, then pulled another from his pack. Mel shifted her gaze to the pool, where Harrison swam laps. Lola sat on a lounge chair beneath an umbrella working on Harrison’s laptop, while Cash was by Mel’s side at the patio table under the covered porch, leafing through a car magazine. By all accounts, anyone who stopped by would see a group of friends enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. Too bad that wasn’t reality.

  Her phone chimed, signaling she’d received a text message. She picked it up, then read the screen. “Dang,” she murmured.

  Cash set down the magazine. “What’s wrong?”

  “Bobby. Noah went into septic shock.”

  “From what?”

  “He didn’t say. I’m assuming the cuts Noah gave himself. Or, it could be from the syringe Madeline used on him. I honestly don’t know much about it.”

  “Yeah, cars are easier to deal with than people. Is he going to be okay?”

  She sent her cousin a text, asking about Noah’s prognosis. He replied: Dr. unsure. Have him stable. After she relayed the message to Cash, she set the phone back on the table. “I’m not comfortable with Harrison going undercover.”

  “Madeline might not show. Worry about it if it happens.”

  “I know.” She did, but couldn’t help herself. While she didn’t doubt Harrison could handle a couple hours in Madeline’s house, as far as they knew, the woman and her partner—if Noah was to be believed—had killed one man. If doctors didn’t find a way to control Noah’s infection, he could be next. Plus, too many things could happen in a matter of a couple hours. And what if the GPS failed? What if they couldn’t find Harrison?

  “Good,” he said, picking up the magazine. “Someone needs to tell Vlad. I think he’s smoked a half a pack in the two hours he’s been sitting out back.”

  “He’s mad at Harrison.”

  Cash kept his focus on the magazine. “Do I want to know why?”

  “I don’t know.” She pulled her hair back as she stretched. With the way Cash had pinned her arms last night, she’d awoken with sore muscles not only in her chest and shoulders, but her inner thighs. Not that she’d complain. The muscle strain, the tears and the fighting had been worth it. There were no more barriers for her or Cash to hide behind. They’d torn them down last night, and rebuilt their relationship with promises she was confident they’d both keep.

  “You don’t know if I want to know?” he asked, raising a brow until he noticed the way she stretched. His gaze shifted to her breasts. Placing the magazine on the table, he leaned forward. “Why don’t you help me change a light bulb in the bedroom?”

  She leaned forward, too. “Is that code for sex?”

  “No. I really do need to change a light bulb, and it’d be easier if you handed it to me so I don’t have to climb up and down the step stool. You don’t want me to risk breaking an ankle.”

  She chuckled. “You’re so full of it.”

  “Yeah, I know. Okay, tell me why Vlad’s mad at Harrison.”

  “I can tell you,” Harrison said, rising from the edge of the pool.

  Cash reached for his water bottle. “You have ears like a frickin’ bat.”

  Harrison frowned as he approached them. “No, your voices carry.” He turned toward Lola. “Could you hear Cash and Mel talking?”

  Lola looked up from the laptop. “Noah is septic, and light bulb is code for fooling around.”

  Mel’s cheeks warmed. “Then I guess you heard me say I’m worried about you going undercover.”

  Harrison nodded and took a seat. “Which is one of the many reasons Vlad is pouting like the overgrown child he is.”

  “Man, I gotta ask you,” Cash began. “No offense, but aren’t you afraid Vlad’s going to kick your ass?”

  Harrison snorted. “If he does, he better make sure I can’t get back up, or I’m putting his gator in the swamp where she belongs.”

  Mel gasped, then gave him a quick grin. “Shame on you. I had plans on makin’ a purse out of Polina.”

  “You’re sick, Mel.” Lola closed the laptop. “It’s also close to one. We should probably leave in a few.” She called to Vlad. The Russian looked over, blew a stream of smoke, then tossed the butt into the pit. “I suggest you and Vlad work things out,” Lola said to Harrison.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Honey,” Mel began, “he’s upset about you taking a risk with Madeline. You’re his buddy. He’s looking out for you.”

  “And I’m looking out for him when I ride him about smoking.”

  “Are you and Vlad dating?” Cash asked with a grin.

  Harrison gave him the finger. “Not funny.”

  “Asian Lola need Vlad?” the Russian asked, his frown so deep Mel wondered if she could rest a spoon on his brow.

  “We’re going to leave soon. I’d like to be in Frenchtown by one-thirty.”

  “Bobby told us she came around four the last time,” Mel said.

  “I know, but I don’t want to take the chance of missing her. Not after Ian made the effort to get us the GPS chip.” Lola motioned to Vlad. “Please sit.”

  Vlad walked to the furthest chair away from Harrison. Once he was seated, he glared at him.

  “What the hell, dude?”

  “Vlad give Harry smell eye.”

  “I know what you’re doing, I just don’t get why you have to be such an immature freak. Do you really think giving me the stink eye is going to intimidate me?”

  “да.”

  “Should be easy enough. Have you smelled yourself? No wonder you can’t get laid. Your mouth is like an ashtray and your big ass body smells like nasty swamp water from hanging out with your gator.”

  Vlad’s gaze never wavered. “Vlad can change smell. Harry cannot change monkey-ass face.”

  Harrison stood. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Harry smell like one.”

  “You would know.”

  “Enough,” Lola shouted. “You’re both acting like nine-year-old boys.”

  Cash rested his chin in his hand. “I think that might be an insult to nine-year-olds. Hell, when I was nine, I would’ve been wiping the streets clean with your faces if you talked like that to me.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. “Does everything have to be physical?”

  He slid his gaze to her. The heated look in his eyes had her fighting a grin. “As I was saying,” he continued, looking between Vlad and Harrison, “I don’t care why you two are mad at each other, but if you’re gonna fight, man up and do it right.”

  Lola’s eyes widened a fraction. “Do not listen to Cash. Let’s just go over a few points, then leave.”

  “No, I think Cash is onto something.” Harrison stood, then motioned to Vlad. “Let’s go.”

  Vlad chuckled and also stood. “Vlad former Russian heavyweight boxer. Harry no match. Throw in towel while all teeth are in head.”

  Harrison moved toward the pool. “Bring it.”

  When Vlad fell into a boxing stance, Lola turned to Cash. “See what you started. You need to stop them. I don’t want Harrison screwing up the GPS chip.”

  “She’s right, baby. As fun as this would be to watch, Harrison’s our undercover man.”

  Cash sighed. “Fine.”

  “Just forget it,” Lola said, marching toward the pool. “I said enough.” She pivoted on her left leg and delivered a sidekick to Harrison’s side, knocking him off balance and into the pool. When Vlad turned and laughed at Harrison, she rushed behind him and sent a front kick to the man’s rear. Water splashed to the concrete and all over Lola when Vlad fell into the pool. She brushed droplets from her arms. “We are leaving in fifteen minutes. Get out of the water and get ready.” Lola pointed at Mel and Cash as she made her way toward the patio door. “Now I see why you two are good together. Harrison
’s right, you’re both crazy.”

  Mel reached for Cash’s hand. “I don’t think we’re crazy.”

  He kissed the underside of her wrist. “I don’t, either,” he said with a grin.

  Vlad sloshed over, wringing the front of his shirt. He pulled a soggy pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket then crushed them.

  “Serves you right,” Harrison said, walking past him and into the house.

  When Vlad hung his head, Mel’s heart went out to the big goof. She gave Cash’s hand a squeeze, stood, then went to Vlad. “You okay, honey?”

  “Ice Cream Lady see through Vlad.” He let out a tired breath. “Vlad must ready.”

  “Are you sure Vlad and Harrison are agents?” Cash asked when he came up behind her.

  “You’d be surprised what they can do.”

  “What about you? What’d you do for ATL?”

  She thought about the bodies in Daddy’s swamp. “I’m mostly the lookout,” she said, not totally lying. She’d done that job a couple of times.

  “Good.” He kissed her cheek. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’ll be honest, I don’t like the idea of my woman being involved in something that could kill her.”

  Or put her in prison. But Cash didn’t need to know about that, either. “After this job, neither of us will have to worry about anything, except fixing cars.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  She did, too. She just hoped it was enough—for both of them.

  Hope House, Tallahassee, Florida

  Sunday, 4:42 p.m. Eastern Daylight Saving Time

  “I could never be a cop,” Cash said, moving the vent so the AC hit him in the face. If he was warm sitting in his air-conditioned truck, Mel and Harrison had to be sweating their butts off.

  “Vlad cannot be cop.”

  “Right. Stakeouts are about as fun as watching a snail fight.”

  The Russian turned to him and frowned. “How would snail fight? Can Vlad find this on the YouTube?”

  Cash chuckled until he realized Vlad was serious. “No, man. I’m making a joke. You know, because snails are slow and they don’t have arms.”

  “That disappointing.” Vlad stared out the window toward where Mel sat in the shade, leaning against a backpack. “Vlad do not mind the stakeout. It boring, but safe.”

  “You don’t look or act like the kind of guy who likes boring and safe.”

  “Describe to Vlad how boring and safe look.”

  Cash immediately pictured the garage he owned. “Not sure.”

  “Then how Repo Man know this?”

  “Got me again.”

  “Vlad see white car.”

  Both Bobby and Noah had claimed Madeline drove a white sedan, but had been unsure of the make, model and year. Bobby knew better, considering he’d been around the garage enough. He’d said he had been too distracted to pay attention. Bobby and Noah had also told them Madeline had long blonde hair.

  When the white Lincoln slowed about a half a block from Hope House, Vlad’s phone rang. “да,” he answered. “Vlad see.” He ended the call. “Asian Lola say black male drive car.” Since Hope House sat on a corner, Lola had parked Mel’s Camaro along the street facing north, while he and Vlad had taken the street to the west. If Madeline showed, one of them would be able to quickly spot her.

  Cash relaxed against the driver’s seat. “It’s almost five. They’ll be closing the shelter doors soon. I don’t think Madeline’s coming tonight.” Once the shelter locked its doors, most of the homeless who hadn’t been able to obtain a bed for the night left to search for a place to stay that wasn’t as open or exposed as the field next to the shelter.

  “Vlad agree. Vlad and Cash stakeout tomorrow.”

  The joy. “Unless Lola wants to switch up and let you take Mel’s car.” To keep Lola from standing out, Mel had suggested Lola use the old Camaro rather than the new rental car. With how well Mel had fixed up the Camaro, it was probably worth more than the rental, but he still agreed.

  The Russian shook his head. “Ice Cream Lady do not allow Vlad to drive.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Harry have nose of Pinocchio. Ласка tell lies.”

  “Come again?”

  “Harry weasel. Say Vlad cannot be trusted with car. Ha! Vlad have perfect drive record.” The Russian pointed to the right. “Vlad see Mel.”

  Thank God. He was tired of hearing Vlad complain about Harrison, and didn’t know how Lola put up with the two of them.

  “I got her,” Cash said, shifting the truck into DRIVE and heading in her direction.

  Although he’d wanted ATL’s investigation to go smoothly, and stop Madeline and her partner from taking any other people, a part of him was relieved she hadn’t showed today. While he didn’t look forward to spending another three to four hours in the truck with Vlad tomorrow, or for Mel to have to sit in this God-awful heat, he’d worried about how Harrison’s undercover job might affect Mel. His wife put on a superficial mask when it came to people she cared about, using sarcasm or dark humor, even anger, to hide her worries.

  She cared about Harrison, and not in a way that made him want to kick the man’s ass. With the way Harrison had acted around her, Cash doubted the man had a clue how lucky he was to have a friend like Mel. She knew the true meaning of loyalty, and had more decency and compassion in her manicured pinky than most people possessed in their entire body.

  And she was finally coming home to him.

  This was where the other part of him had wished the woman would’ve showed today. He couldn’t wait for them to start over again, and hadn’t been kidding about wanting to renew their vows. He was also anxious to start the new detail business at the garage. Mel was going to love it. He already had Jude working on purchasing the necessary equipment. Not too much, though. He wanted Mel to be part of the new venture that would replace the repo business.

  He stopped the truck along the curb. Mel’s skin glistened with sweat. The short-sleeved light gray shirt she wore stuck to her torso, and had dark spots under her arms and along her stomach. She’d probably have to peel off her jeans, but wearing shorts hadn’t been an option. She’d needed to look like she was homeless, not heading out for a day at the park. Plus the jeans covered the tall socks she wore to hide her switchblade.

  As soon as she slid onto the backseat bench, he passed her the cold bottle of water he’d had waiting for her. “Where’s Harrison?”

  After she took a long drink, she leaned against the leather seat. “He went with Lola. I’m diving in the pool when we get home,” she said, then took another drink.

  He glanced at her in the rear view mirror. “Your face is red. Didn’t you wear sunscreen?”

  “It’s from the heat.” Her face saddened as she looked out the window. “I couldn’t imagine having to live that way. It’s depressing and scary.” She crushed the plastic in her fist. “I’m so thankful for Daddy. We didn’t have much, but at least I had a bed and a leaky roof over my head.”

  Growing up, he hadn’t always had a steady home, but he’d had enough people looking out for him and his mom to keep them from being forced into a shelter. “I saw you talking to a few people. Anyone know about Madeline?”

  “There was one guy. He seemed like he was strung out on something, so I don’t know how reliable he is. Anyway, he said he’s been sleeping in the field because the shelter rules are you have to check your belongings at the door. He doesn’t want to do that, so I’m guessing it’s because he has drugs or paraphernalia—which is also against the rules. He did confirm that he hasn’t seen Madeline all week, and that she drives a white car with Georgia plates. A 1999 Buick LeSabre, to be exact.”

  “This good,” Vlad said, handing her another cold water.

  Cash grinned. “Yeah, it is. Did he happen to get the plate number?”

  She shook her head. “No, and I feel bad for the guy. He said he used to own a car just like Madeline’s. Then he went on to tell me how he’d lost his
job and fell on hard times. When he started on the second coming of the Messiah, I found another place to sit. Part of me wants to give the guy some money, but I’m worried he’ll either get robbed for it, or use it for drugs or alcohol.”

  He loved Mel’s big heart. “If you want to give him money, do it. Don’t worry about how he spends it.”

  “I’d rather give him a job.” She met his gaze in the mirror and grinned. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m not gonna start bringing in strays.”

  After Cash had caught her trying to steal the BMW, he’d brought her back to the garage, and later, had given her a job. Jude had referred to her as a stray they hadn’t needed. His business partner and friend had thrown a fit, until Mel had flashed him the same smile that had knocked Cash flat on his ass. “I don’t know, some strays are worth taking a chance on,” he said, thanking the Lord for placing Mel in his path.

  Her grin broadened into a smile as she rested her head against the seat. “No doubt.” When her cell phone rang, she adjusted the seatbelt and leaned forward, grabbing it from the center console. “It’s Bobby,” she said, then answered. “Hey, honey, how’s it—”

  Cash pulled into a gas station, then parked the truck. He and Vlad both shifted in their seats and stared at her. She looked between them, worry banked in her eyes.

  “What about the police?” she asked. “I see. I’m so sorry, honey. We’ll come get you. I want you to come stay with me and Cash.” Her face reddened again, and Cash suspected she was about to blow her top. “You do what you need to do.”

  She ended the call and dropped the phone in her lap. “Noah is dead. The police aren’t involved because even the doctors and nurses thought Noah was on a bad trip. Thank God I stole a vial of his blood.”

  Cash tensed. “Come again?”

  “Please don’t start. I did it the day we took him to the ER. I didn’t tell you because I was hiding something, I just forgot about it.”

  “How do you forget about stealing a vial of blood?”

  She leaned forward. “And how do you so easily forget that we made a promise not to argue?”

  He gripped the steering wheel and tried to keep his temper in check. “I’m not arguing with you, I’m trying to understand where your head is sometimes.”