Dressed in White

by Diana Stone

  He bends down and pulls me into a tight bear hug. “You’re not leaving the property until this is settled.”

  “Fine with me. This is scary.”

  “Let me text the wife,” he reaches for my phone which I fumble out of my jeans pocket.

  I press my thumb print, and he pulls up her number. It goes to voice mail. It’s late, maybe that’s why, though if I were her, I’d allow my call to get through. He leaves a message. “Hello Melani. Please call me back, this a friend of Jess’. She went to pick up the woman, but it was a double cross. Jess barely got out of there. Coletti said he was paid half the money—are you aware of that? Let us know ASAP.”

  His arm goes back around my shoulders as we head into the living quarters. She calls back a few minutes later sounding groggy.

  “Oh my God… How are you?”

  “Yes, but they chased me through backyards. He was hanging on the car door handle.”

  “Tony was?”

  “No, the killers.”

  “I didn’t give them any money. Tony must have gotten it somewhere. Why would he do that? He knows I’m going to pay them off.”

  “Tony and the woman lured me in. When I tried to speak with them a friend of mine saw the killers and warned me.”

  “He was always a piece of trash. I didn’t realize it until later. I wonder if he sold you out.”

  “Why?”

  “Do they want something from you?” she asks.

  “Coletti sent his men to my house looking for Tony. My friend is the one who shot them.”

  “Maybe they want your friend, and you’re the bait?”

  I flash a questioning look at Quinn—he’s processing it.

  “That’s an interesting idea. We’ll look into it. Are you still going to have a driver pick him up in the morning?”

  “I guess so. I haven’t heard. That jerk. I hate to send my jet and have him not be there. I should let him go. Maybe I will.” She’s thinking out loud. “After this, I don’t care what happens to Tony. If they kill him, it’ll save me a divorce.”

  “Since they didn’t get me, they may want their full amount again.”

  “I’ve made my decision… he can find his own way home. I’ll start the divorce when I see his stupid face.”

  “I can understand that. Thanks for trying to help.” We click off and I turn to Quinn. “Do you think that’s a reasonable guess?”

  “It could be,” he sounds serious. “I don’t know much about them, but I’ll find out in the next few hours.” He walks me to the bedroom like he’s in a hurry. “Get some sleep. I’ll be in my office checking into it.”

  I fall asleep faster than usual. It’s good to have him to do the thinking for me. I want to collapse from that horrendous run, and to catch up on days of sleep.

  * * *

  It’s disconcerting waking up in a dark room without the sun or moon shining behind the curtains. It could be the middle of the day for all I know. I’m alone in bed. I fumble around for the light and flick it on. I’m in Quinn’s t-shirt, so I pull on my jeans and head out to the kitchen. I grab an apple out of the bowl and proceed to his office.

  It’s quiet in the hall, and the office is empty. Opening the front door to the daylight. There are three cars parked in front. There’s Quinn and three other men greeting each with back slapping and man hugs. It’s a reunion by the looks of it. I assume they’re the Delta Force friends he was talking about.

  I stand in the doorway for a few seconds; I won’t intrude. I don’t fit in—at all, in any way. I start to slide back inside when a buff blond in an OD green t-shirt sees me.

  “You must be the reason for this,” he grins.

  “I’m glad to see you’re smiling. Otherwise I’d try to pass the blame to someone else.” I can tell I’m nervous. I’m speaking like I’m having fun, but I’m not.

  Quinn steps over to me with his arm out, inviting my participation. “Guys, I’d like you to meet Jessica Wilcox. She’s the one bringing excitement to my personal life.”

  They’re very polite and don’t take up on his slight innuendo. That’s interesting—I’m not sure why they don’t joke about it. The three are fit and strong. I wouldn’t say they’re deadly. Maybe they don’t need to prove it to each other—they already know.

  Quinn has his arm casually around my waist. “The big guy here is Travis, but goes by Big Dog.” Travis steps up to shake and gives me a big smile. “Dave and Adam.” They both gently shake my hand.

  He looks at me, “The four of us are getting together again. My business is growing more than I can handle on my own, and we’re like brothers. It’s good timing, they’re available now.” He looks less stressed than a few hours ago, but I don’t think he had any sleep. It’s the relief doing this.

  He leads the way through the building to the hangar as the four of them talk shop for a while. I’ve worked with partners who’ve been in the military, so I know some things, but this is more specialized. In fact, my mind is a little boggled. My knowledge is limited to how it pertains to LAPD and the city streets. I never asked my partners anything about the other aspects. I guess there was so much to talk about with penal code, crime reports, traffic stops, how to arrest an angry suspect, the list goes on and on—we never got to their military past. Just the fact that they left the military and joined the police department says they were more interested in what we were doing on patrol.

  I hang around as they reminisce and look at the helicopter. It keeps my interest. The conversation goes from some of their former duties and training, then moves to weapons.

  “You have to see this. You too, Jess,” Quinn leads us out of the hangar, into another room. It’s an indoor shooting range. Oh! This is one reason he’s such a phenomenal shot. It’s like having a horse and your own riding ring on your property. You get to practice all the time. The weapon’s safe is huge. There are shotguns, military-type rifles, as well as semi-auto handguns. I know those are smoke grenades due to their cylindrical shape. They aren’t real grenades. He has cases and cases of ammo. I should practice while I’m here.

  I let the guys do their own thing and I quietly slip out the door. There’s a lot of testosterone in that room and I don’t fit in. My stories aren’t in any way similar to theirs.

  40

  They’re In

  Quinn steps away from his friends and holds up my phone. “Here you go. Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine, thanks. You guys have some catching up to do. I’ll check the horses.”

  It’s moving day. I note the time and realize they’re probably already loaded and on the road to their new home. Soon, Nikki will be coming for hers, then the place will be empty—that’s sad. Jacqueline-Noelle will have a vacant ranch to rent, or she’ll have to figure out what to do with it.

  I pull up my texts and see a few I haven’t answered. They must have come in when I was up to my neck in trouble. Jack texts me for an update. I couldn’t be bothered answering, but I should stay on his good side, since I worked for him, and before that he was my former not-quite-boyfriend.

  I step outside and sit with my back to the sun, absorbing the warmth while I reply to texts and start a few more. I’m not sure what’s going on with my life, but I’ll escape for a few minutes to find out about everyone else’s.

  I send off a few and sit back and catch up on the world and local news. There are problems everywhere, which eases my mind a little. I’m not the only one.

  Monica replies saying she’s again seen Heather at the bakery. “I was at the counter with customers and she walked in, looked around, and then left. It made me nuts. I called the police, but she was gone by the time they arrived.”

  “I should stake out the place. It sounds like she’s back and getting brazen.”

  “I don’t think you’re strong enough to fight her. She’s a big girl. Didn’t you say you don’t know karate or anything like that?”

  “Yes, that’s true.” An idea occurs to me. “Quinn’s army friends are i
n town. They’re incredibly talented. They were talking about their Fort Bragg combat training. They’d be able to handle whatever she throws at them.”

  “Please look into it. This can’t go on. I’m freaking out, and so is Charlie.”

  Maybe this can be their first local job.

  I text my new stable, and find out the girls loaded in my trailer easily, and are hanging out in their corrals with hay. He even sent a photo of each one, eating. If they’re eating, they’re relaxed. That means I can relax too.

  I text Nikki next. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine, just leaving with the first four. The place already feels empty. I’m sad.”

  She and a helper are moving all hers today. So that’s the end of this chapter in our lives. What’s next?

  I’ll go speak with Quinn about the latest problem with Heather at the bakery.

  The guys are sitting on lounge chairs outside the hangar. The big door is open, and it looks like a jock club. Oh well, here I go.

  As I approach, their conversation ebbs. “Excuse me, guys. I have a possible job, if you’re interested.”

  “Oh?” Quinn looks interested, as do the others.

  I explain about the recent problems with Monica’s bakery, and Heather caught on camera, outside, a few days ago. “Now she’s going inside and cruising around the place. Monica is upset, and the police can’t get there in time. Can you stake it out, hide out, pretend to be musicians, or something?”

  “My guitar strumming may be good enough to get me a cup of coffee and a pastry,” Travis laughs.

  They’re looking at each other with interest. Quinn speaks up and explains the back story about the arson fire and the wedding carriage wreck when Heather hijacked us. “She keeps getting away, but I need to put an end to this,” he has a dark look.

  “It sounds good to me,” he looks eager.

  “Good, can I tell Monica you’ll be on the case?” I prod them a little.

  “Sure,” Quinn looks encouragingly at the others. “This will be our first case in the private sector.”

  “Excellent. I’ll tell her. When do you want to begin?”

  “You’re a task master,” Quinn laughs. “How about later today?”

  “Perfect,” I pull out my phone. “Oh, and what do you charge?”

  There’s a slight delay then he replies, “This one is personal—no charge.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let her know.”

  I leave them to plan, and I go back inside and text Monica.

  “Monica, Quinn and his band of men will get her for you, gratis!”

  She doesn’t reply—she probably has flour up to her elbows, making something fabulous.

  I think that’s a good day’s work. I’ll take a short nap to renew my energy. We still need to find out whether Mr. C told those men to get me, or if they acted on their own. I’ll try to worry about that later. My mind tends to ruminate too much as it is.

  I head to the bedroom and close the door, just in case they go to the kitchen for something. I text Quinn to let him know, then I turn it off.

  Ahhh, I sink into the mattress and let myself drift away.

  It doesn’t feel like I slept long. I reach over and discover it’s been an hour. That’s perfect. I also have 3 texts.

  Monica: “Thank you! That makes me feel loads better!”

  Nikki: “There was a man at the ranch on our last trip out. He was hanging around. I didn’t say anything. We put the horses in the trailer and got out of there. I don’t feel sad anymore. I’m glad to be gone.”

  My new stable: “There was a black Cadillac parked across the street with a man staring at me. In keeping with what you told me, I wonder if he’s looking for you.”

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  They’re still looking for me. But are they really looking for me? They already have Tony and his woman. They only wanted me to lead them to Tony. Why else do they want me—except to get to Quinn? Was Melani right about that?

  I put on my same jeans and t-shirt. I’ll need a change very soon, but I don’t have anything with me. I head back to the hangar and find the guys planning their surveillance strategy for the bakery.

  “Hi. We, or I, have a problem,” I begin.

  No one speaks. They are well trained to wait for information.

  “First, Nikki said a man was at the ranch. She shoved the horses in the trailer and left, but felt creeped out. Second, my new stable owner said there is a man in a black Cadillac parked on their street who stared at him when he left.”

  Silence.

  I keep quiet as well. I’ve said what I need to.

  “It looks like we have another case,” Travis finally says.

  “I’d appreciate the help. Apparently this isn’t going away,” Quinn says.

  “You’re on. We’re looking forward to kicking ass!”

  I hope this means I’ll soon be getting back to my peaceful little life.

  41

  Planning

  I’m sitting at the kitchen counter while Quinn and the guys hunch around the coffee table eating his mother’s Menudo. I skipped that and went for the chicken enchiladas. And no, I didn’t make a fuss, I just said they could have it—all of it.

  They’re planning strategies for both cases and I’m listening and offering suggestions when it comes to things I know. After all, this isn’t Afghanistan, this is Los Olivos. Quinn knows the layout of the bakery, and the ranch, but I draw up the floor plan of Monica’s house and my new boarding stable.

  They’re covering as many possibilities as they can, including primary and secondary locations.

  I don’t want the new stable to be either primary, or secondary! I should get my trailer out of there and use it as bait, hooked up to my white dually. The idea is to pretend I need to get back to the ranch. The horses are gone, the place is empty, and I will drive in looking like a duck on a pond in hunting season. Or maybe a piece of meat for a hungry bear. Whatever. I’ll be the bait.

  Quinn knows what Heather looks like, but she also knows him. He’s a master of disguises, as I well know, but he’s going to let Adam handle it—he’s an ordinary looking white guy, with a medium build and brown hair. He’ll be easy to disguise, because he may need to be there for a few days.

  Since the bakery will probably be easiest, they’re planning that first. They need the keys, as well as access to the video camera feeds.

  I text Monica and ask her to give Adam a call when she has time to discuss this. They told me to stay out of it, since I have enough to worry about. Adam and Monica can figure this out between the two of them. The others will know the plan once it’s in motion, so they can jump in, if needed.

  I will stay away from the bakery, so the enforcers don’t get wind that Monica is a friend and potential target. Speaking of targets, now they know my horses are at the new place, nothing there is safe. They can use the horses to get me, then they’ll grab me, to get Quinn. Damn, what a predicament.

  For the next plan, I move over to the couch. The guys shuffle over so I can squeeze in. They’re trying to spread out papers on the coffee table. The soup bowls are blocking the way. I start gathering them up to be helpful, but Travis waves his hand and says “Don’t worry,” as he puts them on the floor.

  Wow, that was nice. I felt like I was reduced to being a serving woman by taking the dishes to the kitchen. It’s hard to know when I should be helpful, and when it says I’m in a lower position.

  Quinn says, “I’ll try one more call to Coletti to see if he still insists he hasn’t sent his men to grab Jessica, and he isn’t after me.”

  He dials the number, but it goes straight to voice mail. “Hey, it’s Morrow here. It appears Miss Wilcox’s stable is being staked out by your men. If you instigated this, you lied to me, and I will be forced to take appropriate action to protect her and myself.” He clicks off.

  “That’s done. He knows. If they’re after me, then I will have some protection from the DEA, but nothing definitively points to th
at yet,” he’s thinking out loud.

  “Let’s set it up at the ranch. No one is there. We’ll set the bait,” he looks at me, “then hunker down and wait for them to come to us.”

  Sheets of paper are ready. Everyone has a pencil for notes. I begin with a diagram, including the house and barn. I describe the men and vehicles I’ve seen, though any new ones will be unknown.

  We’re on the couch all day, planning and discussing. When that part winds down, they go out to the gun locker to prepare their tools. I take a shower and mentally prep myself. A while later, Quinn comes in with a thin Kevlar vest and extra ammo for my .38 and .45.

  “Are you ready?” He looks concerned.

  “Yes, I guess so. Hopefully they won’t go for a head shot. But, if they aren’t after me, they won’t be trying to kill me. They need me as a hostage—if our assumption is correct.”

  I step forward and give him a hug and confidently say, “Life is a challenge. Let’s see how this plays out.”

  As I start to step away, he won’t let go. He only moves enough to look me in the eyes. “I don’t like this at all. I don’t want you there.”

  “Yeah. I hate being the bait. But if they catch me, I know you’ll come to my rescue, and that scares me just as much. You can’t give yourself up.”

  “Let’s see how it plays out,” he repeats my words, then gives me a last squeeze and a memorable kiss.

  The guys have already left. Their cars are packed with everything they think they’ll want. They’ll stop by the market for food for several days. Everyone leaves separately. Two will arrive at the ranch long before I do. They’re setting up the surveillance cameras and are working on my escape route.

  The third will be waiting close by my truck still parked outside the code enforcement office. He will have checked the location to see if anyone is watching it.

  This will go down after tourist hours. That way, it’s not as easy for them to hide, and there’s less chance for anyone to get hurt. Quinn looks like a different man. His hair is uncombed and dyed, and he has a glue-on, ragged beard. He’ll be driving his jeep, looking like a mountain man.