Devil's Fancy (Trackdown Book 2)

by Michael A. Black

  Maybe it’s the trust factor, he thought. It’s not like this guy’s a professional taxi driver, or anything.

  Wolf made sure to wait until the guy had backed up and left the driveway before he made any moves. They watched the red taillights disappear down the road, heading for the highway. The lights were on in the ranch house and he thought about going to the house and checking on Chad and the babysitter but decided against it. There was too big of a chance that Kasey might arrive unexpectedly. Having to constantly be worried about a confrontation or her giving him the evil eye was taking its toll on him. He needed to get his own place sooner rather than later but to do that he’d need to get back on his feet and pay Mac back and start making some real money.

  There I go, he thought. Back in the same old rut.

  “This your place?” Yolanda asked, looking at the ranch house.

  He suddenly wondered what she would think of his quarters.

  “Actually,” he said. “That’s Mac’s. Mine is over there.”

  He pointed to the big garage.

  Yolanda’s eyebrows rose.

  “I thought that was the garage,” she said.

  “It is, but it’s a big one.”

  She giggled and they walked hand-in-hand toward his humble dwelling.

  “I was worried you forgot about me,” she said.

  Amazingly, he’d worried about the same thing and told her so.

  Her corresponding smile looked radiant in the moonlight and he detected the same whiff of her perfume that he’d noticed before in the car. Then he remembered Mac’s suggestion at the restaurant about giving her the flowers, the yellow ones only, when he and Yolanda got to the ranch. Mac had picked up three bouquets of roses, one red, one pink, and one yellow earlier, after dropping the women off at their hotel, but had forgotten to bring them to the dinner engagement. He’d placed them in the refrigerator for preservation and now the three floral bundles resided within the ranch house in refrigerated tranquility.

  Which is where they’ll stay, he thought, worrying again that any trip into the ranch house could invite a confrontation with Kasey.

  As they approached the door and the motion sensor light above it flipped on, illuminating them.

  “Damn,” she said. “That’s bright.”

  “Don’t worry, you look great under the spotlight. Just like a movie star.”

  They went inside and Wolf reached over and flipped the light switch activating the overheads and leading her around the clutter. Yolanda stopped and looked around, gazing at the shower and then the equipment in the mini-gym. The weight bar, the bench, the stacks of free weights, the speedbag, the over-under, and the heavy bag made out of the ancient duffel bag.

  “Looks like you work out a lot,” she said.

  “Keeps me out of the bars.”

  “So where do you sleep?”

  “On the floor over there,” he said, grinning. “I’ve got a mat rolled up in the corner.”

  Her eyes widened as if to say, What have I gotten myself into?

  He laughed and pointed to the stairway.

  “Actually, my room’s upstairs. And it’s got a regular bed.”

  She canted her head slightly.

  “And a couch for you to sleep on tonight?”

  Wolf didn’t respond, now feeling anxious about her seeing the actual state of his living facility. He hadn’t really thought about it that much when Mac had brought him here because it had been a step up from Leavenworth and he hadn’t ever pictured bringing a beautiful, high class woman there.

  High class and high maintenance, he thought. Guess we’ll see how high.

  They went up the stairs and he noticed that Yolando scaled them without so much as a hint of exertion. But then again, he knew from experience just how good of shape she was in.

  He paused at the top of the stairs and put his hand on her arm, stopping their progress, then reached over to the wall switch and shut off the lower level lights, plunging them into darkness.

  Wolf closed his eyes for a few seconds to speed the adjustment to the absence of light, then opened them. Some moonlight filtered in through the windows in his room. He moved up to the step just below hers and put both of his arms around her, placing both of his arms around her waist and pressing his chest to her back.

  Their heads were about level now and he placed his mouth next to her ear. Her luscious hair brushed against his face and the smell of her perfume was intoxicating.

  “Did we stop for a reason?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” He searched for the right words. “I’m really flattered and so happy you want to spend more time with me …”

  “Okay …”

  “And.” He paused again, swallowed, then continued. “This place, it’s really just temporary. Mac’s been letting me stay here until I get back on my feet and—”

  “Didn’t you tell me all that before in Vegas?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess I did.” Wolf felt himself flush in the dark.

  “Then I only have one question,” she said.

  Oh-oh, he thought. Here it comes.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  She slowly turned around, pressed her body against his, and kissed him.

  After their lips parted she whispered, “Is there a bathroom in there someplace, or do I have to go back downstairs?”

  Chapter Twelve

  The Mcnamara Ranch

  Phoenix, Arizona

  The next morning Wolf woke up at first light as usual. Even though there were curtains hanging in front of the window, he never pulled them and he could see the nascent sky turning from dark gray to subtle orange through the glass. He got up on his elbow and looked over at Yolanda next to him. The night before she’d twisted her hair into braids after a long session of love-making and before they’d finally decided to go to sleep. Their conversation had been all over the place but finally ended when he asked her why she was braiding her hair if she was going to sleep.

  “Don’t you be asking me questions about my hair.” Her tone was defensive.

  “Okay,” Wolf said, fluffing up the pillow. “Far be it for me to mess with perfection.”

  He wanted to say how delicious she looked sitting there naked and winding her tresses but felt genuinely exhausted. “You can explain it to me in the morning.”

  Now he watched her in slumber and marveled at how beautiful she was. He managed to edge out of bed and went to the bathroom. It appeared she was still sleeping when he came out and he decided not to wake her. The sky was brightening with its unceasing regularity as he gazed out the window again, and the urge to do a quick run was calling to him. Wolf began searching for a pen and some paper to write her a note saying he’d gone when her voice startled him.

  “Didn’t you do this last time we slept together in Vegas?” she asked.

  He glanced at the bed and saw her sitting up to watch him.

  “Sorry I woke you,” he said. “I was just getting ready to go on a run.”

  She smiled. “Didn’t you get enough physical activity last night?”

  He smiled too. “I got plenty, but I’m not sure I’d say it was enough.”

  She tossed the sheet off and slipped her brown legs over the edge of the bed.

  “Well, let me go to the bathroom and freshen up a little and we can do some more.”

  The suggestion of this sent an immediate jolt through him centering in his groin. As she padded past him to the bathroom in her bare feet her fingers traced over his abdomen and then lower.

  “You never did tell me how you got that bruise,” she said.

  “I got shot.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did?”

  “No big deal. Mac loaned me one of his vests.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Only when I laugh.”

  He slapped her butt and she scurried to the bathroom. Wolf went to the sink and rinsed his face and mouth. When she came out he was standing by the bathroom door and scooped her up into his arms.
He carried her over to the bed, their lips touching each other ever so slightly. As he lay her dark body on the smooth white sheet. His hands went to her breasts and he leaned down to kiss her but she put an outstretched index finger between their mouths.

  “Hold on, sweetie,” she said. “I still got to brush my teeth. And so do you.”

  After another hour or so of intimacy, Wolf noticed that the sky was now completely blue and glanced at his alarm clock. It was seven-thirty and he figured that he still had time to get that run in, albeit a limited one, before the heat of the day began. As he swung his legs over the side of the bed for the second time that morning, he felt her hand caress his back.

  “You still want to do that run, baby?” she asked.

  “If I don’t, I’ll find it twice as hard tomorrow.”

  “How far you gonna go?”

  “Just to the mountain and back. A couple of miles.”

  “Mind if I run with you?”

  He looked at her quizzically.

  “I do three miles on my treadmill about every day,” she said. “I’ve got my running shoes in my bag and a sports bra.”

  Wolf grinned. “Is that all you’re gonna wear?”

  She laughed and slid from under the covers. “No, but I bet if I go through your clothes I can find something I can jury-rig with a few deft folds and some good knots.”

  Fifteen minutes later they were going out the side door with Wolf in his customary shorts and t-shirt and Yolanda similarly clad in an outfit made snug by knots, twists, and safety pins.

  Wolf was anticipating a more enjoyable run than usual until he stepped away from locking the door and caught sight of Kasey about thirty feet away staring at them. He nodded a greeting, but she didn’t acknowledge it. She had the three wrapped bouquets of flowers in her arms along with the Mexican bandito statue and was standing by the blue plastic container that held the trash for pick up and disposal.

  “Good morning,” Yolanda said.

  Kasey didn’t acknowledge her either, lifted the lid of the trash can, and dumped the flowers and the bandito into it. She let the lid fall with a thump and turned back toward the house without a word.

  “Why’s she giving us the stink-eye?” Yolanda said. “Ain’t she ever seen an interracial couple before?”

  Wolf was going to offer an excuse for Kasey but decided against it. He was getting tired of her petulance.

  But she was Mac’s daughter and he still owed Mac big time.

  “It’s me she doesn’t like,” he said. “Resents my presence here.”

  “That’s no excuse for being ignorant.”

  Wolf left the keys hanging in the lock and went to the trash can. There was no way Mac would want to leave the flowers in the trash, and he certainly wouldn’t want to lose the bandito. Wolf had grown kind of fond of it, too. And it was also a symbol, sort of a remembrance of things past.

  As he lifted the lid the smiling plaster face seemed to gaze up at him from its place between the scattered bouquets at the bottom of the can. The trashcan was about four feet deep, but luckily it had two wheels built into its framework. Wolf laid it on its side and ran back to the garage to get his broom.

  “What are you doing?” Yolanda asked.

  “Effecting a rescue,” he said.

  He ran back to the garbage can and used the long broom handle to drag the flowers and the bandito within reach. The majority of the flowers had crushed or broken stems, but Wolf managed to salvage an even dozen.

  Twelve out of thirty-six ain’t bad, he thought. And most of them were yellow. After righting the garbage can he walked over to Yolanda carrying the assorted roses, the bandito, and the broom.

  She was leaning again the door jamb looking at him with an amused expression.

  “We got these for you girls yesterday,” he said. “But we forgot them last night.”

  “Looks like she didn’t forget.” She cocked her head toward the house. “And what’s that thing?”

  “A trophy from Mexico. I got to put these in some water.” He paused and looked at her. “You like the yellow ones, right?”

  “I don’t want those things after they’ve been in the trash.”

  Wolf grinned. “Well, they’ll brighten up my place a little bit.”

  He went through the door and told her to bring his keys. After trudging up the stairs and searching for a suitable container for the roses, he finally pulled out a razor-knife and slit the top portion off an empty bottle of water.

  Yolanda stood in the doorway, arms crossed, staring at him.

  “Just until I get a vase,” he said, placing it on the small table next to the window. He put the bandito next to it.

  Then his cell phone rang and he glanced at the screen. It was Mac.

  Wolf wondered if he should tell him about the flowers.

  No, he thought. I’ll let Kasey explain that.

  “You two up?” McNamara asked.

  “We are.”

  “Well, quit you’re lovie dovie business and get yourselves ready to roll,” he said. “We’re on the way and we got to hit the ground running.”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “I told Kasey to work on finding out something about that lawyer’s sister. And Ms. Dolly’s hacker guy called this morning to tell her that there’s some credit card activity on the girlfriend’s card here in town.” Mac’s voice sounded agitated. “Car rental and gas station. Looks like the lawyer on the lam’s getting ready to book.”

  “Okay,” Wolf said. “Something else bothering you?”

  “Damn straight. I got a call from Otto at the body shop. Guess what he found on that car he loaned us.”

  Wolf tried to think if it had been damaged in any way, but McNamara answered for him.

  “A damn GPS tracking device.”

  “What?”

  “It’s gotta be them good-for-nothing feds,” McNamara said. “And remember that damn drone yesterday? It started right after they came to see us at Reno’s.”

  “It did seem highly coincidental that they knew we’d be there,” Wolf said. “You check the Escalade?”

  “I did. Just as soon as Otto called. Used my cell phone app and found one.”

  “What did you do with it?”

  “Smashed it good.”

  Wolf didn’t tell him that it would have been better to save it. It might be useful to confront Franker and Turner about their surveillance of American citizens. Of course, this might mean that they had a warrant, which was even more troubling.

  “But hell,” McNamara said. “They’re probably using the drone to track us now.”

  “Well, that’s some good news,” Wolf said. “If the mob comes after us once we grab Krenshaw, they’ll be able to send the cavalry.”

  McNamara snorted. “That’ll be the day. And if they send that damn thing over my property, they’re gonna find out it’s a no-fly zone real quick.”

  Wolf laughed. “How soon before you get here?”

  “Maybe fifteen minutes,” McNamara said. “Well, make that twenty. Ms. Dolly and Brenda are almost ready.”

  “Roger that. We’ll be here.”

  Yolanda was standing next to him now, her hands crossed on top of his left shoulder.

  “What’s up?” she asked after he’d terminated the call.

  “Mac’s on his way, along with your partners. We’d better skip the run and take a shower now.”

  “How long do we have?”

  Wolf figured the twenty minutes Mac had estimated really meant thirty or more, but he said, “Fifteen minutes tops. Guess we better shower together.”

  She smiled up at him.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  The Empire Hotel Parking Structure

  Phoenix, Arizona

  Cummins sat in the back of the rented Lexus while Zerbe and the one called Luan sat up front. Zerbe was behind the wheel and the big South African was in the passenger seat with the open laptop on his thighs. The black guy, Amiri, who’d just finished secre
ting another GPS tracker on McNamara’s Escalade, was next to Cummins in the back. The black guy was sweating and he stank, too. All of these damn South Africans did, and Cummins wondered if it was his imagination or if they had some kind of genetic predisposition for pungent body odor.

  Maybe it’s something in their diet, he thought. Or maybe they just don’t use deodorants.

  But whatever it was, he was feeling a bit more secure now that he had the .38 snub-nose Smith & Wesson in his pocket. It was only a five shot, but it was his insurance policy, in case Zerbe or his friends tried a double-cross.

  “You sure he’s not going to find this one?” Cummins asked.

  “There’s no way,” Amiri said. “I stuck it way up underneath on the frame.”

  “Plus,” Luan said. “It’s the kind we use on our ops. It can be remotely turned on and off so it won’t even show up on the scanner if he uses his phone again.”

  “Plus,” Zerbe said. “Since he already found one, he’ll probably not look for a second one.”

  “These bastards aren’t that sophisticated.”

  “They’re slicker than you might think,” Zerbe said. “That guy Wolf took out a whole squad of highly trained professionals by himself down in Mexico.”

  The recollection of that nightmare confrontation made Cummins feel ill and slightly nauseous. His fingers sought the comfort of the hard planes of the revolver. But these South African assholes looked as tough, if not even more so, than Eagan’s Viper group had.

  “Those were Americans,” Luan said. “Not Afrikaans.”

  “Highly trained Americans,” Zerbe said.

  “Whatever,” Luan answered. “I still think it’d be a lot quicker if we just grabbed the two of them and made them talk.”

  “Negative. We still don’t know where Wolf stashed the statue,” Zerbe said.

  “We’ll make him talk in short order,” Luan said. “We’ve had a lot of experience doing that, haven’t we, Amiri?”

  The black South African goon grinned.

  “Not that I doubt your veracity,” Zerbe said, shaking his head. “Or your interrogation abilities. But we’re operating by an intricate set of rules here. Our employer is something of a fanatic about keeping a low profile and tying up any loose ends.”