Catch & Neutralize (12 page)

Her face hot with anger, Angie climbed into the car and turned the air conditioner to the highest setting. The chilly air outside didn’t touch the heat pounding her temples.

Angie mumbled a line of obscenities under her breath.

Tiffany’s Mazda pulled out of Macaroons, sun glinting off the gray exterior. Cloud cover, like the rain, hadn’t reached here yet.

Angie followed at a safe distance. She pulled out a new pack of sweet mint gum from the center console, removed the wrapper, and shoved a piece in her mouth. Chewing fiercely, she peeled and stuffed another. Piece after piece she continued until she was chomping on the entire pack.

“You sonovabitch,” Angie grunted, words garbled against the golf ball sized wad, “you’d better change your plans about me or you’re as good as dead.”

A line of minty drool slipped down her chin and onto her chest. Angie chewed mechanically, gum popping and piercing the silence inside the car. Lost in irritation, unaware of the chaos closing around her future.

Chapter 22

Attractive
, Tiffany thought looking at Scott Dovy,
with both ears anyway
.

“What happened to you last night?” Her mouth tightened, lips fading to a rosy slit. “You were supposed to come over straight from work.”

“Something came up, but I’m here now.” Scott flashed a boyish smile. “Thought we’d pick up on our plans later. This is perfect, though. Good work.”

Tiffany fumed, tips of her ears burning. “Next time you’d better let me know when there’s a change of plans, Scott. I’ve had her with me since last night, playing these ridiculous games like some kind of teenaged psycho. She wants me to cut off your damn ear. I was expecting you to…” She shot him a look of disgust, nostrils flaring. “If you can’t keep to the plans, then I won’t be a part of it. Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.” That charming boyish grin again. “Don’t be mad. Let’s continue on good terms.” He rested a hand on her knee.

Tiffany sighed. She needed him for this as much as he needed her. A two-person job. “All right, Scott, but no more no-shows or it’s over. We won’t have many more chances.”

He nodded. “Agreed. Now, change of subject.” His voice chipper: “Mrs. Carter says you live in a mansion. Sounds awesome.”

“It’s a family heirloom, willed down through generations,” Tiffany explained, her irritation dissolving somewhat. “I don’t make the kind of money it takes to buy a place like that. Actually, I barely make enough to keep it livable.” She glanced at Scott’s pretty boy face, anger completely slipping away.

“You should talk to Mrs. Carter about helping with your money problems. She’s rollin’ in it.”

Tiffany stole another glance at Scott, jealously flickered in her eyes. “Do you know Mrs. Carter’s first name?”

“Sure do, Tiffy. I’d like to keep it formal for now. It’ll make it more special later when we get to know each other better,” Scott chuckled, “like when she’s moaning my name.”

“It’s Tiffany, not Tiffy.” She sounded out the syllables as if teaching Scott how to overcome a speech impediment. “Tiff-ah-nee.”

“Right.” Scott seemed pleased to have offended her. “Tiff-ah-nee,” he repeated, exuding sarcasm and alternating shoulder movements with the pronunciation. He turned towards her in his seat. “I heard you’re into threesomes.
All
girls named Tiff-ah-nee are into threesomes. It’s a simple sex fact.”

That struck her as funny. Tiffany laughed hard, ending with a noisey inhalation.

This guy’s a total dipshit and totally hot.

She wiped a tear, her smile lingering. “Well, that’s news to me, but I was thinking a threesome might be fun with the right three.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” Scott reached over and gently flicked her ear. “Nice diamonds. Bet those cost at least two K.”

Tiffany pulled her head away, pushing glasses up her nose. “They were a gift. Cubic Zirconia for all I know.”

“Na. Those aren’t CZ. I think you know that.” Scott’s tone was soft. “Can’t wait until they’re all you have on.”

Tiffany felt uneasy, yet under control, maybe even a little turned-on. Scott’s voice sounded breathy, sexy. It’d been months since she’d had a proper lay. Not since Stockton, and he wasn’t all that proper about it. Too rough, too selfish. And the new guy in her life, the one she’d kept a secret, hadn’t made any sexual advances. Not one.

Tiffany caught herself eyeballing the holes in Scott’s jeans and felt color rising in her cheeks. “We’ll see what happens.”

“I suppose we will,” Scott said through a grin. “In the meantime, maybe you’ll let me hold your shoes. I can tell a lot about a woman by her shoes. Shoes and feet, they’re the basis of everything beautiful.”

“A foot fetish, have we?” Tiffany slid out of her suede flats one at a time and handed them over. “All right,” she said turning eyes back to the road, “tell me all about your foot knowledge. Think you can give me a hint about my future?” She rolled her eyes chuckling.

Scott appeared completely focused on the soft, tan shoes. He brought one up, examining it closely. Lips parting, Scott brought the small opening to his nose and inhaled deeply. Exhaling, he moaned. “You, dear Tiffany, are delicious. Quite possibly a near match for me. May I have a look at your feet?”

This good looking college boy suffers from grandiose delusions, has a murderous streak, and a foot fetish. Easy. Play along, feed the ego, and wiggle the toes. This will be over soon. And don’t forget about your handsome secret with all that money. Get him to marry you, Tiffany, and it’ll all be yours. Money Man’s more than likely going to OD soon, no doubt.

Tiffany pushed one foot up the gas pedal and the other between the seat and door. “Not now, Scott, later maybe. Right now, let’s talk about you. You’re as fascinating as you are gorgeous. Tell me more about what’s going on in your life. Tell me why you want to rid the world of Mrs. Phalanges Carter.”

He leaned back against the headrest as if daydreaming, studying the Mazda’s roof.

“I’ll start with facts. I’m almost twenty-three and an all A’s Dean’s List participant. I’m fit, workout almost every day. My favorite food is sausage and onion pizza, extra cheese. Favorite colors are blue and green. I love big breasts and small feet. Red nail polish on toes makes me want to vomit. I’m a huge Dallas Cowboys fan. One day I will have several motorcycles and tattoos. Skulls are badass.” Scott’s tongue touched the corner of his mouth before disappearing inside. “The world would be a better place without Mrs. Carter because she’s a fucking stuck-up bitch. What else you wanna know?”

“I see. Glad to hear you’re a good student. What school are you attending? What’s your major?”

“UNM. Not sure of my major yet, maybe engineering, probably business. I love cooking, and I’m good at it. But, my parents won’t pay for a degree like that. Engineering or business, those are my two choices according to them.”

“University of New Mexico has wonderful engineering and business programs. Either one is a great choice.” Tiffany felt she’d made progress with Scott. He definitely wasn’t shy about handing out personal preferences, open as a pair of pants with a broken zipper.

Scott reached over, running a fingertip from inside Tiffany’s elbow down her wrist. His hand settled atop hers, the sensation inviting. Tiffany turned her hand palm up enjoying his warmth. Goosebumps coursed over her body, fine hair standing. Her eyes traveled again over Scott’s form, making her cheeks feel hot and prickly.

Cool your tits, Tiffany,
she silently warned.
This guy has nothing to offer.

“So, tell me about Angie. How come you’re asking for so much money from her, and besides being stuck-up, why is she the object of your hatred?”

“She’s a rich bitch that needs to be taught a lesson about cheating. Karma at its purest. Plus, I need cash for school, rent, food. I’m alone here. My dad is dead, has been for 11 years. My mom lives in Phoenix, but we don’t speak much. My mom’s new husband doesn’t like me. She sends money, but it’s never enough. I try telling her it’s not like the 80s, or whatever, when she was my age. She doesn’t get inflation, I guess. I try compensating by working at Macaroons, but I fucking hate it. Every second is humiliating.”

“Most people have to work through college. You’re lucky your mom and stepdad are paying for your tuition.” Tiffany glanced at Scott and turned her eyes back to the road. “What about siblings?”

“I have an older brother in the military, took after my dad. I think he’s in Italy. Haven’t seen him in a few years.”

“Don’t you have friends? A roommate?”

“I have friends, tons of friends. Hell no to the roommate.” Scott squeezed Tiffany’s hand gently. “I do what I have to in order to live. Mrs. Carter’s contribution is going to help me out for a while. Plus, I want to get with her. And you, Tiffany. I want to get with both of you.”

“So you keep saying.” Tiffany returned the squeeze. She needed to keep the mood light but also keep him interested.

“So, what about you? Tell me something interesting.”

“I’m a psychologist. Twenty-eight years old. No husband, no kids. My last boyfriend was a cop. Also, I’m way too old for you.”

Scott rolled his neck over the headrest to get a better look at Tiffany. “Never too old. You look twenty-one or twenty-two.”

“Well, thank you, Scott.” Tiffany smiled, feeling her temperature rising again.

“What kind of music you like?”

“All kinds. Rock, classical, pop, jazz, blues, folk, some rap.” Tiffany wasn’t sure what to say, so she stuck with the truth. “It just depends on my mood.”

Scott’s hand traveled away from hers to her knee and up the inside of her thigh. “What kind of a mood are you in now?”

Tiffany contemplated the question. Scott’s touch made her anxious, eager. Her legs parted slightly. “I don’t know. Something fast. What about you?”

“I’d rather talk. This is good conversation. Music can change things. Right now, I want everything to stay just like this.”

“Right now, you’re my favorite conversationalist. What else do you want me to know about you?”

Scott chuckled. “Not sure I want to tell you anything more now that I know you’re a psychologist.”

“What do you want to talk about then? Our deal?”

“I want you to tell me the color of your panties.” Scott’s hand slid up more.

“We’re almost at my place,” Tiffany said picking up Scott’s hand and dropping into his lap. “Please stop. And just so you know, I’m not into having sex with dead people. I hope that’s not why you want to kill Angie. You can do whatever floats your boat, but none of that shit for me. Got it?”

He put both hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Sure. Whatever.” Turning away, Scott looked out at the mountains and yawned. “I don’t screw dead chicks, just so
you
know. I have standards.”

“That’s a relief. And don’t be angry about me asking. We’re still getting to know each other. I like both you and Angie so far. You’ll need to slow down if you want both of us. Okay?”

“Yep, got it.” Scott sounded peeved but relaxed into the seat.

Tiffany patted his knee. “Sure you don’t want some music? Pandora won’t work here. No signal. But, I’ve got some songs downloaded.”

“Na. I’d rather not hear anything right now.” Pulling his leg away from Tiffany, a move she interpreted as childish, he said: “I’m getting bored. How much further?”

“Not much. Fifteen minutes, probably.”

After traveling the rest of the way to Tiffany’s house in silence, they waited in the garage for Angie. Scott leaned against Tiffany’s Mazda, twirling one of her curls around his finger, lips almost touching hers.

Chapter 23

Angie got out of the car and slammed the Spyder’s door, glaring at Scott. “I see you two have already bonded. Hope there’s still room for me.” She felt a pang of guilt. Her instructions were to watch (protect?) Tiffany, not ask her for favors.

The corners of Scott’s mouth turned up. He leaned over and planted a loud smack on Tiffany’s neck. She giggled, pushed him away, and adjusted her glasses.

“I told you to stop,” Tiffany said. Her eyes sparkled, clearly enjoying the attention.

“All right already,” Scott said pulling her closer. “Come join us, Mrs. Carter. The party’s just getting started.”

Pushing a blonde clump behind her shoulder, Angie walked slowly to Scott. She moved close to him, their lips inches apart.

“I know exactly what to do with you, Mr. Dovy,” she whispered. Although gum no longer filled her mouth, the taste of sweet mint lingered.

Scott moved forward, their lips barely brushing.

Angie leaned back. “Not yet. Do you still have the phone?”

Patting the front pocket of his jeans, Scott nodded. “It seems so. Worried I was going to lose it on the ride over?”

Angie ignored the question, eyes boring into Scott.

“Why don’t we go in, discuss this over a cocktail?” Tiffany interrupted.

Angie pulled her stare down away from Scott and nodded at Tiffany. A drink sounded great right now.

On the drive over, she’d checked for further instructions. Finally, something:

Target One – Officer Stockton Wood

Target Two – College student, Scott Dovy

With an instinct for people, Angie agreed with her assigned targets. Standard Operating Procedure instructed incarcerating and humiliating until further instruction. She wondered what these two scumbags had done to interest The Institute. Whatever it was, they had done something both morally and legally wrong. Plus, they both had to have been smart enough to elude local authorities.

CAN Institute – the underground, hard hitting, female controlled, conglomerate – didn’t deal with the likes of petty theft or small time drug dealers. They dealt punishment to those who’d weaseled their way from being punished, those smart enough to evade capture, and those out on erroneous not-guilty verdicts.

The women of The Institute always got the job done. If the Assigned Soldier (Angie in this case) couldn’t do it, then they’d send in another and another—as many as it took until all targets were
Caught & Neutralized
.