Enemies and Playmates (31 page)

Lauren pulled into the driveway and coasted to a stop. Her foot stayed on the brake, the motor running. “I’ll pop the trunk for you,” she said.

Lauren reluctantly switched off the engine. She’d carry the bag in, then make a quick escape. Alex used the remote on his key chain to open the garage door. His car was the only one inside. He gave Lauren a pointed look. “Your mother isn’t home,” he said.

“I guess not.”

Alex strode to the front door, unlocked it, and pushed it open. His posture was rigid, his jaw set. “Where would such a sick woman have gone?”

“Probably to the doctor.”

Alex’s eyebrows raised but he made no comment. Lauren set his bag and briefcase down in the living room. “I have to go,” she said. “I don’t want to be late.”

“The bag does me no good down here,” Alex said. “Carry it to the bedroom for me.”

Lauren’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. Her mother had left the note propped on her father’s pillows. The last place she wanted to be was upstairs with him when he found it. She hadn’t stopped to think about how suspicious he would be when her mother didn’t show up at the hospital to get him. Or to visit him last night. She and her mother had been so happy to have finally made the move, neither had truly thought this through. Why hadn’t she listened to Jesse?

Knowing it was useless to argue and would only raise her father’s suspicions if she refused, Lauren swallowed back her anxiety. “I’ll run the bag upstairs,” she said. “You’ve got lots of mail on your desk, if you want to sort through it.”

Alex said nothing. He stood in the foyer watching as Lauren grabbed his bag and lugged it up the stairs. She hurried down the hall, dropping it inside her parents’ bedroom. The envelope caught her eye, with her father’s name scrawled across the front in black ink. Her mother had kept the note brief. She’d placed it on the pillow and they’d shared a sense of relief. They had both succeeded in escaping. Or so they had thought. She would succeed at nothing if she didn’t get moving.

Lauren spun around to leave and was startled to find her father behind her. His eyes had been on the note as well. He said, “A note from your mother.”

“I guess.” Lauren swallowed past a lump in her throat. “I’ll leave you alone to -”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

Alex strode to the bed and grabbed the envelope. He moved with remarkable quickness, considering he’d recently been shot and had surgery. Lauren had a crazy urge to run. Like she was a criminal. The glare in her father’s eyes told her that she wouldn’t get far.

Lauren’s heart thumped wildly as she trudged down the stairs with her father close behind. He steered her into the living room. “Make yourself comfortable,” he said.

Once Lauren was seated, Alex tore open the envelope and slid out the note paper. Her mother had used her fancy stationery. Red roses bordered the edges and her name was embossed in gold on the top. She’d left the remaining sheets and matching envelopes behind.

Alex scanned the words, his expression barely changing. He’d always been a master at concealing emotion. Lauren sat rigid, twisting her ring, wishing she’d listened to Jesse.

Alex stepped closer, until he was hovering directly over Lauren. His presence was not at all diminished by his injury. She forced herself to sit straight and meet his icy blue glare. She said, “I don’t know where she is.”

Alex glared until Lauren finally looked away. His voice was strangely calm when he spoke. “I will find her regardless of what you do or do not tell me,” he said. “However, if you make this harder than it needs to be, you will both regret your choices.”

“It doesn’t matter where she is,” Lauren said. Her voice managed to hold a confidence she didn’t feel. “She got a restraining order yesterday. You can’t go near her.”

For a moment Alex stood perfectly erect, perfectly calm. His eyes narrowed, his body tensed. “That’s impossible,” he murmured. “I would have known.”

“Maybe you don’t have quite as many connections as you thought.”

Suddenly Alex whirled around, sweeping his good arm across the fireplace mantle. Porcelain and crystal flew against the walls and carpet, smashing into hundreds of pieces. “Was this your idea?” he asked.

Lauren focused on her breathing. She wanted to scream. She told herself to simply get up and leave. But she knew it would not be that easy.

“That bitch!” Alex stormed across the room. He yanked a crystal lamp from an end table and smashed it against the wall. “You call her and tell her to come home this instant.”

Lauren stood on shaky legs. She moved two small steps toward the foyer. “I’ll talk to her.”

“Sit down! You aren’t going anywhere.”

Just then the front door slammed shut. Jesse strolled into the living room. He glanced briefly at Lauren, then focused on Alex. He said, “I guess you didn’t hear me knocking.”

Jesse gently nudged Lauren toward the door, his attention focused on Alex. He said, “You probably would have found me quite humorous had you seen me sprawled in the alley the other day. Or maybe you did?”

Lauren stepped backward, afraid to look, afraid not to. Jesse’s voice was so calm, so relaxed. But she felt the tension in his muscles. This could end horribly.

Alex followed them to the door. His jaw was set tight, his eyes narrow, drilling a hole through Lauren. He said, “Just remember, young lady, you have to live with this decision and all that it brings.”

26

The bitterly cold rain came down in a torrent. Jesse dodged the puddles as he made his way across the parking lot. He stepped into his office, stripped off his dripping leather jacket, and hung it on the coat rack. He pulled his Glock from the waistband of his jeans and tucked it into the top drawer of his desk. He rarely carried his gun with him. However, recent events told him it might be wise to keep a little protection around.

Yawning, he plopped into his chair. Too damn early. He hated getting up with the sun. But he was knee deep in this mess with Covington. Consequently, his paying clients had fallen by the wayside. He had actual work he needed to catch up on.

Two bottles of root beer and an hour of paperwork later, Jesse leaned back and stretched. Time to get out in the world. If he could finish up this case for the Walleston’s today, then –

Damn phone. He’d been enjoying the silence. The office was not yet officially open. Dawn wasn’t due for another hour. He groaned, irritated with the interruption. He’d ignore it if the damn noise wasn’t making his head throb. Deciding it was too early for business formalities, he answered with a simple hello.

For a moment Jesse sat holding the buzzing phone. The Harbor Inn. Not the type of place he’d expect Forenzi to hang out. Something was up. Could be that Forenzi was looking for a way out and wanted to meet someplace safe. Could be something else entirely.

Jesse retrieved his gun and tucked it back into the waistband of his jeans. He tugged on his still damp jacket and stepped out into the pouring rain. “Damn weather,” he muttered.

The windshield wipers did little to combat the large drops falling at a furious rate. Drivers slowed to barely moving in some spots, while in others cars sped past him practically hydroplaning across the highway. The trip to The Harbor Inn took twenty-seven minutes. The parking lot was crammed with BMWs, Mercedes, and Jaguars. All gleaming and looking as if they’d been driven fresh from the dealership. Jesse was forced to park in the back and jog through the downpour to the hotel’s entrance.

By the time he made it inside, he was drenched and irritated. The smell of fresh hot breakfasts from the hotel’s restaurant filled the lobby. His stomach rumbled. Now he was drenched, irritated, and hungry.

Outside room 211, Jesse stood quietly, listening. The local TV station’s newscaster announced flooded roads. No other voices. Nothing unusual. That didn’t necessarily mean a thing. Forenzi was, after all, expecting him. He sighed, wondering what he was getting himself into this time. Then he knocked firmly on the door.

Jesse stepped inside. Keeping Forenzi in view, he glanced around the room. Just a few empty beer bottles, one nearly full, and a bunch of empty vodka nips. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Sit down.”

Forenzi walked over to the floral print chair and sank into it. He snatched a pack of Camels from the ridiculously ornate table and lit one, inhaling deeply. Jesse sat in a matching chair across from Forenzi. The guy looked ridiculous in the floral print, using a crystal ashtray and drinking from a Michelob bottle.

Alison? Who the hell was Alison? That wasn’t a name that had come up anywhere before. Jesse kept his expression blank. He just sat watching Forenzi’s scar twitch.

“Damn that bitch.” Forenzi took a long drag from his cigarette. “I knew all along she was only fucking me to get to Covington. Course, I didn’t give a shit what her reasons were.”

Forenzi stamped out his cigarette in the crowded crystal ashtray. His movements were jerky, his words slightly slurred. He was not the image of a man in control. More like a man who was watching his end approach.

“That’s part of the reason Covington’s been slow to act.” Forenzi’s voice was low, almost as if he was speaking to himself. “You would’ve been dead a long time ago but Covington wanted to pull you over to our side. He thought you had potential, that’d you’d be an important ally.”

“I’m honored.”

“Then things went bad fast, and it was suddenly too dangerous to take you out.” Forenzi lit another cigarette. “I don’t snitch. But I don’t like being backed against a wall. Things are getting stirred up, trouble’s brewing I tell him. Then he springs this on me.”