Enemies and Playmates (32 page)

Forenzi’s legs couldn’t remain still. He crossed them, uncrossed them. He leaned back in the chair, then quickly sat forward. Jesse briefly caught the outline of a gun beneath Forenzi’s sweatshirt. Looked like a nine-millimeter Glock, much like his own. His muscles tightened. He sat more erect and mentally prepared himself.

“He’s losing his grip,” Forenzi said. “It’s all falling apart on him. You know, there was a time when he had the whole world by the balls.”

“Maybe he was squeezing too tight.”

“Now the bastard’s gone crazy. He wants me to drop his wife after I’m done with you. I told him he’s nuts. This is getting way outta hand.”

Forenzi crushed his cigarette butt into the ashtray. “I ain’t hanging around ‘til Covington finds someone to drop me next. So either you help me or I kill you.”

“Forenzi, there’s no way in hell I could get you out of the country today,” Jesse said. “I wouldn’t, even if I could. The only way I’d help you is if you helped me in return. Talk to the DA.”

“Fuck that,” Forenzi said. “I told you I ain’t no snitch.”

As Forenzi leaned back, his hand reached toward his pants. Jesse pulled his Glock from his jeans, sprang to his feet, and pointed it between Forenzi’s eyes. “I’m a little faster this time,” Jesse said. “Helps that I’m sober.”

Forenzi sank back against the chair. His hands dropped in his lap. “Shit. You ain’t usually carrying.”

“Don’t even twitch.” Jesse reached down and slid the gun from Forenzi’s waistband. “I’ve got enough to put you away for awhile. Jail might be safe, ‘til Covington posts your bail…”

“Not an option.” Jesse slid the safety on Forenzi’s gun, then tucked it into the back of his jeans. “I’m sure you won’t mind the cops coming for you. Especially once Covington finds out I’m still alive.”

“Fuck off.”

“Same to you, my friend.”

***

After spending a few hours mulling around the police station, Jesse went back to his office. Dawn greeted him with a smile and a handful of messages. “You’re popular this morning,” she said. “A woman has called three times already. She didn’t want to leave her name or a message.”

“Great,” Jesse said. “Must be my lucky day.”

He took the messages, went into his office, and flopped into his chair. He hadn’t even read the first message when the intercom buzzed. “Tom Eldridge is on line one,” Dawn said.

“Thanks.” Jesse rubbed his temple. He really disliked the slimy little District Attorney. He grabbed the receiver and pressed line one. “Hello Tom.”

“Look Tom, I’m in no mood for your shit,” Jesse said. “I handed the guy to you. I didn’t ask him to invite me to that hotel, confess a bunch of shit, then make an inept attempt to kill me. So back the fuck off. Was there anything else you wanted?”

“Suicide? Why the hell would Nyles kill himself now? You think he waited ‘til you met all his demands, then he decided to kill himself instead?”

Jesse put the phone down. He stared at nothing in particular, rolled all the puzzle pieces over in his mind. Covington had gotten to Nyles. Who else would he eliminate before this was over?

The intercom buzzed and Dawn said, “That woman is on the phone again. Do you want to talk to her?”

“Sure, what the hell.”

Jesse rubbed a hand over his face. His left eye throbbed. Given the way his day was going, he was fairly confident that he wouldn’t like whatever this anonymous woman had to say. He punched a button on his phone and answered.

The voice was soft, very feminine. Reminded him of a phone sex operator. Not that he had any reason to be calling sex lines. He’d worked a case awhile back that dealt with a few. They rarely looked anything like they sounded.

Seriously. This day was going to push him right over the edge of his tolerance level. “I see. So are you wanting to meet in a dark alley at midnight? You want me to wear a disguise?”

“The Crestview Hotel,” she said. “Room 1002. In an hour.”

Crestview. The hotel where Senator Foley supposedly hung himself. Coincidence? Jesse didn’t believe in coincidences. And this woman now had his full attention. “Want to tell me who you are? Or why I’d agree to meet you there?”

“Please. It’s important.”

Rain thumped against the window behind him. He sighed. “Should I bring the champagne?”

Jesse took the click in his ear as a no. He replaced the receiver and swiveled in his chair. He could barely see beyond the avalanche of raindrops. This would have been the perfect day to stay in bed. With Lauren. Her body pressed against his, the light scent of her perfume, her soft lips…

Damn.

***

Jesse strode through the lobby of the Crestview Hotel. Businessmen in their power-colored suits and ties sat in black leather chairs arranged by the fireplace. More than half of them were hunched over laptops. The others were deeply engrossed in discussions that bordered on obnoxious.

As Jesse moved past them, he took in the stomachs that protruded from too much late-night persuasion dining. And the eyes, heavy and bloodshot with too many polite cocktails. But what struck him most was a stress level that threatened an anxiety explosion. Walking past them was like entering a pulsating vortex. The negative energy was electric and stifling.

These men were probably much like Covington had been in his youth. Had this been how he’d started out? Had he been swallowed up by the highly competitive, cutthroat business world? Had his quest to reach the top driven him to uncontrollable extremes?

Why was the desire to be the best so strong in some people? Did something snap inside them once they entered the competition? Or was that desire the thing that drove them to the quest for power to begin with?

A question for philosophers, Jesse decided. Not an issue he had time to dwell on.

He found room 1002 on the back corner of the tenth floor. Before he could raise his arm to knock, the door swung open. The woman was tall, maybe 5’9”, blonde. Model quality looks. Definitely a head-turner, though not one who would hold his attention. She had a superficial gloss, like she’d stepped straight off a magazine cover and wasn’t quite real.

Jesse kept his expression blank. He did a slow scan of the room. Nothing unusual popped out at him. No loaded guns or six-inch hunting knives lying around. He almost laughed at the absurdity. He turned his attention back to Kristen, said nothing. He would stand here, wait her out. Eventually she’d get to the point.

Kristen walked, or more like sashayed, to the middle of the room. “I’m very nervous about doing this,” she said. “If he knew…”

Jesse stayed where he was. He watched her but still said nothing.

Kristen posed in a way that said she was used to being stared at. Expected it. Craved it, perhaps. She didn’t appear to like Jesse’s lack of reaction. She licked her shiny lips, held his eyes. “I understand you’re looking for certain information,” she said. “I might be able to help you.”

He didn’t trust her. Something was seriously off. She was posing like this was a photo shoot, speaking as if reading from a script. She was wearing a designer blouse, all sheer and unbuttoned to expose expensive cleavage and a lacy black bra. A tiny skirt that wouldn’t allow her to sit with any dignity. Knee-high boots with four-inch heels. She was working every inch of her body, batting her pasted on lashes. He wasn’t sure what her intended effect was. But he felt like he should have brought condoms and a couple hundred dollar bills.

Jesse moved toward Kristen. His gaze flickered from the bathroom to the closet. Nothing seemed out of place, though someone could possibly be hiding in either. He stopped in the center of the room, cocked his head to the side. “Okay,” he said. “Talk.”