No Escape (13 page)

You’ll do fine. Easy-peasy. You’ve worked an audience before, and this isn’t much different.

Except that what she planned on doing was illegal. Failure or success, she was going to be in a lot of trouble if she got caught.

The fact that Heath Sawyer hadn’t yet shown up further unnerved her. He had seemed liked the reliable type, and she got frustrated with herself for thinking that—for
counting
on that—when it was evidently not true.

She sipped her beer and watched the door.

At 8:32, Gibson strolled through the front door with his primary bodyguard. The big man came ahead of Gibson and scanned the premises, one hand resting lightly under the fold of his coat.

As usual, Gibson was dressed all in black, wearing a black leather jacket over his turtleneck. His hair was neatly combed, and he looked like a lord who had stepped into a night out with the provincials. A small smile played on his full lips for a moment, then he was distracted as a small feminine figure wriggled up under his arm.

Lauren’s heart sped up and fear turned cold inside her as she studied the young woman.

She was in her early twenties, if that, and looked as if Gibson had cut her out from one of the college groups vacationing in the city. She had chestnut-colored hair that had been teased into wild abandon, a shocking pink mini-dress with a broad black belt and a figure meant to be sheathed in it. She gazed around the club with wide-eyed innocence, but she carried a smartphone in her right hand, and she was already photographing the sights.

Lauren looked at the young woman. She wanted to go over to her and tell her to get away from Gibson, but she didn’t know if that would do any good. More than likely, it wouldn’t. She pushed aside the fear for the girl. If everything she had planned worked out, Gibson wouldn’t be taking anyone home anyway.

One of the cocktail servers met Gibson and his party and led them over to the reserved table. The girl squealed in delight and hugged Gibson fiercely. Her pink nails flashed across her smartphone and Lauren felt certain that Tweets were going up by the dozen. Maybe that alone would be enough to prevent her from ending up another victim.

Gibson sat at the table with his primary bodyguard. Two others took up positions nearby. Both of them were middle-aged, hard-bodied and alert, but one of them had an eye for the women. His hair was moussed back, and he had an arrogant body language. He was good-looking and he knew it, and that attitude was already drawing women to him.

Lauren chose him as her mark. She finished her beer, took the empty bottle and placed it onto the tray of a passing server, and walked toward the bodyguard. As she swept the dance crowd, she spotted Heath Sawyer on the other side of the room. He was dressed in a casual sports jacket, slacks and a pullover that allowed him to effortlessly fit into the younger crowd. She was surprised at how much he had changed.

Evidently her appearance caught him off guard as well, because he had to look twice to recognize her. She knew he had her when he frowned and shook his head, waving slightly to tell her to break off contact with the bodyguard she was plainly walking toward.

The club catered to everyone, from the college-aged vacationers to the senior set. Picking a likely victim from them was harder, but Lauren finally decided on a man and woman in their fifties. The woman obviously didn’t care for the way some of the girls were dressed and kept making comments to her husband, who was already three sheets to the wind. She would be the type to squawk the loudest when something went wrong.

The man paid in cash when the drinks came, reaching inside his jacket to pull out his wallet.

Lauren timed her passage by the man as a server came along at the same time. They had to navigate the narrow space between tables.

“Oh. I’m sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Lauren stepped back and
accidentally
tripped herself, bumping into the man and falling against him.

Even though he was inebriated, he made a valiant attempt to rescue her. She ended up having to save herself but also managed to end up sitting halfway in his lap.

“My word!” The wife’s voice was loud and shrill, the perfect kind of voice to draw attention. “Perhaps you’ve been drinking too much.”

“Actually, it’s the heels. I’m not used to wearing them.” Lauren gave a wan smile and lifted one heel to show off the tall spike. The heels were taller than she normally wore because she was fairly tall already, but she was comfortable in them. She used them in her occasional magic act. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The man held on to Lauren. “I’ve got you. No worries.”

The woman smiled and patted Lauren on the hand. “You poor thing. The shoes are beautiful, but perhaps in the future you should stick with ones you can manage.”

“I will.” Lauren acted as though she had difficulty getting to her feet, and the man gently nudged her up. She waved her right arm, and the bangles slid and gleamed in the light. While the man was helping her, she slipped her hand inside his jacket and glided the wallet free. She twisted it and hid it beneath her clutch. “Thank you. My name is Clarissa.”

“Wonderful name.” The woman nodded in approval. “My name is Ruth Beebe. This is my husband, Ralph. We’re on holiday from Melbourne.”

“I thought I recognized that accent.” Lauren focused on Ralph. “Thank you for rescuing me, Ralph.”

“No worries, miss. No worries. Quite enjoyable, actually.” The man gazed after her and smiled hugely, drawing ire from his wife.

Glancing across the room, Lauren saw that Heath was sitting at his table, but he was now accompanied by two college women who were talking with animation. Irritation flared through Lauren, and she pushed it away because she had a man to frame.

In less than five minutes, she’d picked the pockets of three other men. She walked over to the bodyguard, who was hitting on an elegant woman with coffee-colored skin and a French accent. Lauren stepped in behind the man at the bar and ordered a glass of wine. While she waited, she tucked some of the captured wallets into the bodyguard’s jacket without him noticing.

After paying the bartender, she started to walk away with the glass of wine in her right hand. With her left hand, she opened the first wallet she’d gotten and dropped it on the floor as she bumped into the bodyguard. Ralph Beebe’s identification and credit cards were loose in the fold where she’d left them. When the wallet it the floor, the contents scattered.

Lauren instantly knelt down. “So sorry. Let me get that for you.”

The bodyguard ignored her at first, then noticed the woman he’d been chatting up wasn’t enchanted by his reluctance to help out. He knelt down, too, and began gathering the credit cards. “It’s okay. Not my wallet.”

Lauren picked up the driver’s license that plainly showed Ralph Beebe. She glanced over at Ralph with a look of shock. “Ralph, how did your driver’s license get all the way over here?”

Ralph shook his head. “Can’t be my wallet.”

Lauren held up the driver’s license. “This is you.” Beside her, the bodyguard had frozen, not sure what he’d gotten involved with.

Ruth slapped her husband on the arm. “Don’t be an idiot. Check your wallet.”

Ralph shook his head. “It’s not mine, I tell you.” He reached into his jacket, then looked surprised. “Hey! My wallet is missing!”

Right on cue, Ruth leveled her arm at the bodyguard, pointing at him in accusation. “That man has my husband’s wallet! He stole poor Ralph’s wallet! Security!
Security!
”

“Hey, wait a minute.” The bodyguard stood and raised his hands. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t know where that wallet came from.”

Ruth and Ralph got up from their seats and came over to examine the wallet. Their voices rose, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. Guys in black T-shirts with Security stamped on them rushed toward the group.

Okay, your work here is done.
Quietly and quickly, Lauren eased out of the crowd, barely avoiding the security people as they closed in. She headed for Heath’s table, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the young women sitting with him.

The two women glanced at her, too, then shut up and tried to make themselves smaller. One of them looked as if she wanted to say something, but the other woman yanked on her arm and whispered something in her ear. Together, they got up and left, taking their drinks with them.

Heath remained sitting, his attention riveted on the situation rapidly escalating at the front of the club. “What did you do?”

“I’m still trying to find out who killed my sister. Are you interested, or are you taking the evening off?” Lauren knew it was a cheap shot and wasn’t necessary, but adrenaline was flooding through her body and she couldn’t keep quiet.

Heath remained calm and spoke in a level tone. “What did you do?”

Lauren stood there but didn’t look back. “Unless I miss my guess, that bodyguard is about to be arrested for being a pickpocket.”

“You framed him with that wallet.”

“And with others that are going to be found on him when the police come.”

“Why?”

“To separate him from the others. I got him away from them. Do you think you can find out when they let him go?”

Heath was silent for a minute, thinking, watching her with those green-flaked gold eyes. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Then maybe we can find out more about Gibson.” Lauren walked toward the exit then, not wanting to be recognized by Ruth and Ralph. She still felt bad about getting them involved in the situation. She just hoped it would be worth it and that Heath could seal the deal on his end.

Chapter 10

“S
he framed this guy with wallets she’d pickpocketed from other club guests?” Jackson Portman sounded incredulous at the other end of the phone connection. “And nobody tripped to that?”

“Yeah.” Heath sat behind the wheel of a van he’d “rented” from the same uncle of the kid who had sold him the gun. He’d also paid to have the vehicle detailed and “lost” after he’d finished using it for tonight’s soiree.

Jackson laughed uproariously. “Buddy, you have
got
to bring this woman back to ’Lanta. I want to meet her.”

Irritation flared through Heath. He didn’t want to be around Lauren Cooper any longer than he had to, and he wished she wasn’t here now. Mostly. She had a lot of brass, and she was beautiful. “No, you don’t want to meet her. She’s trouble.”

“Trouble? Sounds like she set up a situation where you can have a little personal session with one of Gibson’s errand boys.”

“She framed him for stealing.”

“Says the guy who’s patiently waiting outside the city lockup to kidnap the same man. Even in Jamaica they frown on kidnapping a lot more than they do stealing. Or framing someone.”

Heath knew he couldn’t argue that. He’d gotten the van, duct tape and a black hood for that very purpose. “I can’t let the opportunity pass by. But that’s only if the guy gets out on his own. If he has one of the other men pick him up, things will get harder.”

“You gonna back off if that happens?”

“No.”

“Okay, now this ain’t so funny.” Jackson’s voice grew more serious. “One guy, with surprise on your side, I can see how you might think you can get this done. But these guys are military trained, Heath, not the chowderheads we deal with on the street. They ain’t nobody to jack around with.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Heath fingered the lead-filled blackjack lying on the seat beside his thigh.

“You and me have done some cowboy stuff before, buddy, but it was only as we needed to.”

“Need to do this now.”

“I know you feel that way.”

“Not just feel,
know
I have to.” Heath stared through the bug-smeared windshield at the exit from the police lockup. It was three in the morning, and the streets were dark in this section of the city. “I’m not getting any closer to Gibson doing this any other way.”

“I know, I know. Believe me, I feel you. Where’s your girl?”

“She’s not my girl.” The response came out hotter than Heath expected.

“Touch a nerve there, partner?”

Heath sighed. “She’s complicating everything. It is hard enough watching Gibson, trying to figure out what he’s doing, without trying to look out for her, too. She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and now I’m getting stretched thin trying to guess what she might do, too. This thing tonight caught me completely off guard.”

“I like what she’s doing so far.”

“I don’t.”

“Maybe you need to take the crankypants off and accept the fact that she gave you this guy.”

“For all I know, Gibson’s going to send a small army down here to get him.”

“Crankypants and Debbie Downer. You’re falling apart. No matter what, she made something happen tonight. Changed the status quo. You and I both know that’s worth something.”

“I know.”

“You got a guy on the inside of the jail there who’s gonna let you know the score on the release?”

“Yeah. FBI agent I talked to when I got down here gave me the name of a jailer that can be bought. Information can be hard to get down here. Sometimes persons of interest pursued by the FBI get
accidentally
released before the agents can pick them up.”

“Sounds like the system works both ways.”

“It does. I’m just hoping tonight that it works my way. Since the man is from out of country and there’s home field advantage, I’m thinking I have a good chance.”

“I seen this guy’s jacket.” Jackson sounded intensely serious now. “Guy’s a killer. All of Gibson’s so-called security people appear to be.”

“They have something in common. Only they kill for money. Gibson kills for something else.”

Adrenaline flowing into his body and his pulse rate quickening, Heath spotted his target. “Showtime.”

Jackson’s chair squeaked at the other end of the connection. “I wish I was there, buddy.”

“Me, too.”

“Let me know when you’re outta the fire.”

“Yeah.” Heath folded the phone and put it into his pocket. He reached into the passenger seat for the black full facemask and pulled it on. Only his eyes were visible. He fisted the blackjack and opened the door. He’d already extracted the courtesy light from the dome so the vehicle’s interior remained dark.