Nobody's Angel (38 page)

“Yup,” Faith said with satisfaction, swinging back to inspect the glove compartment and fiddle with radio dials. “This showdown was inevitable. I can stomp Sandra's face if I have to, so you needn't worry about her. Have some faith in me.” She groaned as she realized what she'd said.

“I'd rather have some Faith
under
me when the night's over,” he countered. “And not in a dozen pieces. You might be able to handle Sandra, but not Sammy.”

She shrugged. “I've handled worse. You have Cesar and Jim and his partner and heaven knows who all coming in to help out. I'll be fine.”

“They won't be there until after nine. You have to promise you'll stay in the back until you come out with the band. Resist peeking. I'll be there as soon as I can, but I owe Rex and can't let him down tonight. I have to pull that batch of bisque out of the kiln.”

“I'm sorry I'm turning your hair gray.” She leaned over and patted his arm, and her light perfume surrounded him. “I
had no way of knowing Rex would be called out of town tonight and that you'd be stuck at the pottery.”

“I'll be there,” he said grimly, easing her new car into the alley leading to the bar parking lot. “I'll be damned if I let you out on stage without me. So stay out of sight until I arrive.”

“We're only going over the material. The guys can set up the instruments. I don't have to do anything out front until showtime.” She sat back and unbuckled her seat belt as he parked the car. “I need to talk with Sandra and Sammy, and this is probably the safest way to do it. If we can persuade them to our side, we might be able to trap Piggy Junior.”

“Believe me, having Sandra and Sammy on our side is not necessarily a good thing.” Trying not to let his panic show, Adrian helped her down from the car and leveled a wary eye on their surroundings as they walked toward the back of the bar. The one security light didn't reveal anything suspicious.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek as they reached the door. “At least we'll know where they are,” she reassured him. “And you have the bank keys. So what can they do?”

If only that were enough. Pulling her more soundly into his arms, Adrian kissed her the way he wanted to be kissed. Reassured more by her eager response than her promises of safety, he let her go and watched her disappear inside.

If this was the first day of the rest of his life, he might as well shoot himself now.

“A high speed car chase down I-77 from a bank parking lot in the Lake Norman area ended in a serious injury accident just outside Charlotte today, blocking traffic on the interstate for hours. Police state the unidentified victim of the crash was taken to a local hospital with serious injuries. The driver of the other car escaped—”

Adrian snapped off the radio. He had no patience with drug dealers and their problems. One could only hope they'd eventually kill each other off. Using vehicles rather than guns was an interesting new tactic.

He eased across the speed bump in the parking lot leading back to the pottery, taking great care not to scratch Faith's new vehicle on the spreading azaleas spilling onto the crumbling drive. He'd have to work for Rex for the rest of his life to pay back what he'd borrowed to slip under the table for this damned car, but he couldn't have done less. If he'd left Faith alone in the first place, she would still be safely chugging around Knoxville in her VW.

If he'd left Faith alone, he wouldn't be churning with more confusion than he'd experienced since adolescence. She'd knocked him off the track and left him with wheels spinning and no direction. Somehow, he had to resist the temptation to throw away everything he'd worked for in exchange for some piece of Faith's future. That was a fool's dream. Once he had things straightened out and she'd gone home, his head would fall back in place. He hoped.

Adrian opened the back door of the pottery, not surprised
to find it unlocked. Rex had said he'd leave the key inside so he could lock up when he left.

He didn't have much respect for a potter who would leave all his hard work baking in a kiln and walk off because his boyfriend had called him unexpectedly. Even if he wasn't a creative genius, Rex should have more respect for his craft than that. And for his time and materials.

Even as Adrian realized that Rex wasn't usually that scatty, he turned on the light switch and discovered the reason for his employer's hasty departure.

Silhouetted in the double-wide doorway of the show room, Al McCowan, Jr., otherwise known as Piggy, stood calmly examining one of Rex's creations. He looked up as the back room light came on and smiled at Adrian's appearance. “We have friends in common, it seems.”

Adrian's hand froze on the light switch and his thoughts instantly surged to Faith. If Piggy was here, he couldn't hurt Faith. Reluctantly, he released the switch but didn't step away from the door. The back room was narrow and hot and filled with shelves of unglazed bisque—not a place Piggy in his Italian suit would enter willingly.

“‘ Friends’ might be a questionable description,” Adrian replied harshly. Rex had sold him out. He'd extract a satisfactory revenge for that later.

“Rex has expensive habits and owes me,” McCowan said casually, halting in the doorway of the showroom. The dangling light bulb in the kiln room threw more shadow than light, and the small table lamp in the showroom illuminated only the ceramic piece beneath it.

“What do you want, McCowan?” Adrian didn't figure this was a friendly visit, but even if Piggy outweighed him by a ton or two, Adrian could throw him. It wasn't physical fear messing with his mind right now.

“The safe deposit keys,” McCowan replied, apparently assuming no further explanation was required.

“I don't have them.” Adrian didn't see any reason to play coy about his knowledge of the keys’ existence. He just didn't want this ox going after Faith next. “We locked the keys in a
friend's box.” That should suit Piggy's way of thinking sufficiently to be believable. In actuality, the keys burned a hole in his pocket. He saw the stupidity of that too late.

“That's a lie.” McCowan lost his smile, but not his composure. “I know where you've been and what you've been doing.”

Now that Adrian's eyes had adjusted, he could see the other man had gained a few pounds since he'd seen him last. McCowan's jowls were heavier, his face puffier, and his blond hair thinning enough to make him appear bald. Greed and laziness didn't agree with him.

Adrian didn't like McCowan knowing of his relationship with Faith, but it had never occurred to him to keep it secret. How the hell could he steer Piggy away from her? He stalled. “I can't imagine why it's any business of yours.”

McCowan stepped into the oppressive heat of the kiln room. “I'm making it my business. Every lawyer in the state is paying through the nose for your excesses. I don't see any reason why you or Tony's bitch of a wife should profit from us. We want our money back.”

Did the man think he was an idiot? They both knew it was Tony's excesses that had cost them. Of course, that didn't change Piggy's goal. It amazed Adrian how criminals could sound so convincingly self-righteous. Did they really believe their own BS? “When and if I find the money
Tony
stole,” he replied, “I'll happily repay the fund, with interest. If that's your only concern, you've wasted your time. All I want is my record cleared and my license reinstated.”

“You misunderstand me,” McCowan said softly in his best Southern drawl. “You wouldn't see me standing here if I didn't have the means to tie you up and dump you down the sewer if I choose. You have no options, Raphael. You give me the keys and anything you found in those boxes, or I send you back to jail for a hundred years, and Tony's bitch of a wife with you. Although, unfortunately, you won't be sharing the same cell,” he said with mock regret in his voice.

Adrian figured McCowan could do it. He'd already used him as a pawn and thrown him away once. He'd have no remorse
over doing so again. But this time he knew he had little to lose. Being at the bottom of the barrel gave him solid ground to stand on.

“Faith has friends who would tear out your liver if you came near her. She's not an option,” Adrian said adamantly. “If you knew her at all, you'd know she would have given any money she found back to the owner as soon as she found it. I don't know what you're after, but Faith doesn't have it.”

“You know perfectly well what I'm after, and if you won't give it to me, I'll go through the bitch to get it. Women aren't quite so impervious to danger as trash like you.”

Sweat trickled down Adrian's spine. If he'd had anything to give the fatuous fool, he might consider it just to keep Faith safe. But the keys wouldn't give McCowan what he wanted— the money, and the evidence.

“She can't give you what she doesn't have. I've locked the keys in a friend's box until we locate Tony's hiding places. Threatening her might give you personal satisfaction, but you're wasting your time otherwise.” Adrian reached for the doorknob. He wanted to see if Faith was safe. To hell with traitorous Rex's ugly plates.

“I
know
Tony's hiding places,” Piggy stated coolly. “I've arranged for a few people to keep you both company until I have the keys as well. Shall we visit your friend with the box?” McCowan stepped around the worktable as Adrian flung open the door.

Two men in black T-shirts blocked his escape route.

Without hesitation, Adrian swung around, grabbed the heaviest earthenware pitcher on the shelf and flung it directly at Piggy's head. If he was going down, he was taking McCowan with him.

Piggy ducked, and the pitcher shattered against the doorjamb. The two thugs in black jumped Adrian at once.

Oh, hell, it had been ten years since his wrestling days, and those acts had been carefully choreographed. He hadn't practiced his footwork in a long time. He staggered into the wall of unglazed earthenware, toppling dishes and plates as he fell under the weight of the other two men.

Needing to reach Faith before these men did, Adrian roared in rage, planted his free elbow in the face of one assailant, rolled to the right, grabbed a broken platter and smashed it against his second captor's ear.

Piggy's cries of fury rang higher than his henchmen's wails of pain. Breaking free, Adrian shoved up and raced for the door. A solid blow to the back of his head sent him sprawling across the threshold, into the gravel of the drive.

“The keys, Raphael,” Piggy said politely from somewhere overhead. “Or the bitch.”

His freedom, or Faith. It wasn't any choice at all. “My pocket,” he muttered, then groaned as one of the thugs flipped him over to search his jeans.

“Faith, there's a gent out here wants to see you,” one of the band shouted from the backstage door.

Faith finished unwrapping her knee bandage and massaged the muscle underneath. It felt strong enough. She wanted to wear this skirt tonight. Call it vanity, but she wanted Sandra to see she had an opponent to reckon with.

“I can hope there's more than one who wants to see me,” she called back, pushing her boots on over her socks. She didn't want to bend that knee enough to pull on panty hose. “Tell them to wait their turn.”

It didn't bother her to follow Adrian's orders about staying backstage. She had no reason to put in an appearance in the bar until he arrived. Cesar and Belinda's Jim and their friends might already be in place, but she wanted Adrian out there, too, if only to see how well she handled the situation.

“I figure he had talking in mind, not singing.” The young musician sauntered back. “He gave me a fiver to make certain you got his card.” He handed over the battered piece of cardboard, printed side down.

Tony's alive
was scrawled across the blank space.

Heart sinking to her stomach, Faith flipped the card over and read the inscription: ALAN MCCOWAN, JR.

She crumpled the cardboard with shaking fingers. “What does the man who gave you this look like?”

The kid looked at her quizzically. “You look kinda sick. Should I get George?”

She tried to pull herself together and act normally, but even the remote possibility that Tony was still alive and walking this earth unleashed explosive fireworks in her brain. The idea of a pig like McCowan knowing of Tony's whereabouts escalated the chaos to volcanic eruptions through every nerve in her system.

“First, tell me what the guy looks like,” she demanded.

“Big, beefy, straw-colored hair, maybe your age or older.”

Ancient, in the kid's eyes. Faith took a deep breath and tried to think. Not until the kid described him had she recognized the resemblance between Sam Shaw and Al McCowan. Tony apparently liked big bullies on his team. She'd only seen the surface differences between the men—denim compared to silk, bad grammar compared to good, bad teeth …

She looked up. “What did his teeth look like?”

The kid stared at her. “Are you whacked? D’ya think he's a horse? I didn't notice his
teeth
.”

“All right, did he look yuppie or hick?” She didn't know why it mattered which of Tony's bullies was out there, but she'd developed a strong aversion to surprises. The battered state of the business card evoked suspicion.