On Tour (11 page)

I considered it. My sister continuing on as my assistant for the music side of my career would help free up my time to work with Carol in the temp business. I had the money, and she was already on payroll now. "I guess that would work. Not sure what you'll have to do if I don't keep touring, but I guess we can deal with that when the time comes. Is Dan going to be okay with you working?"

There was a pause. "He likes the idea of getting a fishing boat. He's going to keep his mouth shut until he has that for sure."

"Okay," I said doubtfully. "So how's Max?"

"He's sleeping on top of Dan on the couch right now. It seems they had a snarling match to see who would get the couch, and there was a tie." She laughed.

"Okay, give him a treat from me," I answered quietly. I felt a little homesick as I hung up. I just wanted my old life back. To sleep in my own bed, walk my dog, get yelled at by my crazy neighbor. I couldn't wait to be back in Annapolis.

"It'll be over soon," Mark whispered, pulling me closer.

"I just want to go home," I said into his shoulder.

*  *  *

The next morning was bright with just a hint of approaching fall in the air. Mark had meetings planned for most of the day, so I'd decided to have breakfast in bed and spend some quality time with my guitar. The "Catch Yourself" song, as I had started calling it, was coming along nicely. A few more verses and some tweaking with the timing, and it would be ready for prime time.

By noon, I'd had enough alone time. I toyed with the idea of finding a little pub and doing an impromptu gig. I was all alone in the city, and nobody but Mark knew I was here. I felt safe for the first time in days.

I changed into a flowing print maxi dress and gold sandals. I arranged my long hair on top of my head and swiped on a little makeup. I wore dark sunglasses for disguise. If I couldn't find a suitable pub to play in, I might just try playing outside on one of the many open spaces around the museums and monuments.

I thought briefly of calling Mark but decided against it. He was sure to buzzkill the idea. I slung my guitar over my back and started walking.

I peered into little restaurants and taverns, not quite finding what I was looking for. I was starting to get hungry when the smell of barbecue lured me to an outdoor cafe. I decided to eat and then head for the big grassy knoll near the hotel.

"You play?" the waiter asked, as he jotted down my request for an iced tea and pulled pork sandwich.

"Sure do," I replied with a smile. "I was looking for a little bar or restaurant to do a practice gig. Know any place?"

The waiter lit up. "Sure! We've got an outdoor bar around the corner." He pointed to an iron gate. "It opens at two."

"Do you mind checking with the manager to see if it's okay if I play a set?"

He waved a hand. "My mom owns the place. Have at it."

I thanked him and wolfed down my sandwich. I spent some time tuning my guitar. Going from air conditioning to outside wreaked havoc with the strings.

At two, my waiter, Steve, led me through the iron gate and into the courtyard. A four-person bamboo bar lit with strings of white lights and surrounded by wrought iron tables stood against the brick wall. A well-preserved bleach blonde gave me a wave from behind the bar.

"Hey, there!"

"Hi, thanks so much for letting me play a few."

"Well, I can't promise much of an audience, but I'm sure I'll enjoy it." She had sparkling white teeth and tan skin that looked a little too tight.

I took a seat at the end of the bar and pulled out my guitar. I started off with some Jack Johnson. I stayed away from originals, especially "The Rum Song," as a precaution. Not that I really expected to be recognized sans pirate costume.

A group of college students came in, ordered a pitcher of cheap beer, and asked if I knew any rock. I did a couple of my softer rock songs. Some Eagles and some more recent songs, more pop than rock.

"Oh, I know. I know!" cried one girl. "How about 'The Rum Song?'"

Her boyfriend scoffed. "That's the one by that goofy pirate, right?"

"Yeah, Carlos. He's yummy," she purred.

I rolled my eyes.

"Wasn't it the blonde girl who wrote the song? What was her name?" one of the other guys asked and then tapped at his smartphone.

"Yeah! It was!" The girl waved to me. "Do you know the song?"

"I'll give it a try." I launched into a laid back version of the song. I was starting to feel a niggling of apprehension. The four continued to tap away at their phones, pointing out things of interest to each other.

When I'd finished, they clapped loudly.

"That was great. What's your name?" asked the guy who had started all the Googling.

"Ashley. I'm from Delaware. My boyfriend's here on business." I felt like a total fraud, but they didn't seem to notice.

I sang a couple of James Taylor songs; the bartender seemed to love those. "You do look familiar to me," she said suddenly. "Have you played around here before?"

I shook my head. I heard some whispering from the table of college students. Maybe it was time to make my exit. I took the strap from around my neck and lowered my guitar into its case.

"You're not going yet, are you?" the girl gushed. "Our friends are on their way. We told them all about you!" She gave me a big wink.

"I need to get going. My boyfriend will be back from his meeting soon."

She surprised me by putting her arm around me and snapping a selfie with her phone.

"Hey!"

"This is going on Instagram. Nobody's going to believe it!"

Uh-oh. A group of twenty or more college kids arrived. Some high-fived the ones at the table in front of me. Others snapped pictures of me.

The bartender leaned over. "You drink martinis, don't you?"

I glanced over at her. "How'd you know that?"

"I Googled it, Diana." She held up her phone.

I made my escape with the help of my waiter. I took a bathroom break after a couple of songs and he met me inside with my guitar.

"Before you go, can I have your autograph?"

I scribbled a quick note on a napkin.

"What's it like working with a bunch of pirates?" he asked when I handed it to him.

"Not as much fun as you'd think."

I couldn't help looking over my shoulder as I tore off down the street. My phone rang. It was Carol.

"Diana, aren't you on a boat with Mark right now?" She was using the same tone of voice that she used to interrogate temps.

"Why do you ask?" I deflected.

"Because Tabitha got a tweet of you playing outside at a bar in D.C. What's going on? Did you and Mark have a fight?"

I sighed. "I can't get into the details right now. We were supposed to be laying low for a few days."

"So why'd you go out performing in a bar?"

Oh, man, did I screw this up. "I was bored. I didn't think anyone would recognize me out of my costume."

"Guess you were wrong about that one. Does Mark know yet?"

"No," I replied. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

"Good luck with that."

Mark was pacing the hotel room when I got back. He had tried calling and texting me a couple of times, but I had decided not to answer. I tried to convince myself there was no way Mark knew about my little escapade. Tabitha was probably friends with the girl who tweeted. I didn't want to think about Mark's reaction if it went much further than that.

Okay, so I was in a bit of denial.

"Where were you?" Mark barked when I walked in the hotel room.

"Oh, just out playing in the sunshine." Hey, that wasn't a lie.

"We're supposed to be lying low. Remember the assassin trying to kill you?" He ran both of his hands through his hair.

"Yep. Hard to forget that." I set my guitar down and headed for the bathroom. "Any new info?" I called.

"A lot," he said as I came back into the room. So far so good. The whole Twitter thing was just a couple of Tabitha's friends sharing pictures. I'm sure they didn't have many followers. They were just a bunch of kids.

"We traced the money to a bank account in New Jersey. The account is part of a trust for five individuals. We're tracking them down now. So far we haven't found any direct connections." I leaned down to give him a kiss, and he pulled me onto his lap.

"Seems pretty odd to me that there are five mob families and five individuals on this account. Is there a link?" I asked.

"Nothing direct, but I think you're right. This may be some type of cooperative account."

"Like a farm co-op? They share assassin resources? Could that be possible?"

Mark shrugged. "Apparently there've been similar types of partnerships. Importing drugs for one. I suppose they could coordinate hired killer resources."

My head spun with all the possibilities. I snuggled against him. "Let's just say this is some type of hitman cooperative among the five families. How do you move up through the ranks? Is The Spider the leader?"

"Not sure yet. I've got some people with contacts on the inside trying to figure out exactly how it's structured." Mark nibbled at my earlobe. "But my gut tells me we're getting close."

"So if you trace the money back to him and get one of his hired hands to turn on him, that will be enough for an arrest?"

"Probably. The FBI is involved since we're dealing with multiple charges across state lines. And there are a lot of open cases that could be solved if we track him down."

"Sounds complicated." It felt like my life would never be back to normal.

"Why don't we take a nap and then go out for a nice dinner?" Mark nuzzled my neck.

"Oh, I thought you were so worried about being recognized." I know I was pushing my luck. Tempting fate. Whatever you call it, but I couldn't resist.

"I think if we keep a low profile, we'll be fine. Have you heard from Andre today?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"I'm sure they're fine. He's supposed to check in with me every evening no matter what."

"So, what's next in the investigation?" I kissed his cheek, and sniffed his neck. I know it's weird, but he smelled really good. Like fresh baked bread, laundry dried outside, and pine needles all rolled up in one delicious scent.

"The DA in Miami is looking to charge the electrician with attempted murder. That might get him talking. Hope to have a full report in the morning." Mark's hand ran lazily up my thigh under the silky dress.

Hitman? What hitman? My body was tuning out everything except his touch. Now this was what I called a distraction. His other hand untied the halter behind my neck, and the front fell away.

"Nice dress," he murmured. He stood up, still holding me in his arms. No easy feat. I'm not exactly petite.

Worry at the Twitter incident niggled in the back of my mind. But Mark's foot kicking the bedroom door closed behind us shut the door on that worry. There'd be plenty of time for worry later. No use getting him all riled up in a bad way when he was so riled up in a good way.

*  *  *

A few hours later, thoughts of The Spider were still pushed back into the far recesses of my mind. Naps had a way of giving you a whole new outlook on life. Besides, I was looking forward to the evening. Mark had made reservations at an upscale restaurant a few blocks from our hotel. I wore a black cocktail dress, and my hair was swept up a la Grace Kelly. I was feeling like my old self again.

"Stunning," Mark said as we walked out of the elevator towards the entrance.

He'd called down for a cab, but waiting in front of the hotel was a limo.

"Wow! Pulling out all the stops." I gave him a little elbow.

He stared at the limo in confusion. "I ordered a cab. It must be for someone else." He walked over to the doorman.

My phone buzzed with a text from my sister.

Ashley: U R on ET!!!

Me: ??

Ashley: Duh—Entertainment Tonight

Me: Cool :)

Ashley: R U drunk??

Me: Not yet

Ashley: U R on ET in DC playing in a bar

I gasped and looked around for Mark. He was striding toward me still looking confused.

"It's ours." He ran a hand through his hair. "They thought we'd be more comfortable in the limo. I don't get it."

"Oh, that's nice," I said, hurrying towards the car.

The valet opened the door for us. After helping me in, he leaned down, and said, "I'm a big fan, Ms. Hudson. I'd love an autograph if you have a moment."

He said it low enough that I wasn't sure Mark had heard him. I leaned towards him, and whispered, "Can you catch me when we get back?"

"Oh, sure, sure." He gave me a smile and closed the door.

I settled back into the leather seat and smoothed my hair. I felt Mark's eyes boring into me. "Did he just ask you for an autograph?"

I glanced over at him. "Oh, him? Don't be silly." In my current state of denial I reasoned that hitmen didn't watch ET. They watched Godfather movies and played poker at strip clubs, right?

"I'm sure I heard him say something about an autograph."

I waved my hand dismissively. I don't know why I didn't just come clean then. I guess I wanted a few more romantic moments before Mark went off the deep end.

There was a big commotion going on in front of the restaurant as the limo pulled up to curb. Mark leaned forward. "What's with all the paparazzi? Is the President having dinner here tonight?"

The driver chuckled and looked at me in the rearview mirror. Not a good sign. I knew I should be flattered, but I was starting to get freaked out by what was happening. And what if I was wrong about hitmen not watching ET?

"I'll take you around to the back entrance," the driver said.

Mark glanced over at me. I avoided eye contact by looking out the window.

The restaurant was all dark wood, candles, and plush furnishings. We were led to a table near the fireplace which blazed with real wood logs.

"Great table," Mark commented. "Didn't think we'd get anything this nice on such short notice."