Redemption (5 page)

At least, he was on the playing field and he knew his goal. The heart of Jamie Jakowski.

 

 

 

 

 

7

 

Jamie paced around Enrique's hotel room as he set up his netbook. They'd moved to a better hotel. A part of her had wanted to argue with him, but he was right.

“Almost ready to rock and roll. Make sure you turn your back so you don't see my password.” Enrique's smile was seductive.

“Very funny.”

“I'm just saying. You can't be too security-conscious these days. You may not know it, but there are lots of bad guys out there.”

Refusing to flirt back, she simply stared hoping he'd take the hint. Why had she ever agreed to work with him? Of course, it didn't look as if she had much choice. He would follow her around whether she liked it or not. Still, the less she had to do with him the better. And she wished he'd stop being so charming. Or so handsome. “Just get on with it, Ricky.”

“Yes, ma'am. Let's see what we can find out about Ryan Mattson.” After a mock salute, he typed the name into the criminal database. A list popped up on the screen.

She scooted the spare chair over to the desk for a better look.

Enrique's breath warmed her ear as he whispered. “I knew you couldn't resist me.”

“Think again.” Moving her chair an inch away, she pointed at the screen. “So which one is our Ryan Mattson?”

Their Ryan was the fourth one on the list.

Enrique moved the cursor to a name. “That must be him. It says his birth place is Columbus, Ohio.”

“And he attended the same high school as Michael Zinkleman. Must be our man. So what did he do?”

“Mmm. This is not a nice man. He's been busted for possession with intent, several assaults, and a few robberies.”

“Quite the hodge-podge.” Jamie stood and stretched, fighting to cover a yawn. “He can't seem to decide what specialty he wants.”

“Maybe not. But it seems as if the charges are escalating in seriousness with each of them. Not a nice guy. “

“Where's he at now?” Jamie attempted to stifle another yawn.

Enrique hit another key and a new screen popped up. “According to his probation report he still lives here in Columbus and works in some bar. We can check it out tomorrow. You look exhausted.”

“I am.” She headed to the door. “I'm too tired to think right now. Tomorrow I'll come up with a plan to find out what Ryan Mattson knows about the whereabouts of Michael Zinkleman, but tonight I'll be sleeping in comfort in a clean bed. Feel free to check out the bar where he works and report back to me in the morning. If you're not too tired.”

“Aye, aye, captain.” He gave a mock salute.

She ignored his flirting. “See you in the morning.” She walked out the door. Safe and sound in her own room Jamie fought the tears trickling down her cheeks. Working with Enrique would be harder than she thought. She'd assumed the only feeling she had left for him was anger. Now she wasn't so sure.

One thing was definite. This was the last time she'd go undercover. Her brush with death the past summer had made her realize the days of going undercover were finished—well, almost.

When she'd heard Zink's story God had spoken to her heart. But after she found Andrew, she would be done with undercover work. Definitely.

That Enrique would become a part of her life again because of this case hurt her heart. And now that he seemed to have matured, it was even more difficult. Even back then, he seemed to be a man a woman could count on. A man who could make her feel safe—and loved.

She squeezed her eyes closed trying to shut out the memories and the feelings. There was no future for her and Enrique.

That ship had sailed.

 

 

 

 

8

 

Loud music greeted Enrique as he walked through the door of the bar. This wasn't that close to the college campus, but he supposed the students from OSU were welcomed customers at any bar in town. The clientele was young. At least the place wasn't smoky thanks to Ohio's non-smoking laws. He smiled
. Enrique, boy, you really are getting old.

Not that he considered thirty-two old. He fought the urge to start demanding IDs to check their ages. He weaved his way through the throng of gyrating bodies on the dance floor and slipped onto a stool at the bar. The song ended but another one started up before his ears had a chance to recover.

He motioned at the bartender. Not Ryan Mattson, he didn't look like the arrest photo. But that was OK. He might be able to get some information from this bartender about Ryan.

The man walked over. “Whattayawant?”

“A beer.” He raised his voice to be heard over the music.

“Draft or bottle?”

Enrique looked around. Not the cleanest place he'd ever been. “A bottle.”

The place was filled with college students, maybe even some teenagers. Did their parents know what they were doing while they paid good money to give them an education?

He rolled his eyes. He really was getting old.

“Three fifty.”

“Keep the change.” He handed the guy a ten.

The bartender's eyes widened. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

Enrique nodded, but said nothing. He didn't want to make the guy suspicious by throwing a lot of questions at him right away.

As the night wore on more people came in and the dance floor stayed crowded. It was wall-to-wall people. The music turned to rock and slightly less loud.

Enrique nursed his beer as long as he could and then ordered another.

The bartender brought it over. “You don't look like you belong here.”

“Probably not, but even an old guy can dream if you know what I mean.”
God forgive me.
Sometimes it was hard being undercover.

“I know what you mean, buddy. Most of these college girls are snobs, but I know a few who aren't if you're interested. I can probably find one or two who might want to party with you. If you want to do more than dream about it I can make it happen.”

Now, that sounded interesting
. Enrique's cop instincts kicked in. The bartender was probably in his mid to late twenties—most likely too old for college, but apparently a businessman with many interests.

Their gazes met.

He wanted to explore this topic in more depth, but couldn't risk it. His job wasn't to break up a prostitution ring, but he would pass the information along to the Columbus PD. They would probably be very interested. “No thanks, just looking.” He held up his hand and pointed at his ring finger which was bare, but the guy got the message.

“Too bad.”

“Yeah, it is.” He turned back toward the dance floor.

Beyond the dance floor a guy at one of the tables caught Enrique's gaze. The hair on his neck tingled. The man was jittery. Enrique didn't like the way the dude was acting. He watched the man out of the corner of his eye.

In one quick movement, the man pulled out a packet and poured it into the can of soda sitting on the table. He grabbed a straw off the table stuck it in the soda and stirred.

Not good.

Enrique kept focused on the creep and tried to figure out the best way to get to him.

The dance floor was a mob scene. If he went around the people, he might lose sight of the guy. He worked his way into the gyrating bodies and was immediately enveloped in body heat, sweat, and alcohol. He took a deep breath and pushed through the crowd.

“Hey, watch where you're going,” a deep voice growled.

“Sorry.”

“You don't sound sorry,” the voice responded.

A girl with long blonde hair, in jeans and a skimpy top, sat down by the creep. She flung her hair back, laughing. The guy leaned closer and pushed the soda can towards her.

Enrique didn't have time for this. He turned toward the voice. “No, I really am sorry.” He was eye level with a chest, a big, muscular chest. “Look, I don't want any trouble. I really am sorry.”

The giant stepped closer.

Fine, he wanted to play it that way. Enrique grabbed the man's head and pulled it toward his mouth. “Look, I'm a federal officer. I would back off if I were you. Got it?”

“Got it.” The guy turned away.

The table was empty. Enrique clicked through the possibilities, and he didn't like any of them. No. No. No. That poor girl wouldn't get raped on his watch.

Big Burly Chest turned back at the same moment, a grin on his face and his arm arched back. “Yeah, a federal agent. Right. Like I'm going to believe that.”

Enrique bobbed, but not quickly enough.

The huge fist caught him on the side of jaw. Pain shot through his cheek and echoed in his head as stars swam before his eyes, but he shook it off. He didn't have time for a bar brawl. He had to get to that girl before they left. He pulled out his gun.

“He has a gun!” Someone shouted.

Everyone froze and people near the door and restrooms started running.

Fine. The fewer people in the room the faster he could do his job. Enrique held up his badge. “Federal officer. Now get out of my way.”

The bartender cut the music.

The crowd backed away.

That left him a path to the empty table. His gaze swept the room.

The guy was pushing the girl through an exit door at the side of the room, his arm in a protective circle around her shoulders.

Enrique charged through.

The crowd fell back as they figured out his direction.

The happy couple was outside by the time he reached them.

Creepy guy's gaze met Enrique's. His initial angry, combative look quickly changed to panic as his gaze landed on the gun still in Enrique's hand. He pushed the girl at Enrique and took off running.

The girl crumpled to the ground. She had a confused look probably from the drugs.

A small crowd had followed.

“Call an ambulance. She's been drugged.” Enrique ran in the direction he'd seen the man disappear.

Up ahead there was a clanging noise as if someone fell over a garbage can.

He ran into the darkness and came out onto a sidewalk. Dim street lights lit the area.

A shadow down the way lost his footing and began stumbling around.

A few seconds later Enrique pounced on his prey.

 

 

 

 

 

9

 

Jamie glared at the door as she paced with the phone. She tossed the paper on the bed. “Marcus, this is why I didn't want him to come along. He set back my investigation a few days at the very least. Maybe ruined it for all I know.”

“What did you want him to do? Ignore the fact he saw some lowlife put drugs in a girl's soda?”

“No. Of course not. But that's beside the point. We're like oil and water. We don't mix well.”

“Look, girl. There's no reason to talk with me about this. This is not my case and that means I got no juice to put Enrique on or pull him off the case. I'm not the one you should be talking with.”

“I know. I just needed to vent.”

“Did it help?”

“Not really.”

“At least you're honest, Jakowski.” Marcus laughed. “I'll give you that. Of course, it doesn't help when you lose your cool. It only makes you lose your perspective even more. You need to work on developing more patience.”

“I'm trying. I ask God to give me more patience all the time.”

“Well, there you go. That's your problem right there.”

“What's my problem?”

“When you ask God to give you more patience He's going to give you lots of opportunity to practice being patient. Apparently, Enrique is your teacher in this matter.” More laughter.

“Such a wise man, aren't you?”

“Wise enough not to get involved in this.”

Someone knocked on her door.

“I hear you on that, Marcus. Someone's knocking on the door—probably Enrique. I gotta go.”

“Play nice, Jakowski.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She clicked the phone off as she opened the door.

Enrique had a large bruise on his lower jaw.

A slice of sympathy cut through her anger. But she wasn't letting him off the hook. If she played her cards right she might be able to get him to back off and let her handle this investigation on her own. “Oh, it's the conquering hero.”

“No need for sarcasm, Jamie. Let me explain what happened.”

She held the newspaper up to him. “No need to explain. I read all about it, Mr. Hero. You've ruined my whole plan.”

He closed the door. “I don't see why you say that.”

“Really? Are you kidding me? My plan was to buddy up to Ryan Mattson at the bar for a few days and then pump him for information. After last night's escapade, he's going to be suspicious of any stranger who shows up at the bar. He'll know it's a set-up. The paper even said you were an FBI agent.”

“He might, but you're so beautiful you'll be able to break through any defenses he puts up.”

“I doubt that very much.” Jamie refused to acknowledge the warm feeling his words brought. “If he does know anything about the whereabouts of Michael Zinkleman he's been very tight-lipped. You don't think he'll be suspicious that an FBI agent came to his bar and then I show up wanting to be his buddy. He can't be that stupid.”

“It does sound bad when you put it that way.” He handed her a cup of coffee. “But I have confidence in you. You'll think of something. I knew you wouldn't be happy, but it couldn't be helped. That's why I ignored the offer of a hooker from the bartender.”

“The bartender offered you a hooker?” She shook her head. “Sounds like a great place.”

“Basically, but we didn't get around to discussing the price. I didn't want to have to arrest him for pandering. I knew that would ruin the plan. But when I saw the guy put drugs in the girl's soda I had no choice.”