Thrilled To Death (11 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Apodaca

BOOK: Thrilled To Death
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Plus I had to plan my revenge on Gabe.
 
I still hadn't come up with a really good revenge plan by the time I turned into the dirt lot in front of my house. Sometimes, I thought that Gabe brought out my evil side. But the truth was that Gabe brought out the strength in me. He never settled for less than my best ability. Even when he was pissed and trying to keep me out of his business, he never expected me to pull back on mine. Gabe didn't try to stop me from taking this case and he didn't try to stop me from going to the stadium where Shane might be. Instead, he sent my mom along to make sure I had protection.
And God, she had been something to watch. I couldn't help but smile at the memory. Too bad I couldn't ask my mom's advice on getting back at Gabe. That might be something to see . . .
My thought died away as I slid to a stop and noticed the black SUV parked on the other side of Grandpa's Jeep.
I had a bad feeling that wasn't from the stiffly drying milk on my skirt. I got out of the T-bird and heard yelling. I looked up to see Grandpa in the middle of the porch, nose to chin with Shane Masters.
I hurried to the steps and raced up them. I spotted Ali at the front window inside the house, growling and barking for all she was worth. I could see the stiff line of hair standing straight up along her back. She had her lips pulled back, exposing her powerful teeth.
At the top of the porch steps, I stopped a few feet from the men and used my stop-it-this-instant Mom voice. “What is going on here?”
Shane turned his gaze on me. “I want answers and I want them now.”
Uh-oh, this probably had to do with the break-in attempt on one of his prop trailers at the stadium. I looked at Grandpa. His face was beet red, and his thin chest was rising and falling like he'd just run around the block. He didn't look like he was hurt, just angry. I had to find out what Shane wanted. “Answers about what?”
“Someone tried to break into one of my prop trailers.” A vein on the side of Shane's head bulged. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. “He dropped this.”
I stared at the flesh-colored item. Bigger than a thimble, it was a hollow thumb that magicians used for their close-up magic. Oh God. I just saw that thumb last night—Bo Kelly had used it to do a close-up magic trick.
Shane went on. “He's here. The magician that sent the hit man is here.” He turned back to Grandpa. “I want a name, Webb. I want it now!”
“You'll get your answers when I have them,” Grandpa said.
Shane's bald head darkened even more. “I'm done waiting, old man. You know who sent that hit man. You know who this thumb belongs to. Either you tell me or I'll start with Samantha.”
Start what?
I almost stepped back, then thought better of it. I'd just seen my mom handle three goons. I could handle Shane—I hoped. I took a deep breath and fished my pepper spray out of my purse. I uncapped it, then said to Shane, “Get off our property.”
Shane shifted his gaze back to me. He flicked his ice blue eyes over the can of spray, then back to my eyes. “Think you are fast enough? I doubt it.”
Shivers of damp fear broke out on my skin. I believed him. He scared the crap out of me. I just wanted him gone. Away from all of us. Far away. It took every sense of self-preservation I had to hold my ground. “I didn't ask your opinion. Just leave.”
He turned toward me and made a show of returning the fake thumb to his pants pocket. Then he said, “I don't like being ordered around or threatened. I'm giving the orders here.”
The shivers prickled up my spine. “Stop threatening my grandpa and leave right now.” I prayed that sounded confident and not like a scared female plea. “I will not tolerate spoiled little boys having temper tantrums.”
He took one long step and used his left hand to knock the spray out of my right hand.
I was stunned.
Then he slapped me, snapping my head hard to the right. The breath whooshed from my body as pain exploded into a fiery heat on the left side of my face.
“You bastard!” Grandpa bellowed.
“Shit!” Shane screamed out a string of curses.
I didn't know why he was screaming. My left eye watered too much to see anything. I turned my head and was able to look out of my right eye. Grandpa held a pen in his hand. It had to be the fake pen filled with pepper spray that Grandpa had ordered off the Internet. Obviously, he'd sprayed Shane with pepper spray from the pen. I caught sight of Grandpa running to the door, probably to let Ali out or to call the police.
But I didn't wait to find out. I turned so I could see Shane from my right eye. He had his hands over his eyes and was still spewing curses and threats. Rage and the need to protect my grandfather bubbled up into a full-blown geyser. I rushed him with both arms straight out in front of me. I caught his belly with both hands. We both flew off the porch. He landed with a loud thud. I hit the dirt, then skidded past him, stirring up a cloud of dust. Ugh. I scrambled to my feet.
Ali exploded out of the house and raced down the steps.
I ran up the steps to Grandpa and grabbed his arm, dragging him toward the house.
When I looked back, Shane was on his hands and knees and getting to his feet.
Ali skidded to a stop and clamped her jaws down on the right cheek of his ass.
“Goddamnit, I'll kill this fucking dog!”
“Ali, come!” I didn't know if he had a gun or a knife. I was pissed and panicked; my brain whirled so fast that my body was obeying my brain's commands before I even realized I had thought them. I pushed Grandpa ahead of me. “Get in the house!” I followed him in.
Ali ran in after us.
I slammed the door and locked it.
God, my face hurt. But we were all okay.
And Shane Masters was a raving, dangerous lunatic.
10
“Y
ou are going to have a black eye and a bruise on your cheekbone. I think we should call the police.” Grandpa pushed the bag of frozen peas back on my face. On the kitchen table was a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers that Grandpa set out for us to eat. He was taking care of me; he had always taken care of me.
I sipped some hot coffee to offset the cold on my face and started to shake my head, then thought better of it. Man, getting slapped hurt. Especially by Mr. Clean. He could have pulled his punch or something. Sheesh. Besides, Grandpa was right—it was time to tell Vance what was going on. “You're going to have to tell Vance the truth. All of it,” I told him.
Grandpa sat back and studied me. “Maybe we should call Gabe instead.”
“No!” Ali lifted her head up off my lap at the sound of my voice. I forced myself to calm down and petted her head to reassure her. “No, he'll kill Shane.” It took a lot to make Gabe lose his temper, but Shane's hitting me might do it.
“You're right, I should do it myself.” He stood up.
I jumped to my feet. “Grandpa, stop!” I grabbed his arm as he tried to pass me.
Ali sat on her haunches and whined.
“It's okay, Ali,” I said to her, then looked up into Grandpa's face. “You already took care of Shane. You nailed him with the pepper spray. And Ali bit him in the ass.” I could feel the rage tremble through his arm. “You already saved me. Please, Grandpa, sit down.”
He stared hard at me, glimmers of a younger man pushing through his craggy face.
“I mean it. If you try to go after Shane, I'll call Vance and have you arrested. I'm not letting you go after him. He's crazy.” Tears welled up in my eyes, and my throat tightened painfully.
“Sammy, he hit you.” His voice shook.
I nodded, trying to imagine what I would have done if Shane had hit Grandpa. I understood his anger. “Let's figure this out, and then we'll call Vance, okay? I'm going to have to tell Gabe too, I will. I just want to keep him from doing something stupid.”
“Protecting you is not stupid.”
His love for me made everything okay. Didn't he know that? “I'm fine, Grandpa. You made sure I'm fine. Gabe will be fine once he realizes that you took care of me.”
Finally, the mask of determination on his face relaxed. “You are patronizing me, but I like it.” He reached over and picked up the bag of frozen peas. “Put this back on your eye.”
We sat down, and I inhaled a breath of relief.
Ali sat between us. I reached over and scratched her ears. “Good bite, Ali.”
She put her head back in my lap. I realized then how really scared I was. Shane could have killed Grandpa. I don't know that he would have, but I think he would kill if he was backed in a corner. At least he didn't bring his dogs. That was something.
“Fletch and I have a list of about eight names of magicians who had their acts spoiled by Shane's show. We're trying to contact them. Two have sent e-mails that they have nothing to say to us. Nothing else yet. Magicians are afraid to talk about Shane.”
They didn't want to draw his attention and end up one of his show victims. I put my hand over Grandpa's. “You saw that fake thumb.”
His shoulders bowed. “Bo. But why would Bo break into one of Shane's trailers?”
He knew the answer, but I said it anyway. “To see if Shane was targeting his show. He was looking for capes and other props.”
“The cartoon venture. He's afraid Shane will reveal the magic that goes into his show and that will affect his cartoon venture, I guess.” Grandpa took a sip of his coffee, then asked, “Do you think he had a tip or something?”
I thought about it. “How does Shane decide what show to spoil? Does he warn the magician? How does he learn about the magician's illusions? If it is Bo's show Shane's spoiling, maybe Shane did some kind of research that tipped Bo off?” My head throbbed both from being smacked and from the stress of trying to fit the puzzle pieces together. It didn't quite add up.
“I've never heard whether Shane warns a magician. It's another thing they would probably keep secret—trying to keep the damage that Shane does to their show at a minimum. They wouldn't advertise that he's going to reveal their illusions.” He took a second to rub his eyes with the finger and thumb of his right hand. “And it'd be easy to find out the content of a magician's show, Sam. Anyone can describe the act, and Shane could reproduce it. He doesn't even have to be accurate in the exact method of how the magician does the trick. The audience he's showing doesn't know.”
That was true. “We don't even know if it was Bo that tried to break into the trailer. A lot of magicians have a fake thumb. . . .”
Grandpa looked grim. “They don't tend to carry them around. Before you arrived, Shane told me it wasn't his fake thumb. He keeps his props very tightly controlled so nosy people won't get a clue to his shows. He found the thumb right outside the trailer. Someone was trying to pick the lock.”
Bo understood locking mechanisms—he did some escapes in his act. “Mom and I found out that the trailers are all wired for security. Shane has very tough security.” My mind was flitting all over the place. “Mom heard about Shane, and your involvement, from city leaders this morning, then came by the house, and I guess Fletch told her a lot more before you got home.” I looked up at Grandpa. “You should have seen her, Grandpa. She went with me to the stadium to nose around, and when we were hassled, she sprayed two of the security guys and told off the boss security goon. He even agreed to pay for my skirt.” I looked down. The milk had dried to a white cakelike substance and was now covered in dirt. My turquoise shirt was stretched and dirty, and I think there was a smear of blood from my left arm where I slid in the dirt. I sighed. Every case ruined more clothes and cost me some skin.
Grandpa grinned. “That's my Katy. Tough as they come. Fletch was here for a while this morning, then left to go get ready for his skydiving adventure.” His grin melted away. “I have to talk to Bo. Find out if it was him and what makes him think he might be a target.”
I closed my eyes, feeling a wash of nausea at my next thought. “Could he be desperate enough to hire a hit man?”
Grandpa was silent.
I opened my eyes and saw his sad expression.
“I hope not.”
I had to fix this. “But if he did, nothing happened. Shane is okay. We can still make this right, get Bo some help—he doesn't have to lose everything.”
“Sam.”
I sighed, acknowledging that attempted murder was not something a magician or ex–soccer mom could fix. “Let's call Vance. We'll set up a meeting. In the meantime we can try to talk to Bo.”
Grandpa handed me the phone. I dug out Vance's business card and dialed while Grandpa went to the sink and wet a couple paper towels. I got Vance's voice mail and left a message. “Vance, it's me, Sam. I want to set up a meeting with you. Grandpa and I just had a little run-in with Shane Masters.” I hung up.
Grandpa returned to the table. “Let me see your arm.”
I handed him the phone and said, “You call Bo at the motel. I'll do that.” I took the damp paper towel from him. While he called Bo, I bent my arm at the elbow and saw a long scrape on the backside of my forearm. It hadn't bled much, and I wiped it clean. What I needed to do was take a shower and change clothes.
“He's not there.”
I looked into Grandpa's worried gaze. “We'll find him.” I stood up. “I'm going to clean up and change—” The phone rang and cut me off. I grabbed it. “Hello?”
“Is it true?” Blaine snarled in my ear.
Oh crap. “Is what true?” I stalled for time.
“Did you take on Lola as a client of Heart Mates?”
Cripes, I really should have talked to Blaine and explained this. “Yes, but I only did it to—”
“Your client is in the office. Either get down here and deal with her or I'm kicking her butt to the curb. Again.” He hung up.
“Oh boy.” I clicked the phone off. I have never heard Blaine that mad. That—
Hurt.
And he had a right to be hurt. I'd had good reason to sign up Lola, but Blaine deserved to know from me right away why I did it. I was dead wrong, and it felt worse than my throbbing face. I looked at Grandpa. “I have to go to the office. You're coming with me.” No way did I trust him. He'd probably go after Shane.
Or worse, he'd call Fletch and they'd cook up a dumb and dangerous scheme.
I hurried into my room, stripped off the skirt and panties, grabbed a clear pair of underwear, and yanked them on. Then I pulled out a pair of boot-cut black jeans and did a little dance to get them up and snapped. I left on the shoes and shirt, collected Grandpa, and rushed to the office.
 
Grandpa was agreeable about going to the office with me. I chalked that up to wanting to keep me safe and got us to Heart Mates as fast as I could. We both rushed inside.
Only Cal and Lola were in the front. Cal was finishing taping up some drywall patches and spackling over them. Lola had changed into a pair of capri pants and a halter top, and she handed stuff to Cal.
That would have been okay.
But she managed to rub up against him, touch his arm, and laugh breathlessly while flipping her hair. She was in High Flirting Mode, and she looked damned good at it.
Where were Gabe and Blaine?
Lola said to Cal in a breathy voice, “You look hot and thirsty. Why don't we go get something to drink when you're done here?” She looked up at him with her huge dark eyes.
Cal swept his gaze over me and Grandpa, clearly having heard us come in, then looked down to Lola. “What'd you have in mind?”
She flashed him a killer smile. “Ice cold beer at my place?”
Blaine roared out of Gabe's office. “You are not bringing a man you just met to your place! He could be a serial killer for all you know! When did you get this stupid?”
The throbbing fury in Blaine's voice increased my bitchslapped headache. I hurried over to block Blaine before he got to Lola. He had an I'm-gonna-strangle-you look in his eyes.
“What's your problem, Blaine?” Lola said over my shoulder. “You told me I'm too late, so I'm moving on. Stay out of my life!”
Blaine's brown eyes iced to frozen root beer. His face pulled tight and hard. He glared at me. “Get her out of here, Sam.”
“Blaine.” I put my hand on his arm and felt his muscles contracting into concrete. “I'm sorry. This is my fault. I should have told you. I'll take care of it.”
I turned to Lola. “Why don't we go into my office and talk? With all the construction going on here, this isn't the time to drop in. It could be dangerous.” Not from the construction but from my furious office manager.
“But I'm helping Cal. I like helping Cal. He's nice. And he doesn't think I'm stupid.”
“That's because he doesn't know you!” Blaine yelled past my throbbing head.
“All right, stop it!” I bellowed, and regretted it immediately. I turned so that I could see both Blaine and Lola. Lowering my voice, I said, “I want both of you to act like adults.”
At that second, Gabe came storming out from his office. His shoulders were back, his face set in hard anger, and his eyes zeroed in on me.
On my face to be exact.
Grandpa shuffled out behind him.
That rat!
While I had been dealing with Cal, Lola, and Blaine, Grandpa had gone and told Gabe that Shane had smacked me. That was when I realized he'd agreed to come with me way too easily.
The sneaky tattletale.
Gabe smoothly went around Blaine and stopped in front of me. I could smell his anger. Quickly, I said, “I'm fine. It's not that bad.”
He blinked once. “Shane Masters hit you? How many times, Sam?”
Cal handed the spackle tool to Lola and moved up to stand by Gabe and study my face. Then he whistled. “That's gotta hurt.”
I glared at him. “You're not helping. Besides, look at you! You're more beat up than I am.”
He shrugged. “Not the same thing.”
Lola moved up by Cal, put her hand on his bicep, and said to him, “Should we get her some ice?”
I tried to roll my eyes but that hurt too much. “Answer me,” Gabe suggested in a voice so cold I didn't think I'd need ice.
“Just once. It's not a big deal.” Really, I was more scared of Gabe's fury than getting hit by Shane. Gabe operated by his own code.
He stepped in closer so that I had to look up. “Why didn't you call me?”

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