Thrilled To Death (5 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Apodaca

BOOK: Thrilled To Death
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He didn't say anything for a few seconds. “Check into something.”
Gabe was from LA and his family still lived there. “Something to do with Cal?”
He stood up. “Take the case. I'll do the background check on Shane first chance I get. If you want to do a little checking around with people you know, try to see if you can find someone working on the set up at Storm Stadium where Shane will do his show, things like that. But you need to be careful.”
I frowned at him. He had changed the subject from Cal. On the other hand, Gabe was like that sometimes. He thought things out for a while before he talked about them. Whatever's going on with his brother, maybe he's still thinking. I realized he was almost to my office door. “Gabe.”
He turned back. “What?”
“Is everything okay?” I wasn't sure what I was asking.
“Just stay out of trouble and everything will be fine.” He turned and went out to the reception area.
 
A couple hours later, I was in my office with the door closed to shut out the noise and dust of the construction. I had completed the interviews with the new clients, and I was attempting to put their information into the computer. Once I got that done, then I was going to try and figure out how to run the program that cross-matched the candidates with our eligible men.
This was normally Blaine's end of things. I did the original interviews, then turned all the forms over to him. Once he had the matches, that's where my skills came in. I went over all the computer-generated matches and looked for chemistry based on my interviews with the clients and my gut.
Years of reading romance novels actually made me pretty good at this. And it was the personal touch that made Heart Mates special.
I opened a new file and started typing in the fields: name, birth date, address, phone number—the usual personal information.
A half hour later I was still struggling with inputting the information, but I was getting there. And so far, I hadn't destroyed anything on the computer. In fact, I was getting excited. One of the ladies, Olivia, was in her late thirties, divorced, and longing for a family. I had a feeling about her and a man we signed a couple weeks ago. He'd dated a couple gals, but no sparks. His name was Thom, and he had changed his life. He quit his executive job, moved out to Lake Elsinore, and now taught at the community college. He decided that he wanted a life, not just a career. I thought that Thom and Olivia might hit it off; they had the same life and love goals, as well as both having an interest in golf.
I didn't get golf. Chasing that little white ball around a course seemed kind of tiring, but to each his own.
The ringing of the phone startled me. It was my cell phone. I yanked open the desk drawer and reached into my purse to get my phone out. The caller ID told me it was Rosy.
What now? I hadn't even gotten started on the case yet.
I put the phone to my ear. “Hi, Rosy.”
“Barney is going over to see Shane Masters.”
Crap. “Are you sure? When? How do you know?”
“Because Hank just left your house. He went by to get the scoop from Barney about being hauled into the police station. He called me because he said Barney decided to confront Shane Masters himself.”
Hank was another of the coffee club seniors that hung out at Jack in the Box. A bad feeling wrapped around my gut, and I clutched the phone tightly. “Where's Shane staying? At a motel in town?”
“Humph.” Rosy made a disgusted sound. “Nikki told me that Shane has a huge custom-made motor home that he usually travels in.”
Wow, ruining other magicians obviously paid well. So where would Shane park the motor home? At the stadium? But they probably didn't have all the hookups he would need. But I knew another place that would. “The campground! That must be where he's staying.”
“Probably. Sam, you should go over there. See what you can find out and keep Barney out of trouble. Hank said he took his switchblade.”
Oh hell. “I'm on my way!” I hung up, grabbed my purse, and hurried out of the office.
The reception area smelled like pizza and dust. A couple empty, flat boxes sat on the floor. My stomach rumbled and reminded me I hadn't had lunch. I didn't have time to see if there was any pizza left. Dang.
“Going home?”
I looked over at Gabe. They had made progress on the wall. My new office had really closed up the reception area, but when the wall came down completely it would be open and airy. “Actually, I'm going to run an errand.” Why didn't I tell him? I glanced over at Cal and knew why. I had already made a colossal fool of myself in front of Cal today. I didn't want Gabe lecturing me in front of him.
Besides, Grandpa had his switchblade—I didn't have time to argue with Gabe. I had to catch up with Grandpa.
Gabe just nodded and turned back to the wall.
What happened to good-bye kisses? But we were at work. I realized that I was being oversensitive and hurried out. I hoped I could catch Grandpa before he confronted Shane.
I made it to the campground in fifteen minutes. I estimated that Grandpa was five minutes closer from our house.
But I drove faster.
I turned left into the campground. It was early June, still cool at night, but the campground was about a quarter full. There was a scattering of trees and rows of campsites for tents and trailers. Past those was a beach that led to the lake. On the left side of the campground, closest to the Jack in the Box, there was a row of small, boxy cabins. They looked a little too rustic for my taste. I like air conditioning and room service.
I drove slowly, looking for a fancy motor home and Grandpa's black Jeep. I finally found the Jeep creeping along the last row on the far side of the campground.
I watched as Grandpa pulled up to a huge gray and cream colored motor home that had some burgundy striping. It clearly belonged to Shane since the side of the RV had a large picture of Shane Masters airbrushed on it. Wow, talk about a gigantic ego. I parked my T-bird next to the Jeep, turned off the car, and got out.
Grandpa met me at the front of the two cars. “Sam, what are you doing here?” His craggy face was still with disapproval.
I reached for his arm. “Hank told Rosy you were going to confront Shane.”
He narrowed his milky blue eyes. “Rosy, that old snoop. She called you.”
Even though part of me understood, I was hurt that Grandpa hadn't confided in me about Shane. And that he hadn't asked me to help him. “Grandpa, this might not be a good idea. Vance has already connected you with Shane. Don't make it worse.”
He looked at the motor home. “Sam, there are things you don't understand. It's better if you leave.”
My hurt was turning to anger. Gabe was cutting me out of his problems and now Grandpa was too. But no matter what, I was not going to let Grandpa confront Shane alone. “No. I'm here to talk to Shane for a client of mine.”
“Who?”
“A client.” I was being stubborn, and I lifted my chin to prove it.
A new voice called out, “How long are you two going to stand there and argue?”
We both looked over to the motor home. Swear to God, it looked like Mr. Clean from the commercials stood in the doorway, flanked by two sleek Dobermans. He had a bald head, muscled arms, and a tough-guy stance. I didn't think Mr. Clean wore the big diamond pebbles in his ears that Shane did though. Shane was dressed in expensive Italian black pants and a silk short-sleeved button-down shirt opened at the throat. A thick gold chain around his neck caught the sunlight. His voice was colored with sarcastic amusement. He looked like a cross between a well-dressed mafia thug and a pirate. But there was something compelling about him. He had what Grandpa called stage presence.
He looked out of place at the Lake Elsinore campground. I could only assume he stayed there to use the hookups for things like water for his motor home.
Or maybe he liked to lord his stardom over the little people. Who knew?
I tore my gaze away and looked at Grandpa.
He squared his shoulders and said under his breath, “Leave, Sam.”
I shook my head, gritting my teeth.
“Come on in, Barney. I've been expecting you.” Shane turned to look at me. “You're a surprise, Samantha.”
“You know me?” In my experience, that was never a good thing.
“The granddaughter who didn't have the passion for magic. Of course I know who you are.”
That hit me hard, sucking the air from my lungs. Had I disappointed Grandpa so much that he had told Shane about me? But then I felt Grandpa's hand curl protectively around my elbow. “She's just leaving, Shane.”
I reached around my body to put my hand over his. “I am not leaving. I won't leave you alone with him.” I didn't care how mad he got at me. I was scared. I glanced over and saw that both the dogs framing Shane had perked up their cropped ears and were watching us intently.
The guard dogs Vance mentioned.
It probably hadn't been a good idea to come here without some protection. Like Gabe and his gun. Or Ali. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead for not thinking ahead. This was exactly the kind of thing Gabe meant about staying out of trouble.
Shane appeared to be running out of patience. “If you're finished with your little family dispute, perhaps you could come in and we could take care of business?”
He was seriously starting to annoy me. I let go of Grandpa's hand that was still clasped on my elbow. “Let's go do this.” I walked toward the trailer with my head held high.
Grandpa followed me.
Shane watched us with his gray eyes.
When I got to the pull-down steps of the motor home, I decided I needed to act confident. Men like Shane would zero in on any sign of weakness. I met his gaze and lifted my foot to the first step.
Both dogs stood instantly, drew back their lips, and growled like crazed beasts. I was close enough to see their huge gleaming teeth and the row of angry hair that rose in a stiff line down their backs. Instinctively, I jumped back, smacking the back of my hand on the door frame and scratching it. Stunned, I stood on the dirt and looked down at the back of my hand. A line of blood welled up in thick bubbles. Then I looked up at Shane.
He smiled. “Afraid of my dogs, Samantha?”
Hell yes.
And worse, I thought Shane had known what the dogs would do. Had he given them some command? Or had I crossed some invisible line that set the dogs off?
“We're leaving,” Grandpa said.
I glanced at Grandpa and saw that he had his switchblade out. His face had firmed up to pure rage.
I looked back at Shane. His eerie smile froze as he shifted his gray eyes to Grandpa. “Do that and I'll see that you're arrested for attempted murder by the end of the day.”
5
I
stared at Shane framed in the doorway of his motor home with a dog on either side of him. He threatened Grandpa to keep him from leaving, but he never even acknowledged the switchblade. Shane had no way of knowing if Grandpa had the skill to throw it right at his heart. I didn't think he cared. What pissed him off was the idea of Grandpa leaving.
He wanted Grandpa's attention. What for?
It wasn't good, whatever it was. I tried to assess the situation and decide what to do.
Shane stepped back, and both dogs moved with him. “Come in. Let's get this show on the road.”
I hesitated, but Grandpa put away his switchblade, stepped up onto the built-in ladder, and went inside.
The two Dobermans watched him with interest.
Then they turned to look at me.
I had visions of them weighing and measuring in their doggy brains and deciding that I had more meat than Grandpa. Plus I was already bleeding; did they smell blood? Some deep dread had me press the thin cut on the back of my hand into my skirt to staunch the flow of blood. Repressing a shiver, I had no choice but to follow Grandpa into the motor home. I wasn't going to leave him alone with Shane and the dogs.
It was incredible. There was a bedroom/bath through an opened door in the back. The front was the cab. In the center was a combination kitchen and living space, complete with a microwave and a big-screen TV. There was a video game frozen on the huge screen.
Sheesh, whatever happened to camping in a tent and watching the stars at night?
“Sit down.” Shane indicated the cream-colored leather couch. He took a leather captain's chair. He made a move with his hand, and both dogs lay down at his feet.
I turned back to look at Shane. “What do you want with Grandpa?”
“To have a little chat. Why don't you sit down?”
I looked at the dogs again. Would Shane stop us from trying to leave? Very slowly, I lowered to the leather couch and realized that we were in a situation that I couldn't control. Gabe would have a lot to say about that.
If we ever got out of here, and if I ever chose to tell him.
“Now, here's the deal.” Shane dismissed me to look at Grandpa. “Someone has sent a hit man after me. You are going to use your access to the Triple M network to find out who that is and you're going to get the hit called off. Then you are going to tell me the name of the magician who thought he could have me killed.”
Grandpa shifted on the couch and said, “Why would I help you?”
Shane didn't move a muscle. “You will.”
Both dogs picked up their heads and watched us.
The silence was painful and laced with uneasiness. I looked at Grandpa next to me. He studied Shane for long seconds, then his shoulders came down a fraction of an inch. He seemed to have accepted something I couldn't grasp, then said, “Why do you think a magician sent a hit man after you?”
Shane's face hardened, his gray eyes narrowing. “It's very simple—once I set the dogs on the hit man, he screamed out, ‘Damn magician never said anything about dogs!' And the only threats I've gotten have all come from magicians. Your little e-mail was nothing compared to some of the threats I've had. I'd find the bastard myself, but you cut off my access to the Triple M when you tossed me out.”
My first thought was that Rosy was right—Shane did have a long memory. Then I realized that Vance had held back information from us. He'd never said that the supposed hit man had said something about magicians. I looked down to see my hand was still bleeding and pulled a ruffle of my jean skirt over it to apply more pressure. Vance and I were going to have a talk. He was endangering my grandfather by not telling us everything.
Of course, Grandpa hadn't told him everything either.
Grandpa's next words brought me back to the present.
“You brought that on yourself, Shane. You betrayed all of us.”
“And you are a sentimental and foolish old man. I figured out how to turn a simple skill, basically party tricks, into a fortune. And someone in your beloved
brotherhood
of magicians is trying to have me murdered. Either you find out who it is or I will give that detective all the proof he needs to destroy you.”
I clenched my muscles to jump to my feet until I remembered the dogs. But even my terror of their sharp teeth and powerful jaws didn't dim the anger in my voice. “You can't do that! Grandpa hasn't done anything.”
Shane smiled, revealing small perfect teeth. I almost expected two long fangs to slide down from the eyeteeth. His smile chilled his face. “I'm a magician, Samantha. I can create enough of an illusion of his guilt to destroy his pathetic little existence.”
Hot anger rushed my brain. Everyone who knew Grandpa respected him. And Shane was threatening to take that away from him. I fought to take in a breath and calm myself down enough to speak. “That's not magic, that's blackmail.”
“Ah, a few of those brain cells actually work behind all those fake blond streaks and that very attractive saline rack.” His gaze fell to my chest.
Pepper spray.
One day, when I got Shane away from the killer dogs, I was going to reduce him to a crying mass of mucus. But for now, I had to know what we were up against. “Grandpa isn't going to be blackmailed.”
“Hush, Sam.”
I turned in surprise. “Grandpa, don't give into this!” But his face was set into wrinkled stone. His right hand was clenched into a fist tight enough to whiten his knuckles. I caught a glint of silver and knew the closed switchblade was tucked into that fist. He had taken severe exception to Shane's comment about my intelligence and enhanced bustline.
Grandpa looked back at me. “I don't care about Shane and his threats. But I do care about the Triple M.” He turned away from me. “I'll see what I can find out.”
The charm and illusion of civility dropped away in layers. “You do that, old man. And bring me the name of the prick screwing with my life.”
My chest froze. I'd seen Gabe shed his dangerous-man-under-control veneer to see tough ex-cop beneath. Gabe was dangerous and lethal, living by a code of his own, a code that had to do with his strong sense of justice. But Shane . . . the layers stripping away revealed a depth of rage that scared me to my core.
Grandpa shifted. “I'm not doing this for you. I'm not bringing you anything.”
Shane's tented hands folded into two individual fists. Then slowly he turned his gaze to me. “I think you will, old man.”
Then I got it—why Shane was so sure that Grandpa would help him. Damn it, now it made perfect sense why Grandpa had been trying to keep me out of this with Shane.
With a single look, Shane threatened me to get Grandpa's cooperation.
I took a breath. We had to get out of here. Calmly, I said, “Tell us about the attack and as much as you can about the hit man.” I struggled to keep my voice low and reasonable.
“Very wise, Samantha.”
He obviously thought I was afraid of him. Okay, I was afraid of him. But I was going to get us out of here, and then I was going to figure out what to do next.
Shane went on. “Last night I was asleep around 9:30 when I heard the scrape of the lock in the motor home door. Not the cab doors, but the one you both came in. I told both dogs to stay down and quiet. I wanted to see who it was. He was dressed in dark clothes and a black pullover cap. He had picked the lock and was armed with a gun and silencer. Seeing that, I immediately set the dogs on him.
“He sprayed Blackstone in the eyes with pepper spray and ran. Houdini got a good chunk out of his gun hand before he kicked the dog and got loose. That's when he screamed out the line, ‘Damn magician never said anything about dogs!', then dropped the gun and ran off. The police have the gun.”
I listened carefully, then asked, “Why didn't you shoot him? He dropped his gun; why didn't you pick it up and shoot him?” I made a mental note to ask Gabe if he could find out from his police source if there were any prints on the gun.
Shane leaned forward, reaching down to pet both his dogs, but his nostrils flared and his mouth went white with rage. “He sprayed Blackstone with pepper spray and kicked Houdini. Blackstone was writhing on the ground in pain and Houdini tried to chase him, but I couldn't let that bastard get another chance to hurt my dogs. I chose to see to my dogs and get the hit man later.”
He cared about his dogs. That surprised me. I'd had the feeling that his dogs were just a tool, but as I watched him stroke both dogs' heads, I realized he really cared about them.
But he used people. Or seemed to by the way he was blackmailing Grandpa and the way he revealed the acts of magicians. I wanted to understand Shane and what we were up against. And since Rosy and Nikki had hired me to do a job, I threw out the question, “What about Nikki Eden?”
Shane stopped petting the dogs and looked right at me. Then he smirked, “What about her?”
Grandpa turned to look at me. “Sam, what's this about?”
I reached over and put my hand on Grandpa's forearm. I wanted to see if maybe I could trip him up into admitting he was using Nikki's act in his spoiler show. To Shane I said, “You broke up with her, right?”
He lifted one side of his mouth in a smirk. “I was done with her. Why do you care? Are you applying for the position?”
I squeezed Grandpa's forearm to keep him from saying or doing something. “How many women have you used and dumped like Nikki?”
He laughed. “How many dumb women are there? Nikki thought she could outsmart me. She was one of many who thought that. I let her think it while I got what I wanted from her—sex and her act. When I was finished with her, I got rid of her.”
It was becoming increasingly clear to me why so many people wanted to kill Shane Masters. But while I had him in the arrogant, bragging mood, I said, “So are you exposing Nikki's act this weekend?” I was so tight with anger and disgust that my thigh muscles cramped.
“Watch the show and find out.” He let out a small laugh. “In case you are thinking Nikki sent the hit man, think again. She's learned her lesson.”
I sort of wished I had a gun. I really wanted to shoot that smug look off his face.
Grandpa stood up. “Nikki is a real magician.”
The smug expression on Shane's face melted into bitterness. “Come on Saturday night, old man. Anyone can do the by-the-numbers tricks. I've elevated magic to a spectacular show. The world loves me. They don't care about your little awards and magic houses, they just love seeing that I can do any magic and then show them how it's done.”
The dogs stood up at attention.
Grandpa had hit a nerve with Shane. Every group had their professional honors, including magicians. But since Shane had broken the code, no matter how much wealth or fame he attained, he'd never be professionally recognized by his peers.
And he knew it.
I filed that information away and rose. “I think we'll pass on the show. Let's go, Grandpa.” I prayed that Shane would let us go. And that the dogs weren't hungry.
Shane unfolded from his seat and stared at Grandpa. “You find out who sent the hit man after me.”
Grandpa met his glare. “I'll find out if you've destroyed any more lives by driving a magician to try to kill you.”
I grabbed Grandpa and tugged him around the dogs and out of that motor home. Shane made no move to stop us.
Once we were outside, I was shaking with anger and frustration. Stopping at our cars, I looked back at the motor home. The door was closed. Shane was done with us. Turning to Grandpa, I said, “Do you really think another magician hired a hit man to kill Shane?”
Grandpa met my gaze. “You met him. What do you think?”
Damn. “I think it's a wonder someone hasn't killed him before now.”
“Yeah. But if it is a magician, then I have to find out who it is and stop him. Something like this could destroy the Triple M.” He reached out and took hold of my hand. “Let me see that cut.”
I looked down at my hand cradled in his. “It's fine, just a scratch.” It had stopped bleeding. I had the feeling Shane had wanted me to fall, or get hurt, just as a little show of his power. His ability. My hand was fine, but I was scared of him.
“Put some medicine on that scratch,” Grandpa said, and let go of my hand.
“I will,” I said to assure him. Then I turned to more serious matters. “Do you think Shane could really frame you somehow?”
Grandpa's blue eyes were wide with anger. “I'm more worried about him going after you.”
“I'm sorry, Grandpa. But if you had told me why you wanted to keep me out of this, I would have figured out another way. But I didn't know, and besides, he's not going to touch me.” Not if I could help it. “Are you going to look for the magician that hired the hit man?” I already knew the answer.

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