“
What?
”
“Yeah.” His voice was awful and low. “Someone has also made it look like I’m deeply in debt from gambling—as if the mob has a hold on me. Kev’s going to try and trace the money trail, but whoever’s set me up is pretty good. Kevin’s not sure he can do it.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I’ll be going to prison.” Dante shook his head. “That doesn’t matter right now—”
Being set up to go to prison didn’t matter? “How can you—”
He rolled down his window.
Zoey’s mouth fell open as she realized what he was about to do. “Hey!”
Out the window went her hot pink cell phone.
“Awww!”
“As soon as they figure you’re with me, they’ll ping it,” Lips said ruthlessly.
“I know.” She couldn’t help her voice sounding resentful. “But it was practically new—”
He raised a hand, cutting her off. “I’ll buy you a new one. Now. Where can I take you? What about a different relative? Is your father nearby?”
She shook her head. “He lives in Naperville, but I’m not going to him for help.”
“Naperville is only a couple of hours away. Look, you might be in danger. If he’s even—”
“I’m not asking my father for help.”
Her tone was flat, and she could feel him glancing at her.
She sighed. “He left Mom and me the summer I turned fourteen and didn’t keep in touch. I’m not going to him now.”
“Fine.” He stared out the windshield for a minute. “I’ll take you to a motel—”
“I don’t have the cash on me.”
“I can get you some.”
“I’m not taking money from you!”
His jaw clenched. “Look, I’m just offering.”
“And if whoever’s setting you up finds me at the motel?”
“They aren’t going to find you.” He glanced into the rearview mirror.
“How do you know?”
He didn’t even bother replying.
They drove in silence for a bit, Lips thinking deep, federal thoughts, no doubt, and Zoey readying her argument.
Finally she twisted in her seat to face him. “Look, I know you don’t want me here. I know I’m in the way and I’m a pain in the ass, and I admit I’m scared at the thought of being shot at, but I need to do something to help find Pete. I
can’t
just sit somewhere and wait while she’s out there with strangers.”
“I don’t—”
“
Please.
”
He was silent a minute, watching the street. Somehow they’d ended up in a nicer area. Zoey didn’t recognize the neighborhood in the dark, but it featured shopping centers, restaurants, and all-night groceries.
Finally Lips muttered, “You’re not a pain in the ass.”
She felt her eyebrows shoot up. She wasn’t?
He didn’t look at her, keeping his gaze focused on the road instead. The oncoming headlights strobed across his face and made it look like some Greek statue, all hard planes and no color. “And you don’t have to be scared. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
It was a line straight out of a movie—maybe one starring Bruce Willis—but Zoey wasn’t even tempted to laugh. This guy who didn’t even know her cared about her safety. The thought kind of made her shiver.
’Course protecting people is his job,
a practical voice inside her head drawled.
Practical voices could be such downers.
Zoey replied totally without thinking. “Okay.”
Okay
was a simple everyday word, but it felt like more in this case. Like she’d made a pact with him. He’d keep her safe; she’d trust him to do it. Which was weird, because it wasn’t like she did the whole male-protector thing, as a rule. Actually, it was usually the opposite—she hadn’t totally trusted a man since Dad had done his walkout when she was a teenager.
“Okay,” he replied, and now it was too late. Their pact—if it even was a pact—was sealed.
Dante signaled and turned off the main road, passing little shops lit by strings of white Christmas lights. He drove a couple of blocks and then turned into an upscale mall. Even though it was evening, the lot was crowded; one end of the mall was anchored by a twenty-four-hour health club. Dante slowed the BMW and started cruising up and down the parking lot.
“What are you doing?” Zoey asked. Maybe he felt an overwhelming urge to do bench presses when he was under stress. Except he wasn’t parking the car.
“I’m looking.”
“For what?”
“Hush,” he said absently. “Can’t you be quiet for more than two minutes?”
“Hey! I’m a real quiet person. You just don’t—”
“Aha!”
“Aha?” Zoey looked at him incredulously. “Who says
Aha?
”
“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” he muttered, but he said it lightly, not really paying attention to her because he was parking the car. He set the emergency brake and jumped out without explanation.
“Hey!” Zoey scrambled out of the car, wrapping her arms around herself as the cold winter wind hit her. With the sun down, the temperature had dropped ten degrees or more. Dante was at the rear of the BMW, popping the trunk. She watched as he pulled out a soft-sided toolbox and started rummaging in it. “What—?”
“Really. Try to be quiet now.”
Zoey rolled her eyes. He was enjoying being mysterious, she could tell. This silence stuff was just to impress her.
He found a screwdriver and walked to the nearest car. Only now did she notice that it was a black convertible Beemer and . . . She squinted. It looked like the same model as Dante’s car.
“Hey.”
“Shhh.”
He squatted by the back of the car, the skirt of his black trench coat pooling at his feet, and started working on the license plate cover. He had it off in a few seconds and walked over to his Beemer, taking his plates off and switching them with the other black Beemer’s. In another few minutes he’d completed the job, stowed away the screwdriver, and slammed the trunk lid shut.
Zoey glanced at Dante as she got back into the car. He had a satisfied expression on his face—not quite a smile, but the kind of look that guys got when they thought they’d been very clever.
“Nice,” she said.
He shrugged modestly as he put the car in gear and drove out of the health club parking lot.
“’Course I’ve seen that in the movies,” Zoey continued carelessly.
His too-handsome face fell.
She took pity. “But it was pretty smart anyway.”
“Thanks.”
She grinned at him.
“I’m hungry.” He signaled to get back on the main road. “Let’s get something to eat.”
“You’re taking me out?”
“Yup. To a drive-thru.”
“Be still my heart,” Zoey muttered.
“Then I’m going to find these old ladies.” He looked at her. “And get your niece back.”
Thursday, 8:34 p.m.
T
hat is not the correct way to fasten a diaper such as this one,” Savita-di said bossily to Pratima over the wailing of the blond baby she held on her hip.
They were in a tiny basement apartment belonging to Abdul. Abdul was the janitor at their restaurant—a kindly old man who did not seem to have a word of English. He worked extremely slowly, but he was prompt and never missed a day of work. One sometimes had to make compromises, Pratima had found, when one owned a restaurant.
And they must’ve made a good choice in hiring Abdul, for despite the late hour, he had greeted them with a toothless smile when they’d knocked on his door. At the moment he sat in a rather tattered stuffed green chair watching and nodding as the ladies attempted to diaper the babies. Fortunately, he’d turned off the blaring TV when they’d entered.
Pratima smiled kindly down at the dark-haired baby girl, who was presently trying her best to crawl away. “If you know so much about diapering babies, Savita-di, perhaps you should diaper the child yourself.”
“My hands are full, Pratima, as you can plainly see,” Savita-di gasped as the blond baby boy drew breath to blast both ladies again. “This boy is admirably strong.”
“But not as pretty as the girl,” Pratima retorted. Savita-di had always been partial to boy children, a deplorably old-fashioned prejudice that should have been lost long before the ladies had come to the US of A.
The baby girl suddenly stilled, her eyes caught by the necklace about Pratima’s neck. Pratima took advantage of her calm to fasten the sticky tapes of the disposable diaper around the little girl’s round tummy. The baby grinned and reached up to tangle her fingers in the delicate gold necklace.
“Ah, ah!” Pratima chided. “Mustn’t break auntie’s beautiful necklace.”
“Hurry, Pratima,” Savita-di said breathlessly. “This boy is very strong. And his bottom—pee-yew!”
It was unfortunate that both babies had chosen to dirty their diapers at the same time, but fortunate that they had done so
after
the Gupta ladies had thought to buy a parcel of disposable diapers.
“I am working as fast as I can,” Pratima panted as she wrestled a T-shirt onto the wiggling baby. The little girl’s clothes needed to be washed after her diaper change, and the T-shirt was the best available clothing for her, though it draped her like a tent.
Abdul said something in his native language.
Savita-di smiled widely at the man. “Yes! Yes!” She leaned to Pratima and whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “What do you think he is saying?”
“How should I know, Savita-di?” Pratima shrugged. “I do not speak Farsi or whatever language he employs. Perhaps he is saying that we have had a nice visit but now it is time for us to leave.”
“We cannot leave, as well you know, Pratima. That Terrible Man was at the restaurant. If I had not warned you to drive away in time—”
“Pardon me, Savita-di, but was it not me who had the idea to change the so-large and very visible yellow Humvee for our nephew’s purple minivan?”
“Yes—”
“Then I believe I deserve equal share in the praise for eluding That Terrible Man.”
“Humph,” was all Savita-di said, so Pratima knew that her sister-in-law had taken the point.
Pratima smiled as Savita-di knelt to diaper the boy.
Twenty minutes later, both ladies sat back on Abdul’s worn settee and contemplated the babies. The children crawled about the floor like miniature explorers, the boy hauling himself up the leg of the wooden table to stand swaying, the girl gnawing on a metal teaspoon she held in one hand as she crawled.
“What are we to do with them, Savita-di?” Pratima asked wearily.
Babies were very pretty, but such work! One forgot how terribly exhausting one baby was, let alone two. They were a job for younger women. Both sisters-in-law had reached the age when they should only have to play with babies on their knees, then hand them back to their frazzled mothers when the babies became stinky.
“We cannot take them back to That Terrible Man,” Savita-di said with certainty.
“No, no,” Pratima agreed. “These sweet innocents in the hands of such a man is an awful thought. But perhaps we can take them to a police station?”
“And have the police arrest us at first sight?” Savita-di asked indignantly. “Have you no sense, Pratima?”
“I have sense enough to know we cannot keep these babies.”
“If your sense was so wonderful, would we have stolen the yellow Humvee in the first place?”
“Pardon me, Savita-di, but the plan to steal the Humvee was yours, if you will recall.”
“Ah!” Savita-di cried as if pinched. “Always you blame me! But what else can I expect from a woman who would flirt with her husband’s brother?”
The babies had looked up at the sound of raised voices, and even Abdul stared, puzzled, from his tattered chair. Pratima pursed her lips shut. This was a very old, very painful argument, and one which both Gupta ladies usually avoided at all costs. Savita-di must be frightened indeed to bring it up now.
Pratima inhaled deeply. “What do you suggest we do with these babies, then, Savita-di?”
“I do not know!” Savita-di threw up her arms.
“We cannot leave them with Abdul.”
Both ladies watched as the elderly man giggled and poked a bony finger into the baby boy’s soft arm.
“Nooo,” agreed Savita-di.
“Your daughter Vinati will not be back from her wonderful vacation in Disney World for another week. And I do not think it wise to consult Saumya about this business, at least not yet. Remember, she was quite rude when we asked for the loan of her extra car.”
“Hmm. And we’ve left the car at that petrol pump,” Savita-di mused. “No, no, best not to ask Saumya. Or my nephew Karan, for that matter.”
Pratima pursed her lips judiciously. “In fact, I think all the nephews and nieces are far too busy for this matter.”
“Very true, very true, Pratima,” Savita-di muttered. “Best not to bother the nieces and nephews.”
Both ladies stared at the babies for a moment. Pratima felt weary to her bones. It had been a long day, first planning to steal back their kesar, then the actual theft, and then the unpleasant surprise that they’d stolen two babies, as well. She sighed and drew the thin cloth of her sari over her arm. Really, she wasn’t as young as she used to be.
Next to her, Savita-di sighed, as well, and spoke. “But maybe there is one nephew whom we might contact.”
Thursday, 8:49 p.m.
F
or a chick who worked in a health-food co-op, Zoey sure liked her junk food.
“Oh, my God! I’d forgotten how good these were!” she mumbled through a mouthful of ButterBurger. “I used to get these when I was a teenager—Culver’s was the only burger place I could bike to—and then I found how much fat was in one and quit.”
They were eating in the car, which was parked in a dark lot in front of a bakery. There was a neon CLOSED sign over the bakery door, and a glow showed through the plate-glass windows—probably some kind of security light. Actually, it just now occurred to him that it was kind of romantic out here. Dante glanced at Zoey and wondered if the thought had occurred to her, too. Probably not. Most people didn’t think running for their lives was all that romantic.
He sighed, took a bite of his Bacon ButterBurger Deluxe with extra cheese, and considered her last statement. “Just how much fat is there in these things?”