Yeah, like she knew where else to go to hire a hitman. The woman had never gotten her hands dirty in her life. “Don’t worry about it, Lauren. I got it handled. I’m gonna call my boss now about some long-distance arrangements. I won’t know until I talk to him how much more you’re gonna need. Just relax. We’ll meet soon at a little restaurant I know. I’ll call ya.”
He disconnected from Lauren and punched in Johnny Tanzini’s number. “Yeah, boss, it’s me. I been workin’ on a little somethin’ that we should talk about. A new cake recipe, if you get my drift. You got some time to see me? Okay, I’ll be there.
• • •
Things were going better than Clay expected. Tony DelMorrie had no clue that Cassidy was on her way back to Arizona to tighten the noose around his neck. Her appearance would either lure him back into the hands of Arizona authorities or generate an all-out statewide manhunt for him, planting his picture in every local police department, every post office, and on every news channel across the country. He wouldn’t be able to hide.
Clay’s phone vibrated in the center console cup holder. Glancing down, he barely made out the name on the screen, but saw that it was from Maggie. He wrinkled his forehead. She knew he was on assignment and how dangerous it was. What could be so important that she was texting him now? Well, her message would have to wait until they arrived at the airport. He reached down and pressed the button to stop the repeating text alert.
Cassidy rode silently in the passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She was being a trooper. “You know, the long blond hair is nice, but I really liked the red in the newspaper picture,” he said, and his stomach jumped at the recollection.
“My mother used to brag that it came from her side of the family. I probably never would have cut my hair if I hadn’t been trying to look different. I have to admit, though, short and spiky sure is easy to take care of.”
“Do you think you’ll keep it that way when this is all over?”
Her lower lip quivered. “I’m afraid to think that far.”
Clay followed the signs to the car rental return, driving to a stop in front of the office. “They have a shuttle from here to the airport. Come in with me.”
Grabbing his phone he tucked it in his jacket pocket, surveyed their surroundings while he waited for Cassidy to collect her purse and slip into her shoes, and took her hand as they approached the glass doors. Only one other customer, an older man, stood inside.
Dirty, blue plastic chairs lined the wall in front of the windows. “Want me to wait there?” Cassidy asked.
“No,” he said, drawing her close and putting his arm around her shoulders. Over her head, he scanned the waiting room, noting the camera mounted in the far corner and a partially opened door to what he presumed was an office.
“Is something wrong?” Cassidy whispered, watching him wide-eyed.
He shook his head. “Just a feeling.” Remembering Maggie’s waiting text message, he removed his cell from his pocket and pressed the button to view the screen. He swore under his breath, stood taller, and looked around again. The change in demeanor didn’t escape Cassidy’s notice.
“What’s wrong?”
The elderly man in front of them stepped away from the counter and the clerk turned her attention to him. “Can I help you, sir?”
Clay nudged Cassidy to the counter and completed the paperwork to return the car. A van waited outside, its motor running, to shuttle them to the airport. Before boarding, he inspected the inside, seeing only the gentleman who had been ahead of them in the rear seat.
He cleared his throat. “Sir, would you mind very much if my wife and I sat in that back seat? She is not feeling well, feeling a little sick to her stomach.”
The threat of vomit usually motivated people to move, and the old guy was no different. Cassidy’s eyes questioned Clay but, to her credit, she remained silent. He helped her into the van, following close behind, and they settled on the last bench seat. Clay urged her into the corner and perched on the edge of the seat, essentially creating a shield in front of her. He was in full cop mode, his hearing heightened, his focus pinpoint accurate, adrenaline surging through his veins.
After they stopped in the departing passengers’ lane, Clay whispered, “Stay in the van until I tell you.”
He retrieved their bags from the rear compartment, tipped the driver, and made sure the old man was inside the terminal before leaning inside the vehicle. “C’mon, honey. Do you still feel like you are going to yak?” It was enough to send the driver around to the other side.
He helped Cassidy to the pavement and hustled her through the sliding glass doors into the noisy, congested terminal.
“Clay, what’s wrong?” she whispered, leaning into him as they walked. He stopped at the check-in lane for their airline. Slowly, he reached in his jacket pocket and retrieved his phone, touched the screen, then turned it for Cassidy to see.
Maggie’s text message read: “You’ve been compromised.”
This was bullcrap. Tony DelMorrie bunched his shirttail into the waistband of his sagging pants. He was “The” Tony DelMorrie, head of a syndicate on the West Coast. Underlings answered to him, not the other way around.
Yet, here he was, obediently walking into The Drip Stick, answering Johnny Tanzini’s summons. It stuck in his craw big time. What was he going to say? The little bitch was somewhere, but he couldn’t find her? Might as well stand there with his dick in his hand like the stooge he’d sound like. Hate was too mild a word for his feelings toward Cassidy Bitch Hoake.
Holy hell, it was almost midnight and the coffee shop was crowded. How did these people sleep after guzzling all this caffeine? Two pieces of red velvet cake on serving plates passed him on a tray and he repressed a gag.
A skinny waiter directed him to the far rear table, the one closest to the door that led to Tanzini’s office. “May I serve you some coffee while you wait?” Head to toe he screamed light in the loafers, making DelMorrie’s skin crawl. “Yeah, sure. Regular, black.” Christ, he’d be up all night.
With twenty-seven freakin’ varieties available, the waiter frowned at the bland choice, but nodded and scurried to the serving counter. Moisture dampened his armpits. If the roles were reversed and this was his turf, he’d be ready to order an intruder out of town by the time the sun rose. And then, he’d whack the guy before he walked out of the building, just as a matter of principle. And like it or not, he was an intruder on Tanzini’s turf. He’d look like an ass backing out of this coffee shop when he made his exit, but that was his plan. Tanzini wasn’t stupid enough to bring cops to his own doorstep to investigate a shooting, but DelMorrie wasn’t going to let his guard down one minute, just in case. His body temperature hiked several degrees when the waiter motioned for him to go into the backroom.
Tanzini rose from a wooden desk the size of a Camaro, his hand outstretched.
“Tony, welcome. Did you get some coffee? How about a cigar?” He recognized the black and gold band immediately when Tanzini eased a Cuban Cohiba from his jacket pocket. DelMorrie’s bowels gurgled. Christ, he was going to get whacked right here.
Tanzini motioned for him to sit and he did, regretting immediately that he responded so obediently. They were equals, he reminded himself.
Tanzini smiled, showing more teeth than most and reminding Tony of a horse. “I’ve got some good news for you, my friend. We know where the young lady you are interested in is. In fact, it appears that she is headed into your neck of the woods. I think this could be the beginning of a fine partnership, Tony, seeing as how I have a vested interest in her now.”
Tony blinked once, twice, processing what Tanzini had just said. “Non capisco. I don’t understand.”
“I’m saying we found your girl.” Tony stared at the photo Johnny Tanzini slid across his desk of a couple getting into a car at what looked like an interstate rest stop. He disregarded the man and focused on the woman. An oversized jacket virtually swallowed her and with that long, blond hair and the huge eyeglasses, her face was barely discernible.
This meeting wasn’t going at all the way he’d figured and he was confused, a feeling he didn’t like. “Who are they?”
Tanzini taped the photo, his forefinger connecting on the woman’s head. “This is Cassidy Hoake. Pretty good disguise, eh? He moved his finger onto the man’s face. “This is Clay Cestra. Police Officer Clay Cestra. That’s a turd in the punchbowl because I’m not in the business of knocking off cops. But we can work out those details.”
Tanzini checked his Rolex. “Right now, those two should be boarding a plane to your hometown. Hopefully, your contacts can figure out where they are staying and,” he placed his hands together as if praying, “with some luck, the little lady will meet with an unfortunate accident.” He winked at DelMorrie. “You know what I mean?”
He bolted upright in his chair and snatched the photo from beneath Tanzini’s lacquered fingernail.
“Holy crap! Are you sure?”
Tanzini nodded.
“Where’s this taken? How long ago?”
Now Tanzini sat up straight, eyeing him warily. “We managed to discover their travel plans. It’s unfortunate that the cop is involved, but he’s been in her pants, which makes him part of the equation. Don’t get so excited. Barney Fife is a complication, especially since he’s escorting her back to testify against you. You’ve got some dirty laundry hanging out there, a rather major snag that you neglected to mention. I don’t appreciate you’re not being honest with me. This has to be handled properly. But I think it’s doable.”
Tony needed a bathroom. Sweat pooled in the crevasse between his thighs and belly. Damn, it was hot in here. At least Tanzini wasn’t crazy enough to go after a uniform.
“You sure it’s her?”
Tanzini nodded. “We got a solid source in the police department.”
“And you say they are flying back to Arizona?” A poem from his childhood popped into his head, the one about the spider luring the fly, and he smiled.
Was she really walking — make that flying — right into his own backyard? Finally, things were turning in his favor.
“Don’t worry, Johnny,” he said, reaching for the cigar. “My people can handle this.”
• • •
For a moment, Cassidy feared she wouldn’t get on the plane. In her driver’s license picture, her long hair was wavy red and she didn’t wear or need glasses to drive. What made her think of that just as she approached the counter, she didn’t know, but she slipped off the glasses and tucked them in a pocket of Clay’s cargo jacket. The attendant studied the license, assessed Cassidy, reexamined the license, and raised her eyes again. Cassidy leaned into the woman, grabbing the top of the wig and lifting it slightly. “It’s a wig. He prefers blonds. Really gets him hot, if you get my meaning.” She winked and tugged the hair back in place.
The attendant glared at Clay momentarily, then processed the ticket declaring loudly, “You should find a man who accepts you the way you are.”
Cassidy suppressed a giggle watching the woman rudely validate Clay’s ticket. They received boarding passes and seat assignments and made their way to the security line. Clay hadn’t said a word since showing her Maggie’s text message. His eyes scrutinized everyone, while his head pivoted from side to side. If it could revolve in a full three-hundred-and-sixty degree swivel, she imagined he’d be happier.
He hadn’t released her elbow and now he pulled her out of line. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “We’re not getting on this plane, c’mon.” The warmth of his breath seeped down her neck, beneath her shirt, and into her heart. She’d follow this man anywhere.
“What’s going on?” she asked between huffs, trying to keep up with his long strides.
“I can’t explain it now,” he said, those eyes still canvassing the terminal, “just trust me.”
“I do trust you. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“Be careful. I might ask you to marry me.” She wished he had looked at her when he said it, so she could see his face, see if he was joking or if there was even a hint of forever in his eyes. As it was, he propelled them through the airport at lightning speed, nudged her through another check-in line, and before she knew it, they sat in chairs at Gate B24 waiting for a plane to Cleveland. With their backs against the wall, he noticeably relaxed, but his perusal of their surroundings continued.
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close so no one could hear him speak. “Something went wrong. I don’t know what. It must be something inside the police department, otherwise that text would have come from Dan. The fact that Maggie sent it tells me I can’t call him.”
“Are you sure?”
Idly, he rubbed his thumb along the outside of her right ear and she closed her eyes to preserve the memory. “Maggie has never sent a three-word text in her life. Her texts go on and on, like a high school essay. That’s Dan’s message.”
“So what do we do now?”
Clay squeezed his eyes shut momentarily and pressed his thumb and forefinger to his forehead. “I’m not sure, Cass.” His eyes dimmed and her heart lurched.
“Why are we flying to Cleveland? Isn’t that the wrong direction from where we want to end up?”
“We’re going back to Ohio because that’s where the cavalry waits. I won’t take a chance on unknown backup in Arizona. But it means I’m taking you right back into Tony DelMorrie’s reach.” He released a frustrated sigh.
Words escaped her. She should be frightened out of her wits, but beside this man, who emanated so much warmth and protection it wrapped her in a giant bear hug, she remained calm.
He misinterpreted her silence.
“I’m sorry, I let you down. You have a right to be scared. I assured you we could return safely and make this whole DelMorrie thing go away and I was wrong.”
She turned soft eyes to him. “Clay, please. I’m not scared, not with you by my side. I meant what I said. I’ll follow you wherever you go and I’ll do whatever you think is best. Don’t waste time worrying about me. How do you think we were found out?”
“I don’t know. If there is a leak, where? This was a need-to-know assignment. Only my chief and Dan know what’s going on, and I swear on my life it’s not either of them.”