Deadly Gamble. Linda Miller Lael

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СКАЧАТЬ a few days. I was caught up on my work, Tucker and I were on hold, and here was an opportunity to put some miles between myself and my half brother.

      Unless, of course, he decided to follow me.

      Don’t be paranoid, I told myself.

      “When should we expect you?”

      I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was barely eight-thirty, but I was running low on clean clothes, so a trip to the Laundromat was critical. I needed some cash, too, and I wanted to stop and look in on Lillian before I left the area. “Four o’clock?” I ventured.

      “Just in time for cocktails,” Uncle Clive said, and gave me unnecessary directions. I hadn’t been to Cactus Bend in a lot of years, it was true, but I still knew the general layout of the town. Guess it was sort of like riding a bike—one of those things you don’t forget, no matter how traumatized you are.

      After Clive and I hung up, I immediately put a call through to Jolie.

      “Travers,” she answered. Evidently, her assistant, who usually screened calls, either hadn’t come in yet or was otherwise occupied.

      Sweet memories washed over me at the sound of Jolie’s no-nonsense voice. My life changed for the better when I was thirteen, and Jolie was a major factor in the turnaround. Lillian met Jolie’s dad, Michael “Ham” Hamilton, a recently widowed security guard, in Ventura Beach, California. They’d fallen madly in love, and Lillian had finally settled down. There was never a wedding, as far as I know, but Lillian took Ham’s last name, and it was definitely a good match. Jolie hadn’t accepted Lillian, Greer and me right away, but in time we’d melded into a family.

      Lillian had loved Ham so much that, when he’d decided to take a job in Phoenix, she’d willingly followed him. Jolie, Greer and I had all come along, of course, though Lillian had insisted on home schooling Greer and me. I don’t know if she ever told Ham the whole truth, or any part of it. I do know that she was happy with him, and when he died nearly a decade into their relationship, she went on the emotional skids.

      “Hell-ooo,” Jolie prompted.

      I laughed. “Don’t hang up,” I said. “It’s Mojo.”

      “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t slam this phone down in your ear,” Jolie shot back. “I haven’t had so much as an e-mail from you in three weeks.”

      “I’m heading down that way, and I’d like to see you.”

      “Really?” Jolie sounded pleased. “You wouldn’t jerk a girl around, would you?”

      “It’s for real. I’m sorry about the e-mails—I’ve just been…well…distracted.”

      “By what?” Jolie demanded suspiciously.

      “Things,” I said evasively. “I’ll tell all when I get there, I promise.”

      “Freakin’A,” said Jolie.

      “I have some business to attend to tonight, and you’ve got work in the morning. How about tomorrow night?”

      “I’ll even change the sheets on the hide-a-bed,” Jolie said, with one of her rich laughs. Jolie’s voice matched her dark-chocolate skin. She was smart as hell and beautiful enough to be a model or a TV star. If she hadn’t worked an average of eighteen hours a day, she’d have had men making pilgrimages to her door on their knees.

      “Anybody sharing your bed these days?” I ventured hopefully.

      Jolie’s sigh was telling. “No. How about you?”

      “Tucker and I are on hiatus.”

      “Mmm-hmm,” she agreed skeptically.

      I let that one pass. “It’s really okay for me to crash at your place? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

      Jolie gave a snort. “Just don’t sneak off in the middle of the night, like you did last time. I swear, Mojo, sometimes I think you turn into a she-wolf at the full moon, or something.”

      “What is that supposed to mean?” I retorted, hedging. I knew exactly what Jolie was talking about. It hadn’t happened in a while, but occasionally I had nightmares, full of faceless characters in black hooded robes, grabbing at me with skeletal fingers. My own personal crew of Dementors. On the referenced occasion, I was staying at Jolie’s place. I’d gotten out of bed at roughly 1:30 a.m., pulled on my clothes, left a hasty note, and booked it back to Cave Creek.

      “Let’s not get into an argument before you even get here, all right? You may be white, and you may be crazy, but except for Sweet Lillian and Greer, you’re all I’ve got. How is Lady Bountiful these days, anyway? Still livin’ the high life in Scottsdale? And before you answer—how’s Lillian?”

      “I’ll bring you up to speed on Lillian when I get to your place. I’m planning on stopping by Sunset Villa on my way south to make sure she’s all right.” I paused. “As for Greer—well, she’s Greer.” There was something off about Mrs. Pennington, but mentioning that could wait until Jolie and I met in person.

      “I’ll be looking for you Friday night, then,” Jolie said. “Call my cell if I’m not at the apartment when you get there.”

      I promised I would and hung up.

      Breakfast was a Lean Cuisine. I kept hoping, as I went through my wardrobe for clean and presentable items of clothing, that Chester would pop in—it would even have been worth another round with Nick to see my cat—but he didn’t show. Maybe he’d hopped one of those trains out of the heavenly depot, bound for feline glory.

      I had mixed feelings about that. On the one hand, Chester deserved Cat Paradise. On the other, I’d have to start missing him all over again.

      I packed my toothbrush and cosmetics, stuffed what I intended to wear into a black garbage bag, and left the apartment. Next stop, Maggie’s Spin-N-Dry.

      Bert’s bike wasn’t in the lot, and I could see the padlock gleaming on the side door, still fastened tight. I wanted to let him know I was going to be away for a few days, both so he wouldn’t worry and as an incentive to keep an eye on my apartment. I decided to stop by after my laundry was done.

      A chill tiptoed up my spine and did a moon-walk at my nape.

      I looked around again. Nobody in sight, but I would have sworn I was being watched. Seriously creepy feeling.

      I opened the rear door of the Volvo, on the driver’s side, and tossed in my trash bag. Something drew my gaze upward, to the apartment, and I saw Nick’s face, framed in the kitchen window. I couldn’t read his expression from that distance, but I knew he was trying to push my buttons.

      I’m a poor lonely ghost. How can you leave me like this?

      I actually considered going back upstairs to keep the dead ex company for a little while—and maybe Chester was with him—but I wasn’t going to get my laundry done and make Cactus Bend by four o’clock if I tarried. So I smiled and did a waggly-fingered wave, then got into the Volvo and sped away.

      I felt only mildly guilty.

      Things СКАЧАТЬ