Bad Guys Don't Win (Janet Maple Series Book 4) (3 page)

“I hope so. I just hope she’s not a mass
murderer or something.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “We’re not in a
Stephen King novel, for crying out loud.”

“No, but I still would like to call Red
Door and see what they have to say about her.”

“Sure, that’d be a very useful reference
since those guys are the pinnacle of discretion and work ethic.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Mila
countered.

Amy handed Mila Jess’s résumé. “Why
don’t you go downstairs and check her out right now?”

“Now? We’re about to open—there’s no
time.”

“I think I can hold the fort for a few
minutes. It won’t get busy for another half an hour or so. If anything doesn’t
check out, she’s out.”

Just then Mila noticed Jess walking
towards them. “I think I’ll do just that.” She smiled brightly at Jess. “Amy is
going to show you the ropes. I have to take care of restocking downstairs.”

Amy checked her watch. “It’s opening
time. You’re going to get baptized by fire, Jess.”

“I hope I won’t disappoint you.” Jess
took her place behind the bar.

Once downstairs, Mila got to work right
away, checking out Jess’s references. She made sure not to stay away too long
though, since she could tell from the noise coming from upstairs that the place
was filling up fast. In less than twenty minutes she was back upstairs.

“I need two Bloody Mary’s and a gin and
tonic,” Amy shouted.

“Coming right up,” Jess beat Mila to the
task.

Mila exchanged glances with Amy. “I see
it’s going well.” She noticed Jess’s hands busily mixing drinks—the speed and
dexterity of her movements was proof enough that she was no stranger to being
behind the bar stand.

“So, what do you think?” Amy asked. She
kept her voice low, but it was so noisy in the bar that there was no danger of
Jess overhearing them.

“I think you made the right call,” Mila
conceded.

“What about the references?” Amy asked.

“They all checked out,” Mila said
sheepishly. “I guess I overreacted. I should’ve trusted your gut feeling.”

“There was a time when I took a chance
and hired you,” Amy pointed out. “Although it does feel like a lifetime ago.”

“It sure does,” Mila agreed, remembering
the time Amy used to be a manager at Hogs and Heifers. A lot of things had
happened to her since then, both good and bad. For a while it had seemed like
the bad streak was drowning out the good one, but now things were finally
looking up and Mila hoped that the dark streak in her life was over. Perhaps it
was time to give someone else a chance, just like she had been given a chance
in the past.

“Great then. I’m sure glad we have an
extra set of hands helping us out tonight,” Amy said without a trace of triumph
in her voice. “We would’ve been swamped without Jess.”

“Hey there, ladies, can I get two
whiskey sours for me and my buddy here?” The request came from a heavy guy with
a bushy beard. He was dressed in a biker jacket.

“We’ve been waiting for a while,” his
friend piped in. He was just as heavy and was wearing a similar biker jacket,
but his beard was much shorter. Both men had beads of perspiration glistening
on their foreheads.

“Coming right up, gentlemen.” Mila
hurried to mix the cocktails.

“Keep an eye on those two,” Amy
whispered. “It’s their third drink and they’ve both been here less than twenty
minutes.”

Mila shrugged. “Since when is that a
problem? Don’t we want paying customers?”

“Yes we do, but we don’t want rowdy
drunks who cost more in damaged property than they spend on drinks,” Amy
countered.

“Don’t worry, I got it,” Mila assured
her.

“Good. Because I’m dying to pee. I’ll be
right back,” Amy whispered.

Mila placed the drinks on the counter.
“Here are your drinks, gentlemen. Sip and enjoy. The night is still young.”

“Men don’t sip,” the guy with the bushy
beard growled. He picked up his drink and drained the glass without breaking
for breath. His friend followed suit.

Men don’t drink sugary drinks
, Mila thought,
but knew better than to say anything.

“Again,” the guy with the longer beard
demanded, slamming his glass on the counter.

“Why don’t you gentlemen pace yourself?”
Mila leaned across the bar with a friendly smile. “What’s your hurry?”

The guy with the bushy beard ogled her
cleavage. “I’d like me a taste of that,” he said, grabbing Mila’s breasts.

Mila froze like a deer caught in the
headlights. She’d worked in her share of seedy places before, but it’d been a
while since she had to fend grubby hands off her boobs. No matter—she might be
out of practice, but she could still fend for herself. She was about to unleash
a barrage of expletives when the unruly customer squealed like a baby pig and
let go of her. Surprised, Mila looked up and saw that somehow Jess had managed
to make her way around the bar stand unnoticed and was now holding the fat
bully by his ear, as though he were a misbehaving first grader. Her grip was so
firm that the man’s ear had turned red.

“That’s no way to treat a lady. Why
don’t you apologize?” Jess requested.

“Hey, she was coming on to me, flashing
her boobs and all,” he panted, clearly not wanting to apologize.

Jess increased her pressure, twisting
his ear so hard it seemed about ready to fall off.

“Okay, okay,” the guy pleaded. “I
apologize. I didn’t mean to grab you. I was just having a little fun,” he
squealed while his friend looked on in drunken stupor.

“That’s all right. Gentlemen, we
appreciate your business, but I think it’ll be best for all of us if you take
your party elsewhere,” Mila said firmly. She braced herself, prepared for a
whirlwind of profanities, but none followed.

“Thank you. You’ve got a lovely bar here,”
the guy with the bushy beard said, Jess still holding his ear tightly. “How
much do we owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s on the
house,” Mila said, eager to get rid of them.

“We’ll be going then,” he said
sheepishly. “Could I have my ear back now?”

“If I ever see you in here again, I’m
going to chop it right off,” Jess hissed, tugging it one more time for good
measure.

He raised his hands in horror. “You
won’t. I promise.”

Jess let go, watching them like a hawk,
as the two drunks beelined for the exit.

“I can’t stand losers like that,” Jess
spat when she got back behind the bar.

“You handled it really well,” Mila said,
still a little shaken up. It was amazing how quickly one got out of habit of
dealing with scumbags. So far they’ve been lucky with their clientele, but
apparently that was going to change—fame had a price.

“It’s nothing,” Jess replied. “I used to
have to deal with much worse at Red Door.”

“I can imagine.” Mila shook her head.
“Thanks for having my back.”

“Happy to do it,” Jess said matter-of-factly.

“Happy to do what? What did I miss?” Amy
had joined them behind the bar stand.

“It’s nothing,” Mila replied quickly.
“I’ll tell you later.”

“What happened?” Amy persisted.

“There was a little altercation and Jess
here saved my behind.” Mila quickly told Amy what happened, knowing her friend
wouldn’t back off unless she did.

Amy whistled. “Wow, not only are you a
pro at mixing drinks, you can hold your own against drunks? Can I pick ’em or
can I pick ’em?”

Jess blushed. “You’re making it sound
like something much bigger than it was. I grew up with three brothers and I
have a black belt in karate. Kicking a fat guy’s butt is a walk in the park
compared to that.”

“That’ll do it,” Amy agreed.

“Jess, your shirt is torn.” Mila
hurriedly handed Jess a napkin.

“Oh, thanks, I didn’t realize.” Jess
clutched the torn cloth to her chest, which had a butterfly tattoo on the left
side, right above her breast.

“Oh, a tattoo!” Amy teased her. “You’re
a wild one, aren’t you?”

Jess blushed. “I had it done a long time
ago.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Amy
apologized.

“It’s okay.” Jess shrugged. “I’ve had it
for so long, I forget it’s there.”

“I have an extra top in the back—you can
wear it,” Mila offered.

“Great, I’ll go and change real quick.”
Jess was about to head to the basement.

“How about we all go out for drinks
after we close tonight?” Amy asked.

“I’m in,” Mila said. “Jess, it’ll be our
treat—it’s the least we can do to thank you for getting rid of those drunks.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jess interjected.
“It was really no problem.”

“But we want to,” Mila insisted. “It’ll
be fun—a girl’s night out.”

Janet Maple checked the address to make
sure she had the right building. A part of her still couldn’t believe she was
moving in with Dennis Walker. Now and then, she had to look at the ring on her
finger to remind herself they were engaged.

“Sorry I’m late!”

The sound of Dennis’s voice made Janet
turn around. “It’s all right,” Janet said as she smiled at Dennis. “The realtor
isn’t here yet. Busy day?” Even though they both worked for Kirk &
Associates, there were times when their assignments took them on different
paths. Dennis had been busy doing field research all morning.

“Crazy.” Dennis shook his head. “I’ll
tell you later. I don’t want to talk about work now, not when we’re about to
see what could be our first apartment together.”

Janet smiled dreamily. “Do you think
this could be the one?” she asked, eyeing the seven story brownstone. “Did you
see the courtyard in the back?” She grabbed Dennis’s hand, tugging him along
for a better view.

“Very nice,” Dennis confirmed eyeing the
charming garden in the back of the building. “And I like the location—East
Village. But it’s kind of far from the subway, though.”

“Which is probably why we can afford a
down payment on it,” Janet promptly pointed out. Their last case at Kirk &
Associates had resulted in very handsome bonuses, but Manhattan’s real estate
prices were astronomical.

“Does the building have an elevator?”
Dennis asked.

“Um, I’m not sure,” Janet lied. There
was no elevator, but she decided not to mention it to Dennis, hoping the
charming building and the winding East Village street on which it was located
would make him oblivious to the fact.

“Dennis, Janet!” That raspy British
accent belonged to none other than their realtor.

“Fiona! So great to see you.” Janet
plastered on a fake smile as she watched Fiona plant a kiss on Dennis’s cheek.
It wasn’t like they were friends or anything—Fiona was their realtor for crying
out loud. Janet wrote it off as British eccentricity.

“Janet!” Fiona exclaimed breathily,
limiting herself to a limp pat on Janet’s arm. “How wonderful to see you!”

“It’s great to see you too,” Janet lied.
She didn’t really like Fiona. Always immaculately put together in tailored
suits that showcased her killer body, she made Janet feel like a peasant at
royal court. What kind of a name was Fiona anyway? Up until recently, Janet had
thought it belonged exclusively in fairy tales. Unfortunately, Fiona just happened
to have the exclusive listing for the one bedroom apartment Janet thought might
be the perfect home for her and Dennis, so she had to put her qualms aside.

Fiona dangled her keys. “Shall we?”

“By all means.” Dennis offered his arm
to Janet, which she promptly took—Fiona better keep her hands off her man.

Fiona fumbled with the front lock,
finally getting it open. “Right this way.”

“Isn’t there a doorman?” Dennis asked.

“The super lives in the building and
he’s there to take care of packages and such,” Fiona explained. “But there’s no
doorman per se.”

Noticing Dennis’s hesitation, Janet
tugged at his sleeve. “The super is there to take care of packages,” she
repeated.

“I got that, but what about monitoring
building access? I’d feel much better knowing there was a doorman.”

“There’s an intercom—visitors get buzzed
in,” Fiona said primly. “Please follow me. Right this way.” Notwithstanding her
three-inch heels, Fiona began an energetic climb up the stairs, the fabric of
her skin-tight pencil skirt stretching tautly over her hips as she did so.

Dennis followed after Fiona. As they
reached the fifth floor, he called over his shoulder. “Come on, Janet. Keep
up!”

At the sight of Fiona’s rhythmically
undulating behind so prominently displayed before Dennis’s eyes, Janet started
having second thoughts about the whole idea. Perhaps she should’ve opted for an
elevator building after all—or a male real-estate agent.

“Keep moving!” Fiona chirped over her
shoulder.

“Are we almost there?” Dennis asked,
panting theatrically.

Janet knew he was faking it. The man
could run ten miles without breaking a sweat.

“It’s top floor!” Fiona informed them.

“Top floor?” Dennis threw a glance over
his shoulder and Janet had to grip the rails to steady herself. “At least we’ll
be in great shape by the time we get there.”

“Here we are!” Fiona announced
triumphantly after reaching the top of the stairs. A faint blush on her cheeks
was the only indication of exertion after the stair climb. Except for the top
three buttons of her blouse, which had somehow come undone during their climb
and now provided an ample view of her cleavage, her appearance was perfectly
intact. “Come on, Janet!” Fiona edged closer to Dennis who had by now also
reached the top. “I’m sure Dennis can’t wait to see the place.”

Janet smiled bravely, as she conquered
the remaining stairs. For her part, she couldn’t claim the same composure as
Fiona. Her heart was beating like a sledge hammer and she could feel her back
getting damp with perspiration. Loose strands of her hair had treacherously
escaped from her updo, which had looked so classy only a few moments ago.

“Janet, honey, are you all right?”
Dennis asked with exaggerated concern.

“That was quite a climb,” Janet
admitted, sensing Dennis’s ironic glance.
Okay, he had won this
one—elevators were important
.

“Trust me, what you’re about to see is
worth a few flights of stairs.” Fiona smiled brightly as she deftly opened the
front door lock. “Voila!”

Janet walked inside, instantly
forgetting about the steep stairs. The apartment opened into a sunlit living
room that was spacious by any standards, but simply ginormous by those of New
York City.

“The owner recently redid the floors,”
Fiona proudly pointed out. “And since this building was constructed in 1929,
it’s got the wonderful pre-war ceilings—”

“I’m more concerned about the pre-war
lack of elevator,” Dennis observed.

Janet remained oblivious to her fiancé’s
snide remark. The newly finished parquet floors glistened like mirrors under
her feet, as she made her way into a perfectly-sized kitchen, complete with new
appliances. The open-plan kitchen had a granite counter running along its
length. She could just see herself and Dennis perched on bar stools, unwinding
with a couple of cocktails after work. This place was perfect. Of course there
was the steep stair climb, but she had already caught her breath, and things
were never really perfect, were they?

“And of course the building allows pets.
I know how important that is to you,” Fiona said proudly.

“Yes, that’s very important to us,”
Janet agreed, thinking of her Jack Russell Terrier, Baxter. She could just
picture him racing across the vast living room space, not to mention the nearby
park that would be the perfect place to walk him.

“Well?” Fiona asked.

“We’ll think about it,” Dennis replied
before Janet could get a word in. “Do you have anything else to show us today?”

“I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got.” Fiona
clicked her tongue, wringing an imaginary handkerchief with her hands. “I had
two more places in mind for you, but both just went under contract.”

“That fast?” Janet asked, shooting
Dennis a worried look.

“Good properties go very quickly,” Fiona
replied sagely. “I suggest you don’t drag your feet on this one—I’ve got two
more showings scheduled today. This apartment won’t be on the market for long.”

“How could it? A place that offers the
benefit of a workout every time you come home is bound to have a bidding war,”
Dennis observed in full seriousness, but his eyes were filled with playful
irony.

Under a different set of circumstances
Janet would have laughed, but this was the tenth apartment they had seen and as
with its predecessors, Dennis had managed to find a flaw. At this rate they
were never going to find a place.

Fiona pursed her lips. “There’s always
some give-and-take,” she said icily. “I’ll let you know if anything else comes
up in your price range. I’ll walk you out.”

“Are you sure?” Dennis asked. “You might
want to save yourself a trip for the next showing.”

“Oh, it’s all right.” Fiona laughed
dryly. “I don’t mind a little exercise.”

Once she and Dennis were outside and
Fiona had left, Janet eyed Dennis reproachfully. “Did you have to do that?”

“What?” Dennis shrugged innocently.

“You know damn well what. You pissed off
Fiona. I doubt she’s going to show us anything else now.”

“If it’s anything like this place, I’d
rather she didn’t. I don’t relish the idea of working up a sweat every time I
come home.”

“It wasn’t that bad. Besides, there’s
got to be some give-and-take.”

“Those are Fiona’s words. I remember someone
telling me she wasn’t going to give up until she found the perfect place.”

“That was before I knew the realities of
the Manhattan real estate market. I’ve only lived in rentals before.”

“The Janet Maple I know doesn’t cave in
so easily.”

“Okay, I guess you’re right. We’ll keep
looking,” Janet sighed, frowning.

“Hey,” Dennis’s voice grew lower as he
stepped in closer, cupping her face with his hand and gently tilting it up.
“Why the long face?”

“It’s just that there’s so much to do.
We’ve got our wedding to plan—I was hoping we’d be moved in before then.”

“Our perfect place is waiting for us—I
promise. Besides, we’re practically moved in already.” Gently at first and then
passionately, Dennis touched his lips to Janet’s.

Janet nodded. Maybe that was the
problem—Dennis spent so much time in her studio apartment, he practically lived
there. Maybe things were getting too comfortable, or worse—stagnant? The next
thing she knew Dennis would be putting off their wedding date and then theirs
would be turning into one of those infinite engagements without a wedding date
in sight. Stop it, she thought, annoyed at her doubts—spending an hour with
Fiona wasn’t exactly a confidence booster.

“Janet, honey, are you all right?”
Dennis’s voice brought her back to reality.

“I’m fine.” Janet nodded. “Just a little
tired.”

“I’m not surprised—that climb was enough
to wear out an Olympic champion.”

Janet nudged him with her elbow. “Give
it a rest, Dennis.”

“All right, that was a bit over the top.
I was just trying to cheer you up. How about I take you out to dinner and then
continue the evening with a complimentary foot massage?”

“Mmm, that sounds nice.” Janet leaned
into Dennis’s shoulder, instantly feeling like an idiot—any man who offered his
fiancée a foot massage couldn’t be accused of getting cold feet.

“How does Franky’s sound?” Dennis named
Janet’s favorite steak house.

“Sounds perfect.”

“So Franky’s it is, then a foot massage,
and then perhaps some unscheduled activities,” Dennis’s voice trailed off
seductively as he wrapped his arm around Janet’s shoulders.

“Now you’re pushing your luck, mister,”
Janet teased him, playfully bumping her hip against his.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? We’ll see
about that. I’ll have you know I’m very good at foot massages.”

Janet felt a shiver run down her spine,
remembering the sensual touch of Dennis’s fingers on her toes—it was almost
enough to make her skip dinner altogether. “Is that so?”

“That’s what I’ve been told.”

“Have you now? We’ll see about that.”

“Yes, we’ll see.” He nuzzled her neck,
the sensual touch of his lips igniting myriads of pleasure sparks.

With a tremendous effort, Janet pulled
away from him. “How about that steak dinner you promised me, mister?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Dennis took his hands off
of her and tipped an imaginary hat. “I beg your pardon. It’s just that I find
your charms irresistible and I seem to be forgetting myself.” Then he hailed an
approaching cab and ushered her inside.