Deadly Alliance (7 page)

“Not a collector myself,” he said. “I’d rather look at the lake.”

“What a spectacular reflection with the fall colors.” She liked looking at him as well. His hairline was recessed and graying at the temples. People looked their way, noticing the man with the crooked infectious smile. “The lake view is free.”

“A client of mine collects art. Believe me, he buys it,” he said. “You may have heard Lester talk about him. Peter Thomas Roth.”

“I know him. I worked for his cab company.” She liked Roth except for his strange propensity for winking. Not flirtatious. More like an explanation point.

“Right. Anyway, Roth has a small Degas in his dining room, a Picasso on his landing, a Manchu Dynasty screen in the master, and a Remington bucking bronco with a cowboy on his French Empire desk.”

“I didn’t know about his collection.” She listened to the splash of water in a fountain. Except for the disaster pushing Finn and her together, they shared little pleasantries. She told herself not to be disappointed if more didn’t happen.

Dinner was a formal affair, with courses each accompanied by its own wine. Cautiously, she took only a sip from each fresh glass. Becoming light-headed with alcohol might hinder her explanations. She opened her plastic folder and handed Finn her afternoon accomplishment. “If you have questions, I’ll answer in detail.”

Holding the spreadsheets she’d given him, he said, “Nice job with cross-referencing. You selected clients who sent payments to the fake account.” He glanced down the list of names. “Rourke, I expected to see. Here’s Roth, Blackstone, Goldman, Sullivan. They’re my top investors.”

She said, “These few add up to your monthly loss. How have you been handling your drain?”

Finn raised his hands, palms out. “I put my own money back in.”

“The police froze the account,” she said. “Was that for deposits or withdrawals?”

He smiled a little at that. “Withdrawals. Clients can continue to make deposits.”

“Is there a balance?” She hoped he’d get his money back.

“Nope. Sucked dry.” At least he wouldn’t sink deeper in debt each month. “There are two types of deposits.”

“We know the first type— Smithson payments.”

He sighed. Usually carrying himself like the tall man he was, he sank. Not a good sign.

It was time she stepped up. Do what she was born to do. Help someone in distress. “Hiking is a remedy for anxiety. Join us tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I’m busy.” His curt voice lashed at her.

Her breath rushed out. She bit her lip and tasted blood. A moment passed, and she said, “You need a hug.”

“Maybe I do.” His broad shoulders hunched forward. “For the hike, I’ll take a rain check.”

“Talk to me. What’s the other type of deposit?”

“Money laundering. Goes to a bank account in Ireland. Under the name of Aidan Rourke.” His eyes went cold. On the table, he balled his hands into fists and then lowered them to his lap.

She reached under the table, soothed a hand over his, and then sat back. “Is the FBI involved?”

“Along with the CIA.” Finn pushed a hand back through his hair. “Agent Gary Guhleman, sharp guy.” In the next several minutes, he recapped the odd blend of the gang. The SUR gang partnered with Takbir, a group sending money to ISIS. He spoke about the Rourke family and his relationship with them with his voice trailing. His jaw scissored.

She hesitated. The tension in her chest constricted. He didn’t mind fighting, but personal issues left him exposed. “So,” she said, “bad guys got together in the Mexican-Takbir gang.”

“Takbir will get the bigger cut. Mexicans get their leftovers until they’re killed.”

“The gang world is constant war.” She felt the urge to grab Finn’s hand. “I’m sorry about your mother.”

“Fiona Donahue Rourke. Rough on my dad and me. Took off when I was three.”

She imagined the hurt. There were worse things than physical pain. “What do you remember about her?”

“She played the bongo drums, shook a tambourine, and fell for Aidan Rourke.” He clamped his lips together.

Amy pictured the mob boss with his longish, silver hair slicked back.

“Now she’s the first lady of a black-market mercenary. Her family orchestrates the sale of drugs, weapons and anything else in demand. They threaten store owners.”

“Like Burlie. Or the owner of the Arrowbear Café, and they hand over money.” Amy fought the need to hunch her shoulders. “You fought terror groups in Iraq. What will Takbir do next?”

“Kidnap persons of value. Guhleman named Rourke family members as possible hostages. They’ll demand a ransom.”

Amy remembered the Japanese government was willing to negotiate. In the end, ISIS beheaded an aid worker and journalist when a hostage exchange became complicated. “Will someone protect the Rourke family?”

“Their job is to go after Takbir. Protection goes just so far. The younger two and a niece aren’t in the gang.” He blew out a breath.

“How do you know?” she asked.

“Aidan Rourke set up trust accounts with us. His son Sean stopped at my office a year ago. Neither of us made reference to our step relationship.”

“Let me guess,” she said. “Sean Rourke wanted to withdraw his money.”

He nodded. “Turned out he’s required to wait until he’s twenty-five. Furious about it.”

“How old is he now?”

“Twenty-five. He was small, slight. Wore a UC Riverside sweatshirt. He’s getting his doctorate in philosophy. Looks like a computer geek.”

“Not gang material. What about the youngest Rourke?”

“Vivienne. I don’t know about her. She and her cousin, Tori, are about the same age.”

Through the dessert course of crème brulee which they shared, he lifted a bite to his mouth and made a little noise of satisfaction like a rumbly growl.

“Yummy.” She left her shoe on the floor and slid her toes up his calf.

He clamped his knees on her foot. “I’d rather have you for dessert.” Under the table his hand skimmed over her instep, around her ankle, and up her calf.

“Someone had a lot of wine.” She smiled but didn’t pull her foot away, but looked to see if anyone was watching.

Finn’s eyes moved upward to a place behind her. At the same moment she heard Peter Thomas Roth say her name.

She turned. “Hi Peter.”

He gave her a subtle wink, but his attention went to Finn. His hand went out. “Finn, good to see you. I said to my wife, look who’s here. Got to go over and say hi.” The man’s voice was rich, perfect for announcing golden oldies on a wee-hours station.

Finn shook his hand. “Good to see you, Peter.”

Roth winked.

Peter braced one hand on the back of Finn’s chair, the other on the table. Made chit chat about the price of crude oil. A comment to Amy about her excellent cab driving ability to make sure she didn’t feel left out. “My wife is haggling over a California impressionist.”

While working for him, Amy found him overbearing and hoped his visit would be brief.

Peter wanted to get together with Finn, lunch next week at the Arrowhead Country Club. Finn would check his schedule. Peter gave him his card, and then smiled at Amy. “I’ll let you get back to this lovely lady.” Wink.

When he was out of earshot, Finn said, “You drove for Mountain Checker Cabs.”

She nodded, aware of her third-wheel nervousness and how ridiculous it was to be nervous at all. “I needed a regular day job.”

“I understand.” He paused, looking at her in a way that made it hard to keep her wits about her. “We’ll stop at your place for your sewing machine.”

The waiter returned. Finn took his credit card, signed the receipt, and stood. Taking her arm, soon they were walking in the parking lot. The rain clouds passed.

“Look at that beautiful harvest moon.” She’d find true love eventually. Tonight all she wanted was to remember how it felt to be touched. To feel lips pressed to hers. Maybe his hands on her waist, maybe a caress. Maybe more.

* * *

Finn watched her raise her face toward the moon. “You and me, under the moonlight.” He found it amazing she noticed the moon after witnessing a catastrophe with boomerang capability. Most women would be terrified. Amy worried about other people more than herself. In his opinion, this was her nemesis. He hadn’t paid much attention to women in the last several years, but there was something about Amy. She got his attention and held it.

While bumping into each other along their way toward her Ford Explorer, they compared their childhoods. His mother abandoned him. Amy’s parents died in a car accident.

She said, “You have your dad. I have my grandparents and Barry.”

“We had a safety net. Not like we walked to school barefoot.” He felt the brush of her fine hair as the wind lifted it.

“That’s right. My grandparents bought shoes for us at Payless. But I didn’t have the Internet. Had to go to the library and look things up in the card catalog.” Her cheery banter continued. Did he remember person-to-person phone calls, busy signals, and trouble when using call waiting? The fall air was cool and refreshing. She leaned back and took a deep breath with arms spread.

“I parked next to your car. Where the heck is it?” He shivered, more turned on by breasts than he’d been in a long time.

“Over there.” She pointed.

His mind fought his body for control. He wanted her, badly. Very badly.

At some instinctive and totally male level he wanted her with a burning desire that right now felt like raw heat of a volcano, too volatile to contain.

He failed to understand why it was happening. For him, life changing events came out of nowhere to wreak havoc and tear apart certainties. His mother, Lester, and the scam of missing cash destroyed him until Amy came along.

Truth was he liked being with her. His desire was for her. She charmed him. He admired her for her professional goals, her design business. “What about that hug?”

She slipped her hands under his arms and around his back. Laying her head against his chest, she squeezed gently but must have felt his large erection press into her stomach.

Her eyes didn’t close, but her breath came easier as she held him close. “We don’t need to fight it.” Sliding her hand under his jacket, she tipped her head back.

He kissed her. Lightly at first, playing, and then his tongue stroked into her mouth.

She edged a thigh between his. A slight push and then with her arms, pulled him closer. Her eyes met his, but he looked away as he bent down for another kiss. She kissed him with a feral intensity, letting him know she wanted him. He glided his tongue over her lips, and she opened to him. He took her mouth, plunging and licking, and ran his fingers down her neck. Her pulse sped up, and he closed his hand around her breast. She closed her eyes and shuddered. He needed to know this was okay, and she answered by reaching to touch him. Her fingertips moved over his chest.

“Let’s get a room here tonight.” He was on fire. No woman made him feel this way.

“With all the wine and champagne, you shouldn’t drive. I had one glass of wine. I’m designated. My condo isn’t far.”

* * *

A soft breeze picked up along the piney shore. Cooler than inside his hideout on Fuller Ridge, the man shivered and crouched low in the trees. To warm himself as he waited, he’d built a small fire between boulders. A full moon glowed over Arrowhead Lake. Coyotes crooned mournfully. Unseen like him, their hollow yowling drifted off the densely wooded Rocky Point. A silvery mist lingered like a death shroud above the ground. He watched it drift among trees as he surveyed the area where Amy lived. Behind a rustic stone wall sat a row of stylish A-frame condominiums with the architectural flair of Lake Arrowhead.

Above the mist, she materialized, taking shape at her second story window, tormenting him, luring him with her womanly silhouette until she closed the shutters. Blondes were rare within Takbir’s sex slave trade. Omar handed her purse to him. “Find her.” She’d moved. Her former neighbors shared more than her present address. Les’ girlfriend looked delicious.

Surprise! He spotted a tall male between the slats. Would her visitor pay a ransom if she were captured?

That home is about letting the outdoors in!

Skylights on the roof ridge showcased blue skies and wildlife in the trees above. The spacious wrap-around deck looked out onto Blue Jay Bay. He knew about the separate guest quarters on the bottom level with the additional half bath. It’d been convenient for the convalescing patient. Often he followed the stone path through the back yard and sat on a lawn chair, but that was when the patient was alive.

Tonight he hid among logs of pine, and boulders. His talent for observation led him to the Irish hideout. His hands, slick with sweat, gripped his semi-automatic as he waited. The pistol, chambered for the 9mm Luger cartridge, was designed with concealment in mind. Light and flat, it felt comfortable in his hand, but he had to control himself. Tomorrow morning he’d dress in work crew overalls and replace the skylight’s hinges. Soon he’d drop down for a visit.

To have a powerful full deck, he needed the map card. Pulling a card was as simple as pulling a linchpin here and there. So far the cops hadn’t made the twin association. The Kelly parents pushed the disabled twin aside. When one twin took the bullet instead of the intended, their parents let the cops chase their tails. Ma and Pa Kelly needed Les to live.