Protecting Lulu (Global Protection Agency) (29 page)

“Women
like her are why I don’t go back to England,” Ian said.

Noah
just felt a raw sense of distaste. “At least we still have our balls. I want to
keep her on the suspect list just so I can find something on her. She hates
Lulu and Wilder.”

“I
got that impression, too,” Ian said. “What did we really find out about her?”

“She’s
an evil bitch,” Noah said, “and she’s hiding something. She managed to hide her
animosity for the most part, but women like her thrive on secrets. I want to
know what her secrets are.”

“I
don’t,” Ian replied.

Noah
was surprised. “You like knowing secrets, being in people’s business.”

“But
knowing secrets means I have to be close to them. I’d rather be tortured by the
Iranian secret police.”

Noah
nodded. “I don’t why she took such a real shine to you.” In fact, Marcia was
practically falling all over herself in her effort to claim Ian’s attention.

“The
same way a lion likes a gazelle,” Ian said with a shudder.

Noah
laughed. “Welcome to the jungle.”

Wilder
raised his arms over his head and stretched to ease the cramp in across his
ribs. He twisted his head back and forth when his phone rang. He glanced at the
display and saw that it was Marcia—again. He’d been dodging her phone calls all
day, letting Sylvia handle her. He didn’t want to deal with her. He considered
letting the call go unanswered, but decided to answer it. Marcia never gave up.

“Hello,
Wilder Bennington here,” he said slowly.

 “Thank
you for taking the time to answer one of my numerous phone calls, Grandson.” Though
her voice sounded sweet, Wilder could feel the acid dripping from each word.

“Hello,
Marcia.”

“I
would appreciate if next time we have a family crisis, you do not send the
help.”

“I
thought you would enjoy a visit from an authentic English nobleman,” Wilder
said, thinking how best to get rid of her.

“Really,”
she said, “I must admit he had impeccable manners. I’m still quite disappointed
that you didn’t visit me yourself.”

“The
security firm has curtailed my social outings and I must bow to their
expertise,” Wilder said without a sliver of guilt.

“I
do understand, but isn’t the purpose of a body guard to keep you safe?”

Touché,
he thought. “I apologize for you feeling slighted. That was not my intention.”

“Should
I be concerned for my own safety and if so, shouldn’t I have a body guard?”

No
one should be subjected to the torture of Marcia. He would have to give them
hazard pay. “If you would feel more secure, I can arrange for someone.”

“Don’t
go to any trouble for me,” she said.

“No
trouble at all. You know how I feel about you,” he said resisting the urge to
disconnect.

“I’m
touched, Wilder,” Marcia said sweetly.

The
door opened and E.J. walked in.
Rescue me
, Wilder thought. She glanced
at him curiously.

“Well,
Marcia,” he said, “thank you…”

A
knowing look crossed E.J.’s face as she walked over and said in a loud voice, “Boss,
we have a problem in Studio 2 and we need you.” She leaned toward the phone. “NOW!”

“Marcia,
I have to go.”

“I
heard, dear. Go take care of what you need to take care of,” Marcia said.

“I’ll
make arrangements for a security detail for you.”

“Thank
you, Wilder, I feel so protected,” Marcia said sweetly and disconnected.

Wilder
closed his phone and slid it back in his pocket.

“Was
that her?” E.J. asked. She leaned against the corner of his desk looking
utterly delectable in her dark brown silk pantsuit and gold blouse. Her hair
was upswept to reveal her ears and long neck. Delicate earrings hung from her
earlobes.

Wilder
sat back and studied her. Noah and his people were in his life in a very
intimate manner and he felt uncomfortable having them underfoot all the time.

“Enid
Juniper,” Wilder said, back to the name game to take his thoughts away from
Marcia.

E.J.
shuddered. “No. Make that God no.”

“Elsbeth
Juanita.”

“Not
even close. You’re getting desperate.”

“Just
keeping you off your stride.” He pushed back from his desk and stood. He liked
how tiny and petite she was. She looked up at him, her eyes teasing.

“Want
to go to dinner?” she asked.

Startled,
he drew back. “Dinner?”

“Not
a date. I’m your security detail for the evening.” She stood and rotated her
shoulders stiffly.

He
felt a touch of disappointment. “Here I was hoping for a date.”

“We
can call your girlfriend.”

For
a second he had no idea who she was talking about.

“Candace,”
E.J. prompted. “You are dating her, aren’t you?”

“I
was.” Except that when he was with E.J. no other woman entered his thoughts. Candace
was nice, but Wilder didn’t see a future with her even though she’d hinted
enough times. “Let’s get dinner.”

He
opened the closet and took out his coat.

“How
about Petruchio’s? They have great pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“You
know, round bread sliced in wedges with tomato sauce, cheese, pepperoni and
sausage…” her eyes closed as though she could already taste it.

Wilder
couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone out for pizza. “Sounds good.”

“Glad
you agree. It’s time you took a little walk on the wild side,” she said with a
sly grin.

“Do
I want to know?”

“Not
yet.”

Petruchio’s
was a hole in the wall place halfway down an alley in Hell’s Kitchen a block
away from the Sony Music Studios. Wilder would never have even known the place
existed. Yet as he stood in the alley, he breathed in the most amazing mixture
of smells that set his mouth to watering.

He
opened the door for E.J. and she stopped for a moment to take a deep breath. “Do
you smell that?” she asked.

The
place smelled heavenly.

“Pizza
is the great equalizer.” He said as he escorted her inside.

Warmth
enveloped him and felt good after the chill of the January night. The restaurant
was larger inside than he expected. A bar stretched along the side wall and the
other side was crowded with tables and booths lining the wall. It might have
been a hole in the wall restaurant with its dingy gray walls, red vinyl covered
booths along the wall and small scarred tables and chairs, but Wilder
recognized several recording artists and music producers. If they ate here, the
food had to be good.

Peanut
shells littered the plank floorboards, crackling when Wilder stepped on them.

“Red,”
a man’s voice called out.

“Sal,”
E.J. said. Sal was a large, muscular man who looked like he worked out for
hours every day. Black hair, threaded with gray, was cropped to military
closeness. He wore black jeans and polo shirt with a white apron wrapped around
him.

Sal
lifted her off her feet and smacked her on the cheek. She looked like a doll in
his beefy arms. “Look at you, all grown up. You look good, Red.”

Wilder
felt a twinge of jealousy even though the man was old enough to be her father.

“Put
me down, Sal,” E.J. ordered sternly.

Sal
set E.J. down on her feet and gave Wilder a once over. “Mr. Wilder Bennington,”
Sal said in a hearty voice, “it’s about time you found my place. You been
missing da best pizza in New York.” He had a broad Brooklyn accent and he
chuckled heartily. “And you Red, you really did get out of da business if you’re
hanging wit’ dis guy.” He jerked his thumb at Wilder.

E.J.
grinned. “That is a compliment indeed.”

“Come
on,” he said and led them to a corner booth away from the door and the chill
that seemed to permanently occupy that spot. E.J. slid into the booth with
Wilder across from her. Sal set a bucket of peanuts in the center of the table.
E.J. broke open a peanut, put the nut in her mouth and tossed the shell onto
the floor.

“Gino,”
Sal yelled over the din of the other diners.

A
small, thin man with gray hair curling around round face hurried over. “Sal,”
Gino said.

“This
is Red,” Sal said to Gino. “Make sure you give her da regular customer menu.” Sal
winked at E.J. “I’m comin’ up in da world, Red. Hell’s Kitchen ain’t Hell’s
Kitchen no more. Now, I get celebrities in here from da recording studios and
big name producers who want a slice of authentic New York pizza.”

E.J.
glanced around at the mix of people at the tables. “I can see that.”

“What
da ya want to drink?”

“Just
a soda for me,” E.J. said as Gino handed her a menu.

“What
beers to you have?” Wilder asked.

Sal
rattled off a list of names and Wilder ordered a Guinness. He glanced at his
menu as Sal hurried back to the bar to fetch their drinks.

“Why
are we here?” Wilder asked.

“Sal
used to be the best fence on the Eastern seaboard. He knows things,” she said
with a slight frown. “Noah isn’t making headway on this threat to Lulu. We’re
running around in circles and so far everyone we’ve looked at has come across
clean. We’re running out of leads.”

Sal
came back with their drinks. Gino took their order while Sal sat down next to
E.J. “What brings you here if you’re out of the business?”

E.J.
took a sip of her water. She pulled something out of her pocket and slid it
across the table to Sal. Wilder saw two folded up bills under her palm. Sal
looked at the money and pushed it back toward her. “We’re friends, Red.”

“Lulu
Bennington is being stalked,” E.J. said quietly. “We keep running into stone
walls trying to find out who has it out for her.”

Sal’s
eyebrows rose. “That’s not my normal area of business.”

“Sal,
you are the heartbeat of the city. If you don’t know something you know someone
who does. You are the Google of the underworld.”

Sal
looked amused and pleased at the same time. He held up a finger and pulled a
cell phone out of his pocket. “Give me a minute. I need to check on something.”
He slid out of the booth and walked away, the phone to his ear.

“What
are you getting me involved in?” Wilder asked, curiously.

“You
want your sister to keep breathing; you might have to get a little dirty.”

“I’m
in.” He’d do anything to keep Lulu safe.

“I
won’t get you hurt or killed. Trust me.”

Oddly
enough, Wilder did trust her.

Their
food came and E.J. folded a slice of pizza and started eating. Wilder drank
some of his Guinness and contemplated E.J.’s statement.

Twenty
minutes later Sal came back and slid into the booth. “A couple months ago, my
cousin who works in the building department made a comment about your studio,
Mr. Bennington. I needed to check it out. Someone wanted to see the floor plans
for your studio and your sister’s house.”

“Who?”
Wilder asked.

“Said
his name was John Smith. How original is that?” Sal grimaced.

“Why
would someone want to see the floor plans for the studio and my sister’s
house?”

“First
of all, they know where they’re going and secondly they would know every nook
and cranny of your studio.”

“That’s
what I would do before…well, before I went on an acquisition run,” E.J. said
thoughtfully.

“How
do we find this John Smith?” Wilder inquired.

Sal
shrugged. “You can’t. He slid my cousin some bills and there’s no record of
anything.”

Wilder
frowned. “Another dead end.”

E.J.
took a second piece of pizza, folded it and bit into it. He loved the look of
ecstasy that filled her eyes. She swallowed, took a sip of water and then said,
“No, it’s not a dead end. It’s just one more piece of the puzzle.”

“A
piece that doesn’t fit,” Wilder said.

“We
don’t know a name, but we do know we’re looking for someone who’s organized and
someone with some cash.”

Wilder
rubbed his forehead. He would never make a cop or private investigator. He saw
a mish-mash of things and nothing worked together.

E.J.
leaned forward. “You don’t know what you have until you lay it all out on a
table and look at it. Right now, Noah has all the pieces and when he really
looks at it, he’ll see the pattern.”

Wilder
had no idea what she was talking about. “How can you see patterns in this?”

“I’ve
spent a lot of years being a bad girl,” E.J. said. “I work with good men who
have done bad things for the right reasons. We can see the patterns because of
who we are and what we used to do. At some point, everything is going to make
sense. I think we’re dealing with someone who is very smart and determined,
with the money to back it up.”