Queens Ransom (Sofie Metropolis) (12 page)

Seventeen

‘Does your friend Konstantine have any enemies?’

I’d talked CIS agent David Hunter into coffee rather than dinner and now sat across the table from him at one of my favorite Greek cafes on Broadway enjoying a tall, frothy frappé and a plate of
diples
, which is a cross between a doughnut and a funnel cake, drenched in honey syrup and sprinkled with walnuts.

‘Want one?’ I asked, hoping he’d say no.

He said no.

‘I don’t think “enemy” is a word in Dino’s vocabulary,’ I said in answer to his question, sucking the honey syrup from my thumb. ‘Everyone loves him.’

David was watching my movements, especially my mouth . . . a little too closely.

Ooops.

Note to self: do not lick honey-covered digits in the company of males . . . unless you’re interesting in licking them, of course.

I’d never thought of myself as the sensual type. But I suppose that was one of those traits determined by someone other than you. Take the finger-sucking bit: I’d always done it. Not sure why. And Lord knows my mother had tried breaking me of the habit. Yet, here I was, still doing it.

‘Why do you ask?’ I tried to redirect his attention to someplace other than my mouth. Partly because I was beginning to feel awkward. Mostly because it made me notice his mouth, which looked like it might be very nice to lick, indeed.

It would be good to keep in mind licking had landed me more than my fair share of trouble. And this meeting and the motivation behind it stood as a stark reminder of that.

‘What? Oh.’ David shifted in his chair and sipped his coffee – regular with just a dab of cream. ‘Just that my investigation shows he was turned in by a reliable source.’

‘Turned in?’

‘Yes. For suspicious activity.’

‘Such as?’

He shrugged. ‘I wasn’t able to obtain that information. But I’m guessing enough to not only put him on the list, but to have him placed on the first flight out.’

‘Who was it?’

‘Additional information I wasn’t able to obtain.’

I was beginning to think I might have better luck going straight to Homeland Security, no matter my fear of finding myself sitting in a Greek airport eight hours later looking for a way to call Dino to come pick me up.

This is what was so important for me to meet him about? I had things to do. People to see.

Ransom drops to wriggle out of . . .

‘I don’t have time to date,’ I said.

David nearly choked on his coffee. Which made him all the more attractive in an odd kind of way.

And, sitting across from him again, it was hard to ignore how very attractive he was.

And difficult to remember why I shouldn’t welcome his interest beyond the obvious reasons.

‘This isn’t a date,’ he finally said.

OK, I wasn’t up to arguing the point. Probably it wasn’t a good idea, either. While I was reasonably sure he didn’t have the authority to deport me anywhere farther than Canada, I didn’t want to try him.

Then again, being in Canada just then might not be a bad idea . . .

‘You know, my mom says she’s hearing rumors Dino was set up,’ I said.

‘Your mom would be the one running the bakery?’

‘You’ve met her?’

‘I was going to suggest we go there.’

This time I was the one who nearly choked on her coffee.

Me? David? Seen out together? By my mother?

‘Yes, that would be her.’ Imagine how I might have responded had I not happened by the bakery and discovered for myself what everyone else seemed to already know. ‘At any rate, I’m thinking maybe we should stick to meeting at your office from here on out.’

‘I see.’ His gaze drowned in his coffee cup. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s just, since I moved here six months ago I haven’t really been out much. Oh, sure, I’ve been downtown. But not here. After you came into my office, I thought you might be the perfect person to show me around, since you know Astoria so well.’

OK.

Now I felt bad.

Which seemed to be happening a lot lately.

‘I’m not offended,’ I said. ‘I’m flattered. But . . .’

He looked at me hopefully.

‘Well . . . but.’

I smiled.

My cell phone chirped and I glanced to find a text from Waters.

‘I should really get going,’ I said.

‘Oh. Sure. Let me walk out with you.’

I smiled and let him help with my jacket then I led the way out, allowing him to open doors as we went.

‘I’m hoping to hear on my reconsider request by tomorrow,’ he said when we both stood on the cold sidewalk. ‘I’ll leave message at your office on the decision.’

It had briefly stopped snowing and the evening was one of those where your breath turned into an ice sculpture before it could evaporate.

‘Thank you,’ I said.

He really did have nice eyes. The kind that seemed open to laughing. And I was flattered he was interested in me. For reasons I wasn’t entirely clear on, I found myself leaning slightly in toward him. To kiss his cheek, I told myself. Something quick and not too friendly.

Problem was? I missed his cheek and hit his mouth.

And there was nothing quick or unfriendly about it.

Mmm . . .

Yes . . .

There was something gratifying in knowing I was right: David was a good kisser. A considerate one. He allowed me to decide how far I wanted to go.

Well, until he leaned into me and deepened the kiss but good, making off with my breath entirely.

Whoa . . .

Suddenly I was no longer aware of the cold. To the contrary, I felt very warm.

We both stopped at the same time, pausing for a moment, noses nearly touching.

I felt him smile rather than saw him. ‘Glad you had time for . . . that,’ he said.

I smiled back. ‘Me, too.’

There was something hotly intimate about our standing in the middle of the sidewalk enjoying our first kiss.

I waited for fear or exasperation or another objectionable emotion to hit, to remind me why I really wasn’t interested in dating anyone.

There was nothing.

Hunh.

My cell chirped again.

David chuckled as he drew away. ‘You’d better see to that bird in your pocket.’

‘Yeah. Ravenous beast.’

‘I’ll call you,’ he said. ‘I mean, tomorrow. When I hear on that reconsideration.’

I nodded. ‘OK.’

‘Good night.’

‘Good night.’

I did experience something I wasn’t prepared for: shyness.

And it didn’t dissipate until after he turned the corner and moved out of sight . . . and only then minimally.

I sighed and turned to walk in the opposite direction.

That’s when I spotted the dark truck cruising by . . .

Jake.

My heart dunked into my stomach.

Then it rebounded.

How long since the last time I’d found myself in nearly this exact same position?

Right before Dino was deported.

My brain seized.

No . . .

There wasn’t a chance that . . .

Never in a million years would Jake . . .

Would he?

My cell chirped again.

I fished it out, saw Waters’ name in the display and answered.

‘I quit!’ he said, then hung up.

‘I swear, woman, I ain’t seen anybody get them-damn-selves in as much trouble as you do,’ Eugene said after I finally managed to get him to take my call. It had taken no fewer than ten tries and five voicemail messages promising a bonus in addition to hazard pay.

‘What’s going on?’

I’d arranged to meet him outside a bar in Jamaica, Queens. Was it just me or did his dark skin look a little lighter? Then again, it could be the cold.

‘Ain’t you gonna offer to buy a brother a beer?’

I looked at the low, squat building pulsing with hip-hop music and then looked back at him. ‘Here? No.’

‘Fine, then.’

He reached inside his new leather coat and took out what, to all intents and purposes, looked like a cigarette. But when he lit it up, it smelled like anything but.

I noticed his hand trembled as he filled his lungs, held it, then exhaled. His shoulders dropped at least three inches before my eyes.

‘You want some?’ He held out the joint.

‘Nah. Pass.’

Mostly I limited myself to contact highs. And just being near Eugene right now, his blowing the smoke in my direction, guaranteed I’d get a good one.

Oh, screw it.

‘Yeah, hand it to me,’ I said.

He did.

I took a tentative puff, tried to hold the acrid smoke in my lungs, then coughed it out.

I handed it back.

He chuckled softly. ‘Good you don’t smoke. Can’t imagine what kind of trouble you get into if you did. Probably get a nigga killed.’

‘So are you going to tell me what happened or not?’

‘I’m thinking we should talk about that bonus you mentioned first.’

My turn to laugh.

I’d had him tail Sara Canton. Yes, I knew where she was. She’d called early this morning to tell me and ask if her daughter had been found yet. I withheld mention of the bonus attached to her, and my second snatch and grab after warning her away, and shared as much as I could.

Then I put Eugene on her.

I was guessing his skin-whitening experience? Had to do with her gun-loving brother Bubba.

‘Sum-a-bitch tried to fit his shotgun up my mutha-fucking ass,’ Eugene confirmed.

I giggled at the image.

He did, too, shaking his head. ‘I ain’t even joking. I fell asleep in my car. Hell, been watching the boring-as-hell woman, keeping all discreet and shit . . . the next thing I know, I’m being hauled out by the ugliest white ass gorilla you ever saw.’

Yep, definitely Bubba.

‘It ain’t even funny!’ he said, although he was laughing. ‘Swear to all that’s holy, that guy bent me over the front of my own car and looked like he was gonna fuck a nigga right there in front of God and everyone.’

I laughed harder, more at him than the situation. I wouldn’t put it past a sicko like Bubba to do exactly that.

‘If I’m lying I’m dying.’ Eugene held his hand up as if taking an oath. A gesture that may have held much more weight if a joint wasn’t squeezed between his index and middle fingers. ‘Shit. Tell you, I ain’t ever been so glad to see the NYPD roll up in my life.’

‘The police showed up?’

‘Showed up? That cop friend of yours? He was all over it.’

‘Pino?’

‘Yeah, that be him.’

I imagined Pino going toe to toe with the likes of Bubba. Almost worth the price of admission to watch the dick-measuring contest up close and personal.

‘What happened next?’

‘What do you mean what happened next? Shoot, ain’t that enough?’

I waited.

‘Nothing happened. That Bubba guy couldn’t have run faster back into that rat hole they staying at. Didn’t say two words. All I knew is that damn gun of his was missing from between my goddam legs and he was gone.’ He pointed at me. ‘And that Pino guy wasn’t too happy that I didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘I bet.’

The squeal of tires.

We both turned toward the street, laughter gone as the tire of a black SUV. bounced against the curb and three guys got out, grabbing me and stuffing me into the back seat.

Not again . . .

The last thing I heard was Eugene’s scream.

At least I think it was his scream. Sounded so feminine, I had to wonder about it.

Talk about a buzz kill.

I could only hope that my buzz was the sole thing on the chopping block.

Eighteen

Ransom time already?

That was the first thought that popped to mind when I came to Lord only knows how much later to find myself propped in a chair, hands bound behind my back, ankles tied to the chair legs.

OK, this was new.

I looked around the plain, windowless room that held nothing but the chair I was sitting in, a small table and then another chair across the way, currently empty.

The silence was absolutely deafening.

Aw, hell. David Hunter had been offended by my rejection and now Homeland Security was going to deport me. I could only hope to go someplace warm and friendly.

I rolled my too big tongue around my teeth, hating the pillowy feeling. Chloroform was my bet. But who knew nowadays.

At any rate, I was mildly glad Bruno wasn’t behind this latest kidnapping.

The door opened and I found myself hoping I was still glad when he was done with me.

I silently watched him. At six foot something, with a slender build, I guessed he’d look like a runner if he were wearing something other than a plain, navy blue suit.

Crud.

FBI.

He put a pitcher of water on the table along with a glass. No file. No notes.

I had a run-in with the Feds a few months back. They hadn’t caught up with me, but I suspected it was because they really hadn’t wanted to.

Of course, this could also be Homeland Security.

Nah. This guy had Federal Bureau of Investigations stenciled all over his too calm, too collected butt.

He finally sat down, back rigid, attention finally focused on me.

‘Water?’ he asked.

He picked up the pitcher and slowly filled the glass.

It made me want to pee.

Which, I suppose, might be desired response Number Two.

Pun intended.

I felt the ridiculous urge to giggle. Which told me my buzz hadn’t been entirely killed. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if maybe the chloroform had enhanced it.

‘What’s next? Waterboarding?’

‘Wrong agency.’

‘Right. Because that would make you with . . .’

He didn’t answer and his face didn’t shift. But I caught the slightest trace of amusement in his dark eyes.

‘If you’re going to deport me, you might as well just put me on a plane now and get it over with. Just make my destination someplace nice.’

He blinked.

The door opened and a woman looking exactly the same as the agent across from me, except for the bun at the nape of her neck, entered, putting a file down on the table and then leaving again without saying a word.

The agent didn’t move.

‘Mine?’ I asked.

My arms and legs were beginning to go numb, but I determined to ignore them. Asking to be freed wouldn’t get me anywhere anyway. The way these guys worked was you show me yours and I’ll grant you one wish.

And I wasn’t showing anyone anything.

‘Yours,’ he said.

I stared at the file. It must have been at least an inch thick.

Wow.

Of course, I knew that elementary and high school transcripts, printed email correspondences, utility bills and medical records could easily account for most of what was in there.

I also knew it wouldn’t account for all of it.

I moved my hand to scratch my head but got a chair squeak instead.

‘How thick is yours?’ I asked.

A whisper of a smile.

He got up, took a pocketknife out of his jacket, and cut my restraints without my asking.

Cool beans.

I told myself not to do anything as unoriginal as rub my wrists, but I couldn’t help myself.

He sat back down and slid the glass of water my way.

‘Pass. Thanks.’ I nodded toward the file. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a look at that.’

‘Not on offer. But something else is.’

I took some comfort in knowing that why I was pulled in had nothing to do with anything I had done wrong. Well, nothing they knew about, anyway.

Although I was pretty sure they could have pressed the issue of tampering with a federal case. Because those had definitely been FBI agents at Abramopoulos’ office.

‘Oh?’ I asked.

So they wanted to know what I did about the kidnapping. Good enough. Problem was, they likely knew more than I did.

I narrowed my eyes. Or did they?

‘What is it? And what do I have to do in exchange?’

‘Do as Abramopoulos asks. And keep your cell phone on you at all times.’

I winced.

While I’d basically resigned myself to my fate as official ransom dropper, I was coming to think maybe I should take a taxi to Homeland Security strapped with fake explosives and shout at them in Greek.

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it.’

I had the sinking sensation I was being set up for something.

‘And in return I get . . .?’

He smiled. ‘The name of the person who set up your friend the baker.’

I went cold.

Was there anything these guys didn’t know about?

The sound of my cell phone ringing in my coat pocket made me jump. I was surprised they hadn’t taken it off me.

‘Go ahead,’ he said.

I warily slid my cell out to see PRIVATE CALLER displayed.

I answered, watching the agent’s face as I did so.

Bruno. ‘Date’s been cancelled for tonight.’

‘Why?’

‘Weather.’

I recalled my earlier wish that there would be a snow delay and nearly laughed, but it would have revealed my nerves, so I didn’t.

‘Tomorrow night. Same time.’

He hung up.

I stared at the agent. ‘Why do I have the feeling you knew exactly who was calling and what they had to say?’

He moved the file to sit in front of him, his nicely manicured hand on top of it.

Why did I suddenly have the sinking sensation that my making the drop wasn’t what was truly behind my little involuntary visit?

And why was it I also feared that by the end of all this I was going to regret trading my waitress apron for a PI apprenticeship?

I was dropped off the same place I’d been picked up, Lucille exactly where I left her, Eugene nowhere to be found.

Not that I expected to find him. I was thinking it would be a downright miracle if I ever saw him again.

Still . . .

‘You wanted juicy,’ I told him when he finally picked up his cell phone.

‘Sweetness, that ain’t juicy; that’s flat out, motherfucking suicide.’

I laughed and asked him for a favor.

‘You ain’t putting me on that Canton woman again?’

‘Now that you’ve been made? Nah.’

I did want to switch him with Pete, however.

I pondered whether or not I should tell my cousin about Waters’ experience, then decided against it. I had a feeling Bubba fell a bit on the racist side and probably thought Eugene’s interest had been strictly of the larceny variety, even though from what I saw, the guy didn’t own anything outside his guns that held any value.

I told him what he wanted and he reluctantly agreed.

‘Thanks, Eugene.’

‘Thanks ain’t what I want. What I want is a big fat check to make up for today’s mess.’

I rang off without saying anything, although I fully agreed with him.

I stood for long minutes on that sidewalk, ignoring the looks I got from those exiting and entering the bar behind me and the fact that it was freezing cold and snowing again. There was such a stillness about moments like these. Quiet. The snow muffling the sounds of the cars rolling by on the street in front of me. Softening the lights from the bar behind me.

All things being equal, I would have preferred the drop have been made tonight. In fact, had it gone ahead as planned, I might have been done and be home in bed right now.

OK, maybe it was too early for bed, but . . .

The thought of my bed – or more specifically the gifts behind my bed – brought three things to mind: first, that I needed to get rid of them; second, that my ex-groom was marrying my ex-best friend; third, that had the drop happened tonight, I’d know the name of the person who had set Dino up.

I blinked against a random snowflake that had drifted into my eye.

But I already knew the name of that individual, didn’t I? It had been sitting back there, parked at the back of my brain since that morning I stopped by and saw the ‘Closed’ sign on Dino’s bakery. I just had been ready to turn the key.

Now, I was.

I started walking toward Lucille, thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head as lazily as the snow around me. But my mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: confronting the person responsible for the closing of my favorite bakery.

Well, until my mother reopened it. Now it was the one bakery I could go to.

‘You got a cigarette?’

A girl about my age asked as she passed. ‘Nah, sorry. Don’t smoke.’

But something did make me reach inside my coat pocket and pluck out a tenner.

‘What’s say you go buy a pack and enjoy it for the both of us.’

She squinted at me and then the money, as if unsure what to say.

‘Merry Christmas.’

I got into Lucille.

‘Same to you,’ she said, standing and watching as I pulled away from the curb.