Serendipity (Southern Comfort) (2 page)

She pulled as close as possible without being seen – God help her if someone identified her to the police – and then leaned across his lap to release the handle.  She didn’t dare get out of the car.  There was bound to be an investigation, and she wanted no part of that.  As her uncle once coldly informed her, “The only good witness is a dead one.”  It wouldn’t matter that she happened to be his niece. 

He’d never had much use for her or her mother anyway.

“You need to move.”  Ava pushed the door open, and when he didn’t go fast enough to suit her, put her heels to his hip and shoved.  A couple of peaches tumbled out right along with him, but she couldn’t worry about that now.  She needed to get out of there, swing by her place and change, and then hightail it back to the club.  Ricardo would be waiting.  Even though he was her father’s friend, he still worked for her uncle, and that was a relationship not to be trusted.

One last conversation to cover her butt, and then she was through with her uncle for good. 

Noticing the man’s shoe
sitting forlornly on the passenger seat, she tossed it from the car.

“Sorry,” she barked when it smacked him in the chest, and he lifted his head to glare.

Well, she’d done what she could.  And really, did it matter if
he
thought her a crazy bitch?  It wasn’t like she’d ever see the man again.

AFTERNOON sun poured into the room, brightening the institutional green walls to an almost tolerable shade of mint. Jordan Wellington squinted, watching dust motes stirred to life by the AC unit humming beneath the window. 

“He lives.”

Jordan turned toward the familiar voice.  Wiping the haze of drug-induced sleep from his eyes, he located his brother’s long form sprawled in a bedside chair.  Jesse’s bark brown hair stuck up at random intervals where he’d been running his fingers through it, and summer blue eyes – their mother’s eyes – peered over horn-rimmed glasses.

Jesse tossed aside an old issue of Newsweek. “How’s your head?”

Jordan raised a hand to his scalp.  The shaved, raised lump wasn’t nearly as off-putting as the stitches.  The thought of a needle flashing through his skin made his stomach do a short, hard roll.  “Just super.”

“And that hairdo sure is pretty.  Adds just the right touch to your backless gown.”

“Makes it easier for you to kiss my ass.”

“Now, now.  That’s no way to talk to the sibling who spared you the Wrath of Mom.”

“Oh, hell.” Jordan’s queasy stomach sank straight to his toes. “Tell me they didn’t call her cell phone.”

“Well, at least that bump didn’t ruin your deductive reasoning.”    Jesse sat up, stretched, and brushed his knuckles against the Savannah Sand Gnats logo on his T-shirt.  “You can thank my incomparable negotiation skills for the fact that she’s still in Florida.”

Their parents were visiting Disney with their brother Jack and his family, and that’s where Jordan wanted them to stay.  The accident, the hospital, the damn backless gown – all of that was bad enough without ruining his family’s vacation.  He might not remember much of what happened, but he knew it wasn’t pretty.  “Was anyone else injured last night?”  

Jesse’s brow shot up.  “Not that I know of.” 

“Thank God for that.”  Jordan let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.  “What about my car?”

“What about it?”

“Is it totaled?” 

“No.” The dark brows crept lower until they gathered just above his glasses.  “Your car’s fine, Jordan. What exactly do you think happened?”

“Honest to God, Jesse, I don’t know.  I don’t even remember getting behind the wheel. I just… what do you mean, my car’s fine?” 

“You think yo
u were in an accident
?”

Jordan hesitated.  “Maybe you should tell me.”

Jesse took a moment to study his hands, and when they bunched Jordan’s stomach churned again.  He hid it well, but his brother was angry.  “Well, from what the police have been able to gather, someone used your head for a whipping post, took you for a little joy ride, then dropped you off for a visit. A couple of EMTs found you lying outside the ER.” 

“What?”

“Just telling you what I heard.  I know you ADAs have regular fan clubs, but you piss off any particular defendants recently?  Maybe prosecute a gang member?”

“I…” Jordan scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to think.  “Hell, Jesse. 
I piss off defendants every day
.  And besides, you know I’ve been wrapped up in the Fuller case for the past couple months.  A media shitstorm like that is bound to bring out the crazies.” 

Elijah Fuller was the man indicted for the brutal murders of three Savannah women.  When the lead prosecutor had been forced to step down due to health concerns, Jordan was tapped to take over. Professionally, his career went into overdrive, but on a personal level Jordan seemed to be stuck in neutral.  Not only did he hate the limelight, but he’d grown uncomfortable with the whole case.  The evidence, though more circumstantial than concrete, seemed to prove they’d indicted the right man, but as Jordan delved deeper into trial preparations, he unearthed more doubt than assurance.

However, this wasn’t the time or the place to get into that with his brother.  He had more immediate concerns.

“Do you remember anything from last night at all?” Jesse asked.    

Jordan tried to clear his head.  Bits and fragments of memories floated around like flotsam from a shipwreck.  “Only pieces,” he admitted.  Absently scratching at the tape holding his IV – he tried not to think of the needle – Jordan looked down when he felt the welts. 

He remembered the rake of long nails, a flash of dark hair.  “I… hell.  I think there was a woman.”

“There usually is.”

“Ha.  I mean during the… if I say assault n
ow I’m going to feel like a
douche
.  But yeah, I think a woman was involved.   See?  She scratched my arm with her nails.” 

“When was this?” Jesse examined the marks with a frown.  “Before you were hit?”

“I…” Man, he wasn’t quite sure. “I don’t think so.  Seems to me it was after.  She was pulling at me, and her nails dug into my arms.  Everything was… sort of surreal.  But I know she wanted me to get in her car.  My head felt like a bowling pin, and when I grabbed it my hand came away bloody.  Had to have been after.”

“Do you remember anything about her car?”

Jordan closed his eyes, tried to drum up a mental image.
  His head throbbed, but he knew his brother – and FBI agent – as well as whatever detectives might be assigned his case would want as many details as they could get.
  “Uh… red.  I think. Small.  A coupe, maybe.” He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose.  “I couldn’t even hazard a guess as to make or model.”

“I’m guessing a license plate number is too much to ask.”

Jordan’s half-lidded gaze said:
get real.  But there was something… “I think there was a chain around it.  The plate.” Though something still wasn’t right.  “Except, I don’t think the chain was on her car.  It –”

“Wait, wait.”  Jesse held up a hand, eyes sharpening like blue razors.  “You’re saying there was a second car involved?”

“I think so.  Seems to me I must have been in the trunk of the second car.  I felt the chain with my heel, and it made me wonder how I lost my shoe.  The woman threw it at me when she kicked me out of her car.  I thought it was damn rude.”

“Kidnappers these days.  They just don’t have any manners.”

“Yeah, yeah.”  Noticing the tray of food next to the bed, Jordan lifted the silver cover.  “Did you eat my breakfast?”

“Believe me, I did you a favor.  What were you doing at the Marriott on River Street?  That’s where they found your car.”

“Ah, that.” Jordan grimaced, pushing the remnants of something egg-like off to the side. “I got roped into giving a speech.  Steve Finch phoned me a couple of days ago and called in a favor.  He was scheduled to give a lecture to a group of
bureaucrats
about that joint task force we were on last year. Something came up last minute, so I was the stand in.”

“So you were leaving that conference when you were attacked?”

“Sounds like.  But honestly, I don’t remember.” 

“Pretty common with an injury like yours.  It might come back to you, it might not.”  Voices sounded in the hall, and Jesse climbed to his feet, ambling to the door to peer through the crack.  “Looks like the detectives are back.  Get ready to go through everything again.”  He turned, and his jaw was set.  “I’ll hold my tongue, because it’s their jurisdiction.  But make no mistake, little bro.  From this point on, I’ve got your back.”

THERE was a goon in Ava’s parking lot.  Heaven help her, she got so angry every time she looked through the window that she nearly howled like the dogs in her kennel. 

Protection, her
ass.  Her uncle just wanted to intimidate her.

“Staring isn’t going to make him go away, Dr. Martinez.  Believe me, I’ve already tried.”

Hands on hips, Ava turned toward her assistant.  Auburn hair spilled from beneath a blue bandana as Katie’s head popped up from behind the computer monitor, putting Ava in mind
of a colorful jack in the box
. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I have no idea.”

Abandoning her hunting-and-pecking, Katie came around the reception counter to join Ava at the window.  “That guy’s facial craters might warrant a visit from NASA.”

Ava couldn’t help but laugh.  “I knew there was a reason I hired you, Katie.”

“You mean other than the fact that I blew you away with my extensive knowledge of everything that walks on four legs, not to mention my outstanding public relations prowess and exceptional secretarial skills?”

“You
barely kne
w how to turn on the computer.”

“I’m getting better, aren’t I?”

“Well you certainly couldn’t have gotten any worse.  But just for the record, One-Eyed Jack convinced me.  Anyone who can give him a bath without losing their own eye deserves your meager salary.”

“Nah, Jack’s a sweetie.” As if on cue, the aptly-named gray feline rubbed against Katie’s long, long legs.  He circled around her in a figure eight, giving Ava a wide berth.  “I think he’s still mad at you for that rabies shot.”

“He’ll get over it.” Ava watched the cat jump onto the counter, where he flicked his tail to show how wrong she was.

“Homemade Sin out there is go
ing to
scare off all your business.”

Ava turned back toward the window. The man
was
exceptionally ugly, all oily dark hair and pockmarked skin encased in a dirty wife beater.  Chains of gold dripped like gilded sweat. 

But more disturbing was the fact that she knew, without question, that he was also exceptionally ruthless.  And she had no doubt as to why he’d been posted.  Her uncle was giving her a warning.  Talk to anyone, about anything, and I’ll know it.

When she’d finally made it back to the club last night, the goons were gone – no doubt scrambling around trying to find the man who’d disappeared from their trunk – and Ricardo had been distracted.  But he’d let her know that her loving uncle, worried about his only niece’s safety during her father’s upcoming trial, had ordered a security detail to see to her protection.  Carlos was concerned about the associates of the man her father murdered seeking out Ava for reprisal. 

Which was bullshit. 

Her uncle just wanted to ensure that she stayed quiet during her father’s trial.  Unlike her father, Ava had no loyalty to Carlos, and the bastard knew it.  Which was why he’d sicced his ugly dog. 

“Bastard.”

“Language,” Katie
said
.  “Do you really think he’ll keep a tail on you twenty-four hours a day for the duration?”

“I don’t know.  Hopefully, once he realizes I’m not inclined to play footsies with the prosecution, he’ll leave me alone.  If it was his neck on the chopping block, I’d be standing over him with the axe, but I’m not about to do anything to hurt my father.”

“Why don’t you tell him that?”

“That would mean speaking directly to the man, which I haven’t done in over a year and a half.”  Since her mother had disappeared. 

Ava pressed her fingers to the pain that had begun to bang against her head like a nasty neighbor at the door.  “I’m sorry, Katie.  I never should have dumped this on you in the first place, but I felt it only fair you understood who you worked for.  The severance package I offered still stands. I understand if you want to quit.” 

“You keep saying that, Dr. Martinez, and I’m afraid you and I will have words.”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t want to be subjected to this if I had a choice.”  Ava threw her hand away from her aching head. “And for the last time, will you please stop calling me Dr. Martinez?”

“Not between nine a.m. to five p.m.  Outside business hours: Ava.”

Ava’s eyes rolled.  “Lord save me from propriety.”