Traveling Trouble, page 31
She had no desire to work. In fact, had no interest to get out of bed but she pulled the covers aside and swung her legs out in one motion, like jumping into a pool to get your body used to the cold water all at once. If she got up in segments, she might still be there when her shift ended.
The shower helped revive her but also activated her memories. The replay of the prior day’s events lasted as long as the hot water. Dressed, Bridgett thought about calling Rochelle for an update but did not want to risk waking her.
As she walked toward the main building, she spied a state trooper vehicle in the parking lot. The driver was not inside. The sight spurred her to move faster. Inside she found a trooper she did not know sitting sideways in his chair at the far table positioned to see through the window. He glanced up as she entered, then picked up his coffee mug. In front of him was a stack of empty plates. Drew must have fed him.
She closed on the table, picking up the half full coffee pot on the way. She smiled. “More coffee?”
He returned the smile. “Please.” He offered the mug. She poured. “I’m Bridgett.”
“Hi. Tom Markle.”
“You just here for food or you keeping vigil?”
“Yes.” He smiled wider and took a gulp of the hot drink.
“Any word on locating our killer?”
The smile left his eyes. “Sorry?”
“I assume Magnoll sent you to keep an eye on us? Just wondered if you’ve made any progress finding the man. I talked to Magnoll last night and they were bringing in reinforcements for a search.”
“Ah, you’re her.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
He took another gulp of coffee. He wasn’t going to answer her. “Let me guess. Magnoll told you to babysit us and also said not to tell us anything?”
He pointed to his nose.
“So you can’t tell us anything?”
“I can tell you one thing. There is no us in the equation. Just a you.” He pointed at her.
That made her mad. She whirled. “If you want more coffee, you know where the pot is.” Behind her, she heard him laugh. She spun back at him. “You find that funny?”
“Oh, not the coffee. Magnoll must know you well. He said as soon as I told you you’re out of the loop, you’d get mad. He was right.”
If she was angry before, she was enraged now. She stormed into the kitchen, taking the coffee pot with her. Drew looked up from his chopping. “I see you met our watcher.”
“Yes. Did he tell you anything? He shut me out.”
“A little.” He went back to his task.
“Drew! Tell me, dammit.”
He looked at her and tried to keep a straight, disinterested face, but she could see the smile forming in his eyes. He was enjoying this. She stepped closer and wedged her body between him and the stove. “Tell me. Now.”
The smile and any warmth faded from his eyes. “You going to beat it out of me?”
“What? Don’t be stu—er, silly. Of course not. Now, please tell me.”
He stepped back. “There is not much to tell. They were out all night. He blew up one of their cars and got away. They found one of their men in critical condition and two other officers were injured. He’s still free. Hence, the watcher.”
She tried to convey warmth, love, something with her eyes. “Thank you.” She wanted to stretch on tiptoes to kiss him but something in his demeanor suggested it might not be reciprocated. She stepped away.
Why was everyone trying to piss her off? She had a thought and went to her workstation and grabbed a few ice cubes and a coffee mug. She poured the still hot coffee into the mug and added the ice. Next, she walked into the dining room where she tore off a section of paper towel. From a glance, she saw Markle watching her. She took the paper towel and wiped her mouth, then raised the coffee, hoping the ice had done its job. She drained the cup, wiped her mouth with the now-crumpled paper towel and said, “It’s amazing the information you can get from a man when he gets a BJ. See what you missed?”
He froze with the mug angled toward his lips. Shock and surprise crossed his face and filled his eyes. Then the coffee dripped from the cup and landed in his lap. He jumped up fast, smacking his head on a decorative shelf above. Bridgett went back inside the kitchen and did an arm pump. “Bonus.”
TO BRIDGETT’S SURPRISE, lunch was extremely busy. She hustled from beginning to end and then some. By the time she cleaned and reset her station, she had fifteen minutes before the start of dinner. She called Rochelle. “How’s he doing?”
“About the same. The doctor is encouraged that he stayed stable overnight.”
“He’s in my prayers.”
“Thank you.”
“How are you doing?”
“I’m all right. Got a little sleep. I do feel better.”
“I’ve got to get back to work. Call me if something changes or you need me.”
She slid the phone back in her pocket and went to stand outside for a few minutes. The sky had turned threatening. Massive black and gray clouds hung heavy overhead. A cold breeze had kicked up, giving an indication of what might be released.
Bridgett spotted Markle sitting in his car in the back parking lot. He was watching her. She hadn’t seen him since before lunch. Once the tables began to fill, he left. She wanted to ask him if there was anything new to report but since he wasn’t forthcoming earlier, she decided against it. But just before she stepped inside, she blew him a kiss.
The dinner rush came and went in a flash. They weren’t slammed but business was so steady that she was surprised when it was closing time. They’d had a good day. Don should be bursting with dollar signs.
By the time she finished and took off her apron, Bridgett was exhausted. She wanted to go to her room and crash but decided to wait for Drew. He was setting pots in the sink getting ready to wash them. She pushed up her sleeves and hip checked him. “Let me do those. Go back and finish what you were doing.” She didn’t think he’d object but had hoped he’d at least say something. She dreaded their night together if he wasn’t going to talk to her.
A steady rumbling had been going on outside all night but other than a few quick showers, it had been all bluster and no substance. However, the wind had picked up and was howling. She wished she had thought to bring her jacket, although from the sounds of the wind, it was a coat she needed.
She finished and dried her hands. Drew was still puttering. Was he stalling? “You got anything else you need done?”
He looked at her. His mind was working. Then he shook his head. “No, I’m good. Go ahead. I’ll be there in a bit.”
Her body sagged. She realized she was holding hope within her like a deep breath. She turned for the door, her head hanging low. She heard a sound like he had started to speak. She stopped and turned, hope renewed. He gave her a half smile and shook his head. She deflated again.
Heavy sheets of sleet started falling. As each watery bullet hit it felt as though it bored straight into her bones and iced them. She drew her arms around herself in a desperate search for warmth but there was none. Bridgett ran to the door. Her fingers were already numb, and she had trouble extracting the keycard from her pocket, then inserting it in the lock.
She felt as if someone was behind her. She whipped around, ready to battle, but it was just the frigid tentacles of sleet driving through her clothes, around her spine, and into her core. The door opened and a gust of wind ripped it from her numbed fingers. It slammed hard against the wall.
She stepped inside, gripped the door, and spun to close it but something was blocking it. Confused, then thinking it was the wind, she put more effort into the push and saw gloved fingers wrapped around the door inches above her head. Feared spiked her desperation to close the door. She threw her weight into the door and it gave, but the person on the other side was strong. Slowly the gap between the door and the frame grew wider.
Bridgett lowered for more leverage and dug her feet in but they slid along the carpet. Outside the wind howled, drowning out all sound. With a final effort she grunted and shoved but it became apparent this was a fight she was going to lose. She began to plan. Where was her gun? In the nightstand drawer. Did she have time to go for it, open the drawer, and bring it online? Doubtful. Whoever was on the other side was strong and their momentum would be to the inside of the room. She could use that.
She reached behind her, snatched the lamp off the dresser, and stepped back. The door gave. The man fell into the room and Bridgett brought the lamp down on his head with all her strength.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
BT staggered through the front door of his chalet. It was hard to put weight on his leg, which made it more difficult to stand against the harsh driving wind. He leaned into the door and closed it hard, then snapped the locks in place. He hobbled to the recliner, sat, and levered the footrest up. Instant relief swept up his leg.
Instead of coming to the chalet last night, BT had made a side trip to a doctor who did minor work off the books. He dug out the bullet, bandaged him, and put on a cast. The bullet had put a hairline fracture in his shin. He spent the night recovering from the barbaric surgery. Loaded with painkillers and antibiotics, he made the trek to the chalet. He stashed the BMW around the back, out of sight from the road. However, in this weather, it wasn’t likely anyone could see it even if he left it out front.
He was in pain. He was angry. He was ready to kill someone, anyone. No; that wasn’t quite right. He had a list of three that needed to die before anyone else. The ma and pa redneck owners and the bitch waitress. It might take some time before he was able to get his revenge but that also gave him time to plan and to revel in the sheer joy their deaths would bring.
The only downside had been the call from his boss. “You have made a mess of things,” he said in his heavy Russian accent. “Stand down, or I will stand you down.”
The threat had only increased BT’s foul mood. Who did that thug think he was? He’d stand down when the job was done and not before. And if he didn’t like it, well, maybe his name would be added to the kill list. Yeah. That’s what he’d do. Then maybe he’d take over and be the boss.
He liked the sound of that, however, it was unlikely a group of Russian and Eastern European mobsters would take orders from him. So he would have to settle on killing the boss and moving on. Besides, he was a loner. Running an organization was not in his interest or skillset.
He closed his eyes and pictured being the boss of a huge enterprise. He wondered what else the man was into. No way was he just a legal real estate developer, though legal was a bit cloudy in this situation. He might own them legally but the process of obtaining those properties was far from legal. That was information that could topple the man’s empire. If need be, he would use it to leverage a sweet deal with the authorities, but not the locals. Hell, no. He wanted a deal with the Feds. Someone who had the clout to give him what he wanted.
He let that play out for a moment. Then his thoughts darkened. His boss had asked about his man. The one BT killed. His boss didn’t know he was dead, but he might suspect it. He wanted to know the last time BT had seen the man. BT gave an answer, though it wasn’t true. Had they found his body? No doubt the police had, but had he been identified? Had someone told his boss? Regardless, BT knew he had to take precautions.
How much did the watcher know about him? It was clear he had been following BT, but had he discovered the chalet? If so, did he pass that information back to the boss? Too many unknowns which meant only one thing—it was time to move. He’d stay the night and wait for the storm to pass, then head out early. That meant driving the BMW. Damn. He should have changed cars tonight. Too late now. He’d drive far enough away so the car would not draw attention, then dump it and find another.
He looked around. He had a lot to do tonight. With his good leg he kicked the foot rest back in place and went to stand. A sharp pain lanced his leg. He winced but refused to allow himself to groan. He was stronger than pain. Perhaps he’d sit and rest his leg for a while longer. He had plenty of time to pack his few belongings. He lifted the footrest again, laid back and closed his eyes. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. Packing, moving, getting a new car, finding a new place to stay—oh yeah, and killing a few people. Can’t forget about that.
AS FAST AS IT WAS DESCENDING, stopping the lamp before it crushed Markle’s head was difficult. Though she managed to prevent the lamp from full contact, it still landed with enough force to make him cry out.
“Uh! What the hell?”
“What-what are you doing breaking into my room? I almost smashed your skull.”
“Almost.” He took a knee and rubbed the back of his head.
She set the lamp down, realizing how heavy it was. If she had completed the swing, she might have killed him. The thought made her shaky and she stored the info for future attacks. “Here, let me take a look.”
He brushed her hands aside. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my head. You’ve done enough damage.” He pulled his hand away. Though wet, it wasn’t blood.
“You’re not bleeding, so it’s not that bad.”
“Oh yeah? Let me clunk you on the head with a lamp and see if you don’t think it’s that bad. I oughta run you in. A jail cell might be the safest place for you.”
“Hey, I wasn’t the one trying to break into someone’s room. And why were you, anyway?”
“I wasn’t breaking in. I was told to check your room before you entered. You took me by surprise and I was trying to catch up before you got inside.”
“You could have knocked.”
“Well, if I knew you were going to smash me on the head, I would have. The door was still open...” His voice trailed off. He stood. “I was...” His expression was pained. “Yeah. It was stupid. I didn’t see it from your side. After having someone break into your room and shoot at you, how else would you respond? I’m sorry.”
“You scared me. I’m sorry about smacking you with a lamp.” They eyed each other for a moment until it became awkward. “You’re inside now. You want to check the room?”
“I can see the room.”
“You could check the bathroom.”
He frowned but did.
“I’ll be outside until midnight. Another officer will take my place then. Not sure from which department. With four officers out of circulation, we’re a bit short handed in this area. If you have any concerns, wave at me, or better yet, flash your light in the window.”
“Okay.”
He opened the door to find Drew standing there holding his keycard. The sudden appearance made Markle reach for his gun and Bridgett for the lamp.
“Uh, everything all right?” Drew asked in an unsure voice.
“You startled us,” Bridgett said. “Officer Markle was just checking out the room. Good news. We’re safe.” She raised her hands and opened her mouth in a mock cheer.
“I’ll be just outside, sir, if you need me.” He brushed past Drew, lowered his head against the sleet, and moved to his car.
Drew entered and closed the door. He was soaked. “Is everything all right?”
“Huh? Oh, sure. It’s all good.”
“He looked peeved.”
“I think he feels this duty is beneath him.”
“Oh? Protecting people is beneath him?”
“Don’t worry. I showed him the light.” She fought hard not to smile but in her mind applauded her wit.
They showered separately. When Bridgett came out of the bathroom drying her hair with a towel, Drew was in bed reading a cookbook. The beds were not big enough for them to sleep together, but hoping to force some interaction—any interaction, verbal or physical, she sat on the edge of Drew’s bed, scooted her bottom back against him to create space, then swung her legs up so she was sitting next to him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Was I in your way?”
“Not at all.”
He went back to his book and Bridgett felt her heart sink further. She was not going to give in. “Drew.”
“Hm?”
“Drew. Please. Talk to me.”
He tried to hide it, but she heard the sigh. He closed the book and stared straight ahead. Was he thinking of something to say, or was he thinking he didn’t want to talk? She slid her arm around his and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Drew, don’t be angry with me.”
She felt the air leave his lungs as his chest fell. Another sigh. Her vision blurred. His other hand reached over and stroked her hair.
To her surprise, she found tears had welled. “Drew. Say something.”
He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“Then tell me you love me or you hate me but tell me something.”
“I do love you...”
She heard the unspoken but. When he didn’t continue, she added it for him. “But?”
“No, there’s no but. I love you. It’s just that—”
“I know. You’re fed up with me always finding danger. I understand. I promise I’ll do better. Just please don’t leave me.”
Wait. Did he just laugh? Bridgett pulled away and looked up. He was smiling. He did laugh. “What’s so funny?” She could feel the heat rise through her core. He must have felt it too. He put up a palm and said, “Easy. I’m not laughing at you.”
“No. Just what I said. Is it a foregone conclusion that you’re leaving me?” She pulled back and glared at him.
“No. You misunderstand.”
“Oh, do I? Well, maybe you can explain what I am misunderstanding about you leaving me.”
“Well, if you’d shut up long enough, I would tell you what you’re misunderstanding about me leaving you.” He mocked her voice.
That was more than she could handle. She shoved him back and rolled on top of him. “I want answers.”
“Of course you do. Are you going to beat them out of me?”
“I should.” She stared into his eyes. “Dammit, Drew.” She moved to slide off but he held her.
