Black Pawn (Michael Cailen Book 1) (5 page)

He sought help from a girl who was sorting unwanted clothes
from the fitting rooms.  “Excuse me,” he said softly “I think I'm in over my
head.”

She looked up at him and gave him a wide smile. 
My, he's
handsome
, she thought.  “What can I help you with?”

“Can you direct me to a bra that's comfortable? It's not for
me.” He didn't know why he said that, of course it wasn't for him.  He felt
like such a dork.

She laughed, “Sure, I can help you with that.”

She lead him down to a rack and stated, “This is probably
the most comfortable brand we carry.”  They looked like they could belong to
his grandmother.  He wondered what Jessica would think if he bought her that.

“Umm ... What's the next one down?” he said.

God, he's cute,
she thought.  Her smile was huge. 
All he saw was teeth.

“That would be these.” she said as she pointed to another
rack.  Those looked much better.  Not grandma, but not stripper.

“Perfect. Thanks.” he said.

“No problem. If you need me again, I'll be right over
there.” she said through her enormous smile.

He grabbed one of the bras in Jessica's size and then walked
to the panty section.  There was the Plain Jane underwear he saw in her
drawer.  He picked up a bag in her size, but then spotted some silk thongs.  A
mischievous grin crossed his face.

He paid for the items and walked back out to the truck.  As
he got closer, he could see Jessica with her head resting on the door and her
eyes closed.  She was probably exhausted.  She'd been through a lot over the
past few days.  She was startled when the door opened.  He handed her the bag
and started up the truck.  She opened it and looked through the items.

“What the hell?!” she exclaimed as she looked up at him.

Michael was grinning from ear to ear.  He kept looking
forward.  He was afraid to look at her, but couldn't get the smirk off his
face.

“You call this underwear?”  She wasn't amused.

“What?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “I thought that's what
you girls wore?”  The huge smile on his face betrayed the fact that he knew
better.

“Nice.”  She shook her head and shoved the silk thong back
in the bag.  “Next time, I go in with you.”

“That's probably a good idea,” he agreed, trying not to
laugh.

She looked out the window shaking her head.  As the seconds
passed she found herself restraining a smile.  It was funny, but she didn't
want him to know.  He glanced at her and could tell she was holding back a
grin.

He pulled into the parking lot of a drug store.  It too
looked a mess.

“You're not going to rob them, are you?” she asked,
remembering the bottle of Vicodin.

“No. But you do need a few things.  Toothbrush, deodorant. 
Tell me what you need, and if they have it, I'll get it.”

She gave him a list of basic toiletries, but also asked for
a hair dryer and curling iron.   Ten minutes later he emerged with a couple of bags.
 He threw them on the back seat and climbed in the truck.

“Is there anything you want to do before we go back?” he
asked.

“I think I'd really just like to have a shower now.”

“Sure thing.”  He started up the truck and they headed back
to the hideout that was now her new home.

MICHAEL DUMPED
the shopping bags on the futon. 
Jessica rifled through them moving what she needed to shower into one bag.

“Do you need to use the bathroom before I go in?” she asked.
“I plan on taking a long shower.”

“I'm fine, you go right ahead.”  He turned on the TV and sat
at the edge of the futon.

Jessica turned on the shower water so it could warm up.  She
hadn't showered in days and couldn't wait to hop in.  She put down the lid to
the toilet and sat on it while she carefully unwrapped the bandage around her
ankle.  She stripped off her clothes and stepped in, savoring the feel of the
hot water washing over her skin.  She closed her eyes and with a deep breath
felt every muscle in her body relax.

The news came on while Jessica was in the shower.  Michael
watched to see if there were any updates on the cafe shooting or the two men
arrested on Carter Road.  As he expected, there was nothing and the police were
still asking for the public's help. 
Good luck on that
, he thought.

He heard the shower stop followed by the sound of Jessica
brushing her teeth.  The door opened and his heart skipped a beat when he saw
her.  She looked incredible in the pants and red was definitely her color.  She
looked relaxed and content.  As she limped over towards him, it occurred to him
he should check her ankle again.

“I'd like to take another look at your ankle.  And we should
probably wrap it up again.”

“Alright.” she said as she plopped down next to him.

He gently examined her ankle.  It wasn't as tender, which
was a good sign.

“It looks like it's healing well,” he stated.  “In a few
more days, you probably won't even need a bandage.  Let me get you wrapped up.”

He retrieved the bandage from the bathroom and wrapped her
ankle once again.  They then finished the leftover Chinese and watched a few
hours of TV before going to bed.

The alarm clock read 3:59 a.m.  The room was dark except for
a sliver of light shining through a gap in the curtains.  The dead silence
broke at 4:00 a.m. as the alarm clock blared an ungodly sound that could drive
one to the brink of insanity if they were forced to listen to it for more than thirty
seconds.

A hand emerged from the bed and slammed down on the clock. 
The horrible noise ceased.   A groan came from under the covers and a body rose
from under the mass of sheets and blankets.  It was Morgan.  He swung his feet
off the side of the bed and sat rubbing his eyes.

“It's too early,” whined a female voice from the other side
of the bed.

“Tell me about it,” he replied. 
Why did he always want
to meet so early?
  he asked himself.

He sleepily walked into the bathroom, turned on the light
and shut the door.  Within a few minutes, the shower could be heard.  He
dressed in a plain gray suit, white shirt, and a horrendously bland red striped
tie.  He slipped on his black shoes and grabbed his keys as he stepped out the
door.

The one good thing about driving in D.C. at this time of day
was that traffic was light. 
Everyone's still in bed,
he thought as he
wished he was.  He drove to a local park he had been to many times.  He parked
the car and looked around.  It was still dark.  He looked at his watch.  It was
almost 5:00 a.m.  He grabbed a large yellow envelope from the passenger seat
and walked down to a bench overlooking a small pond.  The air was chilly.  He
hated these meetings.  He looked to his right and slowly panned the park.  He
saw a shadow out of the corner of his left eye and was startled to see someone
sitting next to him on the bench.

“Jesus Christ!  Do you always have to do that?” he
exclaimed.

The man didn't say a word, just looked straight ahead.  He
appeared to be in his forties, average height with green eyes and a full head
of light brown hair. 
It had to be plugs
, thought Morgan. 
What guy
still has that much hair in his forties?
  A tinge of jealousy no doubt
affected his opinion.  He looked like an average guy, unassuming, harmless
even.  Yet he was far from that.  He did things not many humans could stomach. 
And he did them almost gleefully.  Money was what spoke to him.  He didn't care
what had to be done as long as it paid.  Women and children weren't even off
limits.  He had taken out whole families without blinking.  Morgan had a
healthy fear of him.

“Here's all the information you need along with the wire
transfer receipt.”  He handed the envelope to the mystery man. “I called you
because there can't be any more mistakes.  This thing has been botched to hell
and I need someone who can get the job done right.”

“I always come through,” the man said.

“Yes, you do.  We need it to be a positive ID.  There can't
be any doubt.”

“I got it,” the man said, indignant at the insinuation that
he might make a mistake.

“You have one week.”

“I only need three days.”

“I always liked your attitude, Evan,” said Morgan.

“I always liked your money, Ed.” Evan stood up and
disappeared in the darkness.

Morgan shuddered.  He didn't know if it was the chill from
the air or the eerie presence of the man who had just left.

Michael opened his eyes, greeted by the smell of coffee.  He
strolled to the doorway and looked down on the futon.  Jessica was lying curled
up under the covers, her coffee sitting on the stand next to her.

“How long you been up?” he asked.

“About a half hour.”

“You look bored,” he said as he eased his way towards the
coffeemaker.  “Why didn't you turn on the TV?”

“I didn't want to wake you.”

He smiled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “You're
sweet.”

“What are we going to do today?” Jessica asked as Michael
sat next to her on the futon.

“Well,”  He took a sip of his coffee. “We could go clothes
shopping.  I'm sure you would like more than one thing to wear.”

“Yeah.”  She sat up and grabbed her coffee.  “Would be nice
to have something to wear while doing laundry.”

A massive grin took over Michael's face.  “You don't need to
do that on my account.”

She just looked at him and rolled her eyes.  “Right.”

“Although I suppose we should get you that granny underwear
you're dying for,” he teased.

She slapped his arm. “That's not funny.”

He laughed. “Then why are you smiling?”

“Because you're ridiculous.”

“You love it.”  He grinned as he sipped his coffee.

THE STORE
looked just as it did the day before.  With
litter covering the parking lot and bars on the windows, it was not a place she
would ever choose to shop.  Yet here they were.

“Shopping is more of a woman thing,” Michael said as they
walked in the store.  “There's a bench near the fitting rooms.  I'm going to do
the man thing and sit while you shop, if you don't mind.”

“What am I getting?” she asked.

“Whatever you want.  I think the granny section is over
there.”  He pointed to somewhere in the store.

She slapped his arm again, harder this time.  He just
laughed.

Jessica worked her way around the store picking out
clothes.  After picking out a few bras, she walked over to the “granny”
underwear section, as Michael had put it.  She picked up a bag, held it for a
minute, then put it back.  She looked over at the thongs and shook her head. 
She had to admit they were actually pretty comfortable.  Buying the thongs
though would be like letting Michael win.  She knew he got them just to get a
rise out of her, but now she felt funny buying the plain ones after all the
granny jokes.  To hell with it, she grabbed a few of the thongs.  Pajamas
suddenly popped into her head.

Michael got up every few minutes to check on her.  He'd
watch her for a few minutes, study the people shopping nearby, then return to
his bench.  He saw her pick up the thongs and found it rather amusing.

He noticed a young man who looked rather out of place
standing close to the bra section.  He was pretending to look at some
undershirts on a rack, but his eyes were focused on Jessica.  Michael watched
him as she started moving to the nightwear section.  As she walked past, the
young man pretended to be looking at the undershirts.  She was focused on the
clothing section she was headed to and didn't even look at him.  After she was
a few steps away the man turned and started walking behind her.  Michael wasn't
far behind, keeping his eye trained on the young man.  The man looked nervous. 
Michael tensed as he saw the man start to approach Jessica.  He was about to
spring into action when the young man suddenly retreated, muttering to himself
and shaking his head.  Michael chuckled realizing what he was trying to do.  He
was trying to work up the nerve to hit on her.  Michael figured he'd better nip
that in the bud.  He walked over to Jessica.

“Hey hon, how's the shopping going?” he said loudly so the
other man could hear.  He stood beside her, wrapped his arm around her back
resting his hand on her hip.  He lowered his head to her ear and whispered,
“You have an admirer.”  He felt her body tense and a look of alarm filled her
face.  “Relax, he's just checking you out but I figured I'd better let him know
you weren't available.  How's it going so far?” he asked as he looked in the
cart.

“Fine.”  She relaxed a little. “I just wanted to get
something to wear to bed and then I think I'm done.”

“You're gonna try everything on?”

“I was going to, but now I just want to get out of here.”

“Relax.  You're fine.  I've been keeping an eye on you.  Try
them on so you know everything fits.  Leave the worrying to me.”  He gave her
hips a light squeeze before stepping away.  He watched the young man scurry
away shortly after he made his appearance.  The guy took one look at Michael
and ran like a scared cat.  Jessica looked nervous now so he decided to stay
with her.

He reached into the cart, pulled out a pair of thongs and
held them up.  “This doesn't look like granny underwear,” he said with a
sarcastic smile.

She tore it from his hand and threw it back in the cart.
“Don't you have something to do?” she snipped, embarrassed by the attention he
was giving to her choice of undergarment.

“Nope,” he smiled.

He had the nicest smile.  She found it hard to believe
sometimes that a dangerous killer lurked behind that charming, innocent smile. 
His playfulness took her by surprise.  He had been so cold and emotionless when
he first kidnapped her, she didn't think he had a personality.  But she was
starting to see he had a mischievous sense of humor.

At the checkout, as the total passed two hundred dollars, Jessica
wondered how they were going to pay.  It stopped just under four hundred and
Michael pulled a stack of bills out of his side pocket and paid cash.

They walked back to the truck and Michael had just put the
bags on the floor of the backseat when he felt something hard press into his
back.

“Your money or your life,” a voice behind him said.

Jessica was getting in the front passenger seat when she
noticed Michael wasn't moving and then she saw someone standing behind him. 
She watched as he slowly raised his arms.  Were they being robbed?   She
quickly looked around, but saw no one else in the parking lot.  Her heart started
to race.

“Okay,” Michael said calmly. “You can have the money.”  He
slowly took a step back to move away from the truck and felt the gun jab harder
into his back.  He could see the mugger's reflection in the back window of the
SUV.  He looked nervous and when he looked around to see if anyone was watching,
Michael took the opening.  He spun around, forcing the mugger's hand and gun
into the door and delivered a roundhouse punch to his jaw.  He fell to the
ground stunned as Michael reached down and relieved him of his weapon.

“Nice gun,” he said, looking down.  He closed the door to
the back seat and then climbed in the driver's seat, keeping the gun.  Jessica
jumped in the passenger's seat and they left the stupefied mugger there on the
ground.

“Never a dull moment with you, is there?” she said as she
was trying to stop shaking.

“Apparently not,” he replied.  “He must have seen me pay
cash and thought he'd make a quick buck.”

“Do you always carry that much cash on you?”

“Can't exactly use an ATM card, can I?”

“I suppose not. What did you do? Rob a bank?”

“Next best thing,” he grinned.

“ATM?” she asked with one eyebrow raised.

“Drug dealer.”

“You robbed a drug dealer?!”  Her voice raised in disbelief,
as if that was somehow more absurd than him robbing a bank.

“They're easy targets,” he explained. “They carry tons of
cash and they won't report it stolen.  I usually take their drugs too and drop
them in a sewer just out of spite.”

“Aren't you afraid they may spot you at some point and try
to get revenge?”

“Nah.  It's lights out before they even see me.  And I make
sure no one else is around when I hit.  It's the perfect crime.”  He smiled at
her. “And I don't feel bad if I end up having to kill one,” he added.

She looked at him, eyes wide, not sure whether or not he was
joking.  He didn't volunteer any more information and she decided she didn't
want to know any more.

THEY GRABBED
lunch again before heading home.  When
they arrived back, Michael offered the use of his dresser to store her clothes,
which she readily accepted.

It was the first time she had been in his bedroom.  The bed
looked warm and cozy with a down comforter.  Next to the bed was a nightstand
with a lamp and an alarm clock attached to a long electrical cord that went
into a socket hanging from the ceiling.  Off to the right, he had some weights
and a bench press.  Attached to the wall was a bar for pull-ups.  She saw a
jump rope on the floor and various duffel bags.  The dresser was against the
wall right next to the doorway.

“How long have you lived here?”  She began folding her
clothes, tucking them in the drawer.

“About six months.”  He sat on the edge of the bed and
watched her.  “It's about time to move.  I don't like to stay in one place too
long.”

She quietly put away the rest of her clothes.  The reality
of never going back home was sinking in.  Her mood turned somber.  He saw the
change in her demeanor, but didn't know how to make her feel better.

“I'm going to work out for a bit,” he said, breaking the
silence.  “You're free to join me if you like.”

“I'd like to sit on the dock.  It's nice out and I'd like to
be outside.”

“Sure. Just keep the door open.”

Jessica sat on the dock looking out at the water.  She
remembered the last time she was this close to the water and quickly tried to think
of something else.  The sun was out and the feel of it on her skin was in warm
contrast to the cool breeze blowing off the water.  She felt peaceful, but
couldn't shake the nagging sadness over what her life would now be like.  She
started to feel depressed.  She couldn't believe her luck.  She only went to
that cafe for a few hours each month.

After an hour on the dock, Jessica decided she had enough of
nature and went back inside.  The sound of jump rope came from the other room. 
She lay on the futon silently listening to the whirl of the rope as it sliced
through the air.  Then it stopped.  A few seconds later Michael emerged from
the bedroom with a towel around his shoulders.  He stopped and looked at her. 
Beads of sweat covered his body.  She nearly drooled at the sight of him
shirtless.

He told her he was going to take a shower and then bring
back some food.  Ten minutes later, he emerged from the shower wearing nothing
but a towel around his waist.  She made an unsuccessful attempt to avert her eyes. 
She practically stared.  He was in amazing shape, chiseled without an ounce of
fat on his body.

Michael pretended not to notice as he walked past her and
into the bedroom.  Once out of sight, a huge grin crossed his face.  He
wouldn't admit it, but a part of him had been hoping to get her attention.  She
was gorgeous and he found her terribly attractive.  At the same time, he knew
that he was playing with fire.  If the relationship turned sour, it could be
messy with them on the run for their lives.  It would be better if they didn't
get romantically involved.

Michael returned with dinner and Jessica abandoned her spot
on the futon, limping over to the table.  They ate quietly until Jessica broke
the silence.

“So how old are you?” she asked.

“Thirty-four,” he answered between bites.

“Wow, I was ten when you joined the military.”

He laughed. “Thanks for making me feel old.”

“So what's the plan?  How do we find out why these people
are after us?”

“I have a lead that I'm working on right now.  I don't know
how it will pan out.  Until I know more, there isn't much we can do.”

“Shouldn't we be doing more to find out what's going on?  I
mean, we spent the day shopping then you worked out, and now we're eating
dinner.  I can't help but feel like we're just hiding.”

He chuckled.

“What's so funny?” she asked.

“The first six months or so I was on the run, I spent every
waking minute trying to plan my next step, think of ways to find out what's
going on.  I was obsessed with trying to find out what happened in China and
why the CIA was after me.  I was so consumed with getting to the bottom of it,
I nearly drove myself insane.  I got careless.  Made mistakes.  It almost got
me killed.”

“What happened?”

“I contacted someone I had worked with in the CIA.  Charlie
Stevens.  He said he would look into it and get back to me.  A few days later
he called me.  Gave me a name and told me to meet him so he could give me what
he had found.”

Michael drifted back to that day as he told the story. 
Charlie didn't want to talk over the phone, but Michael persuaded him to at
least give him a name.  They arranged to meet in a parking garage downtown.  He
arrived early and watched the garage from a distance waiting for Charlie to
drive in.  The meet time came and went and he started to get nervous.  He was
focused on the garage entrance.  He didn't know why but he looked to his right,
just in time to catch movement behind him out of the corner of his eye.  The
movement was quick and he reacted instinctively, ducking just as he heard the
dull tap of a silenced gun.  A window across the street shattered as he pulled
his gun from his waistband and aimed in the direction of the shooter.  He fired
two shots into the man's chest as he hit the ground.  He rolled and saw two men
running quickly down the sidewalk.  They were focused on him and he knew he
needed to get out of there.   It was a trap.

He was halfway down a nearby alley when the two men chasing
him rounded the corner.  Exposed with nowhere to hide, he was saved when a door
opened and someone threw a bag of trash in a trash can.  He grabbed the door
before it closed and ducked in the building as shots rang out.  One flew so
close he felt a gush of warm air on the back of his neck.  He ran through a
maze of hallways in the building until he finally found the front door.  He
burst through quickly spotting a man getting into his Mercedes.  Michael pushed
the man away from his car while ripping the keys from his hand.  The man tried
to fight back, but a swift elbow to the face removed any resistance.