Controlling Interest (8 page)

“What's Jasmine got to do with the lottery?” Joey sat back, arms folded.

“Nothing,” said Natalie blithely. “Did she tell you her name's pronounced ‘Jasmine' with a
J
?”

“I don't know. Maybe. Why?” Joey was definitely looking suspicious.

Natalie laid one of Yasmine's photos on the table. “Is this her?”

Joey glanced down. “Maybe,” he repeated. “What'd she do?

You got a badge or something?”

Ignoring the badge question, Natalie sighed. “We don't know. It's her family who's worried about her. I was supposed to pick her up. Actually, I
did
meet her as she came out of the gate, but she sent me for coffee and disappeared. She's a very rich lady who's supposed to get married in a couple of months, and we're afraid she's been kidnapped.”

“Kidnapped!” Joey's thick brows rose in alarm. “Me and Leland wouldn't kidnap a flea. You can ask anybody here. She come running toward the van just as we were leaving the airport and said she wanted to come with us wherever we were going, which was here. She come inside with us and took off to the restroom. Next thing I know she's gone. I swear, that's all we did.”

Natalie stared at the little electrician. Beads of moisture were collecting under his thin mustache, and dark splotches spread under his arms. “You didn't see where she went?”

“No! I told you, I got into a game of eight-ball and forgot all about her. I got a wife and a kid at home, and I don't play around with no women, especially foreign ones.” The spate of words halted as his buddy returned, plunking a couple of soft drink cans on the table. “Leland, tell this lady we don't know nothing about that Iraqi girl we carried here from the airport.”

“She wasn't Iraqi, doofus.” Leland picked up the fallen chair, turning it around backward before straddling it. “She was Indian. I think she was from some reservation in South Dakota.”

Natalie stifled a smile. “Actually, she's Pakistani. Leland, did you happen to notice her when she came out of the restroom? I need to find her and make sure she's not in any danger.”

“You think some terrorists are after her? She did look kind of scared. Breathing hard and all like that.”

Natalie blinked. Sounded like Yasmine might be in real danger. “Okay, back up. Did she approach you while you were still inside the terminal? Did you see anybody following her? Apparently she left her luggage.”

Leland shook his head. “I told you, she come running after us when we were about to leave. Grabbed the door handle and jumped in the van. Me and Joey couldn't hardly make sense out of her, 'cause her accent was so weird. But she showed us a hundred- dollar bill and said she'd pay us to take her wherever we were going.”

Joey butted in. “I might've seen somebody Indian-looking coming out of the terminal right when we took off. I looked back to make sure she had her seat belt on.” He blushed. “I got a two-year-old, so it's a habit.”

Natalie's lips parted. Was there somebody besides her and Matt following Yasmine? “Did she say
anything
that would give you an idea what she was running from, or where she might be headed?”

Joey and Leland looked at one another, shrugged, and shook their heads. Bubbas they might be, but clearly they were good-hearted men and wanted to help.

“Okay, guys, thanks for your help. Would you mind if I get a phone number where I can reach you if something else turns up?” She pulled out her PDA to take down Joey and Leland's cell numbers.

She hoped she'd handled this interview correctly. Matt sure was taking a long time with —

A crash came from the front of the room. What now? She looked over her shoulder.

Holy schmoly. Bouncer dude had Matt in a head lock and was towing him toward the door.

Natalie screamed and jumped to her feet. “Matt! Let him go! Somebody help!”

Shouts of “Fight! Fight!” went up. A chair flew across Natalie's vision. Glass shattered as a mob of truck drivers ran past, grinning, fists in the air. Somebody yelled, “Call the cops!”

Natalie couldn't see over the mob, heard nothing but the roar of chaos. Heart chugging, she climbed up on a chair and dug out her cell phone. By standing on her toes she got a glimpse of the big man struggling to hold on to Matt, who squirmed like an eel.

Her hands shook as she fumbled for the 911 speed dial.
Poor Matt . . .

Then she looked up and realized Matt was in control, with the bouncer held in a firm behind-the-back arm twist. His body, lithe and fierce, looked almost relaxed as he gripped the bigger man as easily as if he had twice the weight.

A shout of appreciation went up from the crowd as Natalie abandoned the call. Better find out what was going on before she got Matt in trouble.

Somebody decided it was time to separate the two men. It took three of them to subdue the big bouncer, who wound up thrust into a chair in the corner, puffing like a locomotive.

Meanwhile, Matt straightened the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down shirt, then smoothed a hand across his tumbled hair. He shrugged off a few congratulatory pats on the back and looked around. Over the crowd, his gaze found Natalie standing on the chair, the cell phone and her purse still clutched in her hands.

She had a sudden illogical urge to burst into tears. Matt seemed perfectly alright, though there was a red splotch across one cheek and his shirt collar flapped under his ear. His expression reminded her of one of those cool, sardonic characters in a Steve McQueen prison break movie.

Looking at him, her weepy feeling translated into outrage. She jumped off the chair and shoved her way through the men still milling around Matt. “Move! Let me through! I said move.” Finally she reached him. She whacked him on the arm with a closed fist.

He blinked down at her as if a poodle had suddenly bitten his leg. “Hey! What's the matter with you?”

“What's the matter with
me
?” She glanced at the bouncer, who silently scowled at the men holding him in his chair. “I'm not the one who initiated a bar fight.”

“I didn't initiate anything!”

“Then you better start explaining. I never saw such idiotic behavior. You're supposed to be helping me find Yasmine!”

“That's exactly what I was trying to do. I knew this wasn't a good idea to come here.” Matt looked around at several interested bystanders. “Would you mind?” They backed away, and he caught Natalie by the elbow. “What'd you find out from the Mojo guys?”

“Not much. They picked her up outside the terminal. Said she looked scared, and there might have been some Indian guy following her out. Neither one of them saw where she went once she got here.”

Matt frowned. But before he could respond, the bouncer behind him lunged away from his guards with a growl.

Responding instinctively, Natalie darted between the two men and shrieked, “Stop!”

To her astonishment, Bouncer Boy put on the brakes and skidded to a stop in front of her. Shaking his head, he started to step around her.

“Don't you dare.” She put her hands on her hips. “I've had enough of you boys fighting. One of you better tell me what's going on before I send through that 911 call.”

“I'll tell you what's going on,” the bouncer said grimly. “This is the moron who burned the place down a year ago. He got away with it then, and now he's got the nerve to show up here again.” He gently picked Natalie up and set her aside. “So if you'll pardon me, little lady, I'm gonna smash his pretty face into the middle of next week.”

CHAPTER
FIVE

B
ig Dean glowered over Natalie's shoulder, clearly poised to take Matt apart piece by piece. Good thing McGaughan had demonstrated a couple of wrestling tricks a few years ago.

“Hey, man, let's take this conversation outside.” Matt lifted his hands palms out and backed toward the door. He shot Natalie a look to stay her thumb on the 911 speed dial, not sure how the cops would've interpreted the situation.

Huge mistake to let Natalie come along. Trouble was, he couldn't figure out how to say no to her, which didn't bode well for their (hopefully brief) partnership. Two days, and she'd already learned to look at him with those big green eyes, lashes so long they flirted against her glasses, and smile her way into whatever she wanted. Spooky.

One day life was gonna knock her off her pins. It would be like watching a kitten get run over.

So when he'd seen Dean the Machine, who'd been around back in what McGaughan called “BC days,” he'd scrambled to figure out how to handle the situation. Sending Natalie to take the interview, he'd stationed himself between her and Dean — effectively guaranteeing a confrontation with two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle married to a serious lack of brain power.

Now, to his relief, Big Dean snarled and turned for the front door. Natalie gave Matt a what's-going-on? look, but followed in merciful silence.

Dean led the way to a corner of the building. Traffic roared down Airways as Matt scanned the parking lot. It was full of vehicles but empty of patrons, as they were all inside guzzling half-price beer. He was on his own. Well, except for Natalie, and she only counted as a liability.

He stuck his hands in his pants pockets and went on the offensive. “So, Big Dean, are you a partner in this venture?”

“No.” Dean's fists balled, ham-sized biceps jumping. “But Porky's my brother, and he like to never recovered from that fire.”

Natalie folded her arms. “Matt, have you been playing with matches again?”

“Funny.” Matt shrugged. “It was totally an accident. Besides, the fire department cleared me. Nobody was hurt, and the place looks better than it ever has.”

Dean prized an index finger loose and pointed it at Matt. “That's beside the point, and you know it.” He glanced at Natalie. “It was New Year's Eve. This guy and a bunch of other idiots were setting off fireworks out here. Knowing they're
illegal
in the city limits.” He glared at Matt.

“Like you weren't right there with us. My Roman candle just happened to be the one that got a little off-target and landed on the roof. Look, man, I paid the fine, and Porky's insurance took care of the repairs. Come on, you didn't want me to go to jail for that!”

“I wanted to push your head down into your intestines. If you didn't have this lady with you, that's exactly what I'd do.”

“But Matt's very, very sorry about the accident — right, Matt?” Natalie's dimple appeared beside her mouth, and Matt watched the tic disappear from Dean's jaw. It was downright miraculous. “I'll vouch for the fact that he's a reformed man. No more pyrotechnics.”

“Of course I'm sorry.” Matt tried to look sincere. Which wouldn't have been so difficult if Natalie hadn't just out-charmed him. “I promise I'll tell all my billiards buddies this is the place to come.”

The big man's shoulders relaxed. “I wouldn't have thought you'd have the guts to show your face again.”

“We had to talk to a couple of your regulars,” Natalie interrupted. “Joey Roberts and Leland Stafford had seen a young woman we're trying to find. Maybe you saw her yesterday evening when they brought her here.”

Dean looked marginally interested. “Maybe. What did she look like?”

“Twenty-five years old, Pakistani — never mind, here's her picture.” Matt pulled Yasmine's head shot from his pocket. “She had on a lime green outfit, one of those loose, gauzy dress things with pants.”

Dean took the picture and nodded. “Yeah, I remember. Tiny little thing, noticed the big brown eyes and funny outfit. Wondered what the heck she was doing with Joey and Leland.”

Natalie bounced on her toes. “Joey said she went into the restroom, but he lost track of her after that. Did you see where she went?”

“She asked me if I'd call her a cab, so I did, on my cell. She waited by the bar talking to Jason until it came.”

Natalie gasped, and Matt wondered if he'd ever been that excited about doing his job. “Did you notice which cab company?” She pulled out her pad and pencil.

Dean looked up at the sky. “Yellow, I think.”

“Yellow.” Natalie wrote it down as if the bouncer had narrowed their search beyond three-quarters of the cab service in Memphis. “What time was it when they picked her up?”

“Nearly six — happy hour was just about over.”

“Yellow Cab, six o'clock.” Matt took Natalie's notepad, scribbled, and stuck it in his pocket. “Let's go. Thanks, Deano.” Halfway to the car, he looked over his shoulder. Big Dean was standing right where they'd left him, head down. Compunction needled Matt's conscience. Leaving Natalie, he walked back. “Tell your brother I'm really sorry about the fire. I should've already come to him to apologize.”

The bouncer looked up, face softened. “Big of you, man. Apology accepted. Just don't bring no more fireworks to celebrate the holidays, okay?”

“You got it.” Matt offered a hand, which Dean took in a crushing grip. Then, chuckling, he accompanied Natalie to the car. “Guess I'm lucky I got off with a smashed hand and messed-up hair.”

“Um-hm. You're welcome.” Natalie waited for him to open her door.

“What? I'd have brought him around eventually.”

“Yeah, after he tossed you through the window.”

“Porky's doesn't have any windows.” Matt sighed. “Alright! Thank you, Condoleezza Rice, for your masterful diplomatic skills. Nobel Peace Prize coming your way.”

Natalie grinned and slid in.

As they drove, she was so quiet that Matt glanced at her. “What?”

She bit her lip. “Is there a lot of that kind of stuff in your history?”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Fights. Fires.” She circled her hand. “Yada yada.”

He hesitated, his mother's voice ringing in his ears:
Be careful where you go and whose company you keep, Matthew. The consequences of your choices will follow you around the rest of your life.