Full Speed (9 page)

"Thank you for inviting me," Jamie said. "It's not often that I get to dine on gourmet cooking in such grand surroundings."

"I hope you're not offended that I asked you to my hotel suite."

Jamie looked down at her lap. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to be seen with me in public."

"Oh, no, Jane, it's nothing like that."

"I mean, I've probably slept with half the men in this hotel."

He gasped.

"I'm teasing, Harlan. You're going to have to lighten up."

"You have a very unusual sense of humor. But I should be thanking you. It's a treat for me to share lunch with a woman who is not only beautiful but has a wonderful sense of humor." He put down his fork, mopping his brow with his napkin.

"Jane, I've been looking into your, er, addiction."

"Is there a cure?" she asked hopefully, fork paused in midair. "Or am I destined to be a sex maniac for the rest of my life?"

He looked taken aback by the remark. "Don't be ashamed of who or what you are, Jane. Your creator loves you no matter what. You know, I studied psychology in seminary because I wanted to be able to help people with their problems."

"That's why you're so easy to talk to. You're a very sensitive man when it comes to other people's needs." Jamie noticed he was perspiring heavily.

He mopped his upper lip. "I try to be. I sense you have a lot of needs that have not been addressed."

"You're so right, Harlan."

"From what I understand most sexual addictions are the result of either physical or emotional trauma suffered in childhood. Might I ask, as your minister, if that applies to you?"

Jamie glanced away. "I can't talk about it, Harlan. Perhaps in time."

He reached across the table and covered her hand. "We have all the time in the world, Jane."

His hand was clammy. Jamie leaned closer. "I suppose I don't feel I have much to offer a man. Except my body," she whispered. "You probably wouldn't understand, what with you being a godly man."

"I'm human, Jane. Do you think I didn't feel anything when you kissed me yesterday? Do you think I don't notice how attractive you are?"

"I'm so ashamed of myself for kissing you," she said. "You must think badly of me."

"Nonsense." He studied her closely, as if trying to read her thoughts.

Jamie took a deep breath, stood, and walked over to the sliding glass doors. "I think maybe we have something special."

Harlan joined her, placing his hands on her arms, sliding them downward. Very gently he lowered his head and pressed his lips to the nape of her neck.

"Oh, Harlan!"

"Sweet Jane. I can't stand to see you hurting." He turned her around in his arms and looked into her eyes.

* * * * *

In the next room, Max tore off the head-set. "Oh, damn, it's quiet in there. She must be kissing him again. What the hell are we supposed to do
now?"

Dave shrugged. "Jamie can take care of herself. How long do I have to wear this mustache?"

"Until we finish the job." Max grabbed his headset once more and winced when a loud squeal hit his eardrums. He yanked it off. "What was
that?"

Dave had already removed his. "Hell if I know. Oh, great, my ears are ringing."

"Something's wrong," Max said.

"Damn right. That noise set off my tinnitus. Sounds like church bells going off in my head."

"I can't make out their words. There's a lot of static. Shit."

* * * * *

Harlan suddenly gave Jamie a funny look.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"I don't feel so good." He gripped his stomach and swayed.

Jamie tried to steady him. He looked pale. "You need to lie down."

"I'm dizzy."

"Get on the bed, Harlan!"

* * * * *

Max managed to catch the last sentence. "Did you hear that?" he said, trying to listen to the voices through the static. "She told him to get on the bed!"

"I can't hear a thing," Dave said. "Except for static and bells. I'll probably end up losing my hearing after this."

"You need to get back over there."

Dave shook his head. "I can't just barge in."

* * * * *

Harlan struggled with the knot on his tie.

Jamie saw that he was having difficulty breathing. She began to panic. "Let me help you." She didn't know what to do. She had obviously given Harlan too much laxative and it was causing him painful stomach cramps. Or maybe he was having an adverse reaction to them.

He pulled his knees against his stomach and groaned aloud. "I can't stand it!"

Jamie's heart fluttered. He was sweating profusely; his color didn't look good. "Try to take a deep breath."

"I'm going to be sick!" he cried. "Please help me to the bathroom." He covered his mouth with his hands.

Jamie scrambled to help him, but he could barely stand. She struggled to keep him upright. Lord, she'd gone and done it now. If he was having an allergic reaction there was no telling what would happen. She managed to get him inside the bathroom. He slammed the door and locked it, and the next thing Jamie heard was a loud thud. She tried the knob. "Shit! Harlan, unlock the door."

Jamie picked up the phone to call for help but dropped it when she heard a knock on the living room door. She raced toward it. Dave stood on the other side wearing the hotel uniform. "I came for your dirty dishes, ma'am," he said.

Jamie grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the bedroom. "Something is wrong with Harlan. He's in the bathroom, and I can't get in. I think he fell."

Dave reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife. He opened it up, and Jamie saw it was equipped with all sorts of gadgets. In a few seconds he picked the lock and turned the knob.

They found Harlan sprawled on the bathroom floor. Dave shook him, but there was no response. He reached down and pressed his fingers against Harlan's neck as Jamie stood there, wringing her hands.

Finally, Dave removed his hand. He shuddered. "Oh, Jesus Christ! He's dead! I touched a dead man!"

Max and Jamie left the hotel immediately. Using his cell phone, which Max assured couldn't be traced, he called 911, and, claiming to be a security guard for the Hyatt Regency, reported that a man had become ill in room 1210 and was in grave condition. Max didn't bother to mention the man was already dead. He hung up before the dispatcher questioned him further.

Jamie, who'd struggled to maintain her composure while the valet went for her truck, fell apart the minute Max pulled onto the street and headed for the interstate. "Oh God, everybody is going to think I killed him!" she cried. "The mob is going to find out who I am and hunt me down like a dog until they

Jamie was thankful the waitress had picked that particular moment to bring coffee and menus. She waited until the woman walked away.

"My husband and I are divorcing," she said.

"But you still wear his ring?"

Jamie stared at it. "I suppose I'm still trying to come to terms with it. I should take it off and I do sometimes."

Michael seemed to ponder it. "I really don't have a right to ask. I mean, we barely know each other, right? I just ..." He paused and gave a rueful smile.

"What?"

"I found myself looking forward to seeing you today, so the ring was a big surprise. I don't remember seeing it yesterday, but then, I was upset at the time. I'm sorry I butted in. And I'm sorry that you're going through a bad time. I was married once, but it didn't work out."

He looked genuinely sad for her. Jamie glanced down. It wasn't easy lying to someone who was so nice, and it wasn't easy keeping secrets from Max. But she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately. She had even called Vera and spent ten minutes on the phone lying to her about what a great time she was having in Tennessee. Yeesh.

But she had a very good reason for all the subterfuge. She was trying to keep Vera from worrying, and she was trying to get information from Michael that might protect him and lead her and Max to Nick Santoni. A girl had to do what a girl had to do.

"Jane, are you all right?"

Jamie looked up. "We barely know each other, Michael, and the last thing I want to do is burden you with my problems. I was just trying to be a friend when I thought you needed one."

He didn't respond.

"Would you rather I go?" She held her breath. Leaving was the last thing she wanted to do. If she left now she would be empty-handed as far as information was concerned.

"Please stay."

Jamie tried to hide her relief as she took a sip of her coffee. "How are you?"

"My sister was buried yesterday afternoon in a private ceremony. As much as I hate to say it, I'm relieved to have it over with. I didn't like seeing her suffer, you know?"

The waitress took their order and left them. "So what are you going to do now?" Jamie asked.

Michael shrugged. "Take it one day at a time. I own several delis in Knoxville. I have to look after them."

Jamie leaned closer. "Have you had any more threats?"

Michael glanced around the restaurant. "I wish I hadn't told you. I plan to take care of that little problem tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to tell the guy flat-out no. I'm going to hire security guards to watch my delis, and I'm going to the cops. I'd rather spend the money on that than paying off thugs to keep them from burning my places to the ground."

"You're actually meeting with one of them?"

He nodded. "Yeah. It won't take long to say screw off. Excuse my language."

Jamie's mind raced. Finally, she gave a sigh.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. You'll think it's silly."

"What?"

"Michael, I was going to invite you to dinner tonight. I figured it would lift your spirits." She shrugged. "Mine, too."

"I'm sorry." He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I would have gladly accepted under different circumstances."

Jamie pondered it. She didn't want to sound pushy and risk blowing it, but if she didn't come up with some kind of plan she'd lose her chance altogether. "Maybe we could have dinner afterward. What time are you meeting with this, um, person?"

"Eight o'clock. But we're meeting in Knoxville."

"I know how to get to Knoxville."

He hesitated. "I suppose that'll work. I'm just going to meet him in a bar, tell him I'm not going to do business with him, then walk away."

"We could meet somewhere close, say around eight-thirty?"

Michael looked thoughtful. He reached for a napkin and scribbled on it. "There's a quaint little Italian restaurant down the street from where I'll be. It's called Jeno's; you can't miss it. I'll meet you out front at eight-thirty."

"Great. I look forward to it."

They made small talk until their breakfast arrived, but Jamie's mind wasn't on the conversation. She was already forming a plan in her head.

* * * * *

"So, who's the guy?" Muffin asked as soon as Jamie had pulled from the parking lot and turned onto the highway.

Jamie had not been expecting the question. "How'd you know?"

"Female intuition."

"You're a computer, Muffin."

"Whatever. So who is he?"

"His name is Michael; he's very nice and drives an awesome Jaguar. He's also going through a bad time, and he needs a friend right now. That's all we are, friends. We're having dinner tonight."

"Does Max know?"

Jamie sighed. "No, I haven't told him. But I'll have to; otherwise, he'll worry."

"You should go, Jamie. It'll do you good."

She looked at the dashboard. "Really?"

"That doesn't mean you don't need to take extra precautions, but you need to do something to take your mind off what happened yesterday. You haven't even had time to get over all the crap you went through in Beaumont."

"You worried I might crack up or something? That you might have to find me a quiet state-operated mental hospital?"

"I don't think you need to sit in that cabin night after night while Max and I try to break through the Santoni family's firewalls. Or listen to Dave," she added.

* * * * *

Max's jaw went slack in disbelief. "Are you saying you have a date?"

Jamie pretended to fluff the throw pillows on the sofa so she didn't have to look at him. "No, it's not a date; I'm meeting this guy for dinner." She turned to Max. "He just lost his sister. She was his twin. He's devastated, and he needs somebody to talk to."

Max scooted his chair back from the kitchen table, where computers, monitors, and various other equipment that Jamie knew nothing about blinked and winked and made soft whirring sounds.

"You always find them, don't you, Swifty?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're just like my sister. The two of you must have radar. If somebody has problems, you lock in to them and you immediately have to fix whatever is wrong." Max suddenly looked suspicious. "How well do you know this person?"

"Well, I haven't had time to call a profiler from the FBI, but I managed to lift his prints off his water glass, so I should know something by the time we're supposed to meet."

Max didn't seem to find humor in her remark. "How do you know he wasn't just using a line?"

"Max, he asked me to look at his sister's dress, for God's sake. The one she was buried in yesterday. The man is in a lot of pain. I don't care if you think I'm just a big softie, I can't turn my back on him."

"Just be careful, OK? I know you need to get out, but don't forget what we're up against."

Which made her all the more determined to find out what Michael knew.
If
he knew anything, she reminded herself. And once she did, she would lay it all at Max's feet and have the inside edge to her story.

A buzzing sound from a speaker drew Max's attention away from her for a moment. "It's just Dave."

Dave came through the front door a few minutes later. He looked anxious. "I can't find the deer anywhere."

Max stared at the man.

"What deer?" Jamie asked.

Max spoke. "Dave swerved to miss a buck this morning, but now he has convinced himself he hit it."