Hot Pursuit (21 page)

Chapter Twenty-four

Ricin.

The most lethal natural biological toxin in existence, seven times more deadly than cobra venom. Less than two grams could kill hundreds of people, if dispersed as an inhalant.

Taylor shuddered. Research like
that
you didn't soon forget. “You're frightening me.”

“Good.” Izzy's eyes were hard. “Maybe now you'll stop being so thickheaded.”

“Why can't you find Rains and the rest of these people? I want my life back, Izzy.”

“We're working on it. For now, you're on a short leash. No more sneaking off without Jack.”

Taylor looked away, remembering what had happened in Annie's hospital room. “Fine, even if I don't like it.” She crossed her arms. “By the way, I have a big charity function tomorrow night. I'm raffling off a set of my books.”

“I'll need to get approval on that.”

Taylor's eyes narrowed. “As it happens, a lot of Navy brass from Monterey and San Diego are scheduled to be there. I'm supposed to be escorted by an Admiral Bader or Baden.”

“Braden,” Izzy muttered. “Just great.”

“You know him?”

“Vaguely. Look, Taylor, I need to go through channels on this. Since the Feds are involved, I want everyone on the same page.”

Taylor looked from one man to the other. “The Feds?”

“Don't ask.” Izzy was standing by the table when the waitress returned.

She gave him a long, assessing glance. “Can I get something for you, honey?”

“No thanks, ma'am. Just leaving.”

“Now that's a
real
shame.” The waitress raised on eyebrow at Jack. “Anything for you two?”

“All taken care of.”

“Too bad.” Her hips took on a definite sway as she headed back to the kitchen.

“You ruined her day,” Taylor murmured. “She was definitely interested, Izzy.”

“I don't want to know. As for you, listen to Jack. These people are a walking disaster area, and I don't want you becoming their next victim.”

He gave her a hard look, then strode out.

Taylor stood up. “I'm ready to go.” Taylor grabbed her purse, watching Jack impatiently. “I have to get back to work.” She frowned as her cell phone rang again.

“What?” she snarled.

“In a bad mood again or is it just that time of the month?”

Taylor sighed as she recognized Sunny de Vito's voice. “I'm a little tied up right now, Sunny.”

“I hope he's built. If so, save some rope for me.”

“Very funny.”

“So, what time do you need me tomorrow?”

“Need you to do what?”

“Well, I
could
do a stand-up routine, but I figure doing your hair and makeup might be more useful for the charity gala tomorrow night. Your sister called me last week to arrange it. Didn't she tell you?”

A surprise from Annie?

Unfortunately, Annie had been a little busy lately and she hadn't had a chance to tell her sister.

Taylor swallowed hard. “You two are something else. Six o'clock would be good, but I don't know if I'm still going.”

“You, turn down a charity event that involves shopping? Do you have a fever or what?”

“Something's . . . come up. Can I get back to you later?”

“Listen, are you okay? You sound upset, Taylor. I mean, extremely upset.”

Taylor managed a laugh. “Just a little stressed. Book deadlines and all that. I'll call you tonight.”

After she rang off, she stared at Jack. “So I can't go
anywhere
alone?”

“Afraid not. It's for your own good, Taylor.”

“Somehow, people always say that just before they do something that really sucks.” She wasn't taking this lying down, Taylor thought. “I'll be back in a minute. I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Why?” Jack scowled at her. “You barely ate or drank.”

She gave him a withering look. “Harassing me already?” As soon as she walked past the table, Taylor had her cell phone out, dialing. “Sunny?”

“Yeah, and you'd better be Publishers Clearinghouse or Brad Pitt.”

“Be serious for a minute, Sunny. I need your uncle Vinnie's number.”

Silence. “I knew something was wrong. What did that guy Rains do now?”

“Trust me, you don't want to know.”

“Hold on.” There was a lot of laughing, then the sound of papers rustling. “Okay, here's his newest number.”

Taylor wrote it down, frowning. “Why new?”

“He changes it a lot. He has to be careful. People watch him.”

Great, Taylor thought. Talking to the King of Wiseguys might get her onto some top-secret government list. Of course, thanks to Rains, she was probably on the list already.

She sighed with relief as she saw the ladies' room was empty. Tossing down her purse, she sat on the nearest sink and jotted down Uncle Vinnie's number. “Thanks for your help, Sunny.” Taylor needed a second opinion from an informed resource, and outside J. Edgar Hoover, no one was as informed as Vinnie de Vito.

“You haven't received any more Goth flower arrangements via messenger, have you?”

“No, all quiet.”
Except for an attack on my sister and vehicular pursuit.
“I'll let you know about the time for tomorrow. Thanks for . . . you know.” Taylor smiled into the phone. “Everything. You're pretty great, Sunny.”

“Stow it, kid. You'll have me blubbering and I've got clients stacked up wall to wall here.” Sunny's voice fell. “And for the record, so are you. Just remember, Green Goddess drinks for a month.”

After making a gagging sound, much to Sunny's delight, Taylor hung up and dialed again. This time a woman with a cultured European voice answered. “Weston Financial.”

Wrong number?

But the woman put Taylor through immediately, and then Uncle Vinnie was on the line.

“Taylor, how are you? Sunny says you're close to finishing your next book. I hope she's right.”

Not exactly.
She had to stay alive long enough. But Taylor managed a laugh. “It's coming along fine.”

“Really.” That dry, canny voice was strangely relaxing. “Then why do you sound so nervous?”

Taylor glanced at her face in the nearest mirror. White cheeks. Tired eyes. Who was she kidding?

She took a deep breath. “Deadlines are never fun. But I'm calling to ask a favor.”

“Ah.” Silence fell.

“Nothing—physical,” Taylor said quickly.
Not a hit.
“Just some information.”

“I imagine that can be arranged. Are we talking about Harris Rains?”

“I'm impressed.”

“Don't be.” Vinnie gave a dry laugh. “Not yet, at least. My niece has a large mouth and she mentioned your problems. I don't like the fact that your friend Rains has vanished.”

“Where did you hear
that
?”

“People owe me favors. Sometimes I collect in information. But I'm not getting much about Rains. When no one gives details, it's always a bad sign. I suggest that you be careful.”

“What about Rains?” Taylor lowered her voice. “Any idea where he went?”

“Nothing solid. But a number of people seem to be looking for him. Most of them appear to be from South America.” His voice was grim. “And now they also appear to be following you.”

Did the man know
everything
?

“Any names?”

“I'll work on it. But if this is research for a book you've been engaged in, I suggest you put it aside. No book is worth dying over.”

“This isn't about my book, Uncle Vinnie. It's about my
life
.”

“Did you know that the government's involved?”

“I did, but how do you know that?”

He made a noncommittal sound. “This man Broussard has a solid reputation. Stay close to him, Taylor.”

“But—”

“Take my advice. Leave this to Broussard and his people. This is not a good time for taking chances. Too many people are already involved.” Somewhere on his end of the phone a car horn blared. “Now I'd better go.
Ciao,
Taylor.” The line went dead.

For a long time she didn't move. When she realized she was still holding the cell phone, she shoved it back into her purse, then stared bleakly into the mirror.

She looked as if she hadn't slept for a month. She was pretty sure she looked scared, too, except she was working hard to hide it. Maybe Uncle Vinnie was exaggerating about the danger. But maybe not.

She clutched her purse to her chest. She didn't know
anything
about Rains, but the guys who were after him didn't appear to know that. What was she supposed to do, wear a sign? Something like
DON
'
T SHOOT ME
,
BECAUSE I DON
'
T KNOW ANYTHING
.

Taylor closed her eyes. Someone was following her. Someone had attacked her sister. She had to deal with the cold reality of these two facts.

She slammed on the water, washed her hands, then added a quick swipe of lipstick, just so she wasn't mistaken for Lady Dracula went she went back outside.

As she finished, the outer door opened, booming eerily in the empty room. With Uncle Vinnie's warning still fresh in her eyes, Taylor backed into a corner and took off her shoe, gripping it like a weapon.

Her waitress sauntered in, eyes narrowed as she took in Taylor's bare foot. “You Taylor?”

“That's right.”

The waitress gestured over her shoulder toward the door. “Your boyfriend is out there worried something might have happened to you.” She pursed her lips. “Don't see what could happen in a bathroom, but what do I know?” She smiled dreamily. “Of course, if a man as fine as
that
was worrying about me, I wouldn't be hiding in here. I'd be in the backseat of a car giving him
whatever
he wanted.” She angled Taylor another curious look.

Taylor straightened her clothes and dropped her shoe. “We're not—involved. Not that way.”

“Are you kidding? That man is prime. Did you check out his butt?”

“Not actually,” Taylor lied.

The waitress gave Taylor a look that questioned her sanity. “You telling the truth? He's not yours?”

Taylor slid on her shoe, frowning. “Consider him free territory.”

“Territory?” The waitress frowned for a moment. “Oh—you mean no claims. Like that.”

Taylor nodded. “Like that.”

“Thanks for the tip.” The waitress went out whistling, digging in her pocket for a pen.

 

Taylor emerged to find Jack outside, drumming his fingers on the wall, looking downright surly.

“I thought you came down with an intestinal disorder. Considering you barely ate, that seemed unlikely.”

“So you sent in your crack interrogation person.”

Jack smiled faintly. “She was more than willing to help.”

“I'll bet she was.” Taylor sniffed as she walked past him.

“Your food's cold. I asked her to put the pancakes in a take-out container, along with the sausages and syrup.”

Taylor stopped. “Being nice, Broussard?”

“Don't take it personally. It's called being practical. You can't think on an empty tank.”

“I'll be sure to remember that nutritional gem.” Actually, Taylor did feel a little wobbly, but her discussion with Uncle Vinnie had killed all remains of her appetite.

“Were you talking to someone in there?” Jack asked suspiciously.

“My friend Sunny called back about makeup for tomorrow.” As Taylor hoped, the talk of makeup stopped Jack cold.

He shrugged and scooped up the check. “Let's go.”

“Only if we split half.”

“Forget being politically correct. Uncle Sam is paying. As long as you're an official target, I'm picking up the tab.”

“Just because I've accepted protection doesn't mean I'm giving up economic control over my life.”

His eyes narrowed. “So this is about control?”

“Probably.”

“You
want
to pay? You're getting a meal ticket and you're turning it down?”

“Not that I expect
you
to understand,” she added tightly.

Jack turned away. Taylor was pretty sure he muttered something rude as he pulled out his wallet. “Fine. I'll pay half. Now can we go?”

“Not quite.” Taylor pointed across the table. “I think you've forgotten something.”

“What? I've got the check and your food.” He turned as Taylor pulled a folded piece of paper from underneath his napkin, dangling it in the air.

A phone number was scrawled in big bold strokes. Taylor read the words underneath. “‘Call me if you want some major action.' ” She raised an eyebrow and sighed. “I just love it when a woman gets sexual with a man she barely knows. It's such—gender equality.” To her surprise, Taylor could have sworn he flushed. “I suppose women try to pick you up for sex all the time.”