Into the Whirlwind (10 page)

The tension in Dirk's shoulders relaxed. He reached out and touched her cheek. Meg fought not to close her eyes and lean into him.

“Okay” was all he said.

Chapter Ten

“Wear something sexy,” Luke said to Meg. “Not too classy, a little on the trashy side.”

“Christ,” Dirk swore.

“Feng loves women. Especially beautiful women. He thinks having them around is good for business.”

“I thought you didn't know him that well,” Dirk grumbled, thinking the last thing he needed was to see Meg dressed in something that showed off her perfect body. He'd been hard half the day just watching her walk around in jeans and a loose yellow sweater. Wrong time, wrong place, definitely the wrong woman, but there it was.

“It's common knowledge on the street,” Luke said. “Feng's a little kinky. Show up with a hot lady and you're in.”

“Kinky? Son of a bitch.”

“You and Luke will both be with me,” Meg reminded him. “I know you'll keep me safe. I just need a little time to get ready.”

Dirk sighed. “We won't be leaving for a while. Take all the time you need.”

Turning, Meg disappeared up the stairs.

Dirk's gaze slid to the window. It was dark outside, clouds drifting over a waning moon, a sharp wind blowing in off Puget Sound, whistling through the naked branches of the trees in Meg's yard.

They'd been waiting for night to fall. Luke insisted they had one chance to get to Feng, and that meant they had to be sure he was there when they got to his bar, the Golden Lily. He'd be there, Luke was fairly certain, because he came in around midnight most nights.

Waiting for the hours to pass, they'd spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening following up on the leads they were still working, Dirk praying the entire time they'd find something that would give them a break in the case so they wouldn't have to go to kinky Quan Feng's bar.

By the time darkness had settled in, they knew the fingerprint he had found on Pam's nightstand belonged to Pam. No help there, but along with the DNA on the paper cup, at least they knew for certain she and Santini were connected.

Luke had knocked on a few doors in the neighborhood and spoken to an elderly lady who remembered the PG&E van. It was white with the company logo on the side. She hadn't noticed the license plate number. The two repairmen the neighbor had seen, one tall and skinny, one stocky and balding, had confirmed Rose's description. Nothing new there either.

Sadie was still digging into Bob Algreen. That iron was still in the fire, but so far she'd found zip. They were down to the short strokes on this. At the moment, Santini was all they had. Finding him through Feng was a long shot, but with time running out, there was no other option.

Rose had come to the house and stayed with Meg all afternoon, fixed a meat loaf dinner for all of them, then returned home for the night. Edwin O'Brien had phoned several times, stopped by again, then went home to his wife, thank God.

Dirk didn't want to imagine the tirade O'Brien would launch into if he knew the plans Dirk had for his daughter tonight.

A noise overhead, footfalls in the bedroom upstairs, drew Dirk's attention. He glanced up at the ceiling as if he could will Meg to come down, started pacing at the bottom of the stairs.

“Take it easy.” Luke sauntered up beside him. “She's a woman. Doesn't matter how pretty she is, she's got to go through the routine. She has to do her makeup, fix her hair, find exactly the right outfit. It's like planning the invasion of Normandy.”

Dirk just grunted and wished the evening was already over.

* * *

Seated at the dressing table in her bathroom, Meg stared at the woman in the mirror. When she'd been modeling for La Belle, her appearance had been everything. It was the reason she'd had the expensive lighted dressing table installed in her big marble bathroom off the master bedroom.

She studied her tear-ravaged face. Always fair-skinned, she looked pale to the point of sickly tonight. Every freckle stood out, her eyelids were puffy, worry lines marred her forehead. Her lips were dry and chaffed and a little too pale.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, she rested her head on the table and closed her eyes. She didn't want to look pretty. Not when her son was out there somewhere crying for his mommy. Not when he might be hurt, when terrible things might be happening to him. Not when she wasn't there to protect him.

She dragged in a steadying breath. Now wasn't the time for self-pity. She had to find her son and bring him home. Meg sat up and faced herself in the mirror. Dirk and Luke were doing their best to find Charlie. She had to do whatever it took to help them.

She glanced at the clock. Nine p.m. She could do this. She just needed a little time to pull herself together.

Turning on the water in the shower, she stepped under the steamy spray. She stayed a minute or two longer than she needed, letting the heat of the water revive her a little. As she blew her freshly washed hair dry, she could see the red highlights returning. For the next few minutes, she creamed her face and body, then began carefully applying her makeup. It was going to take a lot of work to make herself look presentable, but a model knew all the tricks.

It seemed to take forever and what felt like a gallon of makeup, but eventually she finished her face and went on to style her hair, plumping it up, giving herself a big-hair look that completely changed her face. Satisfied she looked good enough to pass inspection, she moved to the closet and began her search for just the right thing to wear.

Discarding one outfit after another, she finally chose a slinky, tight-fitting silver dress with a ridiculously short skirt and low-cut top that she had worn in a La Belle ad a couple of years before.

Strappy silver high heels, a little silver bag, and she was ready.

Turning toward the full-length mirror on the bathroom door, she took a long, assessing look at herself and barely recognized the woman she had become.

Meg thought of Charlie, felt a tight knot rising in her throat, and fought the urge to cry.

Not tonight. Tonight she wasn't a mother. She was another woman completely—a lady of the evening. She was Candy, she decided on a whim. Molten hot and sexy, Candy. She almost smiled at the absurdity. She didn't feel the least bit hot, more like something the dog dragged in.

You can do this
, she told herself. Grabbing her little silver handbag, she walked out the bathroom door.

* * *

Dirk was still pacing. Luke had gone out to his car, his home away from home, and now wore black jeans, a black wool blazer, and a pair of orange-and-black sneakers. He'd used his electric razor to give himself an almost-shaved appearance, and moussed his short hair up on top. He looked like an overpaid software techie.

Dirk grinned. A bounty hunter was a man of many disguises. Dirk had seen him dressed as everything from a pizza delivery boy to a priest. Tonight Luke looked as if he had money to burn. He would definitely have to park the Bronco down the street.

The Viper—now that was the way to travel. Dirk would be driving Meg to the Golden Lily in style. Upstairs above the bar was a gaming parlor. An expensive sports car and a beautiful woman said he could afford to be there.

He'd added his black leather jacket to the jeans and long-sleeve navy thermal he was wearing. Unfortunately his Browning nine mil would have to stay in the car under the driver's seat. If they were lucky enough to get into the gaming room, there was a good chance they'd be searched. The weapons could get them ousted before they ever got to Feng.

At the last minute, he decided to risk the palm-size .22, five-shot revolver he kept in his glove box. It might go unnoticed in the spot he liked to carry it, the front pocket of his jeans. No big deal if they made him leave it at the door. At least they wouldn't take him for a cop.

Luke was carrying a four-inch switchblade, a finely honed, custom-crafted knife. Luke particularly fancied knives.

Dirk had started pacing again, checking his heavy steel wristwatch every few minutes, when Meg appeared at the top of the stairs. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again to be sure he was actually seeing what he was seeing, part of him praying he wasn't.

In a dress so short it barely covered her sexy heart-shaped ass, Meg started down the stairs. Silver spangles shook every time she moved. The bodice was cut way too low, her pretty breasts shoved up and barely contained by the stretchy sequined fabric.

Blue shadow highlighted her eyes, which were rimmed with black liner. She'd blackened her long, thick lashes and painted her mouth a ripe cherry red. Fiery red hair swung loose down her back. She had pulled some up on the sides but left a few flyaway ends next to her cheeks.

She looked like a tart, the most delicious, desirable, pretty little tart he'd ever seen.

Dirk wanted to kill Luke Brodie.

She swung the strap of her silver purse over her shoulder as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

“I'm ready,” Meg said.

Luke's brilliant blue eyes ran over her from head to foot. “Well, you certainly are, sweet cakes,” he drawled.

A muscle clenched in Dirk's jaw. Forcing the hands fisted at his sides to relax, he reached out and caught Meg's shoulders, turning her to face him. “You remember what I said? You do what I tell you.”

“I remember.”

Dirk let her go. “You need a name, something besides Meg or Megan.”

“I'm Candy,” she said without hesitation. “For tonight, I'm Candy Molten. That's who I am.”

His mouth edged up.
Oh, yeah, baby.
He almost said the words as his gaze slid down to the plump mounds of her breasts, barely concealed by the dress.

Instead, he turned to Luke. “We'll meet you there.” Setting a hand at Meg's waist, he urged her toward the Viper parked in her garage.

“Why aren't we all going together?” Meg asked.

“The Viper's part of our cover,” Dirk said. “Only two of us can fit inside.”

“Plus it's always smart to have a second way out if the plan goes south,” Luke said, which Dirk wouldn't have, since he didn't want to worry Meg any more than he had to.

“Okay,” she said.

He guided her out to his car and settled her in the passenger seat, fought to ignore the faint scent of flowers that always drove him crazy.

They clicked their seat belts into place and they were off, the low-slung sports car racing along through the darkened streets.

“This car is really beautiful,” she said, running a manicured hand over the dash, which had more lighted gauges than an airplane cockpit. “It fits you perfectly.”

Why that irritated him he couldn't say. “You must think I'm pretty superficial.”

She sat up a little straighter. “No, that isn't what I meant.”

He gunned the engine and zipped around a corner, still about half-pissed and not quite sure why.

“I used to love cars. I bought myself a Shelby Mustang when I first started modeling. I never really liked college, barely made it through. There was a time I wanted to be a female race-car driver.”

He tried to picture Meg behind the wheel of a high-powered Indy car, couldn't make it happen. “You still like to drive?”

She shrugged. “These days, all I drive is my little SUV. I think that's one of the reasons my dad pushed me so hard to get married. He figured it would settle me down. Which it did.”

He flicked her a glance. “So you were a wild child back in the day?”

She smiled for the first time since her son had disappeared. “A little wild, I guess. No drugs, nothing like that. Though I used to like drinking tequila. I think Jonathan was attracted to that side of me. Meg, the party girl. As soon as we were married, he insisted I change.”

“But you like being a mom, right?” The minute the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. He didn't want her worrying about Charlie. She needed to stay focused, same as he did.

Meg seemed to feel the same. She was playing a role, determined to remain immersed in it.
Candy Molten.
His lips twitched in amusement.

“I love being a mother,” Meg said. “Having a child of your own is the best feeling in the world. I wouldn't mind having more kids someday.”

He used to want kids. Over the years, somehow the idea had faded. For a while when he'd been with Meg—

“I'm sorry about your house,” she said as the Viper prowled the darkness. “Val told me what happened the night it burned down. There were pictures of the fire on the news.”

He'd loaned the place to Val and Ethan as a safe house. Turned out not to be safe for any of them.

Dirk shrugged. “I really liked that house. It was crazy. The place was outdated, still had the previous owner's furniture in it, an old lady who died without any heirs. I kept it longer than I usually do. Once I get them remodeled, I usually turn them over.”

“You remodel houses?”

“On the side, yeah. I buy houses, fix 'em up, and sell them. I've been doing it for years, Meg. I told you before, I wasn't some loser off the street.”

Meg fell silent as Dirk wove the Viper in and out of traffic. He slanted her a look, found himself staring at the long, sexy leg showing beneath her skirt, cursed, and returned his gaze to the street.

He needed to keep his head in the game, not be thinking about how sexy Meg looked dressed like a hooker.

“I wasn't fair to you, Dirk,” she said, completely out of the blue. “I assumed things about you I shouldn't have.”

He shot her a glance. “You're right, you did. Doesn't matter now. All that matters is getting your boy back.”

Meg made no reply. Dirk stepped on the gas.