No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (30 page)

She took her time letting
her eyes linger on Axel’s physique before giving him a sly wink.
From out of nowhere came a groan and all eyes focused on me. To my
horror, I realized I had made that wounded animal sound. I rubbed
my head, as if it hurt, trying to cover up for my lack of
self-control. What was happening to me? I was not known for being
outspoken or even bold.

“That’d be great. Maybe the
next time I’m in Washington. I’m just here for the plywood
convention this time. But I come here about three or four times a
year.”

“Plywood?” Lacy looked
disappointed. Apparently, she was expecting something a little more
glamorous.

“Yes,” Axel agreed. “I work
for one of the biggest lumber outfits in the country. Our products
are in sixty-eight percent of all homes. We make everything from
exterior grade to veneer boards like luan.”

Lacy’s eyes began to glaze
over as Axel proceeded to explain his non-existent job to her in
great detail, including how plywood is manufactured. As he spoke, I
began to see a glimpse of his boyish sense of humor. He was clearly
having fun with the role. I turned my eyes to the view of the
station, letting my ears drink in the conversation. The longer he
talked with enthusiasm about lumber, the cooler Lacy’s ardor grew.
By the time we were all ready to exit the passenger car and adjourn
to the waiting area, Lacy was trying to escape. Axel turned to me
quickly and uttered one word in my ear.

“Faint,” he instructed me. I
looked at him and realized he was serious. With an exaggerated
groan, I dropped my purse to the floor and slumped down. I was
expecting him to catch me, but instead I landed awkwardly on the
seat, banging my elbow, as Axel walked away.

“Ouch!” I cried. My fellow
passengers turned to look.

“What’s wrong?” Axel rushed
to my side. “Are you okay?”

I put a hand up to my face
and brushed away a stray lock of hair, before letting out a very
long sigh. Leaning back in the seat, I closed my eyes, doing my
best impression of a damsel in distress.

“I’m a little dizzy,” I
confessed.

“Water!” Axel hollered. “We
need a glass of water here!”

The other passengers
disembarked as we sat there. Robert found me a bottle of Pleasant
Valley Springs water. Axel took his sweet time uncapping it, being
ever so solicitous as the final stragglers exited the
car.

“Why didn’t you catch me?” I
demanded to know when we were alone. “I hurt my elbow.”

“We needed it to look real,”
was his reply. “I didn’t want anyone to think we were
acting.”

“You could have at least
warned me!” I sniffed, rubbing the bruise.

“Then you wouldn’t have been
so convincing. What was that deal with Mr. Tank Top?”

It took another ten minutes
of conversation before Axel and I finally stood up, but he was
fully apprised about Hector Fernandez. I could tell by the
tightness of his jaw that Axel wasn’t happy about the new wrinkle
in the equation. As we sat there, watching the passengers exit, I
caught sight of Hector talking to the man with the smoldering
eyes.

“They’re friends,” I
exclaimed with surprise.”

“Are you talking about
Miguel Arias?” Axel wanted to know. “The tall guy?”

“Yes. He sat across from
me.”

“Babe, that’s the district
manager for the cartel. Hector is his enforcer.”

“Criminy!” I had been
surrounded by the cartel’s thugs and I didn’t even know it. “Maybe
that’s why Hector came on so strong. He was trying to find out if I
knew Diego.”

“Or maybe Hector is just
your average cartel killer, without a whiff of a conscience in any
cell of his body, happy to kill for the fun of it.”

‘Isn’t it great how you have
a way with words,” I fired back. “Always looking to make a woman
feel safe and secure.”

“That’s me, Mr. Thoughtful.”
He gave me a wide grin in return. “Anything else I can do for you
today?”

Amtrak made a grand effort
to see me off the auto train comfortably. Robert arranged for a
porter to collect our things from the train and we followed, me
leaning on the DEA agent as we made our way into the station
waiting area. We handed our paperwork to another train station
employee as Axel sat me down on a chair. By now, the press had
finished interviewing the passengers as they were leaving. The
cameramen were packing up their equipment as the reporters were
briefing their colleagues by cell phone.

“Anything to say about what
happened on the train,” an earnest, eager young woman asked,
thrusting a microphone under my chin.

“Ooh,” I groaned. “
Ooh!”

“Just take it easy,” my
protector admonished me. “You have to be careful. I don’t want you
to faint again.”

“I’m Megan Mitchell, News
Four. Were you injured in the terror attack?”

“I think I’m going to throw
up!”I responded, feigning nausea. I gagged a couple of times, just
to emphasize the potential for vomiting, aiming at her expensive
heels, and the reporter fled. Axel couldn’t let it go. He was
having too much fun.

“Do you want a barf bag?”
Axel asked in a voice that carried through the air, loud enough for
everyone to hear. “Is there a barf bag handy? Or maybe a
wastebasket? She says she’s going to throw up!”

Chapter Seven
--

“I’m okay,” I insisted. “I’m
sure it’s nothing.”

“Well, I’m going to stay
with you. I want to make sure you get safely on the
road.”

Our cars were moved to the
train parking lot a short time later and the keys were returned to
us by a couple of young Amtrak employees.

“You know the drill?” Axel
asked as we headed out to collect our cars, grasping my uninjured
elbow tightly in his hand. “Park the car, lock it, and walk to the
coffee house. Don’t look back. Don’t look around. I’ll be there,
right behind you.”

“Caribou Coffee. Lorton
Market Street. I’ve been there. I’ll be fine.”

Axel waited until I was
settled behind the wheel and my overnight case was in the back seat
of Uncle Jack’s Camry, and then he climbed into the Ford Escape
that was parked beside me. I carefully backed out and headed the
short distance to Lorton Market.

I found a spot near the
front door of the coffee shop, grabbed my purse, and got out of the
car. As I crossed the distance to the sidewalk, my attention was
caught by the sound of a motorcycle accelerating. I turned to my
right, following the noise, and froze. Bearing down on me was a
powerful Harley and a very determined driver.

“Kelsey!” Axel appeared out
of nowhere and shoved me forward. I stumbled several steps, trying
to stay upright. It was enough to get me out of the path of the
racing machine. I turned to Axel. He was staring at the
disappearing Harley and the white tank top-wearing driver. “That
bastard!”

“Hector!” I cried. “He tried
to run me over!”

“Come on,” Axel said,
grabbing my hand. He ushered me quickly into the coffee shop and
into a chair. “Sit there for a minute.”

He left me at the table and
headed over to the front window. I could see him talking animatedly
on his smartphone. I waited anxiously, wondering if Hector would
come back to finish the job. What was I going to do when Axel left
me?

He stopped at the counter on
his way to the table, picking up a couple of coffees. As he slid
mine across the table, our hands touched. In that instant, our eyes
met and despite the brown contact lenses, I thought I saw worry in
his.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing,”
Axel insisted. “No worries.”

“Liar,” I shot back. “What
aren’t you telling me?”

“Relax, Kelsey. I’ve got
this.” He lifted the lid on his paper cup and blew on his coffee.
He wouldn’t look at me, so I knew it was serious.

“Please, Axel.” I touched
his hand with my fingers, softening the tone of my voice. “I need
to know.”

“People are working on it.
We’re to stay here until it’s solved. Let’s just sit back and
relax. It’s going to be a while.”

We sat in silence for
several minutes, watching the early crowd filter in. I could smell
the aromas coming from the bakery area.

“Can I ask you something?”
He was looking at me quizzically. “And I don’t want you to bite off
my head or snap my neck off.”

“If you promise not to be a
jerk about it,” I replied.

“Have you ever been
married?”

“Yes,” I answered, focusing
on my coffee cup and the now-cold liquid sitting in the bottom of
it.

“Really?” Axel seemed
shocked.

“You seem surprised,” I told
him. For some reason, his reaction to the news felt like an
insult.

“Are you married now?” He
still wore that puzzled look on his face.

“Why?”

“I don’t know. You seem
so...prickly. I just figured you for an unmarried
spinster.”

“Spinster?” I started to
laugh. “What time warp are you caught up in? Spinster? Who says
stuff like that?”

“What was the mister like?”
he wanted to know. I shook my head. I knew what was
coming.

“Tarkington Pilker.” I
waited for the response.

“The sports guy? I love his
talk show. Funny man. What does your ex do?”

“‘
Tark Talk’”, I replied.
“My ex-husband is Tarkington Pilker.”

“No way!” He gave me a long,
low groan.

“What’s that for?” I wanted
to know.

“The guy’s a jerk for
letting you go.”

“Sweet,” I smiled. “But how
do you know he wasn’t right for dumping me?”

“Are you kidding? Look at
you. You’re smart, funny, and definitely foxy. Most guys would kill
for a woman like you.”

“Well, Tark preferred his
assistant, Mandy. They are now the proud parents of a baby.” I bit
my lip, thinking of all the time I wasted trying to get
pregnant.

“You two have kids
together?” Axel wanted to know. I shook my head.

“I couldn’t get pregnant. We
tried.”

“Too bad. You’d make a good
mom.”

“How do you figure that?” I
gave him a glance, wondering if he was teasing me, but he seemed
sincere.

“You’re pretty feisty and
you’re on top of things. You’ve got to be when you have kids.
They’re always getting into things they shouldn’t.”

“Do you have kids?” I asked,
suddenly curious.

“A son. He’s in his
sophomore year at St. John’s.” He flipped open his wallet and
showed me a photo of a blond boy with glasses. “Arne.”

“How did he take the
divorce?”

“I see Devry gave you a full
briefing,” he remarked wryly. “Did he leave anything
out?”

“I don’t know,” I shot back
with a grin. “Why don’t you tell me your version and I’ll let you
know?”

“Cute.” He leaned back in
his chair, gazing around the room as he thought about what he
wanted me to know. “The divorce made him miserable, especially
after my ex-wife’s boyfriend decided he didn’t want someone else’s
kid living with him. She moved out, Arne stayed with me, and my
Aunt Clarissa moved into our spare bedroom. She’s a widow and I’m
on the job a lot, working all kinds of crazy hours. Aunt Clarissa
has been a godsend. I don’t know what I’m going to do without
her.”

“Is she leaving?”

“I just got transferred to
the New York office. You’re looking at the new Assistant Special
Agent-in-Charge. For the first time in my career, I’ll be behind a
desk,” he said wistfully.

“Is that a bad thing?” I
wanted to know.

“Not really. It’s a great
career move. Definitely a step up the career ladder. Truth is I
love the challenge of field work. But it will be nice to spend time
with my kid, to be there for his hockey games and his swim meets.”
I could imagine him sitting on the sidelines, rooting for his boy.
He clearly was enamored of his son. “It’s just that I’ve enjoyed
living in Virginia.”

“I just moved here not long
ago. I used to live in Westport. I spent a lot of time in the Big
Apple,” I confided. “There’s so much to do.”

“Ever think about moving
back?” Axel asked. For a moment, I almost thought he had a personal
reason for asking me that.

“Sometimes,” I admitted.
“But everybody keeps telling me to move on, to start a new life
without Tark.”

“Everybody’s an expert on
relationships,” he comisserated. I smiled at that.

“What was your ex-wife
like?”

“Marga?” He took a deep
breath, letting it out slowly. “Heels on wheels. Four inch
stilettos that spent a lot of time walking all over me when she
wasn’t racing around town, trying to run me over in her Beamer. I
have the marks to prove it.”

“You’re joking,” I smiled,
starting to enjoy his wit.

“Actually, no. She had a
hell of a temper. She was always popping off like a firecracker. I
came home late from a stakeout one night and she actually hit me
with a broom.” He pointed to a scar on his forehead. “That was
brutal.”