On Tour (12 page)

His phone buzzed. Looking at the number, he said, "It's my guy in Miami. They must have found Sal Bonanno. I need to take this."

I nodded. He kissed my head and raced off to the lobby. The waiter came to take our drink order. He gushed over having the "beautiful and talented Ms. Hudson" at his table.

I ordered a double martini for me and a Jack and Coke for Mark. I had a feeling he was going to need it.

I turned on my phone. I had three missed calls. One from my sister, one from my mom, and it looked like one from The Meadows where The Grands lived. No messages. I called my sister back.

"It's me," I told her.

"I thought the plan was to keep a low profile." My sister's voice was a high-pitched screech.

"I screwed up."

"Uh-duh! It must've been a slow news day, because that video of you playing at the bar today has gone viral. It's all over Facebook. Mom just called me because she saw it."

"Wow," I murmured. "How'd I sound?"

I'm pretty sure I heard my sister's eyes rolling back in her head. "It was a little hard to hear, but you looked great."

"I just don't understand why this is so important to everyone. It was just a table full of college kids watching me."

"Yeah, I wondered the same thing. So, acting as your lovely assistant, I did a little checking into the original Tweet. One of those college kids has fifty-thousand Twitter followers. She's got her own fashion blog."

I put my head in my hand. "I gotta go, Ashley."

"Does Mark know?"

I looked up to see Mark approaching, a stern look on his face. Eyebrows raised, chin determined, lips pressed into a thin line.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good. He needs to get you out of there. If we're all seeing this, I'm sure The Spider is as well."

The waiter beat Mark to the table with our drinks. I took a big gulp as Mark sat down across from me.

"So did they find him?" I asked.

Mark stared at me for what seemed like hours. "Yes, as a matter of fact, they did," he fluffed out the napkin in front of him.

That seemed to be a good sign. I guess it meant we were staying. "Great!"

"Yep, and he's not talking until he sees his lawyer. The Organized Crime Unit says the family sent him down a couple of years ago to look after their 'Florida interests.' He's a thug, who hangs with a motorcycle gang."

"But my contact didn't call about all that. They won't know anything until the lawyer gets there. He'll give me a full report tomorrow morning." Mark paused and locked his dark eyes on mine. "No, he wanted to know if I'd seen this video."

Mark handed me his phone. I cringed at the still of me sitting on the bar stool. "Seems like you had quite a day today."

I stared down at my drink. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I just wanted to get out and play a little. I guess one of the kids in the audience is a big-time blogger. Otherwise this would've never gone viral."

"Do you have a damn death wish? Seriously, Diana, I'm trying to protect you, but you're not making it easy. Any possibility this is just on Twitter?" he asked and then tossed back his drink and signaled to the waiter for another.

I looked up at him with a sigh. "Not so lucky. The video was on ET tonight."

Mark's face flushed, and he ran his hands through his hair. I was pretty sure his relationship with me would mean the end of that beautiful wavy brown hair. His lips twitched.

Was he stifling a smile?

He started to laugh so hard he had to reach for his napkin to dry his eyes. "You've been in Carlos' shadow this whole tour. With all the PR machines grinding away and no one giving you the time of day. We go undercover for one day." He held up his finger. I was happy it was the index and not its neighbor. "And you're on a national TV show that same night broadcasting your location to the world."

"I guess social media really does work." I shrugged. Laughing was better than yelling.

"Yeah, it works great. Might as well have a flashing sign over your head reading 'drop anvil here.'"

"Meep-meep." That was my less than stellar imitation of the Roadrunner.

Mark had stopped laughing.

We sat in silence on the way back to the hotel. Mark had gone into full blown CIA mode. He'd actually switched dinner plates with me when our food arrived and wouldn't let me order another martini. We'd had a bottle of wine instead, only after he'd checked the seal on the cork. Then he called a cab to pick us up instead of using the limo. He was making me irritable and jumpy.

He must've read my body language. "Hey, don't give me the cold shoulder. This is all your fault. If you hadn't been out strolling around with your guitar, we'd be enjoying a few peaceful days at a five-star hotel. Maybe now you'll start taking this seriously."

I hit him with my purse, whispering back furiously, "I know it's my fault. And I'm terrified. Are you happy now?"

"No," he replied, cupping his hand on my cheek. "I'm not. All I want is for you to be safe and for us to have a life together. But—"

"Everything is getting in the way," I finished, then whispered, "Maybe I'm getting in the way."

He stared at me for a few seconds and then nodded. "Maybe you are. Maybe you're getting in your own way. Sure it's not your fault you've got a cold-blooded killer after you, but you're certainly not making it easy to keep you safe."

I glared at him. I didn't feel now was the time to point out my shortcomings. "I know it's my own decisions that have exposed me to even more risk. But I would like to remind you that if it hadn't been for being your girlfriend and Carlos' singing partner, I wouldn't have been in this situation in the first place." I held up a hand to stop him from speaking. "All that being true, I know that getting out of this is up to me. And I don't just mean this hitman situation. The tour, my career, all the things that are happening right now—" My voice caught and tears welled up in my eyes.

He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his lips. "I'll always be there for you. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Just something to think about."

Tyrell's words ran through my head like a broken record.
Catch yourself, girl. Ain't no one gonna do it for you
.

I gave Mark a soft kiss.

"So what's the plan now?" I asked.

"Go someplace that takes cash tonight and regroup in the morning."

I made a face. "No fancy hotel?"

"Not a chance. In fact you're not going back to the hotel at all." Mark asked the taxi driver to take us to the airport.

I felt a little ridiculous getting out at the airport loading zone in a cocktail dress, but Mark had a plan. He grabbed my hand and we headed for the car rental desk.

The rep at the desk didn't bat an eye at our attire. I assumed working a car rental desk in D.C. was a lot like working at a temp agency. You got used to all the weirdos.

"It's been a busy day. I only have one car left until tomorrow morning. It's a subcompact," she looked pointedly up at us.

"Not a lot of leg room, huh?" Mark asked.

She shook her head. "But it's all I got."

Mark signed the paperwork, and we went to wait for the shuttle to the lot.

"Do you have any idea what a subcompact is?" I asked him.

"No idea. Doesn't sound good, though."

We got to the lot and picked up the keys. It took us a few minutes to locate our car. I use the word "car" loosely. It had wheels and a metal frame, and I guess somewhere inside there was an engine, but it was not a car by the standard definition.

We both stared at it.

"Maybe it's bigger inside than it looks." I was trying to be positive.

"We went from a limo to this all in the space of a couple of hours. Unbelievable," Mark grumbled. "You drive." He handed me the keys.

The plan was for me to drop him off in front of the hotel so he could get our things. Mark craned his neck to look behind us. There was a foot of space behind our seats and the hatch.

"Don't say it," I growled. "I'm not leaving my guitar."

"I don't know what to do, Diana. As it is, I'm only going to be able to bring one suitcase."

"I'll hold it, and you drive."

Mark looked over at me. I was sitting in a frog position. My knees straddling the steering wheel with my dress hiked up to my waist. He was in a similar leapfrog position in the passenger seat.

"I'll stick part of the case out of the window," I said.

He shook his head. "This is a stupid car."

I dropped him off a few buildings away from the hotel with instructions from him to circle the block for a few minutes. He would meet me at the same spot with our luggage. I found a pull-off a few streets over and decided to make use of the time by returning my mom's phone call.

She answered on the first ring. "What's going on, Diana? You're on ET and don't tell anybody."

I held the phone away from my ear. "It was a surprise to me too, Mom."

"I had to hear about it from Granddaddy Hacker, you know," she continued like I hadn't said a word. "They were watching it in The Meadows rec room. Did Ashley tell you his girlfriend had some kind of attack? They had to call an ambulance. Apparently, it was touch and go for a while there, but she's doing okay now."

"No, she didn't mention it. Sorry to hear that. I guess things like that happen when you get as old as they are." Several teenagers walked by laughing and pointing at me in the car. Nice.

"Well, I just wanted to return your call before it got too late, Mom."

"Oh, I don't think so, young lady." I could picture her shaking her long fake nail at the phone. "You're going to tell me what you're doing in D.C. when you're supposed to be cruising back with Mark. Did you two break up?"

I sighed. "No, Mom. Mark's with me. It's a long story."

"Are you okay?"

I debated telling my mom the truth, but I figured she'd only think I was playing a trick on her again. "I'm fine. I'll call you in a couple of days."

My mom continued asking questions about the status of my relationship with Mark until my phone beeped with another call.

"I have to go. I have another call coming in. It's Mark."

We said goodbye, and I clicked over to Mark.

"That was fast."

"Someone's following me. I'll lose them and meet you at the Quick Mart on K Street."

My heart was in my throat. "Are sure? What if they catch you?"

"That wouldn't make me much of a CIA agent if I let them catch me, now would it?" There was a note of excitement in his voice.

I pulled up to the Quick Mart at exactly nine. Mark was nowhere in sight. A homeless man leaned against the window of the store, sipping out of a bag. He saw me and sauntered over.

Geez, it was just like being in a bar alone. I was a total creep magnet.

He tapped on the window.

I pretended to play with the radio dial.

He tapped again. "Hey, lady!"

I looked up and waved him off.

He wasn't going anywhere. "Hey, he's down there waiting for you."

I looked at the unlit alley next to the Quick Mart. Yeah, like I was going to fall for that one. I shook my head no.

He shook his head yes. "Dude gave me a Benji to wait here for you."

"I don't believe you," I shouted through the closed window.

"He said to tell you this was a stupid-looking car if you argued with me. Man, right about that one." He shook his head at the subcompact and walked back to his perch in front of the market.

Those were the magic words. I took off down the alley. Mark appeared in my headlights with a suitcase in one hand and my guitar in the other. I unlocked the doors and climbed out.

He stuffed the suitcase in the hatch. "Did you like my deputy back there?"

"The homeless guy was a nice touch. Very Hollywood."

Mark grinned. "I thought so."

I folded myself into the passenger seat and put my guitar case between my thighs. I opened the window—hand crank—and maneuvered the neck of the case through the window.

"Yeah, we're not conspicuous at all," he muttered.

"Did you lose them?" I craned my neck to look behind us, but all I could see was the suitcase.

"I think so."

"Do you think it was The Spider? Or just the paparazzi?" I glanced over at Mark. He put his phone in the console between us, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong? Someone following us again?"

"No." He looked worried. "I just realized it's past nine. Andre and Marsha were supposed to check in every day before nine. We need to get somewhere so I can make some calls."

"Maybe they don't have a signal, or the weather is bad."

Mark shook his head. "Marsha's phone doesn't use a wireless carrier. There's not a place in the world she can't talk with that phone."

He drove towards the interstate and then got off a couple of exits later. There were miles of cheap motels lining the road. He picked one with a vacancy sign.

The room was musty and smelled faintly of smoke. It looked clean enough, but the shag green carpet and particle board furniture had seen better days.

As soon as we were in the room with the door locked securely behind us, Mark placed a call.

He rattled off some numbers and then said, "Failure to report." He paused, then, "Thirty-three minutes. Fifty miles southwest of Bermuda. Thanks." He hung up.

"Well?" I asked, kicking off my shoes and flopping down on the bed.

"The phone has been offline since 5:30 this afternoon." Mark's voice was grim.

"But what's that mean 'offline'? Did she turn her phone off?"

"It means the phone is no longer functioning. Not sending any signal. Something's happened to them."

"But if The Spider knows I'm here, then why would he do anything to them?"

Mark sat down on the bed next to me.

"Oh, God, I hope they're okay," I murmured as Mark put his arm around me.

"They're notifying the Coast Guard. Probably won't know anything until morning."

*  *  *

My phone rang at five, jolting me awake. Mark leapt up as well, probably thinking it was his phone.

"Ashley," I said looking at the display.