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Authors: Robyn Carr

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Fiction

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BOOK: Runaway Mistress
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Rose made a face. “Phoo! That witch! She did that on purpose. Trying to make me envious. She always tries to get me to go with her and I can’t.”

“Can’t?”

She leaned forward. “That would involve an airplane. I don’t
believe
in airplanes.”

Jennifer laughed in spite of herself. “Fortunately, they believe in you.”

“Don’t be pert.”

“Is it the claustrophobia?”

“No. It’s being hurtled through space in a tube going hundreds of miles per hour.”

“It’s very convenient,” Jennifer pointed out.

“Ptui.”

“I’m amazed. You seem so fearless. So…
brazen.

She smiled broadly, showing her beautiful teeth. Clearly she was flattered by the remark. “Thank you, dear. You know, I’ve been thinking about you lately.” Rose leaned forward and studied Jennifer closely, the slightest frown wrinkling her brow.

“Have you?”

“Yes, actually. I think we need to find someone who can shape up that haircut of yours. Take the ‘go navy’ look out and put the chic in.”

“Oh, Rose,” she laughed. She rubbed a hand over her hair, which had grown in quite a bit in the several weeks since she’d shaved it. “You’re too much.”

“Honestly, Doris, do you have any
real
objection to looking like a woman?”

“I’m not very prissy, Rose.”

“Of course not, but we can work with this,” she said, reaching across the short distance that separated them and grasping Jennifer’s chin. She turned her head left, then right. “This shorter-than-short look has potential. Not many women have the cheekbones for it.” She held Jennifer’s chin still and stared deeply into her eyes. “Although you try to hide it in the most horrible clothes, you’re very beautiful. With just the smallest effort, you could present a stunning look.” She leaned back again. “I saw you on his handlebars, laughing your ass off.”

She colored a little in spite of herself. These people all seemed to have a gift for catching her unawares and leaving her slightly embarrassed. This flush had nothing to do with being caught with a man, as Jennifer was more than experienced in that arena. It was being caught at anything that drew attention to herself. She should be keeping a lower profile, just to be safe. “Guilty,” she finally said.

“You
must
be feeling guilty, blushing like a school-girl. Don’t be embarrassed. A woman could hardly do better than Alex.”

“Now, Rose, I don’t intend to
do
Alex.”

Rose roared with laughter, loving that. “Well, I won’t tell him. It might break his heart.”

“By the way,” Jennifer asked. “Does he work?”

“Oh, my, yes, he works. He’s a police detective.”

Jennifer tried to keep her expression steady. Bland. “Really?” she responded flatly.

But clearly she hadn’t succeeded. Rose lifted one eyebrow and peered at her. And, uncharacteristically, remained very quiet for a long moment. At last she said, “I think that air of mystery may work for you, Doris. You’re excellent at it.”

Seven

J
ennifer lay on the living room floor, resting her head on Alice’s side. Alice was not only a very good pillow, she was also a good listener. “Police detective?” she asked Alice. “Could this get any worse?”

Jennifer wasn’t quite sure who she should be more worried about—Nick or the police. They were both frightening prospects. If the police recognized her, wouldn’t they arrest her for that missing money and jewelry Nick claimed she had stolen? A search of her belongings would produce it—and then it would become her word against Nick’s. At the very least, wouldn’t they contact Nick and tell him his missing person—and money and jewelry—had been located?

She played it out another way in her mind. What if she went to the police and told them everything? What she heard, what she saw, why she ran. Wouldn’t they be compelled to search for Barbara Noble’s body? How long could Nick keep them at bay by pretending she was out of the country?

But…if they looked for Barbara and found she was
indeed
missing? That her
body
was missing? Wouldn’t they then do whatever they could to keep Jennifer safe? Safe…so she could
testify
against Nick? Oh, God, that was even more daunting.

She rolled over, buried her face in Alice’s soft fur and moaned. Alice yawned loudly and rolled onto her back to have her belly scratched.

“No matter how I play this thing out in my mind, it just keeps getting worse.”

She sat up and absently stroked Alice’s stomach for a while, deep in thought. Alice slowly got to a sitting position, leaned forward and gave Jennifer a tender lick on the cheek, making her laugh. “Did I leave a little Cornish game hen on my cheek?”

She hugged the dog. “I might be a little nervous about how this is going to come out, but I’m not complaining,” she said to Alice. “I pretty much have it made. And you are truly the best roommate I’ve ever had.” She hugged the dog and resolved to try to just go with the flow. One day at a time. “Come on, girlfriend. Off to bed with us. Four-thirty comes pretty early.”

 

When Jennifer opened the door to the diner right at 5:00 a.m., she was greeted by the sounds of sniveling, arguing, lecturing and grousing in Spanish. Behind the counter in the grill area Hedda’s mother, Sylvia, sat on a stool. She was swearing and complaining very angrily, but it was muffled as her face was obscured by an ice pack held to her nose. She wore her short black cocktail-waitress uniform and black mesh stockings, but one leg was torn, exposing a bloodied knee. She was all high heels and cleavage, but her hair looked as though she’d taken a roll down a hill.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh, God, does
she
have to be in on it?” Sylvia griped.

“For God’s sake, Sylvia, you want me to ask her to wait outside while you make excuses for some useless son of a bitch you brought home from the bar? For about the hundredth time?” Buzz demanded.

She wailed, “It’s none of her goddamn business!”

Jennifer crept closer. “He
hit
you? In the face?”

Sylvia pulled away the ice pack and Jennifer gasped. Her nose might be broken and both eyes were going to be black. And there was the unmistakable odor of alcohol. Plenty of it. “It wasn’t his fault,” she said with a hiccup.

“You hit
yourself
in the face?” Jennifer asked.

“Very funny.”

Jennifer went to get her apron. “I wasn’t trying to be funny. Where are the kids?”

“I haven’t even been home yet,” she said. “They don’t know about this.”

“Thank God,” she said. “You can’t put them in danger like this. Jesus.”

“Mind your own business!”

“She’s right. I should call a cop,” Buzz said.

“You do that and you know how bad it can get for my kids. Believe me, I never let that loser anywhere near them.”

“Well, that’s something,” Jennifer said, imagining another nocturnal visit from Hedda while Sylvia “entertained.”

“I hit him first,” she said.

“Es probable verdad. Estúpido.”

“What?” Jennifer asked.

“Is probably truth,” Adolfo said. “Stupid people. No respect.”

“Are you going to let him talk about me like that?” Sylvia asked Buzz.

“I
agree
with him! Stupid people. No respect!”

From the alley behind the diner a man yelled, “Sylvia! Sylvia!”

“Ho Dios. Aqui hay problemas.”
He looked at Jennifer. “Big trouble.”

Sylvia yelled, “Go away, Roger! Someone’s going to call the cops!”

But he was undeterred, pounding at the door. “Let me in! Wait till you see what she did to
me!

And that’s when it started. A melee. Roger somehow got into the diner through the back door, which probably hadn’t been locked in the first place. He was shouting about the scratches on his face and neck, which were admittedly gruesome, while Sylvia was shouting about her nose, which might be broken. Buzz was shouting at both of them, saying that they were no better than scrappy trash the way they fought, and her raising two kids in that kind of chaos, she should be ashamed. All the while Adolfo was yelling about
Estupido, bastardos
and
no respeto.

Roger advanced on Sylvia, shouting, calling her vile names. Sylvia advanced on Roger doing the same. And Buzz tried to put himself between them. Adolfo was yelling about the
policía
while Jennifer backed up against the pantry door. Roger shoved Sylvia into Buzz, but Sylvia, though small, seemed possessed of a wiry strength and wound up to sock Roger right in the chops when she seemed to twist her ankle in those three-inch heels. Her swing went awry and found Jennifer’s jaw. Jennifer felt her head explode and then the lights went out.

She wasn’t unconscious long, but when she came to, everything about that wild morning had changed. She was cradled in Adolfo’s arms while Buzz held a cold cloth to her jaw, cheek and eye. She struggled to sit up and heard a siren in the distance.

“Easy,
mija,
” Adolfo said. “You went out like the light.”

“Jesus, did anyone get the license plate number?” she asked. She looked around. “Where are they?”

“Are you kidding?” Buzz asked. “Gone, like the cowards they are. Don’t worry, Doris. I’ll take care of you. I called the paramedics, and if you have to go to the hospital—”

She grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. “Buzz. I
can’t
go to the hospital.”

“It’s all right, Doris,” he said, patting her hand. “Don’t worry about money right now. I’m more than ready to—”

“No. I can’t. Please, I’m fine.”

Adolfo began to gently massage her shoulders.
“Ella tiene miedo.”

“Oh?” Buzz asked. “Doris, you don’t have to be afraid of anything.”

“I’m not afraid,” she said, getting to her feet. Once standing, she was very woozy and not too steady, but she got her balance quickly. Although her jaw pounded and she was light-headed and her eyes were glassy, she forced a smile. “Besides, I’m fine. You check on Sylvia. At least check on the kids. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not so sure. Why don’t you let them just look at you—”

The sirens came closer. “Because I can’t, Buzz. I can’t. If they think something is wrong and want to take me in and I refuse…Look, just tell them the person you called about is gone and refused to be seen by any paramedics. Or send them to Sylvia’s house—that would serve her right.” While talking, she was making her way toward the bathroom. Then she stopped, retraced her steps and grabbed the cold pack. She shook it at them both. “I’m gone. Remember.” And she ran for the bathroom.

“Why is every woman I’m within ten feet of a nutcase?” Buzz asked rhetorically.

“A lo mesor tu eres loco.”

“Is that so? I’m crazy? You don’t think I’m so crazy when I pay you a little extra.”

“Sí. Muy chicuito.”

“Oh, bite me, as Hedda would say.”

Jennifer listened at the door while Buzz tried to explain that the waitress who was accidentally punched in the side of the head decided she was fine and just wanted to go home. It took a while, as the paramedics were reluctant to be called out at such an unholy hour only to have it be a false alarm. Maybe in some of the busier neighborhoods of Las Vegas the paramedics would be up all night, ready for the next call, but as one paramedic pointed out, “This is Boulder City, man. I was just getting to the good part of the dream!”

All the while Jennifer wondered if she was making the right decision. She felt a little empty-headed, like maybe her brains had been good and rattled. Finally, the place was quiet enough that she thought it safe to leave the bathroom. All she could hear were the soft murmurings of Buzz and Adolfo.

Not Buzz and Adolfo. There stood Alex.

He fairly scowled as he looked at her.

“Hey,” she said.

He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her face this way and that to examine the injury. Frowning, he said, “Hey.”

“You’re up early,” she observed, at the same time noticing that he wore an extremely wrinkled pair of chinos, a ratty sweatshirt and no socks—hastily dressed. Of course he was unshaven. They had
called
him. And he must have raced to the diner; she hadn’t been in the bathroom all that long. She tried not to stare at his bristly chin, his mussy hair. She tried not to think about the fact that this must be what he looked like when just waking up. Ruggedly handsome.

“Buzz said you had a little trouble here.”

“Grande,”
said Adolfo.

“Well, Doris didn’t have the trouble. I mean, she accidentally got socked in the jaw when Sylvia and some horse’s ass got into it right in my grill, duking it out. She got sideswiped. And she don’t want any medical attention, but you can see she can’t work. So I thought, you being right next door…”

He let go of her chin. “You couldn’t wake Rose. You’d never hear the end.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Come on, Doris. I’ll take you home.”

“Thanks, Alex, but really, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” all three men said.

“Well, I will be. Just let me have a couple of aspirin and give me a minute.”

Alex grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “Come on. Let’s not be stupid. Or stupider.”

She pulled her hand out of his. “Hey. I was an innocent bystander here. Don’t act like I just got into a rumble.” And then she swayed again.


Suavemente.
Gently. Is not the señorita’s doing,
Alejandro.

“I know. You’re right. I’m a little cranky in the morning.”

“Well, settle down. I’m the one who got punched.” She walked past him, grabbed her hoodie off the hook by the door and said, “Are you walking me home, or what?”

He was cranky, she was huffy, but about a block down the street, the sun just barely coming up over the mountains, she took a deep breath and slowed her pace a little. The fresh morning air did wonders for her head.

“What, exactly, happened?” Alex asked her.

BOOK: Runaway Mistress
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