Fugitive Heart (13 page)

The garage was nearly pitch-black, only a bit of light from the small window illuminating the chaos of auto supplies inside. The scent of gasoline, oil and beer reminded her of those teen years when she’d occasionally encroached on the edges of her brother’s life. Ames threaded her way around old tires, an air compressor, a toolbox, and tripped over a stack of fan belts on her way to the door. She opened it, and Nick slipped inside.

Ames led the way to the Mustang. She followed the chassis around to the open hood and switched on the work lamp she’d noticed hanging over the engine earlier.

“Shh!” Nick hissed as if to quiet the brightness. He picked up an oily rag and draped it to hide most of the light, then got to work. The car door opened with a creak, and he slid inside.

Ames crawled into the back and started feeling underneath the front seats for hidden packages. All she found was an ice scraper and crumpled bags that had probably once held 1970s’ burgers.

She leaned over the front seat to watch Nick rifle through the glove box—too small to hold anything more than a few papers, but then maybe Elliot had taken the bulk of the cash with him wherever he’d skated off to. Nick’s search produced nothing but a dog-eared road atlas and the title papers for the vehicle.

“We need to get into the trunk,” he whispered.

“Check the ashtray for the key,” she suggested, but doubted it could be that easy. They’d probably have to crowbar the thing open. But when Nick slid the tray out, the key was nestled in the ash-encrusted interior. “Jackpot!”

Nick snatched up the key and hurried to the back of the automobile. She scrambled out of the car and followed him. If the door hinges creaked loudly, the trunk was even worse. It gave a painful squeal as it opened. Ames could see nothing in the dark interior and cursed herself for not thinking to bring a flashlight. Stealthy nighttime reconnaissance wasn’t her forte.

She stood beside Nick and felt around the jumbled contents, pushing aside a tire iron, some empty boxes, a blanket, some squishy things she didn’t want to think about. Then her fingers brushed up against something hard—rectangular—covered in plastic.

“I got something.” She pulled out the package and walked around the side of the car to examine it in better lighting. A black plastic trash bag was wrapped and taped tightly around the contents. She dragged in a deep breath of motor oil and willed her hands to stop shaking. This might not be evidence of Elliot’s theft, but if it was, she could no longer hold out even the slightest hope that all of this was some huge misunderstanding—that her brother wasn’t deep into illegal activities.

Nick leaned against the car beside her. “You want me to open it?”

She shook her head. “No. I’ll do it.”

He nodded as if understanding her need to tear off the covering that hid Elliot’s secret life.

Ames slid her fingernail underneath the tape and peeled it away from the plastic just as the garage door opened. Nick jumped away from the car and the small circle of light, into the deepest shadows.

The overhead lights flicked on, too bright. Jake barged into the garage, a baseball bat ready in his big hands. He caught Ames’s horrified gaze and stopped.

“What the heck?” His mouth hung open, eyes wide in his ruddy face. Broad shoulders flexed under the ripped T-shirt as he gripped the bat.

“No,” yelped Ames, but she was talking to Nick, not Jake. He’d gotten behind Jake and held a gun in his hand. Before she even finished the startled cry, he’d stashed it away under his jacket again. Nick folded his arms, a silent
okay, you deal with this
. She supposed she should be grateful he moved that fast.

Jake didn’t see what had happened behind him. Or who was there. “Ames, what are you doing here?” He rested the end of the bat on his foot. “I told you I don’t know where Elliot is.” His face brightened. “But did you maybe stop by to see me? That’s fine with me, you know.” He took a step closer to her and finally saw the package she held.

“Oh, hell.” He raised the bat, menacing her again. Big Jake had a spare tire around the middle these days, but he’d been a heck of a football player back in high school.

“Jake, no way. You’re not going to hit me with that bat.”

“Why not? You broke into my garage in the middle of the night; you’re messing around with things you don’t know anything about.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do know something about this. You’re a good friend to Elliot—better than he deserves. I bet he told you on pain of death not to let anyone have this, right?”

Jake didn’t say anything, just tilted his head to the side.

“It was from him, right? This package.”

Jake finally lowered the bat. He nodded.

Ames’s heart sped up as if she’d finally gotten her hands on her brother and not just whatever he left behind. “The thing is, Jake, it really could be death he was talking about.”

“I said I wouldn’t open it. I promised I’d leave it alone.”

“He’s in over his head, and he’s dragged us in with him. Really, you have to believe me.” And not her idiot brother, who blithely put his loyal friend in danger. Her heart ached for good old Jake.

“Damn it, Ames, didn’t you hear what I said? I promised him. He’s my best friend, and I promised. You have to give it back.” Jake held out his calloused hand and waggled his fingers impatiently. He still clutched the bat in his other hand. Good old Jake suddenly looked a tad dangerous.

“No, she can’t.”

Jake whirled around. Nick had the damned gun out again, down at his side.

Jake stepped forward, raising the bat. Nick lifted the gun and held it across his chest, demonstrating its flat black ugliness. “Come closer to me and I’ll aim this at you.”

Ames groaned, exasperated with them both. “Just let me explain. Elliot’s gotten himself into trouble—”

“Bullshit.” The angry curse seemed very unlike the old Jake she knew. He swung around brandishing the bat. His gray eyes were cold. He looked less like a cute teddy bear and more like a grizzly.

“Ah-ah, Jake. Do anything to her, and I’ll shoot you.”

Ames spoke quickly before the tension between the two men grew worse. “You know how he always wanted to be rich without doing a lot of work? We both know Elliot loved get-rich-quick schemes. He went after money in New York and made some dangerous people angry.”

“I know. Like this guy.” Jake’s broad face creased in worry. Better that than anger. “I should have known you were in trouble, Ames. I could tell you were upset. I’m sorry I didn’t call the police before.”

“No, Nick isn’t one of the bad guys.” A
nd why are you so certain of this? Because you like him and because he turns you on like nobody else?
Not exactly an explanation she could offer Jake or even herself.

Jake scowled. “Nick? I thought his name is Sam.”

Oops. “Whatever his name is, he’s going to help me and Elliot.”

“Help
himself
, more like it.” But he lowered the bat.

Nick tucked the gun away. “Yeah, that’s true, but what I’m doing is best for Elliot too.” He nodded at the slightly greasy package Ames still clutched tight against her chest. “We need to find out what that is. If it belongs to the people Elliot pissed off, we have to give it back.”

“What’ll stop them from going after him then? He said this was leverage. I don’t trust you New Yorkers.”

“It may shock you to learn that killing people isn’t the first response most New Yorkers use to solve problems.”

“Ha-ha, funny guy.” Jake shifted from foot to foot and moved closer to Ames.

“Watch it,” Nick warned behind him.

“Watch yourself, jerk,” he said. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Do you really trust him, Ames?” His hot breath on her ear smelled of beer and toothpaste.

She nodded. Jake’s shoulders slumped a bit, and Ames felt her own relax in response.

He straightened and looked around the room. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” Ames touched his arm briefly.

“Elliot didn’t say much, but he kinda said that the guys…um, these guys aren’t like most people.”

“He’s right. The one advantage I have is that I know them.” Nick sounded calm too. “That means I can guess what they’ll do and maybe I can even talk to them. And I hope that’s enough. Maybe it’ll be enough.” Nick raised his hands in a conciliatory, palms-out gesture. “Let’s take a look and see what Elliot left behind.”

He nodded at Ames, and she put the package on the hood of the car. Jake and Nick stood on either side, as if getting too close to the package or each other could reheat the tension. She was fine with that.

She finished slitting the tape on the garbage bag. Even before she’d unwrapped it, she smelled something expensive—leather and the slightly sweet scent of money.

“Wow,” breathed Jake.

She unwrapped stacks of bills, and on top of them lay a leather-bound book and a flash drive. “That has to be thousands of dollars,” Jake said. “Holy shit.”

Nick reached over and picked up a stack. He flipped through. “Nonsequential. He must have taken the rest with him. He couldn’t carry all this.”

Ames sighed. “Maybe he’s like a squirrel. Burying bits of his treasure all over the place so that if he loses some of it, he can go back and get the rest.”

“He knew I’d keep his important stuff safe.” Jake sounded proud.

“Except it’s not really his.”

Nick gingerly picked up the leather-bound book with his fingertips and flipped it open. He recognized it right away. “Yup. Here’s the information you don’t put on a computer. All here.” Except the page he’d left at Nick’s house.

Ames came close and peered over his shoulder at the careful block letters, some printed in ink, others in pencil. He wanted to put the thing down and grab her instead. Maybe if he held her, that grim, ugly feeling would pass.

She pointed at a series of letters and numbers. “It’s nonsense.”

“Code. Nothing too difficult, because we’re not talking geniuses here.” He ran a finger above the list. “Simple substitution.”

“What is it?”

“My guess? Contacts, real sources of income, lists of actual income. They have to hide from the law and from the IRS. But they have to know what’s coming in and from where. Monthly accounts. Your brother is a real moron.”

“You said that already.” Jake picked up a little plastic object. “What’s this?”

“Flash drive.” Nick held out his hand. If Jake gave him any more shit, he’d tie him up and put him in the trunk of the rental car—for his own good. He did not need any crap tonight.

Luckily Jake had read his ugly mood and dropped the drive onto Nick’s palm. He jerked a thumb at the door. “Maybe we should go inside. I got a computer.”

“No. We don’t have time. We need to track down the owners before they find us.”

Ames’s voice, low and worried, came from behind him. “Are you planning on some sort of confrontation?”

He closed his eyes for a moment. Once upon a time, he’d actually liked Albert Esposito, his ole buddy Bert. But business came first for guys like the Espositos. Friendship took a backseat to business. Hell, friendship wasn’t even along for the ride.

“I hope we can all come out of this…” He stopped before saying
alive
. “I’m planning on coming forward with this money and information. Even though Elliot and the bulk of the cash are long gone, we might get some brownie points,” he explained to Jake.

Ames gave a little laugh. “What do we win if we get enough of those points?”

Okay, he’d stop trying to candy-coat the truth. “The chance to keep breathing.” He paused. “Jake, can Ames spend the night here?”

Nick hated asking, but the Greely place was probably the safest spot in all of Arnesdale for Ames. Bert might know about Ames now, but he wouldn’t know about Elliot’s contacts in Arnesdale, like his friendship with Jake, which was exactly why Elliot had felt safe leaving his loot here temporarily.

“Of course. Come on inside, Ames. I’ll set you up in the guest room. I’ll think of some reason to tell Mom—your apartment’s got a roach infestation or something.”

“Just a minute. I don’t need the two of you planning my life. No way am I hiding out. Elliot’s problem has become my problem. I’m sticking with Nick till this is over, one way or another.”

“No!” Jake spoke in unison with Nick.

Nick didn’t like how excited the guy was about Ames staying in his house. It wasn’t as if Jake would make a move on her or that Ames was at all interested in him, but a surge of protectiveness made Nick want to keep her with him after all. What the hell kind of caveman mentality was that?

“Look, Ames, I don’t want to get into another argument with you, but it’s safer this way. Not just for you, for me too.” He spoke calmly, patiently, rationally, but inside he was seething with frustration at the woman.

“How’s that?” Her hands were on her hips, braced for a fight.

“Like I told you, I know Bert from way back. I think I can talk my way out of trouble and maybe even get him to stop going after Elliot for the rest of the cash, but it’s going to be a delicate negotiation, and easier accomplished without you there. He’ll feel threatened, afraid you might go to the feds or something.” He stepped close to her and rested a hand on her arm, feeling the rigid tension. “Please, let me handle this alone.”