Snow Blind-J Collins 4 (45 page)

you shouldn’t have dumped Kevin so soon after your potential cash windfall. He’s a guy. He’s gonna take the piece of ass if you shake it in front of him. If sex is throw-off-your-inhibitions-in-the-middle-of-the-workday-and-screw-on-the-conference-table fantastic then he’s gonna expect more of it.

“So, when you suddenly yank the hot sex away, not even attempting to replace it with the old standby of preferring cuddling time, he’ll get suspicious. Like you were . . .
using
him for something besides sex. And being the snoopy sort, he’ll start digging for answers.

“And because I’m the suspicious sort, I’ll start digging, too. We’ll compare notes. And because we are professional snoops, people who have a vested interest in the outcomes of certain legal grievances come to us with all sorts of theories. Paperwork that brings up more questions than answers.”

She didn’t take long to mull it over. “Fascinating theory. How is it that Kevin came crawling back for some of that hot sex last night if he’s so suspicious of my motives?”

I mock-whispered, “You think you’re the only one who can use sex to get what they want? He was in your bed last night? Interesting. I sure hope you didn’t fall asleep too hard and leave him unattended in your house.”

473

Little girl lost morphed into the “old soul” Kevin mentioned, but I just saw her as a cunning monster who’d led a man to an icy grave.

“I’m sure those unnamed ‘people with a vested interest’ won’t question your theories at all. Because you’d
never
drag your agency through the press, just for the press. Things’ve been awful slow without new cases coming in. Gee, it’s been months since you’ve been the lead story.

“And you’ve personally killed, what,
two
people in the last year? Now you’re going after a grieving woman whose only living relative was found frozen to death? After
your
agency was snooping around the very facility where he was found? A few days later
you
just happened to stumble upon the victim? Maybe you could’ve prevented the tragedy if you’d done your job.

And, oddly enough, I heard that from your . . . partner.

It’s such a shame when miscommunications and legal matters break up partnerships and friendships, isn’t it?

And there’s nothing you can do about it?”

Conniving bitch. She’d had this all planned from the beginning. Picking our small agency. Playing Kevin. Playing me against him. Using the storm.

Finding her grandfather was just sheer bad luck on my part, and yet she’d discovered a way to spin it.

Her crafty grin alerted me to the idea she thought she’d won.

Wrong.

Amery checked her watch. “Like I said. Fascinating 474

theory. But I am running behind. So if you’ll excuse me—”

“Sure. But you forgot the other teensy thing. I mentioned two, remember?” I inched on my left leather glove a finger at a time. “Better hope that lawsuit lottery holds up, because according to my sources, Grandpa dearest wrote a new will, and you ain’t in it. At all.” I locked my gaze to hers. “Oh, and that’s not just a fascinating theory; that’s a fact.”

I waved at Buzz through the window to let him know I was done before I waltzed out.

475

Jimmer called my cell while I was leaving a message for Martinez. I clicked over and heard,

“Lemme talk to Buzz.”

“One of these days, Jimmer, you are gonna call just to talk to me, right?”

He snorted. I passed the phone to Buzz.

“You’re sure?” Buzz shot me a sideways glance.

“With her along? No fuckin’ way.”

Not good.

“Don’t matter ’cause I ain’t gonna ask her.”

“Ask me what?”

“Fine. Jimmer wants to know if you’ve got your gun with you.”

“Uh, yeah.”

Buzz sighed. “Five minutes. But if he—” He closed the phone and clutched it in a fist the size of an Easter ham. “Shit. Get to Highway 44. Fast.”

476

“What’s going on?”

“Jimmer’s got a lead on Jackal.”

“Jimmer? Since when did he turn into a divining rod?”

He shot me a look. “You’re fuckin’ kidding, right?”

I shook my head. Switched lanes when I saw the Blue Lantern Lounge. Waited for the light to change, and turned right on the ramp merging onto Highway 44 South. “Jimmer’s a hunting guide.”

“Tracking people is the same as tracking animals.

Except people leave better trails.”

I Hate Myself for Loving You
blasted out of my cell phone and I smiled. During the hours I’d spent attached to my cell, I’d programmed ring tones for my frequent callers: Joan Jett for Martinez, Aerosmith’s
Janie’s Got a
Gun
for Jimmer,
Mamma Mia
by ABBA for Kim.

Once I started, I couldn’t stop, pegging
Private
Eyes
by Hall & Oates for Kevin. Yeah, I was pretty pleased with myself when I decided Ben’s special tone would’ve been
Half Breed
by Cher.

However, Buzz wasn’t amused when I said, “It’s your boss.”

“Fuck.” He flipped the cover open. “Hello? Yessir.

No. Everything is fine. We’re just getting a snack.”

A lie? Interesting.

“It’s a bad connection because we’re in the fuckin’

Sonic drive-thru. She wanted a banana shake. Yes, I’m paying. Hang on. She says she’ll call you back.”

477

Click.
He said, “Fuckin’ A.”

“What? Should I be worried?”

He grunted.

“You lied to your leader, Buzz.”

“Don’t fuckin’ remind me. I saw what Big Mike looked like, all right?”

“Martinez doesn’t know about us meeting Jimmer?”

“Nobody’s supposed to fuckin’ know. Especially not you. Turn left here.”

I bumped over the railroad tracks and slowed because the pavement ended. “Where to?”

“Straight up the hill and down the other side.”

Good thing I had four-wheel drive.

But the area at the bottom of the hill surprised me because it wasn’t out in the boondocks; it was its own mini-industrial region. An abandoned-looking section of town I’d never seen. With a junkyard. Metal buildings were scattered at odd intervals. We took another sharp right and stopped in the gravel parking lot between two buildings, where Jimmer stood in full winter camo. Whoa. No shotgun resting on his shoulder? No sign of Jimmer’s beloved Hummer either? Just a Bobcat and the backside of the salvage dump.

Buzz climbed out first. After the door slammed I shoved my gun in my jacket pocket and jumped out.

Goddamn, it was cold out here. Spooky, too.

Jimmer ambled up and said to Buzz, “We ain’t got a lot of time. Give me a breakdown.”

“Jackal hired an employee to take a shot at bossman 478

at his own place of business.”

“Ballsy, but stupid.”

“You heard what he did to her?”

“Why the fuck do you think I’m here? He oughta fuckin’ die for that alone,” Jimmer said.

Should I remind them I’d handled that situation on my own?

“You know what he done to his guard?”

“Yeah. The eyeball-slicing thing sounds nasty.

So, if this is about retribution, I’m cool with helping out.” Jimmer’s face became placid, but his voice was pure steel. “But if it has to do with the missing product I’ve been hearing about, I ain’t gonna get involved. I’m a fence sitter, dig?”

Buzz nodded. “Bossman wants to be the trigger-man, which is exactly why he shouldn’t be. Big Mike, Cal, Bucket, me, we’re all in agreement on this one.”

“You got a death wish?” Jimmer pushed closer to Buzz. “You’re going behind Martinez’s back? I never would’ve offered my help if I would’ve known he wasn’t in on it. What the fuck happens when he catches wind of it? He’s gonna go ballistic.”

They argued and circled each other, herding me against the truck behind them as they snapped and snarled like junkyard dogs.

“You’re safe. You don’t gotta follow the same rules as we do, Jimmer.”

“Neither do I,” I offered.

Buzz looked at me like I’d spoken Farsi.

479

Jimmer snapped, “Jesus Christ, Jules, get in the fuckin’

truck. Tony’ll castrate me if he finds out you were here.”

“The last thing bossman needs is to look weak. I get that, okay? He’s gonna be on the warpath when he finds out what we done,” Buzz said. “But he don’t need to take chances just because he can. Nobody wants him in jail.”

They eyeballed each other.

The low rent industrial ghost town gave me the creeps. I half-expected the weird old cars to morph into some giant robotic monsters and chase us off. My breath puffed out as I fought off an unexpected surge of panic.

This felt wrong. Really wrong. A little voice was telling me to get in my truck and gun it back to civilization.

Before I could voice my paranoid thoughts, Martinez’s Escalade barreled around the corner. I hadn’t heard him coming. Jimmer and Buzz said

“fuck” simultaneously and stepped in front of me.

Martinez eased out the driver’s side, wearing his leg brace, Big Mike hot on his heels. Tony was mad as hell.

Double fuck.

“Did I miss the invite to the Julie Collins fan club meeting?”

“It’s not—”

“Because that’s the only reason I can fathom you’d fucking
lie
to me about where you were going, Buzz.”

Buzz remained mute.

“Where’s the rest of my security team? Buying balloons and party favors?”

The air outside wasn’t nearly as cold as the glare he 480

aimed at Jimmer. “You in on this, too?”

“I have a stake in making sure you don’t do nuthin’

stupid, Tony. Buzz and I were discussing some options.”

The wind blew an icy blast across my face, but I didn’t dare look away.

“Last I knew, I headed the Hombres. You should be talking to
me
, Jimmer, nobody else.”

“And now I am.”

Gunshots rent the air, pinging off metal. I didn’t know if bullets hit my truck or Martinez’s vehicle or the building behind me or the Bobcat. I didn’t stick around to match paint chips; I ran for the biggest protective structure, and that sure as hell wasn’t a man.

No way would I hide out in a junkyard, which left two other choices. I made tracks for the building behind me, the one closest to the road.

Buzz and Big Mike’s priority would be Martinez. Jimmer would go after the shooter. I’d be on my own. Again.

As I picked my way through the snow along the north side, gun in hand, I heard more shots. I couldn’t tell where they were coming from. Or where they’d hit. I didn’t dare stop moving.

I doubted the shooter was around the side facing the street, so that’d probably be the safest place for me to hide.

I stayed low, even when my black coat was a bull’s-eye against the mint green metal siding and the white snow.

The effects of my hypothermia came back full force in an instant. My teeth chattered. My limbs shook. I couldn’t catch my breath. The latter was 481

probably from fear, not forced exercise. Sad, that I was beginning to recognize the difference between terror and smoker’s overexertion.

My knees locked. Each boot step through the caked snow seemed thunderous in the deadly stillness.

I counted steps. One, two, three. At twelve I reached the end of the boxy structure.

Deep breath, Julie. Probably nothing around the
corner but an air conditioner unit and a Dumpster. Either
would make a fine hiding place.

What was safety protocol? Did I poke my head around first? Or lead with the gun? I’d seen enough old PI and cop TV shows; I should remember. As I contemplated how Remington Steele would’ve done it, I tripped over an extended downspout and face planted into a hard pile of snow. My fingers were stiff as frozen fish sticks and I couldn’t keep the grip on the Sig. It skidded out of sight.

Took every ounce of restraint not to yell, fuck!

Freezing, scared, and unarmed. Great. Could this get worse? I pushed to my knees, sat back on my heels, and swiped the dirty snow from my face.

When I looked up, Jackal’s “gotcha” grin swam into view. Along with the muzzle of the gun he’d aimed at me.

My survival instincts scrambled for dominance, but my body remained inert.

Jackal made a single step my direction and a bar-rage of gunfire echoed around us. Jackal’s cruel mouth did a twisty thing and half his head exploded as he 482

jerked and twitched. Before I saw anything else, a flying tackle broadsided me, forcing the air from my lungs while my face slammed into the snowdrift.

I didn’t complain. I didn’t move. Actually, I couldn’t move with Buzz on top of me. I heard Jimmer’s voice.

“She all right?”

“Knocked the wind out of her.”

“How’s Martinez?”

“I knocked the wind out of him, too.”

“Why? How the fuck did that happen?”

Buzz pushed up and muttered, “He was ignoring protocol, trying to get to her.”

Oh crap. That wasn’t good.

“Let’s worry about protocol with this asswipe.”

“He finally dead?”

“Yeah. Seems a waste of bullets even now.”

No more Jackal. I slumped with a sick sense of complete relief.

“Where we dumpin’ him?”

Mumbled male voices gave instructions I didn’t care to hear.

More footsteps. I lifted my head slightly and surveyed the scene. Cal and Bucket stood in front of Jackal’s body, each holding a shovel. An arc of blood sprayed across the snow. Not pretty like red sugar crystals on vanilla cookie dough, but ugly; the bloody finality of death. Jimmer pointed to the Bobcat, the junkyard, then at a can of gasoline.

Buzz helped me to my feet. “Bossman is waiting for you with Big Mike.” I attempted to turn around, 483

but Buzz’s hands clamped on my shoulders. “Nuthin’

you need to see back there.”

“But, I need—”

“What?”

“My gun. I, ah, dropped it.”

Jimmer snorted. “I’ll find it.”

Buzz directed my hobble to the front of the building. I shook like a wet cat. Odd, now that I really thought about it. Where had the Hombres security guys come from? No other vehicles circled the Escalade. The passenger’s door to the luxury SUV opened. Big Mike lumbered out.