Trust No One (34 page)

And what could MJ say to that? She blinked, took a deep breath, got in the hot little Porsche and drove Tasha to the rental office. She waited until a few minutes after going inside, Tasha returned with a set of keys.

She leaned down to the window. “Follow me back to the hotel.”

MJ pointed toward the maroon sedan. “Anyone who looks at this car will be able to tell it’s a rental with that sticker on the trunk.”

“Got that covered.” Tasha pulled a bumper sticker out of her bag. “I’ve done this once or twice.” She peeled the paper off the bumper sticker and stuck it over the rental car sticker. ‘
Naughty Nurse: Drop your drawers and get ready for a poke.
’

“Classy,” MJ said when she read the words.

“I thought so.”

At the hotel, they changed into the nurse scrubs, complete with wigs. MJ hardly recognized herself in a mousy brown shoulder length wig. Tasha’s change was even more drastic with the ugly black bob wig she chose. MJ tucked her Sig into a back holster under her baggy shirt.

“How far’s the drive?” MJ asked when she buckled her passenger side seat belt on the rental car.

Tasha looked at the GPS. “About twenty minutes. He lives on the other side of town with the country club and golf course.”

“Of course. Where else would he live?” MJ said with more than a little sarcasm.

Tasha found the posh neighborhood, then the house easily enough. She turned into the drive and stopped the car by the guard shack.

“You’re new ones,” the guard said, holding out his hand.

Tasha, seeming to know what to do, passed him the medical bag. “With Sandy on vacation and Janet sick, we’re all pulling double duty,” Tasha said.

“That must be why you had to come on a different day.”

The guard seemed bright enough to do the basic job, but not much beyond.

Tasha’s sexual wattage beamed with her smile. “We’re here on a different day because we have to redo a blood test.”

“You like poking that old guy with a needle?”

“I like poking men with a lot of things.” Tasha’s seductive tone matched her so-obvious-I’m-a-slut look that the not-so-bright guard was totally sucked into her lure.

“How about you, you like getting poked?” the man asked, faster on the comeback than MJ would have suspected. Of course he might be the kind of guy that had only one thing on his mind.

“Depends on who’s doing the poking. And with what.” Tasha gave the man a once over, never wavering on the sexy, suggestive act.

MJ watched in admiration. Playing the seductress was a role outside MJ’s comfort zone, but one Tasha easily managed.

“Everything looks okay here.” The guard, who barely glanced at the medical bag, winked at Tasha. MJ tried not to gag at the big, hopeful grin on his face.

“Thank you, darling. You ever go to Sam’s Bar-and-Grill?”

“No.” He squinted. “Can’t say that I have.”

“We hang out there after work on Fridays. See you around sometimes. ’Bye, now,” Tasha said and with a wave of her fingers, she put the car in gear.

She drove on through the gate, leaving the guard watching after her with the epitome of a prime, hopeful face.

“Sam’s Bar-and-Grill?”

“It’s a gay bar,” Tasha explained.

A laugh escaped MJ; she had to admire the cool aplomb of Tasha’s acting skills. “Obviously he doesn’t know.”

“Seems not. Won’t he be surprised?”

Still chuckling, MJ had to agree, no doubt Mr. Hopeful would park his butt on a barstool Friday night. “He won’t be forgetting you, that’s for sure.”

Tasha sighed. “Yes, it’s the curse of having men find me sexually appealing.”

MJ laughed, as Tasha had intended, but still there was underlying truth in what she said. Even in a disguise, with an ugly black wig and a plain pastel nursing uniform, Tasha was still beautiful.

“But it comes in handy,” Tasha continued. “He didn’t look in the bag too closely.”

“Not that there was much to see, since I had this vial of truth serum.” MJ pulled it out of her pocket and put it in the medical bag.

“Without knowing exactly what Joan and Sandy usually carry with them, it was best he wasn’t thorough. Could be just as dangerous if he didn’t find something that he was expecting to find as it would be to find something unexpected.”

Tasha turned off the main drive onto a circular drive in front of a massive dark gray brick house with white and navy trim. The house bespoke understated elegance and wealth. At the door, a Hispanic woman in a standard maid uniform let them in. Quaint.

MJ, who’d grown up with her feet firmly planted in middle America thought all the showy wealth wasted on a dying man with a questionable, likely criminal past.

“We’re here to check the Senator’s blood count,” Tasha announced as a way of introduction.

The maid led the way upstairs without question, either having been informed of their arrival or being too trusting. She knocked on a door.

A middle-age woman with vivid green eyes and bright red hair cut in a classic bob opened the door and flashed a quick smile. “There was a problem with his last blood work?” she asked. Her skirt, possibly chosen to match her eyes, made a soft swishing sound as she led them into the room.

“We need more, I’m sorry to say,” Tasha confirmed.

MJ wondered how Tasha was going to pull this off with the caretaker there. While MJ’s medic training had been a bit rusty with patching up Ben, she had no doubt Tasha was competent enough to do what was needed. But how did Tasha plan to question the old guy in front of his caregiver? Was it going to be MJ’s job to secure the woman?

She prepared to watch for cues.

“Senator,” the woman said to the old man, who was sitting in a wheelchair by the window. “The nurses are here to see you. They need more blood.”

“More? Bunch of damn vampires.”

“I’m going downstairs to see about your lunch.”

That took care of the problem of the caregiver, MJ thought, but lunch at ten in the morning? Then the woman pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse resting on a small table by a corner chair. A smoking break. Bad habit for a healthcare worker, but thank goodness.

Caring for an old sick man would probably drive the most health conscious to smoke. Or drink. Across the room, MJ spotted a half-empty bottle tucked behind a collection of sleek slender candles on the edge of an ornate dresser.

Tasha deposited the medical bag on the bed, pulled out a couple of items. With a stethoscope around her neck, a blood pressure cuff in her hand, she approached the old man while MJ stayed parked by the door.

“Hello, Senator, I’m Tina.” Tasha gave the phony name to match her badge. “I’m going to get your vitals.”

She actually bent and listened to his heart, with his gaze glued to her chest. MJ grimaced. The senator’s skin sagged, his eyes sunken and greasy wisps of thin gray hair lay plastered to his head. Tasha seemed unaffected, driven perhaps, by an anger MJ wasn’t yet feeling. Tasha had years to build her anger, while MJ hadn’t moved much beyond the numb stage of disbelief.

While Tasha pretended to examine the man, from her place by the door, MJ made a more thorough examination of the room. The bed with an elaborate carved headboard, was to the left, perpendicular to the door. Equally elaborate nightstands stood on each side, like guarding sentinels. A large entertainment center stood against the right wall. Next to the dresser on the far wall, a plush maroon recliner and small table with a reading light sat snug in the far left corner, next to the dresser. Taking a step further into the room, there was a door on the right end, just beyond the entertainment center.

MJ tensed. Probably a closet, bathroom combo, but a good place for someone to hide.

The senator watched Tasha closely. “Ticker still going strong, eh?”

Tasha gave the sweetest smile. “Perfect.”

“Circulation’s still good. I might look a little rusty on the outside, but I’m still in good working order.”

MJ strangled her urge to laugh, covering it with a cough. The senator shot her a disgruntled look and she realized suddenly that some of the men had been found dead, naked in bed. Were they all this old? Had Tasha really had sex with the others? The thought of getting naked with the old wrinkly guys, whether doing the deed or not, made MJ shudder.

“Why, Senator, you flirt,” Tasha teased with skill. “Extra-curricular activity is definitely against doctor’s orders.”

“I won’t tell him.” The old man grinned, showing a mouthful of teeth that still looked pretty good. Once he must’ve had a winning smile. “Your friend there can keep watch outside the door.” He grabbed Tasha’s butt.

Yuk, yuk, yuk, the horny old lecher. MJ remembered the more distasteful aspects of her former job, though she had never touted sex as blatantly as Tasha. A good reason to be grateful for her less than curvy build.

Tasha, using skills MJ never wanted to call on again, removed the senator’s hand. “Yes, Melanie, that’s a good idea. Why don’t you check the door?”

MJ checked the hallway, all clear. She discreetly locked the door as she closed it.

Tasha pushed the old man in his wheelchair closer to the bed. His tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth.

“Now, Senator, keep your hands to yourself while I get everything ready for your blood test.” Tasha pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves.

Might as well check the rest of the room while Tasha was otherwise engaged.             

“What? You’re going to draw blood anyway?”

“Why you old darling, are you afraid of needles?”

“Yes, my one big fear.” His mouth turned down but his eyes said he still held hope. MJ figured he was changing tactics since his sexy old man routine hadn’t worked. Adaptable like a politician. Old habits never changed.

“Afraid of needles, that’s too bad,” Tasha murmured. “Melanie, you ought to help me here.”

With her nerves vibrating, MJ couldn’t shake the sense something didn’t feel right. “Is that the bathroom there?”

“What?” Tasha asked.

“Yes,” the senator confirmed.

Long ago, MJ remembered something a nurse had done when the office had been like a refrigerator, leaving her veins cold and too hard to get blood. It wasn’t freezing in here but she could fake it, and she’d have a good excuse for exploring the bathroom.

“I think it’s too cold in here. A warm compress will help loosen up his veins. I’ll get a warm wash cloth.” Still standing behind the senator, MJ nodded her head toward the door knowing Tasha would understand she needed to secure the area.

Tasha tied the rubber band around the man’s arm, mashed on his veins with two fingers and nodded. Her gaze met MJ’s. “Yes, that’s a good idea.”

MJ stepped into the doorway, which was really a walk in closet with the bathroom beyond. She bent over, reached inside her sock and pulled out her back up Glock while Tasha held a running conversation with the senator, expertly fielding his every attempt at seduction.

The closet checked out clear. Holding her pistol ready, she moved onward. The large tiled bathroom included a Jacuzzi and an individual shower. And no sign of anyone hiding. Perhaps paranoia? Better safe than sorry.

Wanting easier access to her gun, she tucked it inside her waistband, covering it with her uniform jacket before she grabbed a cloth and turned on the hot water. With the warm, wet cloth in her hand, she paused at the door of the room, senses alert. Hearing nothing more than the old man teasing Tasha, MJ stepped back into the bedroom.

“It will only prick a little.”

“No, it won’t.”

Something in the senator’s voice made MJ hesitate.

Tasha didn’t hear the odd note in his voice or ignored it. “See, here’s Melanie with the warm compress.”

“No, he means you’re not going to stick him.” A man stepped from the back of the entertainment center, coming up behind MJ.

She froze, staring at Tasha, who held the needle paused mid-air.

Chapter 19

Gun? MJ raised her brows, sent a mental question to Tasha, who never moved, but sent a message back with her eyes. Yes.

Figured. Probably top notch security but why?

“You with the rag. Go on over there with your friend.”

MJ took a step forward and then using the direction of his voice, she whirled and threw the wet wash cloth, hitting his face. He quickly tossed the wash cloth aside, but the distraction gave her enough time to pull her pistol and aim.

He wasn’t a bad looking guy, dark hair, dark eyes, clean shaven face. He wore a black sweatshirt with a
I Wannabe a Rock Star
logo in gold, and black jeans. She lowered her aim to those jeans, right at his crotch; that always got a man’s attention.

“Ouch, you fucking bitch.”

That came from behind MJ and not from the man who got his face washed. Obviously Tasha had done something with the senator. As for herself, MJ held her P220 aimed at a man who had a Berretta aimed at her. Tasha would have to hold her own with the man in the wheel chair.