Chapter Two #2
"Yeah. Harry. He was on the ground. And someone was pulling him up by the front of his shirt, yelling at him."
"About what? What were they saying?"
"He had to get them something. And Harry said he couldn't. Or he needed more time.
It's starting to get foggy," she admitted, shaking her head at her faulty memory.
"But they said he had to find it, then they, ah, they slammed his head down on the ground.
" A shiver racked through her at the memory.
"I dropped my phone," she went on. "That was how they knew...
Oh, God. I left my phone. Could they, I don't know, get into it and find more about me? "
I didn't want to have to tell her that if these were some big-time bad guys—which they were starting to sound like—that they didn't need her phone. They could beat the information out of Harry.
He'd give it up.
People liked to think they could keep their mouths shut, that they were above giving another person up to save themselves a beating.
Most people were wrong.
"You have it locked?" I asked, watching her nod. "Then it's not likely they will get it open. I doubt they're experts at it and it is a hassle to find someone who is."
"My purse," she realized suddenly, mouth falling open. "I left my purse in my car. It was the only car on the street. They had to have figured out when they went back that it was mine. They know my address. And have access to my bank accounts."
"Okay, take a breath," I told her, moving over toward where she was sitting, leaning my head down to catch her eyes.
"After we're done, I will give you my phone and laptop to look up the numbers to shut down your cards.
I don't think that is necessary, but it's better to be safe.
You'll feel better. But right now, we need to stay on-point, okay?
" I asked, giving her hand grabbing the edge of the counter a reassuring squeeze.
I couldn't be sure, but I would have sworn her breath hissed inward at the touch.
"Okay," she agreed, taking a deep breath. "What else do you need?"
"Descriptions. Of the men. Their voices. Anything distinctive."
"It was dark," she reminded me. "I didn't get a good look. All were tall. One was overweight. All with dark hair, I think. I couldn't really see their eyes or really even their faces. One seemed like the boss. He had a slight Long Island accent."
"Tattoos? Piercings?"
"Not that I saw."
So, essentially, nothing to go on.
I wondered if her boss would cough the information up. If I could find him at all.
"What is going to happen now?" she asked.
"That is up to you. We can call up the NBPD. We can file a report, let them handle it. Which I am obliged to tell you is the legal—and smart—option," I told her, air-quoting the descriptors.
"Is that what you think I should do?"
"I think you should do what you are comfortable with," I told her.
"That's not what I asked," she shot back, lips tipping up.
"I think it sounds like Harry is wrapped up in something serious.
And I think you know how corrupt the police force is in our town.
They let AK-toting survivalists actively guard the local gun-running motorcycle club's gates.
If whoever these guys are have bribed the cops, we won't get anywhere.
I'm not an investigator," I reminded her.
We had investigators in town. And if this went over my head, my pride wasn't so big that I wouldn't refer her there.
If she could afford them, that is. "But I can look into this.
And I think you know that between my brothers and me and the rest of our sort-of family can come together to handle whatever this situation might be. "
My sister had married into a family of loan sharks and enforcers. Savea's best friend, Peyton, was shacked up with one of the aforementioned gun-running bikers. She had half a town behind her if she needed it.
"Okay. Then that is what I will do," she agreed, eyes cutting away. "Should we go into the office?"
"Why?"
"To, um, draw up the paperwork? Schedule an, ah, payment plan."
"Savvy," I said, not bothering to fight my smile. "I'm not charging you."
"You have to," she insisted.
"Nope. I don't. And I won't. I'm doing a favor for a friend."
"But... you don't even know what the situation is. It could be dangerous."
"Crossing the street could be dangerous," I countered. "It's fine. Roll that tension out of your neck. I will handle it."
"Thank you, King. I didn't know where to go."
"You came to the right place," I assured her, making myself a promise to prove that statement true.
"Could you, ah, bring me back to my car?" she asked, draining the last of her coffee.
"Sweetheart, no. You can't go back to your car. Or your place for that matter," I added, shaking my head when her gaze shot to mine, panic shining through.
I could see the thoughts racing around, trying to figure out where she could go.
Her family—just her mom and dad, really—were retired down in Florida, Savea being their only daughter, a very late in life child who had been on her own for long enough that they felt it was okay to pack up and leave her all on her own in her hometown.
She had a network of friends—Peyton and Jamie, especially. Then she had my brother-in-law's family that would all let her stay if she wanted to.
And she could do that.
If she wanted.
If she was more comfortable with that.
But not until I was sure it was safe to head out.
So not tonight.
"You can crash here, Savvs," I told her, waving a hand toward the bedroom. "For tonight or as long as you need. We can't leave right now. I don't know if the guys know you came in here. It's not safe until morning."
"Oh, ah. Okay. You're... I don't know how to thank you," she said.
"You don't need to thank me," I told her, taking the mug from her hands. "Come on. Let's get you settled in bed. You've got to be exhausted."
I knew from the conversations I'd overheard that she got up at the crack of dawn every morning to get to work, that she often closed the place down more than fifteen hours later. She had to be running on fumes, a sensation I was intimately acquainted with.
Clicking followed us as we moved down the hall, a certain four-legged friend seeming to sense the presence of someone who would let him sleep in bed with them whereas I tended to instruct him to sleep on one of his giant, fluffy, expensive beds, knowing Padfoot was an epic shedder, and not wanting to have to change the sheets every damn night.
"You coming to snuggle me?" Savea asked, her voice tripping into that high and honey-sweet voice women always used with animals. "You're a good boy. But I get the pillows," she added, sitting on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside her.
I won't deny I had less than normal thoughts right then.
Namely, Lucky bastard.
"Are there enough blankets? It's a little cold in here."
"Oh, this is nothing," she said, pulling the blankets up over her body. "I swear my place is insulated with newspapers. You can see your breath in the mornings from October to March. King, thanks again," she told me, taking a deep breath, offering me a weak smile with tired eyes.
"Don't mention it, sweetheart. Get some sleep, okay? We'll talk in the morning," I assured her, moving out into the hallway, watching her roll onto her side, resting her face in Padfoot's thick fur, seeking comfort I found myself wanting to give.
But only because she was a close family friend.
No other reason.
Of course.
"Goodnight, King," she called, her voice already sleepy as I moved toward the kitchen.
"Goodnight," I called back, settling myself down on the couch, already knowing there wasn't a chance of sleep in my future.
So I got to work.
Made calls.
Sent out texts.
Trying to put feelers out, see if any of the major players in town had any idea what Harry was into, who might be willing to beat him and chase an innocent girl through the streets.
By the time I heard Savvy moving around in the bedroom—just after sunup as was her custom—I had heard back from everyone, getting me nowhere.
Her fingers were freeing the braids out of her hair as her bare feet slid across the floor. Padfoot walked behind her, dropping down into a stretch and impressive yawn, not used to being up quite so early.
"Oh, hey," she said, stopping short at seeing me.
"I never find anyone who gets up earlier than me," she told me with a head shake that allowed all her hair to tumble free, some strands still looking wet even from hours before.
"Do you want me to take Paddy for a walk?
" she asked, smiling down at him as he rushed up to greet me, tail wagging fast enough to knock my laptop off the coffee table.
"Hey, bud. No, I got it. It will give me a chance to look around while you caffeinate and have something to eat.
There are eggs or oatmeal. Granola bars if you aren't a breakfast person," I told her as I found Padfoot's leash.
"Oh, and Nixon is on his way over," I added, watching as she nearly gave herself whiplash she spun so fast, eyes big, lips parted.
"Nixon?" she asked, her voice catching, her hand going up to mess with her hair.
Almost like...
Almost like she had a thing for my brother.
Why that made it feel like I had taken a slight punch to the gut was beyond me.
"I will be locking up behind me, setting the alarm, but he has a key and the code. I just didn't want you having a heart attack when someone walks in. I'll be ten minutes."
"Oh, I, um, okay," she mumbled, hands running down her shirt, fussing with it, self-consciously wishing she looked more together. "I am suitably warned. I won't stab your brother with a kitchen knife."
"Might improve his attitude," I said with a smirk as Padfoot started yanking me outside. "Ten minutes," I added, pulling the door closed, locking it, finding myself taking a deep breath before getting on with the walk.