Chapter 2
Ispun up the lights, stomped the gas, and pulled away from the sedan. Cars parted as I blazed down the road. There were certain perks to being in a squad car.
Tires squealed as I banked a hard left.
The car tilted, and Paisley grabbed the oh shit handle.
I barreled down the street, took a right, then a quick left.
With my eyes glued to the rearview, I kept twisting and turning, then circled back around.
I had to give it to the perps—it was a little bold to chase a marked patrol car. This wasn’t just an assassination of Paisley’s passenger. They were after something.
“What’s in the briefcase?”
Paisley gave a sheepish shrug. “Nothing.”
Skepticism filled my eyes. “What’s in the case?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“I don’t know. Just stuff.”
An exasperated sigh escaped my mouth. “Now’s the time to come clean. Tell me everything.”
Paisley hesitated a moment, then said, "The guy gave me the briefcase when they started shooting at us. He told me to keep it safe. Then he got his freaking head blown off. I spent 20 minutes in the bathroom at the station, trying to pick all the pieces of that guy’s skull out of my hair," she said with a shiver.
"The first thing I want to do when I get home is take a shower. "
"I'm not taking you home."
"Where are you taking me?"
"I'll think of something.” I paused. "So you have no idea what's in the briefcase?”
"No. I haven't even had time to look. It doesn't have keys. There's no combination. I don’t know how you open the thing.”
"Did Steve say anything to you when he got into your car?”
"Not really. Just hello.”
"Where were you taking him?”
"To the Surfside Inn.”
My eyes kept glancing to the rearview mirror to make sure the silver sedan hadn’t found us. "Turn your phone off."
Paisley's face wrinkled with confusion. "Why?”
"In case they’re tracking your cell phone.”
“Why would they be tracking my cell phone? I don’t know these people. They don’t know me.”
“They do now.”
She sighed and did as I asked. "Where are we going?”
"I'm gonna take you to the Seven Seas.“
Paisley shook her head. "No, you’re not!”
My brow knitted, and I looked at her like she was crazy.
"That place is expensive. I can’t afford that!”
"The county will cover it. Do not go crazy with the minibar or room service.”
She frowned at me.
"You're going to stay in the room, keep your phone turned off, and tell no one where you're at.”
Paisley gave me a look. "Are you out of your mind? What am I supposed to do? How long am I supposed to stay in that place?”
"Until I get this sorted out.”
"How long is that going to take?”
Another frustrated sigh escaped my mouth. "As long as it takes.”
"And how am I supposed to make money, pay rent, pay bills?”
"We'll figure that out.”
Paisley considered it a moment, then surrendered. "Okay, fine. If you’re gonna take care of it." She paused. "Does that mean I can hang out by the pool and drink margaritas all day?”
"No. That does not mean you can hang out by the pool and drink margaritas all day."
She made a pouty face. "Party pooper."
"I don't know if you’ve been keeping up, but someone is trying to kill you.”
"Why me?”
"I suppose it has to do with whatever is in that briefcase.”
I called Isabella, my contact at Cobra Company. It was an off-the-books clandestine agency. Isabella had vast intelligence resources. If anyone could figure out who Steve Davidson was and why someone would want his briefcase, it would be her.
She answered after a few rings. “What kind of trouble are you in now?”
“Why would you assume I’m in trouble?” I teased.
She scoffed. “I know better.”
“There is a slight situation you could help me with.” I filled her in on the incident.
“I’ll see what I can find out about the victim. Send me a picture of him and his briefcase when you get a chance. I’ve gotta run. It’s a little hectic around here at the moment.”
I thanked her and ended the call.
With a watchful eye on the rearview mirror, I pulled into the parking lot at the Seven Seas and drove under the carport by the main entrance.
I hopped out of the vehicle, kept the keys, and told the valet I'd only be a few minutes.
I was not about to hand over the keys and let him go for a joy ride in the squad car.
I helped Paisley out of the vehicle, took the briefcase, and escorted her into the lobby. At the front desk, I flashed my badge and said, "I need a room. Preferably on an upper floor.”
The cute brunette behind the counter tapped the keys. "I'm sorry, Deputy, but we're all booked up at the moment.”
"This is official county business,” I said with a smile. “Surely there is something you can do?”