Enforcer, p.4
ENFORCER, page 4
I try the handle. It’s locked, as I expected. This would be a problem for the average person, but for me... Well, let’s just say I have a lot of experience breaking and entering. Within moments I am inside the hotel hallway. The next question is, what room is she in?
Sidestepping into a janitor’s closet, I slap my hand down hard on the shoulder of a man hunched over a computer, pretending to do his job.
“I don’t know if pornography is an acceptable use of time during work hours,” I say as the man cries out.
“Christ, Jake!” the beady-eyed man gasps. “You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Sorry about that,” I say, sliding in next to him.
“What the hell are you doing here anyways?” he demands, rapidly closing his screens.
“I’m looking for somebody,” I say with a shrug before reaching over, taking the mouse from his hand, and clicking open the server again. “I need you to pull up the room of a guest.”
“You know I can’t do that! That’s illegal,” he says.
“Oh, I’m sure it is. But if it comes down to keeping your job...” I say, turning and squaring my shoulders at him.
Few people argue with me. Most know better. And even if they don’t have experience with me, well... my demeanor says it all.
“Fine, fine, fine,” he mutters, clicking away. “What’s the name?”
“It could be under her actual name or the chief’s,” I say. “You know what, just give me a list of people who have checked in within the last 12 hours.”
He starts mumbling under his breath as he navigates through the website and pulls up a list. As I expect, the list is pretty short since this is a small town. Honestly, I’m surprised there’s anyone here.
“Alright, here are the names,” he says, jotting them down quickly on a notepad and passing it to me.
“Make sure you delete that computer history,” I say.
Mikey will probably forget. Normally, I wouldn’t worry about it except for the fact that I need him. In my world, it’s nice to have someone in your pocket wherever you go.
I read through the names and smile. Only one female name is listed. I’ll start there first. After all, it makes sense. Walking to the elevator and riding to the third floor, I keep my eyes straight ahead. The other guests give me a second glance before averting their gaze. I know I give off a dangerous vibe. And it’s something I like about myself. Without it, I wouldn’t be very good at my job.
Striding across the third floor, I reach room 311. I knock briskly, standing in front of the peephole so she will know it’s me. The room is silent for a few moments. Then the door swings open.
Diana asks, “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to talk to you,” I say, looking over my shoulder. “Can we discuss this in a more private area?” I gesture to the open hallway, indicating potential eavesdroppers.
“Oh, sure, Jake, whatever you need,” she says, polite as ever.
I wonder if she had been this polite to her abusive ex-husband. Closing the door behind me, she gestures to the little sitting area.
“Have a seat. What can I do for you?” she asks, waiting for me to choose a chair first.
“I want you to tell me what happened last night. While you were with the chief.”
“Oh, you heard about that?” she asks.
“I did,” I nod. “Charlie told me.”
“I see,” she says with a small frown. “Word gets out fast.” She sighs.
“Yes it does.”
“How did you find me here?” she asks, folding her hands on the table.
“It’s not very difficult to find you,” I shrug, leaning back in my chair.
“Come on, tell me! I’m booked under a different name. And I made sure that no one saw me arrive.”
“It just seemed like the most likely place to stash you,” I reply. “Now, as far as the room number and fake name…” I trail off. “Well, let me keep my secrets.”
I smile, leaning forward.
She automatically pulls back.
“I’m not going to hurt you, Diana,” I reassure.
She nods, “No, of course not. I apologize―”
“You don’t have to apologize to me all the time,” I interrupt. “So you were attacked at your home?”
“Yes, I was, along with the chief. He was shot.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Then whoever it was got away. The chief and I went to the hospital and decided I should lay low for a little while,” she shrugs.
“And Holly?” I ask.
“I sent her out of town. She’s gonna go stay with my mother for a little while.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?” I ask.
“I can’t leave at a time like this with so much unsettled,” she shakes her head.
“Uh-huh. And what are you going to do when the killer comes here and you’re all alone in a hotel?” I ask, looking around the room.
“I don’t think he’s going to find me here.”.
“Oh, I disagree.” I see the coffee pot on the counter and remember I’ve been up for the last 16 hours.
“I’m glad to see you’re doing better,” she says, drawing my attention back to her. “Your vision came back okay?”
“Yeah. It did.” I reach up and rub my eyes gently. “It took a few days, but everything’s cleared, and I can drive.”
“Good,” she smiles. “I was a little worried.”
“I was too,” I admit, turning back to face her. “I’m still worried about you.”
“Oh, Jake, you don’t have to worry about me,” she smiles.
“I’m afraid I do and will continue to until everything is sorted out. Which could be a while,” I add with a small shrug.
“Yes. But I’m a patient woman,” she smiles. “I can hang out here for a little while.”
“I don’t think you’re safe here,” I say, facing her. “I don’t think you will be safe until whoever is after you is behind bars or dead.”
“Jake, the police are handling it,” she says, rising from the table and pacing back and forth.
“The police have no idea what they’re dealing with. How can they keep you safe if I was able to find you?’ I ask. “How can they keep you safe when they have no idea who they’re trying to hide you from? For all you know, it’s a person on the force.” I feel irritation rising within me.
“Oh, the police officers in this town are good men. They would never.”
“They do all the time,” I argue, rising and striding over to her.
“All the time?” she demands.
“Why do you think I’m so successful at my job?”
“Are you telling me that you bribe police officers?” she demands, her voice rising an octave.
“Yes,” I shrug casually.
“That’s a felony or a misdemeanor or something. All I know is, it’s illegal.” She waves her hand in the air, her eyes blazing. “Jake, I think you should leave.”
“I don’t think you’re listening,” I growl. “You are in danger here. You won’t be safe with the police because I know where their loyalties lie.”
“And where do they lie?” she asks, moving closer to me, challenging me.
I have to admire her bravery. Few people challenge me.
“Their loyalties lie with the highest bidder. The man with the deepest pockets,” I snarl, fighting to keep my hands in my pockets. “You can’t trust the police. You can’t trust the employees of this hotel.”
“Who can I trust then?” she asks, her voice brimming with emotion.
“You can trust me,” I whisper.
“How do I know that?” she asks.
“I ran into a burning building for you,” I laugh, surprising us both.
“Oh, well,” she pauses, “I guess that’s true.”
“If I wanted you dead, Diana, I would have been miles away― hell, states away from you as you burned to death in that bathroom.”
She looks down at her feet in silence.
“Please trust me. Believe me, Diana. Don’t make me sit in that hallway forever, waiting for someone to come and kill you,” I gesture behind me. “Because I’ll sit in that hallway until I die, defending you.”
She opens and closes her mouth, staring up at me now.
“Why would you do that for me?”
“You remind me of someone,” I say before I can stop myself.
“Who?”
“Someone that I knew a long time ago. You don’t know her.” I place my hands back in my pockets and turn away from her.
“What happened to her?” she asks, following closely behind me.
“The same thing that will happen to you if you don’t listen to me.”
“Alright, Jake,” she whispers.
I hear movement behind me. I turn to watch her pull out a suitcase from the closet. And a gun. She slips it into her clothes.
Chapter Six
Diana
“Alright, this is it,” he says, leading me into his small living room.
I don’t know what I was expecting when he said he was taking me to his place for the night. I suppose I thought it would be nicer. Wouldn’t be this nice. Jake has this air about him. Dangerous. The kind of guy who sleeps in his car, but his apartment is half-decent. It reminds me of a place I rented years ago when it was just Holly and me.
“I know it’s nothing like the brick house you had,” he says over his shoulder, removing his other Jakeet and tossing it onto the sofa. “But it’s not half bad. The hot water works. And it doesn’t smell like animals.” He shrugs. “Which is a problem that I think Noah’s place has,” he says with a quick grin.
“Noah, the king pin. Right?” I ask, a little surprised.
“Yeah, Noah. I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis.”
I laugh and then frown.
“You’re serious.”
She shrugs. “How did you not know that? Noah and I are inseparable.”
“Oh, well. I guess I didn’t pay much attention before…” I say, trailing off, wondering if that’s offensive.
Saying nothing, he nods and walks around the corner to the kitchen.
“Have you eaten yet, Diana?” he calls, and my heart skips a beat at the way he says my name.
“No, I haven’t eaten yet,” I answer, trying to remember.
And to breathe slower. It’s silly that he makes me feel this way. I don’t know that I have ever felt this little thrill. Sure accomplishing my goals always made me happy. Things were nice in the beginning. But I don’t remember getting this rush over things like a quick glance or the way my name is spoken.
“How do you feel about paninis?”
“Yes. Can you hear good?” I smile. stepping over to the L-shaped counter before sitting down carefully on one of the barstools.
“Excellent. You know, do you want a drink? What do you have?” he frowns.
“I have water cranberry juice and assorted vodka.”
“Water’s fine.”
“Not much of a drinker, yes?”
“No, not really. Michael didn’t approve of such things. For me anyways,” I say, trailing off.
“And what do you approve of?” he asks, slicing the sandwich neatly and turning to the panini maker.
“Um, I don’t know. I suppose that in a lot of ways I’m still finding myself,” I say, trailing off.
He nods his head in understanding.
“So, Jake,” I ask, changing the subject. “Why hasn’t a guy like you settled down yet?”
I smile. He laughs.
“Settle down? Why would I settle down?” he snorts.
I’m surprised he finds me that funny. Michael never did.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I sigh. “How old are you, probably close to 30?”
“Yeah, close to 30,” he winks.
I hear my heart beat louder in my ears.
“I don’t know,” he says, looking down. “I guess I’m having a hard time at the moment.”
He shrugs.
“Why haven’t you started dating again?” he wonders. I watch as he pulls two ice glasses from the freezer.
“Who am I gonna date?” I wonder aloud.
He turns to face me. “Diana, look at you― you could date anyone. Not to mention everybody knows who you are. For a small town, I’d say you’re famous,” he grins, flashing sharp teeth.
I’m reminded of a wolf.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say, looking away from him and back to the sandwich steaming under the panini maker. “I haven’t had the time. Or the inclination. My therapist tells me I’m finding myself,” I laugh.
“There,” he says, opening the panini maker and revealing two perfect grill lines, the bread a light gold.
“You’re very good at that,” I say, a little surprised.
“I feel like it’s a prerequisite for Italians.”
“What is?”
“Sandwiches, paninis, and pasta.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“You cook often when you’re alone, you know,” he remarks, pouring a glass of wine. “You like wine?”
“Yes, I do cook fairly often. I like to dine.”
“I like to dine as well. Does that surprise you?”
“Yes, I suppose it does surprise me. I’m sorry, but I kind of pictured you loitering, and I lost.”
“Well, I’ve certainly seen my fair share of truck stop diners, but it’s not something I prefer,” he says, placing the sandwiches on small plates.
“Thank you.”
“What about you?” he asks. “Do you cook often?”
“I do. I know, odd. It’s something that used to give me terrible anxiety,” I laugh.
“Why is that?”
“Oh, Michael again,” I sigh, feeling guilty for talking about him so much.
“He didn’t like your cooking?”
“Well, he had high standards for everything in life. Food included.”
“God, he sounds like a real dick,” Jake says.
“Yes, I suppose he was. Is that okay to say?”
“Do you ever miss him?” Jake wonders.
“Do I ever miss my abusive ex-husband?” I ask, not sure I’m hearing him right.
“Trauma bonds,” he shrugs. “People get used to the chaos and they want more. Because it’s comfortable.”
“No,” I say, “I don’t miss him.”
Nodding his head, he walks around the counter and stands beside me.
“Do you think we’ll be safe here?” I ask, changing the subject.
“We should be. You know,” looking around his apartment, “there’s a second bedroom. You can take the master bedroom.”
“What’s in your second bedroom?”
“A futon,” he shrugs. “Sometimes I let people crash here.”
“Oh, okay. Are you sure? Because I can always get the futon,” I say, not wanting to be a problem.
“No, it’s fine. I’ll take it. You know I’m flexible,” he says, taking another bite of the sandwich.
“Thank you, Jake, I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks.” I look away. “You know, you’re a lot friendlier than I thought you’d be,” I add, watching his back stiffen.
“Really? And who did you expect me to be?”
“I don’t know, I suppose a gruff caveman who eats diner burritos and passes out on a sofa,” I grin.
And he laughs because it’s true.
“Well, I’d like to think that I’m a man of many layers,” he says.
“I think you’ve seen Shrek too many times.”
“I think that might be the most underrated kids’ movie there is,” he says, lifting his glass and taking a long drink of wine.
“You’re doing that wrong.”
“I love drinking wine baby girl. I’ve been drinking since I was 15, I think I know how to do it.”
“No, wine,” I say, shaking my head and demonstrating. “Wine needs to be savored. You inhale, take a sip. Let the flavors rest in your mouth. Wine is like dining,” I say. “Just think about the pallet. It’s an experience, it’s not something you go down like a beer,” I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“Is that so?” He gives a slow smile that has my heart thumping hard again.
“Yes. It is,” I say, turning away from him, crossing my ankles, and taking a deliberate bite of the panini in front of me.
I can’t afford to be distracted or emotionally involved with Jake or anyone. My life is at stake. Why complicate things with love...?
“What are you thinking about?” he asks, and I look over to see him frowning.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“It’s just that your face changed like you were thinking of something sad.” He searches me in a way that makes me self-conscious.
“Oh, nothing.” I shake my head.
“Don’t worry about taking the last bite of the sandwich.”
He rises from the stool and walks over to the sink. I watch in surprise as he carefully rinses off the dishes, places them in the dishwasher, and closes it.
“You’re neat, too?” I ask.
“When I have the time for it,” he shrugs.
He walks down the hallway, takes off his shirt, and heads toward the back room, flicking on the light. My breath feels tighter in my chest. I quickly look down to my plate and tell myself that my reaction is due solely to the variety of scars across his body. From what I could see, there were several. They were two inches wide. Those could only be stab wounds. And the one on his shoulder…? It made me wonder about road rash.
The shower turns on, and I push my plate back, deliberately choosing to focus on this moment and nothing else. Carrying the plate to the sink, I rinse it off and place it in the dishwasher.
I should call Holly, just to make sure she’s doing okay.
Pulling out my cell phone that’s been dead since I arrived at the hotel, I walk to my bag to pull out a charger and plug it in. “I really need to get into the habit of charging this damn thing,” I mutter, plugging it into the wall. “A shower would be nice,” I ponder, as I carry my bag down the hall towards what I hope is a master bedroom. I push open the door and stare at the neat bedroom with its modern lines and simple blankets. The digital clock on the side table flashes nine pm, and I walk in, looking for another bathroom.
