Chapter One

Men lie. They lie about how many women they’ve been with, their alcohol tolerance, and the size of their, uh, paycheck. Which was exactly what Jack, sitting across from Andy Miller, was lying about.

He tapped his coffee mug with the tip of his finger, stretching his lean body against the booth at Ronney Dell’s. “Ninety grand this year alone,” he claimed.

Closer to fifty grand, according to his secretary. Though maybe he was taking into account all the vehicles he had sabotaged before fixing which weren’t on the books.

But Andy didn’t contradict him. Instead, she demurely batted her lashes and smiled into her shoulder. “Ninety grand,” she cooed, snapping her gum. “I don’t believe it!” she said.

And that was the truth.

Andy brushed back the bleached wig of her “Mary Lou” persona covering her natural brown hair. Brown as the Mississippi mud, her dad always said. She fingered a necklace just above the plunging neckline of a tank top and Daisy Dukes combo. Oh, the depths she sank to for a story. But to avenge poor, old Mrs. Wheyland, it was worth it.

“It’s been all this overtime, you know.” He gave her a crusty smile. It had been too long since he’d seen the inside of the toothpaste cap.

“Are you going in to work tonight?”

She wanted one more peek at Jack’s books. Something was amiss, something more than the sabotage. After doing some research on how much small repair shops made, she wanted to recalculate the figures.

“I’m just about to finish up your BMW. Want to come?”

She nodded. “Watching you work gives me such a thrill.”

Andy smiled in anticipation of sharing all seventeen of Jack’s dishonest dealings with her ten thousand Twitter followers @BakersDozen. And if there was a bigger story in the books, it would be the cream on top of all the corruption and scandal. Lies à la mode.

“Let’s go.” He tossed his head.

He gulped one last swig of coffee. Andy slid from the booth, arms jangling with bracelets, her stiletto boots nearly entangling in the table legs. At the register, Jack patted his back pockets, then his shirt pockets, and swore.

“Forgot my wallet in my other pants. Mary Lou, will you?”

Andy flashed a tight smile as she did some mental math. She had paid for dinner five of the six times they’d been out. If this had been a real date with a real boyfriend, Andy would have left him to wash dishes for their meal. At least Jack was a tax deduction. She slid her wallet from her red weekender tote. “Sure, hon.”

“Last time, I promise,” he whispered in her ear. This was the only truth he’d uttered their entire relationship. He didn’t even know how true it was. Andy paid and headed for the doors while Jack lingered near the waitress, smiling coyly as he attempted small talk.

Blinking in the setting sun, Andy shoved open the first set of glass doors and reached for the sunglasses nestled in her wig just as a broad-shouldered guy entered from the opposite set of glass doors.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to him. To be sure, his glance swept up her body. But Andy was used to men ogling her, especially in her current attire. Shorts barely to there and legs up to here. Andy’s legs were sexy, her torso tight, her body desirable, and she didn’t mind using it to get what she wanted—information.

And normally, when Andy worked on a story, she didn’t get distracted. It was a cardinal rule. It could mean life or death to even let an eyeball roll in the wrong direction. But this man’s physique begged her to look. She couldn’t help it.

Tall. Strong jaw, with a hint of stubble. Discriminating blue eyes. Sandy blond hair falling in just the right places. Lithe, toned, perfectly built.

Perfectly distracting.

Three seconds was too long to stare. She ripped her gaze away to refocus on her cover. But as she did, the man did the most unexpected thing—he raised his eyebrows and smiled at her.

Recognition?

Andy jerked in surprise. Her jerk disrupted the delicate balance of her weight hovering over heels the size of sharpened pencils. Mid-stride, Andy’s ankle faltered. She tried to recover by setting down her other foot. But it never made it safely under her as the heel caught on the area rug, pitching her forward.

Her hand flew out to grasp something, anything to keep her from toppling. She caught nothing but air.

Until she caught hold of…him.

With swift reflexes and amazing agility, Andy noted, the man caught her about the waist, saving her from a most assuredly embarrassing tumble to the floor with more leg and perhaps a little inseam exposed.

“You all right?” he asked, holding her aloft with warm hands, his face hovering inches from hers. They paused there, suspended in an almost tango-like bend over the checkered tile.

She absorbed him, memorizing every detail, the curl of his lip, the arch of his eyebrows, the smooth planes of his nose. A small scar split his left eyebrow in two. It was a nice face. But his arresting gaze held her, perceptive, sparkling with amusement—and familiar. Definitely memorable.

Andy searched deeper into his eyes. He was taking in detail, too. Some static or lightning or maybe indigestion from Ronney’s jalapeno spaghetti and meatballs flashed in her stomach.

“Andy, isn’t it?” he whispered.

A pleasing smell of leather from his flight jacket radiated from his body. And something else. Sandalwood incense? The stranger quickly righted her, his gaze never leaving hers.

“Do I know you?” she asked, struggling to remain in character, patting her wig, hoping it was not jostled. It was fine, secured with no fewer than a hundred bobby pins. But still her gaze locked on his.

“You don’t remember,” he said.

“Do you know this guy?” Jack demanded behind her. He placed a possessive hand on her back, attempting to ease her away from the man.

Strong. Handsome. Andy was still dazed. She had been dating dross too long.

“No,” Andy, as Mary Lou, said.

Jack scowled at the stranger. But Andy barely noticed. Jack and the whole world disappeared. Only she and the stranger existed, encased between sets of glass doors and Andy balancing like a flamingo.

She set her foot down. A streak of lightning shot up her leg. Her yelp broke the trance. She glanced down at her foot, wincing in pain. The stranger jumped into action, crouching to examine Andy’s ankle.

“You’re hurt.”

“She’s fine,” Jack said, shoving her toward the next set of doors, Andy limping. Jack glared at the man as he wrapped a protective arm around her waist.

“Want ice?” the man asked, opening the door and moving toward the dining area.

“No, thank you,” Andy said. Jack continued to lead her toward the parking lot doors. Every step caused her body to shake with pain. She was losing her cool and her cover. The guy needed to go away.

The stranger glanced from Andy to Jack, then back to Andy. He abruptly strode ahead of them to the doors, propping one open for the couple.

Andy hobbled past the man, feeling, rather than seeing, his gaze. She peeked from the corner of her eyes. A split second was all Mary Lou could give him, although Andy wanted to see more, feel more.

“Name’s Hugh, if you ever need anything,” he whispered to her as she passed, giving Jack a nervy stare.

“Thank you.” Her voice, pinched with pain, almost lost the dumb laziness of Mary Lou, but she quickly recovered. Her mind searched through her cerebral database, grasping for recognition, dismayed at her near-photographic memory for forgetting a guy like him. Little glimpses flashed in her eyes. She remembered him outside, but she couldn’t recall where.

“We can get ice at the Shaft,” Jack said, pulling her farther from the restaurant. “I’ve got an ice maker there.” Her leg radiated with pain. Those hooker shoes! Had to wear the six-inch heels tonight, didn’t she.

In the parking lot, Jack paused by his pick-up. “Why don’t we go in my truck?”

“But we always walk.” Second rule. As a twenty-three-year-old woman, she never rode in the same car as one of her marks. She had left a dynamic ten-speed chained to a nearby tree.

“But traffic’s terrible tonight. And your ankle looks swollen.”

Truth be told, her ankle was a lot swollen. And painful, too. But rules were rules. Andy couldn’t let anyone give her rides. Never. Not when she was working, anyway. Too easy to lose control of the situation.

Jack persisted. “And the crosswalk is so far from here.”

The shop was just across the street. And the spring weather in St. Louis, though warm during the day, was still chilly at night, and she hadn’t remembered a coat. And the traffic was bad this evening. And if her ankle was sprained, hobbling to the shop might aggravate it.

Andy weighed the options in her mind. Just a jaunt. It was still early. Plus, Jack was not a threat. They’d been “together” for four weeks, and he’d never tried anything. His smell was worse than his bite. Which was saying something, because with those teeth, his bite was probably infectious.

“Sure thing, hon,” she said at last.

With her red weekender tote on her shoulder, she hopped into his truck and set aside wrenches, invoices, napkins, and bills still in their envelopes. A rancid smell from either the oil stains or the rock-hard french fries hidden in the seats rose to meet her.

This story had better break big.

If she could just dig a little deeper into the books. The income Shaft Auto reported to the IRS was high for the number of repairs Andy had observed. Even with the tampered vehicles.

“Where we goin’?” Her voice almost cracked. She’d been so involved in her thoughts to realize he’d passed Shaft Auto Shop.

“Oh,” he said chuckling. “Some place I’ve wanted to take you for a while.”

“I thought we were finishin’ up my car.” After picking up the car tonight, she was supposed to wrap up the investigation and dump Jack.

“Don’t worry. We can finish tomorrow morning.” He gave her a little wink. “Or afternoon.”

Andy suppressed a shudder. “But I need ice for my ankle.”

“There’ll be ice where we’re going.”

A pit formed in her stomach. And she would never get another chance to study Jack’s books. Or get back Carla’s car. She’d relinquished control.

She glanced at her watch. Six p.m.. Two hours until absolute deadline. She still had to write up her lead and send her story to Mr. Hershal, her editor at Gateway Times. Her tight deadline left no time for dallying.

When they arrived at his apartment, Andy pasted on a fake smile. “Is this your place? Why, it’s so nice.” On this neglected facade hung a once white, now bleeding rust, Latin Quarter-style lattice. “I love the pretty iron-work.”

But Jack only had eyes for Mary Lou. He jingled his keys in anticipation before exiting the car. Andy dreaded this part. It happened too often.

Andy opened her own door slowly. There comes a point in every relationship, even fake ones, when someone, usually the guy, wants to take it to the next step—bed. In the last three years as a freelance investigative journalist, Andy had developed three cures for the grabbies. Two of them she learned from Sensei Tanaka.

They climbed the stairs together to his door arm-in-arm. At least the drive in the car rested her ankle. With jingling keys, he opened the door, then faced her.

“Let’s take a selfie, shall we? I want to remember tonight.” He stuck out his phone in front of them.

Andy’s hand flew to her face. “No, Jackie, you know I don’t like my picture taken.” Andy couldn’t afford to leave any photographic evidence of her with Jack.

“But,” he still persisted.

Desperate times called for desperate actions.

“There is something I want more.” Holding her breath, she snuggled into him, nuzzling his chest, turning her face away from the camera. Andy paused before pressing her lips against his.

“Honey, you—” But her lips were on his. His initial shock only lasted half a breath before he gnawed at her lips, forcibly parting her teeth for greater depth, their teeth clanking in his unrestrained desire.

One of the reasons she didn’t date much in her personal life was because she still hadn’t found anyone who could satisfy her in the kissing area. And if the kissing wasn’t good, nothing was good.

While he was distracted, she held down the arm holding his phone. He slipped it in his pocket then grabbed her with both hands on her shoulders, clutching her into him.

Andy broke away, almost suffocated by his embrace. Then, keeping her facial expression seductive, Andy grabbed him around his bristling neck. His eyes lit up in delight. Drawing closer and massaging his neck, her fingers found the pressure point.

Three seconds later, Jack collapsed inside the door in a heap.

“Sorry, Jack,” she said to his almost corpse, moving his legs inside before writing a breakup note to leave in his hand. “But I just couldn’t kiss you one more time. Not even for poor, old Mrs. Wheyland.” She paused, observing his crumpled body with a sigh. “Be glad I put you to sleep the nice way.”

Law-breakers always looked so peaceful in their sleep. Made you wonder how they sleep at night, though, robbing little old ladies of their Social Security and all. Not to mention the other customers who had also had cars tampered with.

“I hope you sleep well after this hits the news,” she said out loud while closing the door. She wished she could be in the room of the mysterious corporate owner of Shaft Auto when the story broke. Still, she regretted not being able to follow up on the irregularities in the books. There might have been an even bigger story. She would have to leave any bigger story to the police investigation.

Slipping off her shoes, she descended the stairs, her ankle finally feeling better. This little detour cost her too much time. Deadline was an hour and half. She had to act fast.

****

Hugh parked his car outside the Kwik-E-Mart just after sunset. He checked his watch. He had a few minutes before his meet up with Antonio Guterelli.

He opened his car door. The hot dogs and corn dogs plastered on the windows of the gas station matched the smells wafting from the place and encouraged his hunger. It’s not what he would’ve called food, but neither was anything at Ronney Dell’s.

Ronney Dell’s was a disaster. He clearly interrupted something. An op, or whatever you call it when you’re not a professional. Hugh might’ve blown her cover. Though it was most amusing to catch her in action. Most amusing indeed. He wouldn’t soon forget those shorts.

Once inside, he nabbed two dogs from under the heating element and slid them into the sleeves. The door pinged behind him as a large man entered the store. Not Antonio. This guy had on a tattered unbuttoned shirt open over an even more tattered t-shirt exposing a diamond playing card tattoo on his neck. He picked up a bag of chips as he moved to the cashier’s desk. Hugh stood in line behind him, his hot dogs warming his hands. The girl at the cashier rang up the bag of chips and gave the total.

The tattooed man slapped his hand on the counter and leaned toward her, pointing to a sticker on the bag of chips. “The price tag says two forty-nine, not three forty-nine. Are you stupid or something?” he said.

The young clerk’s face flushed red as she realized her mistake. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how the mix-up happened. Let me void the transaction.”

She fumbled through the keys at the computer. The man sighed and set his foot down heavily.

“I’m sorry,” the cashier said again. She squinted at the screen, fully absorbed, her fingers unsure, as she typed on the keyboard.

While the clerk was distracted, the man lifted a pack of gum from below the counter and slid it into his pocket. “This is taking too long. Just forget it,” he said. “I don’t need the chips.”

“I got it,” she said at last, tossing a strand of hair behind her ear and ringing up the chips again. “It worked.”

“About time,” the man said, plopping down some cash.

The clerk handed him his change.

“Idiot,” he said, not quite under his breath, as he left.

When Hugh stepped up to the counter, he laid down his two hot dogs. “Want him to pay for that?” he asked.

She glanced up from ringing up the hot dogs, her face still red. “For what?”

“He just stole a pack of gum. You want him to come back and pay for it?”

The clerk smiled and nodded her head. “Yeah!”

“I’ll be right back.”

“Who are you the police or something?”

But Hugh was already out the door. He approached the man as he opened his car. “Hey, you going to pay for the pack of gum?”

The man opened the door and arched an eyebrow at Hugh. “Excuse me?”

“You lifted a pack of gum inside. And I think you owe the clerk an apology. You were rather rude.”

“Not going to happen.” The man ducked into his red Camaro. Hugh caught his door before he could close it. The man yanked at the door.

Hugh held firm. “You will go in, pay for the gum, and apologize to the store clerk.”

The man jumped to his feet and puffed out his chest as he faced Hugh. “You gonna make me?” He whipped out a gun from his waistband. He pointed it four inches from Hugh’s nose.

Hugh smiled slightly, amused. “A gun? You think you’re going to shoot me? I only asked you to do the right thing.” In a flash, Hugh knocked the gun from the man’s hand and joint locked his arm, forcing him down, immobilizing him. Still controlling the man’s arm, Hugh trapped his face against the black tar of the parking lot with his foot. “Are you going to apologize?”

Before he could answer, sirens blared and blue and red lights of two police cars splashed over Hugh and his captive. The store clerk approached him. “I didn’t know what to do so I called the police,” she said.

“Brilliant,” Hugh said under his breath, lifting the thug from off the ground.

“What’s going on here?” the first cop asked, approaching with caution unsure who was the good guy and who was the bad guy. Hugh released the thug to two officers but a third grabbed Hugh. The clerk hurried over, talking fast.

“The other guy pulled a gun on this guy,” she said, pointing first to the man and then to Hugh.

“Yeah?” the officer said. He opened a pad of paper and wrote down what the clerk said. “Why’d he threaten you with a gun?” he asked Hugh.

Hugh sort of shrugged, still held by the officer.

“He was a real hero,” the clerk continued with shining eyes. “First, he spotted the man shoplifting a pack of gum, but then when he confronted him, the other guy pulled out a gun. This guy disarmed him completely.”

The officer turned to Hugh, eyebrows raised. “He lifted a pack of gum, and you were going to stop him?”

Hugh gave him a short nod.

One of the other cops interrupted the questioning after they cuffed the man and escorted him to the back of the police car. “Looks like we picked up a winner. Driving a stolen vehicle, has four warrants for his arrest here in Missouri. Two in Illinois.”

The interrogating officer returned to Hugh. “I guess we owe you some gratitude for stopping him. But you shouldn’t have confronted him. You never know if you’re going to come across a hardened criminal like this guy. Still, I am glad no one was hurt. Next time leave it to the trained professionals.”

“I’ll remember your good advice, sir.” Hugh glanced over to a man in a suit watching outside his car. He had a huge grin on his face.

The clerk slipped Hugh his hot dogs. “They’re on the house,” she whispered to him. Hugh remembered his hunger and grabbed the now cold dogs.

“Thank you,” he said to the girl with admiration shining in her eyes. He bowed to the officer. “Am I free to go, sir?” he asked.

The cop arched an eyebrow at Hugh. “I want your number in case we need to ask you further questions.”

Hugh nodded and gave him a number, then joined the man in the suit who had his elbows resting on the roof of his Mercedes and an open car door. Antonio laughed at Hugh as the cop cars departed, lights flashing, sirens whupping.

“You sow chaos wherever you go,” Antonio said, with a slight Italian accent, shaking his head, his lips drawn up in a smile.

“The man stole a pack of gum.” Hugh stuffed a hot dog in his mouth and chewed.

“You can’t let anything slip by you, can you?”

“And he was rude to the clerk.”

“Double jeopardy.”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“No, I would’ve let him have the pack of gum and done nothing. It’s like you want to be discovered or something. You’re lucky they didn’t ask for identification.”

Hugh didn’t say anything until the police and the clerk finally dispersed. “You have my laptop?”

Antonio smiled and ducked inside the car to retrieve the computer. He held it to his chest. “Don’t break this one so fast. It’s got to last a long time.”

“Or not so long.” Hugh held out his hand for the laptop, but Antonio smirked and shook his head.

“Why are you so eager to leave? Are you planning on retiring at twenty-eight?”

“I have some unfinished business to attend to. I’m just here to hone my skills. ‘Baoshí méiyou mó guang, méiyou mósun, ye méiyou rén wánchéng méiyou shìyàn.’ ”

“Say what?”

“Chinese proverb: A stone isn’t polished without hits, or something.” He was grateful they hired him on with his special circumstances. “Can I have my laptop now?”

“You have, how do you say in English, a grinding ax?”

“I think you mean an ax to grind.”

“Ah,” Antonio said, nodding. “Why volunteer for this case?”

Hugh shook his head.

“You are such an enigma. Secretive about your past, yet you jump to bring justice to a man most people thought arrogant and pompous.”

Hugh didn’t reply for a few seconds. “You’re not going to give me the laptop until I tell you, are you?”

Antonio smiled again, this time showing white teeth. “I just want to know why a man like you volunteered to take this mission.”

Though they’d worked together for the last year, sometimes Hugh wanted to wipe Antonio’s charming smile off his face. Hugh could totally take him. But punching a superior was out of the question. And he liked Antonio. Most of the time. “The victim knew my parents.”

Antonio didn’t speak, but arched an eyebrow.

In a flash, Hugh snatched the laptop from the Italian. “He also offered me help when I was at a real low point in my life. He may have been arrogant, but he was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die.” Hugh popped open the laptop on the car’s rooftop and clicked a few strokes to login.

“And have you found justice for him?”

“I’m getting close.”

“You made contact with the girl?”

“Contact, yes. But no questions.” Hugh remembered her arms grasping around him when she fell.

Antonio shrugged. “Maybe she’s not important.”

“Maybe. Something keeps me coming back to her. She’s more than what she appears to be. I’ve been keeping tabs on her on and off for the last year. I have a theory about her. Her POI report is really intriguing.”

Antonio leaned in, his eyes shining in mockery. “Sounds like you are interested.”

Hugh glanced up from his screen. “It’s not like that. You know it’s not.” Her Person of Interest report filled the screen. “I’m going to catch her at work. It should be in here.” He scrolled to find it. “White Fang Dojo. Says she’s a master. Impressive. My interrogation will be all the more fun.” Hugh smiled as he clicked the lid down on his laptop. “I’ve always wanted to learn Japanese karate.”