“Oh. Thank you.” She doesn’t seem the least bit grateful. In fact, she looks distressed, like I reminded her to take a car bomb with her as she goes. Finally she reaches for it and then tosses another smile my way when she’s out and her feet are on the ground. “Thanks again, Sig.”
I nod to her, watching her as she walks gracefully toward the entrance. Just before she goes through the door, I see her duck to the side and stuff her bag of clothes into a garbage can.
Now why the hell would she do that?
After she disappears inside and I’m pulling away, I’m more determined than ever to find Tommi again. And to see what those eyes look like when I kiss her for the first time.
CHAPTER THREE- TOMMI
I plaster on a smile as I follow the hostess to the table where Lance is waiting for me. My stomach is a ball of knots. I feel like I’ve got the touch of sexy chocolate eyes all over me, like it’s obvious to everyone around me that I just spent the last hour with someone I’m insanely attracted to. I chastise myself for such a ridiculous notion and I take a deep, calming breath.
“There you are,” Lance says when I approach. His steely blue eyes are hard. Harder than usual. He isn’t happy. That much is plain to see. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to show up.”
Like that would ever happen. I’m not stupid.
“My car broke down on the way over.” I can’t tell him where I really was.
His brow knits. “What could possibly happen to a brand new car?”
“A flat tire.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
When I’m seated, I let him push my chair in and wait for him to sit before I answer. The pause gives me time to collect myself. It’s important that I stay calm when I’m not telling the truth. I’ve learned this through necessity, much like I’ve learned to lie through necessity. Luckily, I’ve become quite an accomplished liar. I can make a complete fabrication seem not only plausible, but true. Lying has become as useful and essential to me as air or water or sleep. And I’m about as proud of it as I am the rest of my sordid history, which is not at all.
“I didn’t need help. I’ve changed a tire before. Unfortunately, the spare was flat as well. That’s why I’m late.”
I gasp when he reaches out, like the strike of a snake, and winds his fingers around my wrist. My first thought is that he knows I’m fibbing. My second is that he can’t possibly know. My third is to keep calm.
I stare at him blandly, my smile intact, and I wait for him to speak. If I go bumbling through excuses and elaborations, it’ll just make me look guilty.
“My girlfriend has no business getting dirty on the side of the road, changing a flat tire. You should’ve called.”
“By the time I realized the spare was flat, it would’ve been a nuisance for you to have to come all the way out to get me when I could just as easily call a tow truck and come to you. So that’s what I did.”
Making it sound like I had him and his happiness as my top priority in the situation helps my case. Anything that plays to Lance Tonin’s ego is a useful tool for me.
His aggravation lessens noticeably. “I really need to assign someone to you full-time.”
My stomach lurches. The last thing in the world I want is for someone to be watching me 24/7, reporting back to Lance about my every move, word and wardrobe change.
“That’s not necessary. This was an unusual circumstance. I don’t need for you to take someone away from important business just to be around on the off chance that I might need something.”
“You’re worth it to me, baby. You are important business.” I smile as he kisses my knuckles. “Is that a new dress?”
“It is. I know how much you love me in red.” Lance is the type who wants me to spend his money, as long as it’s on making me look the way he thinks I should look and dress. He gets furious if he catches me wearing what he calls “redneck” clothes–anything that reminds him of his trashy mother. He thinks that all women who wear worn jeans or denim shorts or more casual clothes are trashy, so he expects me to dress like the women on television that he used to watch when he was a kid trying to escape the noises of his mother turning tricks in the next room. He thinks that pretending that we’re classy will make it so.
He couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Just then, a waitress arrives to take our order, bringing the unnerving conversation to an end.
CHAPTER FOUR- SIG
I stop dead, nearly dropping my teeth when I finally spot Tommi and see who she’s sitting with.
Christ on a cracker, it’s Lance Tonin. Drug dealer. Criminal. All around scumbag.
You’ve gotta be shittin’ me.
Why the hell would a woman like Tommi waste her time on a guy like Tonin? Total douchebag and they say he’s mean as a damn snake. He’s the lowest of the low. Uses a lot of young kids–homeless girls, hookers, underprivileged boys–to do his dirty work. We caught two of victims a while back. Low end. One busted selling an eight ball of coke, the other with a pound of bath salts. Lance deals mostly in coke, but he dabbles in a few other odds and ends, too.
Both kids were fiercely loyal. Wouldn’t say a word. Both had recently graduated high school. They were in the same class as the son of one of Tonin’s higher ups. That’s how we started making the connection. Both got juvie. Both ended up dead. One hung himself, the other overdosed on some pills. We don’t know how he picks these kids or how he gets them to cooperate, but he does. Still, the problem isn’t knowing Tonin is involved or how; it’s proving it.
But they were small time anyway. To get Lance Tonin, we’d have to find out where he keeps the big stash. We need the quantity to make sure the charges stick and get him locked up for a long, long time.
I toy with Tommi’s cell phone, which she left in my truck. She was in such a hurry to get away, for me to drop her off and go, that she must’ve dropped it. Now I know why she was on edge and in such a hurry. And why she couldn’t be seen with me.
When I saw the phone, I turned around with the intention of finding her and returning it, but now that I see who she’s with, I’m not so sure that’s the best way forward. Maybe there’s an opportunity here.
My department has been after Lance Tonin for four years, but nobody can get close enough to him to get a bead on how his operation is set up. I wonder if anyone has ever considered going through a back door. A beautiful blonde back door.