Adrenaline Read online

  “About goddamn time,” Jammer said.

  Lazar winked at the blonde. “Be gentle with Jammer.”

  “What?” Her forehead wrinkled.

  “He’s suffered a grave loss. He may be a bit tense from now on.”

  Bannerman grinned at Jammer on the way to the door, but took the lead from his partner and talked to Darlene. “Lost his sword and his muscle in one day. And stepped into a big load of shit all by himself.”

  Down at the car, Lazar said, “You check out that cut on his forehead?”

  “Nice and clean, huh? No jagged edges.”

  “Does seem like a lot of knife wounds for one family, doesn’t it?”

  Bannerman yawned. “Maybe not. What you told me, it’s a goddamn miserable family. Could be as simple as it looks, that Ball got himself mugged in Roxbury.”

  “Awfully long blade, awfully long coincidence.” Lazar leaned across Bannerman to open the passenger door. “Your turn to buy the coffee. We’re going to stake this bastard out.”

  * * *

  They spent the rest of the shift in the car. The lights up in Jammer’s apartment went dark within the first hour. From there, time just crawled.

  Bannerman tried to start up a conversation about Charlotte. “You’re coming up on a year soon, right? When are you going to file the papers, make it official?”

  “Dunno.” Lazar kept his voice mild. “When are you going to stop asking that question?”

  Bannerman let it go. After a while, he fell asleep. As three o’clock rolled past, Lazar settled into the watchful calm that was the best he could hope for in a stakeout: He wasn’t particularly sleepy, and his patience was strong. He was aware of the breath coming in and out of his lungs. And other than the movement of his eyes to the pimp’s apartment, and to the side and rearview mirrors, he moved not at all. When he was doing a stakeout, when he was on the job, his separation from his wife was ancient history, almost a whole year old.

  At seven, Bannerman woke up and stretched. “Anything?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m hitting the sack. This shift is over. You want to keep watching this piece of garbage, you are on your own.”

  Lazar felt exhausted himself. Much as he hated being lied to, he didn’t take it personally. Good thing, seeing as people lied to him all day long. “Yeah, I’m beat, too,” he said. “I’m going to call in, get someone to stick with him today, and then we’ll stake him out tonight. If nothing comes of it, we’ll call it a simple mugging gone wrong. It was just Ball.”

  Bannerman grunted. “What you call a win-win situation.”

  Chapter 13

  Geoff awoke to the sound of the shower running. He sat up against the headboard slowly, stiff from his battles the day before. He rubbed his left bicep and shoulder slowly, blinking in the harsh morning light. His nose wrinkled faintly as he breathed in the mingled smells of disinfectant, damp plaster, and cheap perfume.

  He ticked through the last twenty-four hours. Harrison falling. Dern and his wife screwing him over. Jansten firing him. Then those two men … Geoff sat up straighter, taking in his new status in life.

  He had killed a man. Pushed a sword into him, felt it shudder in his hand.

  “Jesus,” he said, his brain fully engaged now. He focused immediately on the past night, trying to remember everything he had done, and what he had said to the girl. For almost two minutes, Geoff remained still, his concentration complete.

  Finally, he settled back, releasing a deep breath. The situation was far from perfect, but he figured if he made the right moves, he could walk away unscathed. He hadn’t said anything incriminating to the girl, he was sure of it. He had wiped the sword cane clean … and even if the police thought to search the river and were lucky enough to dredge it up, Geoff couldn’t see how that would lead back to him. Even if he had missed a print, he had never been in the military or arrested, so his prints weren’t on any record.

  No, the only person who could directly link Geoff to the dead thug in Roxbury was the pimp. Jammer most likely knew Geoff’s name, or at least where he lived. Geoff didn’t imagine it was a coincidence the pimp had found him alone on the street the night before. And while Jammer most likely wouldn’t run to the cops with his troubles, Geoff surely couldn’t trust him to keep such a dangerous secret. Guys like him were always looking to trade something.

  The question was … the girl. Was she for real or had she set him up? Did Jammer know where Geoff lived because she had followed him home?

  Geoff flashed through his options, limited pretty much between beating her and killing her. He now knew for certain that he had the capacity for either.

  But she stepped out of the bathroom before he had committed himself to a course of action. And that was a good thing. Partially because she cleaned up so well, standing there with a towel wrapped around herself. The wig was gone, and her own hair was short and thick. She was free of the garish makeup, and her coltish beauty made his mouth go dry. He felt as if he could look at her all day long.

  She gestured to her clothes. “You caught me before I put on my armor.”

  “You won’t be wearing those after today.”

  It’s just the sex, he told himself. “Drop that towel and get over here,” he said.

  She stepped closer, teasing. Leaving it to him to pull the towel away, to pull her to him. Her body was still damp and hot from the shower. “This what you had in mind?”

  He didn’t answer. The truth was, he wasn’t used to feeling the way he did, and he was damned if he was going to feel that way because of a street hooker.

  Happy.

  At first it was a point of pride.

  He took his time with her, even while knowing that it was probably a waste of time. Trying to turn on a hooker was an idiot’s game, he told himself. She was probably dead to men. And he could tell she was acting at first.

  But by the time they reached the point where he could no longer tell, he no longer cared.

  Her heart pounded against his.

  That much he knew.

  Afterward, they lay in bed talking. She seemed eager for him to listen, and he found that he was still interested in spite of being momentarily sated. He lay there, his eyes half closed, listening to her talk about her former boyfriend, Neal, and the mistakes she had made that had landed her on the street. She told him about the mountain stream.

  “That’s where I always look at where it went wrong. You know, the moment I could have gone either way. I could have told Neal the truth then. We were alone, and we weren’t so far gone that maybe if I said it the right way, he would have given me a chance.”

  “Doubt it. Sounds like a pious little prig.”

  “Yeah,” she said, sadly. “I guess he was. He probably would have streaked down that mountain. Maybe I could have handled that. Better that I told him myself, than for him to have heard it from the boys at a bar.”

  “At least you would’ve had that,” Geoff acknowledged. He didn’t care much about honesty himself, but he was willing to believe she did. “So that’s what you would do now if you had the chance? Tell him the truth?”

  “Doesn’t make any difference. He was the wrong type of guy for me. I know that now. What matters to me is that I get back to where I went wrong and do it differently. Get to that very same mountain stream, get myself clean. Start over. That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  He didn’t say anything.

  She paused, then rolled up against him, companionably. “Tell me what you want. You said you want a gun, maybe some new papers. Passport?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Her lips twitched.

  “What?”

  “ ‘Passport.’ I even love the word. I’ve never even been out of New England. Hell, not even past Providence. But I’d love to go places. Have you ever been to Europe?”

  “Lots of times.” He looked her in the eyes. “And I need money. Don’t forget about money.”

  “Sure. Are you crazy for it?”


  “No. But I’m used to having it, and I’m used to getting what I want.”

  “So you think you’re a bad boy.”

  “You wouldn’t believe,” he said, grinning.

  “Are you willing to do bad things to get it?”

  “Absolutely. Are you?”

  She nodded. “Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t kidnap babies or murder innocent people. But I know where there’s some cash, and I wouldn’t mind taking it from the guy and hurting him along the way.”

  “We’re talking about Jammer, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you just wanted to get clean.”

  “I do. But I can’t be clean with him still walking around. I’d always be worrying that he would be showing up to cut me or burn me. Besides, I made most of the money, the way I figure it.”

  “How much are we talking about?”

  “Fifty thousand.” She said it with a curious mixture of pride and shame. “Money he’s been setting aside toward a drug deal with a guy named Raul.”

  “That would be a start,” he said.

  “A start!” Her eyes widened. “That’s a lot of money.”

  She truly looked her age at that moment. He said, “Until a few days ago, I was worth just over six million. And I was on my way back to that and more when a couple of people screwed me up.”

  “Six million!” She looked at him warily. “What kind of job in a big company pays that kind of money?”

  “Not many,” he said, agreeably. “Especially if you stick exactly with the job description.”

  “And with the law?”

  He hesitated, then figured, what the hell. They had already been discussing murder. “That’s right.”

  “So you were stealing from them?”

  He grimaced. He didn’t think of it in those terms. “What’s your point?”

  “Well, I just don’t get it. Why would a business guy like you take the kind of chances I’m talking about? Why don’t you go back to that big company of yours and start working the angles?”

  “Good question.” Geoff got out of bed and padded over to the window, naked. He looked out onto the street, seeing a hooker already plying her trade at eight in the morning. A dozen yards away from her, a big black man stood in a doorway, watching her. Geoff opened the window—noticing that the hotel was old enough that he could actually open them himself—and took in the smell of the street, the faint whiff of garbage, of morning coffee and automobile exhaust. He said, “Taking chances is who I am. Even as a kid, I’d do things that would terrify everyone else. And it just didn’t bother me. Jump off a bridge, race a car—hell, walk up and punch the biggest bastard in the school right in the face—it was fun, I’d get a rush.” He turned to look her in the eyes. “I just don’t get scared like other people do. I don’t know why, it’s just not in my makeup. The way I figure it, if embezzlement was kind of a sneaky thrill, armed robbery should be a blast.”

  “And you’re willing to kill Jammer to get it? Because that’s my price for telling you where to find him and the money. We split it, fifty-fifty. Deal?”

  He grinned, ruefully. Still feeling good in spite of the fact that his share for killing a man would have amounted to pocket change a week ago.

  “Deal,” he said. “And if my car hasn’t been repossessed yet, I’ll even throw in a swim in the mountain stream of your choice this afternoon.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. Then she was off the bed and when she pulled him against herself, her kisses were artless, enthusiastic, and very genuine. He laughed in spite of himself as she pulled him back to the bed. He said, “A lady friend of mine told me not too long ago that I’d end up on the street. I thought I’d like it.”

  “I can see you do,” Carly said, touching him. “I’m liking it a lot more now that you’re here.” She took him in her mouth, teasing him, bringing him close to climax within minutes. Just before he lost it, she pulled back, squeezing him so he would hold off. She said, “You better tell your lady friend I carry a straight razor.”

  He rolled Carly onto her back. “She’s already history.”

  “Good,” Carly whispered. “I’m going to show you how good the street can be.”

  Chapter 14

  It had been one of the best days of Carly’s life. It was like that angry little ball that had been burning inside since she had first arrived at the Greyhound station two years ago had been stuck with a pin and some of the acid had drained.

  They were standing outside a doughnut shop on the edge of the Combat Zone. Just down the street from all the theaters. She had felt so far away from the Zone all day and was now seeing it with different eyes. Sure, it still had the same signs, ALL NUDE COLLEGE GIRL REVUE, up in lights, XXXXXs across the marquees. Pale and hopeless hookers working the street, occasionally chattering among themselves.

  But instead of seeing the Zone as an inescapable trap, Carly saw it for what it was—a seedy little block of sleaze that would probably be history in a few years, what with the zoning ordinances that were slowly shutting the place down. The prostitutes would move to some other street, but Carly knew she didn’t have to move with them.

  She knew in that moment that it was truly possible to get away. Geoff had power to spare and being with him made her feel her own. Even though he was slumming being with her. She knew that. But lots of guys said things in bed and didn’t mean them—but Geoff did what he said, drove her up to Mount Chocoura. She knew he didn’t think the cold swim in the mountain stream made her all new. Hell, she could see he had been laughing at her some when he waded into the water with the bar of soap, his dingle all shrunk up in the cold.

  But the shocking water had been everything she had hoped.

  It made her feel different about herself just to get something she wanted. To be treated as if what she wanted mattered.

  And then he took her shopping on Newbury Street. He went through the aisles pulling out clothes, saying, “Try this, this, try this …” She had to figure the sizes, but the styles he picked out for her were just right. She couldn’t believe herself now. She looked at the mirrored reflection in the doughnut shop window and shivered with pleasure. She was wearing a simple pinstriped shirt. Nice jeans that fit right instead of the ridiculous skintight pants that Jammer made her wear. The new wig Geoff had bought her, the black one, made her look different enough with her sunglasses and clothes so that she wouldn’t have recognized herself … except she did, in the sense that the woman in the mirror was the woman Carly had always known she could be.

  What a day.

  After that, it had been her turn. They had gone to see Louis, and he had taken their pictures and promised them each a new driver’s license and passport by the end of the day. Louis had grinned at her. “You’re beautiful, just like I knew you could be. Don’t worry about me, keeping secrets is my business.” But Jammer had once beat Louis, so Geoff gave him a couple hundred dollars and they decided they could believe him.

  It all seemed so easy, during the afternoon. But now the tension was beginning to creep in about what she and Geoff still had in front of them.

  She peeked around the corner.

  “Not yet?” Geoff asked.

  “No.” She looked at the gold watch he had bought her. Eight-twenty-five. “Five minutes. He’s very regular when it comes to food.”

  Jammer.

  Waiting for him now made her stomach twist and roll. She still felt the euphoria, still felt she and Geoff could do anything. But if she looked at it square, she had to admit she was worried about actually killing the pimp. She wouldn’t mind seeing him dead, but she wasn’t so sure she and Geoff had to be the ones to do it.

  They might get caught, for one thing.

  And while Boston might not be safe, now that she was with Geoff she knew the power to move away from Raul and Jammer was her own. She could move someplace else, and they would never find her. Geoff was talking as if he would take her with him. She hadn’t told him about Raul, she figured she woul
d mention that as if she had just thought about it once they hit, say, the Connecticut border. She would just look over casually and say, “Did I tell you about this guy who wanted to put me in movies?”

  She knew that for some reason he admired her life on the street, instead of just seeing it as stupid and scummy. Who was she to set him straight? If she’d learned anything as a hooker, it was to let the guy live whatever fantasy he wanted.

  “There he is,” Geoff said, backing around the corner beside her. “Which booth again?”

  Carly snapped out of her reverie. “The one by the window to the left. The owner knows to keep it open for him, eight-thirty, and to have his food ready.”

  “We’ll give him a second to get seated.” Geoff slung the strap of the athletic bag over his shoulder and put his hand inside the open bag. He grinned at her, leaning back against the glass. “This is going to be fun.”

  She could see the reflection of the pretty, classy woman in the mirror turn to that of a scared hooker. “We don’t have to do this,” she said, knowing he wasn’t going to like her saying it. “Let’s just get in your car and go.”

  “Don’t be stupid.” His face darkened.

  She bit her lip and let her stomach do its leaps while the minutes ticked by. Her hands were shaking.

  Abruptly, he swung around the corner, walked up half a block, and walked into the restaurant. By the time she had followed him into the dark, hot gloom, Geoff was already seated across from Jammer, the gun under the table, trained at her former pimp’s balls. “Have a seat, sweetheart,” Geoff said. “Jammer’s invited us to dinner.”

  The pimp handled it pretty well, Geoff had to give him that. He finished chewing his mushu pancake and then said to Carly, “I’m going to twist your head off, bitch, and feed it to Darlene’s turtles.”

  “Don’t you think you’ll be a little preoccupied, what with having your balls blown off?” Geoff kept his voice quiet and pleasant.