Zane (The Powers That Be, Book 6) Read online

  “I know. Creeped me the hell out,” I answered before eating a potato chip.

  “And you really think he could be doing something illegal?”

  I nodded as I bit into my club sandwich, chewed then swallowed answering, “It just sounds shady.”

  “We should follow him one night!” she said, eyebrows raised expectantly.

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” I agreed.

  “Let’s go tonight!”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah!”

  I didn’t know how good or bad an idea it was, but at least we’d find out if he’d been lying about his work situation.

  After wiping my mouth, I announced, “We’ll have to take your car ‘cause he knows mine. But I’m driving. You’ll end up rear-ending him or something and we’ll get caught red-handed.”

  She rolled her eyes. “This is only my second car.”

  “In a year, Iz. You need to stop worrying about getting arrested at protests and worry about being taken in for driving with a suspended license.”

  “My license isn’t suspended!”

  “Yet.” I munched on some chips as I thought about what we’d do tonight. “I think you should come over around ten. They usually leave by eleven, so you’ll come in and we’ll say we’re having a girls’ night. We can bake cookies or something. Act like we’re gonna have a movie marathon. Then when they leave, we’ll follow.”

  “Can we make snickerdoodles? Those sound yummy!”

  “Sure.” I took a drink of my tea. “And I guess there’s one good thing about your wrecks.”

  “What?”

  “He won’t know your car.”

  “I knew my lack of driving skills would come in handy one day.” She giggled and I snorted.

  Then we cemented our plans.

  ~*~*~*~*~

  “God, he really is creepy,” Izzy said as we followed Rusty’s black pickup truck onto the freeway.

  She’d come over as planned, we’d made snickerdoodles which the guys had gobbled up, we looked at Sephora’s website for a while then I painted her nails as we waited for Chet and Rusty to leave. But Rusty had put on the charm and flirted his ass off with her. Gross. After thirty minutes of her turning him down, he finally caught on and took off. We’d quickly gone to my room and put on the black hoodies I’d kept from my emo days, then we’d run to her car and taken off to follow him. It was now midnight.

  “I told you he’s weird,” I said. “Talk about not getting the hint.”

  “I know! Even when I told him about Corey and how big he is because, duh, pro football player, he didn’t get it. Yuck. I feel like I need a shower the way he was looking at me.”

  As he exited off the freeway, I made sure to stay at least three cars back so he wouldn’t get suspicious. And since I knew he was probably going to the market, I didn’t panic when I’d lose him temporarily at a turn.

  “This place is spooky after dark,” Izzy said, looking at the buildings we were passing.

  “I think a gentrification project is in order for sure,” I agreed. “Wait, what’s he doing?”

  I had to pass Rusty when instead of turning into the store, he only slowed down then kept going. I saw that he was on his phone as we went by, so he was probably receiving instructions on what criminal activity to do.

  “I’ll bet he’s heading to Fishermen’s Terminal since Chet said he picks up fish barrels,” I surmised, keeping my speed steady, and watching his headlights behind me as I drove.

  “Maybe we should pull in somewhere and let him go by so we can follow,” Izzy said.

  “Okay.” Just as I got ready to turn into a bakery, he zoomed past us. “Good thing I didn’t put my blinker on, or we would’ve look suspicious when we didn’t turn.”

  “Well, to be honest, I don’t pay a lot of attention to the cars around me and where they’re going, so I doubt he would’ve even seen us.” I gave her a side glance and laughed. “Whatever. So I need to pay attention and watch where I’m going better. Big deal.”

  We followed him for a couple more miles then she pointed to where he’d pulled into a parking lot.

  I drove past the lot, looking for somewhere to park as she kept her eye on him the best she could. I found another lot a little farther down, where we parked and were now making our way back to where he was, hunchback jogging as we kept an eye out for bad guys. We stopped in the lot he’d pulled into, afraid to go any farther, and watched from behind a Jeep.

  I regret to say we didn’t get much information that night. It was dark and all we could decipher was that Rusty had loaded about eight barrels into the back of his truck and taken off. By the time we got to Izzy’s car, he was gone. We drove back by the market and saw he’d pulled into the back, but it wasn’t like we could get close enough to find out what was in the barrels.

  As we drove back to my apartment, we decided we’d follow him another night since we had an idea now of where he went. And we knew we’d have to find another way to get closer to him out on the docks to hear what was being said. We also decided this would either work great or get us caught.

  “Let the case of the Creep and the Two Stupid Girls commence,” I said as I pulled her car in to the space next to mine.

  We chuckled a bit nervously then called it a night.

  Chapter 7

  Alicia called at eight the next morning asking if I could open the record store at nine and stay until noon since both Kelvin and Chance were sick and she and Randy had some things they needed to do first. Of course, I said yes because how could I turn her down when she’d been so good to me?

  I hadn’t gotten to bed until about two-thirty and was dragging a little, but it wasn’t a big deal since not many customers came in that early. As I was grooving to some Earth, Wind & Fire, pulling recently acquired albums from a box and putting them in order in the cubicles, the bell on the front door rang.

  “Welcome to Vinyl Impressions,” I called, “Where we have the vinyl solution.” I snorted. I didn’t have to say anything to customers when they came in, but in the two years I’d worked here, I sometimes got bored and greeted them with a dumb remark just to have something to do. Today was one of those days.

  When the person didn’t answer, I stood up to see if maybe they’d opened the door on accident and left, only to feel a chill crawl through me at seeing Rusty standing there.

  Shit.

  What did he want? Oh, God, did he know Izzy and I had followed him?

  Shit!

  “Hey, Russ. Whaddya need?” I called as nonchalantly as I could, walking back to the counter and going behind it to put something between us. There was also a baseball bat Randy kept back there just in case, and I made sure I had it at the ready.

  I watched him walk slowly toward me, stopping to look at a few albums along the way. I felt sweat gather on my upper lip and reached my hand up furtively to wipe it away. Never let them see you sweat, right?

  Three thousand hours later, he finally approached the counter and smiled.

  “What’s up, Jilly Bean?”

  “Nothing. What do you want?”

  He jerked his head back and frowned. “Now, that’s not the way to treat a customer, is it?”

  I stared at him watching his every move, my fingers behind the counter never losing contact with the end of the bat that stood upright and ready to go if I needed it.

  “What do you want, Rusty?” I asked again.

  He leaned a hip against the glass and pointed casually down into the case. “How much is that guitar pick signed by Billy Squier?”

  Eyes still on him, I said, “Twenty-five dollars.”

  He let out a whistle. “Damn, girl. You know your stuff. Didn’t even have to look at it. Impressive. Now, how old is ol’ Billy now? He’s gotta be close to seventy. You reckon the price’ll go up after he dies?”

  What a jerk. “I suppose so.”

  He grinned then moved away from the counter, looking around and taking his sweet time in his perusal
of every flipping thing we had in the store, it seemed. I practiced my deep breathing, trying to stay calm as I kept an eye on him knowing the bastard was doing this on purpose, his psychological warfare working very well on me, damn it.

  Then glory be to everything sacred and holy, because I didn’t think I’d ever be so happy to hear a back door open as I was right then. And when I heard Randy’s boots on the old wooden floorboards making them groan in protest, I let out the breath I’d been holding for going on ten minutes.

  “Hey, sister,” he called walking into the main floor.

  “Hey, Randy,” I croaked in relief.

  God, I was so glad he was there. He and Alicia were both in their mid-sixties but looked a lot younger. And while Alicia was petite and as tiny as could be, Randy was a big, burly guy, so I was confident he could hold his own if Rusty tried anything. Unless Rusty was trained in martial arts. Or had a knife. Or a gun. Ack! I felt the sweat return to my lip and was sure I felt a trickle down my back.

  One look at me and Randy knew something was wrong. Standing taller, he looked around, his eyes landing on Rusty who was now across the store looking at guitars. “We got a problem?” he asked quietly.

  I leaned down and turned the music up just a bit since the speakers were set in the ceiling and also at various places around the store, one of which was close to Rusty and I hoped he couldn’t hear what we were saying. “He’s my roommate. He’s kinda scary and has sort of threatened me before, and I’m not sure what he’s doing here.”

  "Well, we’ll just find out then, how about that?” Raising his eyebrows, he winked at me before stepping out from the counter and made his way toward Rusty.

  In the meantime, I went to get the box of new arrivals and put it behind the counter. When I stood up, I saw the guys in deep conversation and Randy was showing him a guitar he’d pulled from the wall. They chatted for a half hour before both came walking toward me.

  “Your friend has a question for you,” Randy said with a chuckle.

  Great. What did Rusty have to ask me?

  My eyes were flat as I watched him really play it up, acting shy even sticking his hands in his pockets, all gawrsh, look how bashful I am, and I hoped Randy hadn’t fallen for his fakeness. As for me, I wanted to punch Rusty smack in the nose.

  “Well, Jilly, I wanted to ask you about Izzy. You think she’d go out with me?”

  Was he even serious right now? She’d turned him down countless times not even twelve hours before!

  “No. I’m pretty sure she told you that about fifty times last night.”

  “Doesn’t hurt trying a fifty-first time, now, does it, son?” Randy said with a laugh clapping Rusty on the shoulder.

  “No, sir, it doesn’t,” Rusty replied, laughing right along with him.

  “I’ve gotta go check on some things. Be right back,” Randy said. “Nice meeting you, Rusty. You come back in when you’re ready to buy that guitar and I can set you up with some lessons too.”

  “Thanks,” Rusty hollered to Randy, who held up his hand in a wave from behind as he walked away.

  When we were alone again, the icy shiver that’d run through my bones before was back and I watched Rusty’s friendly demeanor go hard.

  “What were you two girls up to last night?” he asked, his eyes narrowing on me.

  For the umpteenth time, I loathed that he resembled Zane because he was such a prick, but to say the wind was damn near knocked out of me because I knew that he knew we’d followed him was an understatement. Heart attack and stroke all at once was more like it. I strained to think of some of the places in the area we’d passed that I could lie and say we were headed there just in case.

  “Nothing. Girls’ night. Why?”

  “I heard you telling Izzy you’re going out with that cop again.”

  I shrugged. “So?”

  “Told you I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

  “And I care what you think because?”

  “Just watch yourself, Jillian.” His brown eyes that were like Zane’s but not, held mine in their soulless clutch for a moment before I finally looked away.

  “Why do you care if I date a cop? Huh?” I asked as I tried for casual and not terrified as I rearranged some magazines on the countertop. “Are you doing something illegal and you don’t wanna get caught? Is that it?”

  He let out a breath. “Look. I got into some trouble a couple years ago and I just don’t want this cop harassing me.”

  “What kind of trouble?” I questioned, narrowing my eyes at him.

  “Nothing you need to know about. I got caught up in some bad stuff but didn’t get arrested. I just don’t want this guy giving me hell.”

  His thinking he was so infamous made me laugh. “And you’re so notorious, you think every policeman in Seattle knows who you are? Like they’ve studied some kind of suspect book with pictures and they know who all the bad guys are. Get real, Rusty.” I rolled my eyes then jumped when he slammed his hand down on the countertop. At that moment, I heard Randy coming back, so I let my roommate have it. “You keep trying to intimidate me with these asshole tactics of yours and I will tell Zane to look into you.”

  Rusty leaned down close and said in a sinister tone, “Watch yourself, little girl. I’d hate for something bad to happen to your boyfriend, you feel me?” He stood straight and his mien did a one-eighty as Randy approached, and he was back to being the friendly customer who was only interested in buying a guitar. Looking at Randy who’d come behind the counter with me, he said, “Thanks, man, for showing me the Fender. I’ll come back soon and pick it up then we can talk about those lessons.”

  “Sure thing, son. You take care now,” Randy replied, shaking Rusty’s hand.

  Wow.

  I couldn’t believe as smart as Randy was moneywise, he’d let a punk like Rusty fool him.

  “Dickhead,” Randy murmured under his breath just after Rusty left the store.

  In shock, I whipped my head to the side to look up at him.

  Tilting his head down toward me, he explained, “That kid’s trash, sister. You make sure to lock your things up at home when you’re gone. And tell your cousin it’d probably be a good idea for him to find another roommate.”

  My body sagged in relief. “Oh, thank God. I thought he’d charmed you into thinking he was a good guy.”

  He shook his head. “Walked over to check him out and saw him pocketing a couple things, then he proceeded to act interested in the guitars but he’s not smart enough to pull it off. Nah, he’s a chiseler. A grifter in the worst way because…but…wait a second now. Come to think about it, that just might be his method—acting like he wants you to think he’s a good guy and though you feel like he isn’t, he uses some kinda psychological bullshit all up in your face so it’s out in the open. Like he’s daring you to call him out. That way he can pull shit right under your nose and you know he’s doing it but you’re not quite sure if he did it on purpose or not. Damn. That’s genius.”

  I raised my eyebrows thinking there was nothing genius about Rusty.

  “He’s a crafty one. Like I said, girl, you watch your back with him. Feels like something’s festering under the surface and I don’t like you being that close to him.”

  “I’ll talk to Chet and see what we can do. But thanks, Randy. I’m so glad you showed up.” I tiptoed up and kissed his cheek, grateful for him and that he’d seen through Rusty’s act. Suddenly exhausted, I stated, “Well, if there’s nothing else I need to do, I’m outta here.”

  “All righty. Go enjoy your day, kid.”

  “Bye, Randy. And thanks again for coming in when you did.”

  Grabbing my big purse to leave, I thought that now if I could get Chet on board, we could set things into motion and get Rusty out of our apartment before something bad actually did happen.

  Chapter 8

  Izzy came over to help me get ready for my date Saturday.

  “Ivar’s, huh?” she said. “Fancy!”

  �
�I know. I love that place.”

  I was looking through the fifteen thousand cocktail dresses I had in my closet which, when I’d moved out from my parents, I couldn’t bear to part with, so I’d packed almost all of them. They were dresses I’d been made to wear to various functions over the years, starting at age sixteen when I’d been deemed mature enough to be seen out with the fam. Translation: Mother decided I wouldn’t pull some crap like belching out loud or blatantly picking a wedgie because, you know, I was so uncultured. God. That woman. Anyway, each dress cost more than the monthly rent, and not just my part, I mean the entire rent, and they’d seen affairs the likes of weddings, bar mitzvahs, bat mitzvahs, retirement parties, grand openings of businesses, parties given by my parents, their friends or coworkers, Fashion Week runway shows, operas, ballets and Broadway plays. We’re talking upper crust here, folks, high-dollar, high-roller kinds of events and parties where the richest of the rich vied for attention and admiration by donating the most money or laughing the loudest or wearing the furriest fur (grrrr). And Mother was worried that I’d make a fool of myself.

  “This is beautiful,” Izzy declared, holding a lacy, sparkly gold number up in front of herself in the mirror.

  “I’ve told you you’re welcome to borrow anything at any time.”

  “And I have so many places to wear them,” she said with a giggle.

  “I’m sure Corey will have some banquets at the end of the season you’ll go to.”

  “Maybe. Then I call dibs on this one,” she announced, twisting the dress in front of her and making it shimmer.

  “You got it,” I responded, holding a blush-colored, crinkled taffeta dress in front of me. “Yes?”

  Izzy glanced over and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, yes, wow. That’s gorgeous!”

  I’d always liked this one, but the rule with Mom was, “If you wear it more than once, people will start thinking we can’t afford to buy another!” so the one time to the Met had been it for this beauty.

  I looked at the illusion neckline yoke that sparkled with silver crystal Swarovski beads and sighed. I really had loved this dress.