Page 31 of SEAL’S Baby Surprise (Lanes #2)
RICHARD
All this time we’d been worrying about my sister, she been holed up with Austin in his van. But now she’s booked, just ahead of me catching up with her.
That is so like her. I’d lost track of how many times I’d called girlfriends, gone to resorts, and looked up her credit card records to discover where she’d run to.
I’d thought we were past all that when she got her Master’s in fashion design and started her own boutique. Oh, sure, I’d had to bail her out a couple of times when she miscalculated her overhead. And she was always pestering me to send her dresses from all the places I went.
That had slowed down since I quit traveling around as much. Kandy and the vineyard has kept me too busy to indulge in the traveling business playboy lifestyle. Before you ask, no, I don’t miss it at all.
Then I’d gotten this crazy prenup contract from a guy I’d never heard of before. Lee’s business is incorporated, and she gets a salary from it and an allowance from the family business.
She’s not collected the allowance or the salary for nearly three months. She doesn’t answer her phone, she’s not been to her apartment.
Meanwhile, Jason fancy-pants is all over the news, advertising for his lost bride.
Lost cash cow, I’d say. That prenuptial agreement signs over control of Rylie’s business and a hefty chunk of her quarterly allowance. It also has some weird references to inheritance that make no sense at all.
I hadn’t liked the look of it, so I’ve not signed off on it. I’m not sure if Jason missed that I would have to vet any such move since I’m on the board of directors for her company, or if he thought he could pull a fast one on me. Or maybe he’s just that ignorant of business management.
I drive carefully down the freeway, trying to watch on both sides of the road until I nearly sideswipe a woman with a kid in her backseat. Then I focus on driving and listening to the police scanner and CB while Austin does the looking.
The CB radio crackles to life. “Breaker, breaker one-nine. This here’s the Rolling Junk Wagon. Anybody got your ears on?”
I pick up the handset. “This is Golden Limo. I got ears, Junk Wagon, come on?”
“Hey, Limo. Ain’t heard you in a while. Hear you been nesting.”
I can’t help but grin, even under the circumstances. I key the mike. “Yeah, I got a sweet deal. Pretty woman and a cute kid. How about you, JW? Over.”
“I got a landing pad, Limo. Say, I near crashed my career today. Woman laid her pedal bike down damn near under my rig. Over.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. Rylie had been on a bicycle. And she never could ride worth a damn. “What did she look like? over.”
“Buzz cut, chunky. Had a big dog with her.”
I glance over at Austin, who has stopped looking out the window and is staring at the radio box.
“What did the dog look like?” I ask because a buzz cut doesn’t sound like my Rylie.
“Big mother…marked like a German shepherd, but long hair. He yanked her back, and I was able to miss her by inches. I called the police because I wasn’t where I could stop. When I turned back at the next off ramp, she wasn’t anywhere around.”
“That sounds like Ark,” Austin says. “And I buzzed her head a couple months ago after she tried to cut her own hair.”
“You buzzed my sister’s hair?” I snarl at Austin.
“Didn’t know she was your sister,” he shrugs.
“Only name she gave me was Lee. She had no ID and was wearing this crazy get up that looked like a motion picture wedding gown. She tried to cut her own hair and did such a bad job of it, there wasn’t much else to do.
That was after the pawn shop wouldn’t take her jewels. ”
I grind my teeth. I knew I should have followed up on the attempted sale of the gems. “Did she try to sell something?”
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, she did,” Austin says. “The pawn shop wouldn’t take her pearls because she couldn’t prove they were hers. Said her brother bought them for her.”
“Yes, I did. And they cost me a pretty penny, too, let me tell you. She won’t wear mined diamonds or natural pearls because she says they exploit the environment and the people.
She makes me crazy,” I add the last because I’m not sure whether to laugh, cry, or plant a facer right in the middle of Austin’s ugly mug.
I’d like to do all three, but it probably wouldn’t help anything.
“That sounds like Lee,” he says. “She makes me crazy a lot of the time.”
“And you got her pregnant!” I yell. “What the hell kind of friend are you?”
“One with benefits,” he grins at me. Which makes me want to stop the car, yank him out, and beat the ever-loving daylights out of my best friend. “Where did the trucker nearly run over her?”
After a few more exchanges with Junk Wagon, we get the address of the service station close to where he nearly ran over the woman. By now, it is a little after seven in the evening, and the sun is going down fast.
“I just got that bike for her a week ago, and the first thing she did was wipe out on it,” Austin says grimly. “It’s got no license, no headlights, and only one speed. We need to find her.”
I’m with that program. I can beat the stuffing out of Austin later. I pull up at the station, and Austin strides into it like he’s storming the place.
I unfold myself from the driver’s seat, and hobble after him. My back likes to kink up after I’ve been driving a while.
To my surprise, he pulls out a Polaroid picture, and addresses the attendant civilly. He says, “My girlfriend and I had a fight. She took off on a single-speed bike. My dog is with her, but she’s just learning to ride, and I’m worried about her. Have you seen her?”
“Why should I tell you if I have?” the attendant asks. I have to give the kid credit. He’s a scrawny drink of water, built like a beanpole.
Austin is built like a tank and could probably break him in half with his pinky. The Austin I used to know would have reached across the desk and grabbed the kid by his shirt front and demanded to be told where Rylie went.
Instead, he surprised me. “Because” he says, “she left me this.” And he shows the kid the note.
“She had a bike wreck just a day or two ago. She’s been sick, and I’m pretty sure she had a concussion, but she wouldn’t go to the doctor.
I think she’s in some kind of trouble, and she’s about as clueless as a baby bird learning to fly. ”
“How do I know that you didn’t beat her up, and the bike wreck is just an excuse?” the kid asks.
“I didn’t and it isn’t,” Austin says tiredly. “But I don’t know any way to prove that.”
“I’m her brother,” I say, stepping into the store. “Rylie ran away from her wedding dress fitting three months ago. I’ve been looking for her ever since.”
“Rylie?” the kid says. “Dress shop Rylie? But doesn’t she have long pink hair?”
“Had,” Austin corrects him. “She cut it off with my sewing shears, and I had to give her a GI Jane cut.”
“Either of you dudes got ID?” the kid asks.
I seriously have to give the youngster credit. Austin isn’t trying to act threatening, but he’s five-nine and two ax handles across the shoulder.
Even though he looks worried as hell, and more broken and scared than intimidating, he’s got muscles on his muscles. But there is that kid asking for ID.
Austin pulls out his wallet and hands over his driver’s license. The kid looks at it, looks at Austin. “Vet, eh? I’m not sure that’s real comforting. You could have snapped, and now you’re trying to cover up.”
Austin scrubs a hand over his face and looks at me. “Help me out here. Lee could have been mugged and sold to some human trafficker by now.”
“Not too likely,” I say, “Unless they bait their trap with abused kittens or babies. Son,” I address the youth behind the counter, “If Austin was going to snap, he’d have yanked you over that counter by now. But I think I have a solution for all of us. Where’s the Family Clinic?”
“Up on Fourth,” the kid says. “Late as it is, she’s probably in the PG hostel.
That’s where they’ve been putting kids down on their luck, people who start treatment of various sorts and run out of money, and the out-of-staters who drive in for help.
I sent her down the bike lane at . . .” he glances at the clock, “around 4:30 this afternoon. It isn’t the best, but if she went that way, at least she wasn’t playing chicken with semis. ”
“Come on, Austin. We can go to the clinic, and if she’s not there, we can start working our way back.”
“Thanks, kid,” Austin says. “You’re all right.”
The boy nods, but he still looks worried. My guess is that he’s seen some bad things and wild stories pass through his store.
We drive sedately through the residential streets. Some of the areas have streetlights, but other sections are dark.
The route has a sketchy feel to it, that I don’t like. It’s like trolling the back alleys for action, back when we were in college.
Austin keeps his eyes peeled. “I don’t like it,” he mutters. “It’s like driving a convoy through an occupied village.”
The comment gives me the shivers. What had my friend gone through in the years since we parted?
We don’t see any sign of a girl on a bike or a big dog. When we reach the clinic, it has a closed sign on the door. The sign has a “Back at” sign on the door, with the hands on the clock face set to 8:00 AM.
That’s when Austin loses it.
“Lee!” he shouts. “Lady Mermaid! Dammit woman, I got your selkie pelt, you can’t leave me.”
Lights start coming on in the building next door, and a dog starts barking with a distinctive “Ark, Ark, Ark,” sound.
“Lee!” Austin bellows again. “I know you’re there. Answer me!” He bolts around the corner, right up to a locked gate in a chain link fence.
“Hold it right there, buddy,” an older woman’s voice says. “It’s after hours, and we aren’t open to visitors.”
She’s got the biggest handgun I think I’ve ever seen, and she’s got it trained right on Austin. Austin holds up both hands and backs up a little.
She’s a wrinkled little black woman who looks like she might blow away in a strong wind. But she has presence that commands a hell of a lot of respect, and it isn’t all about the hand cannon that she’s holding with both hands like she knows how to use it.
Before I can say anything, I hear Rylie’s voice. “It’s all right, Artie. That’s my boyfriend. He’s come to find me.”