Roz Fox - Too Many Brothers

“I’m worried, Logan. Phone me as soon as Daphne drops you at your office. It’s bad enough that I have to deal with Mike being at sea, without worrying about your safety, too.”

“We’ll be fine. In fact, I only see one carload of bad guys hanging around,” Logan said, brushing a kiss on April’s forehead. “Stop worrying. It’s not good for the baby. Oh, tell Nat I phoned or something, and that I’m mailing her a gift. What does she want that she didn’t get?”

“See if you can find the Barbie with all the camping gear. The stores in this area were all sold out. We’re using Mike’s leave to go camping before the baby arrives, which is why Nat wants the Barbie that comes with a tent and stuff. She was disappointed, I think, when she found out it wasn’t what her dad and I had given her.”

“Man, I hate going down Barbie aisles in toy stores. It’s more intimidating than Victoria’s Secret. Well, almost more intimidating,” he said, realizing what he’d admitted not only to his sister, but to Daphne Malone. She’d stowed her check in her bag and waited impatiently at the front door. Logan expected one of the women to ask who he bought skimpy lingerie for. Thankfully, neither remarked on it.

Before either of them could, he relieved Daphne of her bulging beach bag and reached around her to open the door.

“Go on out with Nat and enjoy the rest of her party, sis. I’ll call you when I can. Don’t worry if you don’t hear right away.”

April walked onto the front porch. Daphne waved before she and Logan climbed into her Volkswagen.

“You said you had a car,” Logan grumbled, trying to fold his long body enough to fit inside the cramped space.

“No disparaging comments, please. I happen to love my little car. She’s a classic. And Tootles gets me where I’m going economically. I find parking when bigger cars have to pass up a spot.” She patted the dash. “Oops, I see two cars with dark windows. Looks like maybe two occupants in each, and both show an inordinate amount of interest in us. You might want to lean into the back seat so they can’t get a good look at you.”

“I got a good look at me at April’s. I don’t think my boss would recognize me.”

Still, Daphne noticed he took her suggestion. Agent Grant didn’t do anything without bickering, but he listened and eventually took advice—from a woman, no less. Daphne stored that information for tossing up at Kieran one day.

“Hey,” she said, flexing her fingers around the wheel. “A dark blue car pulled in directly behind us.”

The word that left Logan’s mouth wasn’t pretty, but Daphne thought it described how she felt at the moment, too.

“See if you can shake him. Keep to the middle lane. At the next intersection, if the light’s green, whip into the right lane and make a hard right turn.”

Daphne followed his instructions to the letter. But the car tailing them crossed in front of a truck in a real squeaker of a move and ended up behind them again.

“Don’t act like you’re keeping tabs on him,” Logan said. “But glance in your sideview mirror occasionally.”

“He’s so close on my rear I can almost feel him breathing.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid he thinks we deliberately tried to ditch them.”

“We did.”

“I know, but I’d hoped they wouldn’t be expecting it of you. I thought maybe we could zigzag through a few streets and throw them off our scent.”

Daphne tried to relax. She leaned back against the seat and loosened her death grip on the wheel. “Where’s your office? Can we shake them in five o’clock traffic? The next block will fill up soon with workers leaving a packing plant.”

Logan named an address, and Daphne was surprised to learn his office wasn’t more than ten blocks from her apartment building. “I didn’t know there was a federal building on Jefferson Boulevard.”

“There’s not.” He scrunched down even lower in the seat and rested his hat against the headrest. “Our whole unit is operating on the q.t.”

“Phew, that’s good. I didn’t relish pulling up in front of a federal building to let you out in case I can’t lose that blue Mercedes afterward. But if your whole unit’s under wraps, those guys won’t know I’m leaving you with feds.”

“Don’t be too sure.” Logan crossed his arms and studied his driver. “They have unheard-of sources. Money talks, and that gang of thugs has gold to burn. Their last heroin shipment brought in half a billion dollars on the street.”

“That’s disgusting. Think of all those pathetic humans who lie, cheat and steal to pay for their drug habits.”

“Unfortunately, in California and elsewhere, plenty of folks with big bucks are dabbling in the hard stuff. They earn their money on Wall Street, or in occupations that are well thought of.”

“Like entertainment and sports, you mean?”

“To name two, yes.”

Daphne spared him a sidelong glance. “I’ve lived on the fringes of Hollywood my whole life. I know rich-and-famous kids who spent more than their school lunch money to stay stoned out of their minds.”

“Did you know any dealers? Do you now?”

“No. I always figured it was better not to know. I didn’t use, or run around with kids who did.” She shrugged. “I was never very popular.”

“Now that I find hard to believe.”

She sent him a dirty look. As dirty, at least, as a clown with a painted-on smile could deliver.

“Are they still on our bumper?” he asked, not wanting to turn around.

“Yes,” she said, making a right turn and then a left. “Dang, I thought that maneuver might confuse them. They seem acquainted with all our one-way streets. Shoot, I’m afraid I really tipped them off.”

Logan squinted into the sun to read the next street signs. “Go up Linda Vista and join the Foothill Freeway. From there, see if you can disappear in heavy traffic. Then swerve onto the Glendale Freeway. Follow it all the way down to the Golden State. If they’re unaware the feds have a branch office here, it may throw them off the track long enough to let me slip out and double back. I just don’t want to leave them following you. By the way, where do you live? And do you live alone or with family—or with a significant other?”

“Alone.” She gave him the coordinating cross streets for her apartment. “Why do you need to know where I live?”

“Because I may have to go home with you to make it look convincing to these jokers if they’re too persistent.”

“What? No way! I just told you I live alone.”

“How many people in your building know that?”

“A few. I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“It is if our tails get nosy and start asking questions around here. If they weren’t suspicious of us—of me—I think they’d already be peeling off to look elsewhere. They know where I live. I’m sure someone’s watching my condo.”

“I suppose you can come up for a little while. How do you plan to leave my apartment, though—and when?”

“I’ll think of something. I hate to ask a fellow agent to extract me, but if all else fails, I will. Those jerks behind us don’t know your name. You didn’t give it to Razor, did you?” Logan leveled a serious look at Daphne.

“I said we booked birthday parties as Bozo and Buzzy. I said I didn’t have any business cards with me. Your friend wasn’t interested. I pretended I thought he had a child and was checking the party because he might want to book us.”

“That was good thinking,” he said somewhat unwillingly.

“Thanks.” Her response was dry.

“No, I mean it. Have you considered going into police work yourself?”

“Are you kidding? With my work history?” She laughed hilariously as she navigated up the ramp onto the first of the three freeways.