A Sinful Mistake Page 8

  Bull sauntered over to the Jeep before I had a chance to get out. He wore a pair of faded denim overalls and a cocky smile. I hoped my expression didn’t convey my absolute disgust. I forced myself to smile. I couldn’t let on that I thought him a world class chump or that I knew Gertie was missing. “Hello, Bull.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss St. James,” he said. “Fine evening we’re going to have.”

  I nodded. “I’m sure. Thank you for meeting me.” I gave a pointed glance in the direction of the make-shift lean-to that doubled as a vegetable stand. A solitary stooped figure was arranging a stack of corn cobs on a rickety table. “Are you sure this is a good place for a private discussion?”

  Bull shoved his hands in his overall pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. “Don’t mind old Sampson,” he said. “He keeps an eye on things out here for me.”

  I bet he did.

  “I heard you was asking after me at Spanky’s on Sunday.”

  “I was,” I admitted. “I was hoping to find a way to speak to you alone. You and Gertie have been spending quite a bit of time together lately.”

  He didn’t so much as blink at the mention of Gertie’s name.

  “I love Gertie,” I continued on. “She’s like family to me. But she’s a bit of a straight arrow.”

  Bull threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Coming from the mouth of Miss Manners.”

  “Miss Prim & Proper,” I corrected him. I should have let it pass but, honestly, this annoyed me more every time I heard it. “Yes, I’m a manners columnist. But that isn’t how I make my money.”

  At the mention of money, Bull’s laughter died away. “That so?”

  I nodded. “I’ve had to develop a side business.” I strove to sound confident and assured, as if dealing in weapons was as natural to me as wearing pearls. “It’s been lucrative.”

  “That so?” Bull said again. I struggled to hide my annoyance at the repetition.

  “Oh, yes. But recently I’ve run into a problem. Seeing as how you’re a business owner, I thought perhaps you’d be able to help me.”

  Bull quit rocking. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Me a business owner?” He pulled a face. “Haven’t you heard that I’m a professional good-for-nothing slacker?”

  I nodded. “I certainly have. You’ve done an admirable job creating that illusion. But I know differently.”

  “Well, now, I’m sure you’ve heard all kinds of talk.”

  Time to up the ante. “It’s more than talk, I’ve verified that. Your part ownership in Bayou Gardens intrigued me. I couldn’t figure out why you’d invest money in such a dump, although I’m sure Harold Lisieux was happy to see an influx of cash.”

  “I don’t know what—”

  I held up a hand to forestall his denial.

  “Don’t insult my intelligence, Bull. I make it my business to know things.”

  “Such as?”

  Fine, let him test me. I’d done my homework. “I know that in addition to being Harold’s silent partner, you’re running an import-export business.” I stayed quiet while my words had a chance to sink in. “Quite an entrepreneur, aren’t you, Bull?”

  He didn’t answer but neither did he continue with the hayseed shtick, which I took as forward progress. The sun wasn’t quite setting, but it was dipping lower in the sky. Time to get this show moving along. “I admire your moxie.”

  “Why are we here?”

  Finally, he asked. I was only too happy to tell him. “I am looking to expand my operation, and I need a partner who isn’t afraid to take risks in exchange for great rewards.”

  The words ‘great rewards’ were like a slot machine lever that pulled up three cherries, judging by the way Bull’s eyes flashed. “Rewards?”

  I did my best to smile like a cat who’d discovered an unlimited supply of cream. “Such as you can’t imagine, but the risks are great too.” I twisted in the driver’s seat and beckoned for him to come closer. “I brought a tiny sample of my wares with me just to give you an idea of what we’re talking about.”

  Bull gave a low whistle when I unzipped the bag. A black rifle lay on top of the stack.

  “It’s a beauty,” I said.

  “That a Kalashnikov or a Dragunov SVD?”

  I remembered Fortune’s admonition to be cautious when it came to details. “If you don’t know just by looking, then you’re not the partner I’m looking for,” I said as disdainfully as I could manage.

  “It’s a Kalash,” he said. “I’m sure of it.” He tore his gaze from the guns and met my eyes. “Let’s just say we partner up, and there’s cash in it for me. What’s in it for you?”

  “Distribution opportunities,” I said, grateful for Fortune’s coaching. “I imagine you’ve developed a sophisticated network. Your cargo is more difficult to transport than mine.”

  Indecision paraded across Bull’s expression. Greed pulled him one way, caution another. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he hedged.

  Bull. He knew darn well what I meant. I attempted a nonchalant shrug. “You’re not getting any judgment from me. After all, we’re a country built by immigrants.” It unnerved me that such a heinous mischaracterization of human trafficking could trip off my tongue. “But the items I buy and sell can’t tell stories. That helps me sleep at night.” I paused a moment. “Are you interested in talking numbers?”

  “I might be interested in a potential partnership,” is what he said.

  I’m a greedy amoral bastard, is what I heard.

  “Good. Let’s set up a time to meet.” I reached behind me to zip up the black bag. “It’s getting late and I’m anxious to go check in on Gertie and my great-aunt.”

  He didn’t flinch when I mentioned going to see Gertie. I confess this threw me. What sort of a human being could be so cold? Pure human scum, that’s who.

  “Can I get a ride with you?” Bull walked around the Jeep and hefted himself into the passenger seat before I could think of a rational objection.

  “You’re heading over to Bayou Gardens?” I asked.

  “Why not? I’m as anxious as you are to see Gertie.” He pulled the seatbelt across his chest and clicked the buckle in place. “Unless you mind?”

  Mind? Of course, I minded. This wasn’t part of the plan. But what else could I do but politely acquiesce? “Of course not.”

  Still, every instinct I had screamed that something was indeed very wrong. And once I’d pulled out on the road and was less than a couple of miles from the vegetable stand, Bull proved me right when he stuck the barrel of a gun into my ribs.

  Chapter Eleven

  “JUST KEEP DRIVING.”

  I slammed on the brakes. “I will not. Get out.”

  Bull’s face reddened. He lifted the gun to my temple. “Don’t be stupid. I’m telling you to drive.”

  It took every ounce of self-restraint I had not to reach up and swat his arm away. Even with a gun pointed directly at my head, it was hard to believe this was happening. Here I was, being held at gunpoint in the middle of a deserted road, all alone...except that I wasn’t alone. That realization sent relief coursing through me.

  Fortune was with me. Well, not technically with me, but at the other end of the wire. A wire that I was wearing to try to trap Bull into a confession. And how was I going to do that if I was sitting here silently? Precisely.

  I began to drive, a moderate forty miles per hour. “You’re making a big mistake, Bull,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I want you to point that gun somewhere other than at my head. If you’re attempting to show me how tough you can be in a crisis, I’m impressed. But I’m also about out of patience.”

  He kept the gun trained on me. I glanced sideways, doing my best to look stern. “Call me crazy, Bull, but one of my prerequisites in a partner is that they obey my instructions.”

  “You need to listen to me,” he nearly spat. “I am tired of taking orders from bossy women.”

  How I wish I could let
Aunt Ida Belle have ten minutes alone with him. He’d be begging for mercy. “What do you think Gertie’s going to say when I tell her about your serious lapse in judgment?” I glanced at the dashboard compass. We were heading due east. Sinful was due west. Bayou Gardens was northwest of our meeting place. Where was Bull planning on taking me?

  “It’s too late to care.”

  It took me a minute to realize that Bull was answering my question. “Why? Did Gertie find out that you are involved in human trafficking?” Wherever Fortune was, I hoped she was appreciative of my efforts to record incriminating information that would be admissible in a court of law. “Or hasn’t she caught on yet?”

  Bull’s silence unnerved me. I’d have felt a thousand times more comfortable if he were running off at the mouth like the smug bastard I knew he was.

  “Where is she, Bull?” I demanded.

  “Fixin’ to be six feet under.” He jabbed me with his gun. “Keep running your mouth off and you’ll be the next one pushing up daisies.”

  Gertie was dead? I slammed on the brakes again. “Dead?” I gasped for air. “Where is she?”

  “Waiting to be buried.” He smacked his free fist on the dash. “Drive, damn you.”

  He wanted me to drive? I could barely breathe. “Where to?” I managed to ask. My mind was spinning like a country fair pinwheel but I needed to keep him talking. “If you want me to cooperate with your plans, you’re going to have to tell me what they are.” Preferably loudly enough that Fortune could hear him and set up a trap. “Why are we heading east?”

  “You don’t need to know anything. Just do what I say.”

  I turned as far as my seat belt would allow me to look at him. A ripple of pure loathing ran through me. “Bull, I am not accustomed to taking orders.” Haughty. Yes, I would go with haughty. Perhaps that was the anecdote to his cockiness. I needed to throw him off his game. Shake things up. Get the upper hand. “If you don’t tell me where we’re going, I’m going to turn right around and head back to Sinful.”

  What might have been indecision flashed across his face. Or maybe it was guilt. Or indigestion. I knew so little about this man. But he’d hurt Gertie, or so he said. I couldn’t imagine anyone hurting her. Did a kinder soul exist? “How could you hurt Gertie?”

  If the red flush creeping up Bull’s neck was any indication, he was growing tired of my incessant questions. But he wasn’t talking, and he needed to be if we were going to nail him to the wall. “Was it for the insurance policy?”

  My words caught him completely off guard. “What insurance policy?”

  A slight twitch above his right eyebrow told me I’d hit the bullseye.

  “The one you took out on her life to the tune of a million dollars? Ring any bells?”

  “I ain’t telling you a damn thing.”

  “Big mistake, Bull. You need me. I’m Ida Belle’s niece. She’ll listen to me better than she’ll listen to you.”

  “She’s a stupid old bitch.”

  “Wrong on at least one count,” I said. “Aunt Ida Belle isn’t stupid. She’s cunning. She doesn’t suffer fools gladly, and she doesn’t take prisoners. You need my help if you want her to believe that Gertie died accidentally.” I thought of the wire I wore. “Unless you want to confess to her murder.”

  His response was to give me an earful of swear words. Under any other circumstances I would have simply walked away from him. However, there was the little matter of the gun pointed at my head. I undid my seat belt and turned off the ignition. Time for action. I held up the keys in my left hand, out of his grasp.

  “What the hell are you up to, woman?”

  “Unless you want me to pitch these into the dense foliage, I’d suggest you watch your language in front of me. I’ve had just about enough of your swearing.” I jingled the keys. “Lower your gun immediately or you’re going to be searching for the keys for the rest of your natural life.”

  “You throw those keys and I’ll put a bullet straight through your brain.”

  I tilted my head to the side as if considering my options. “Frankly, that would be preferable to sitting here listening to your foul mouth spew nonsense.” I could hardly believe what I was hearing myself say. Where was this false bravado coming from? “Then you’d have two dead bodies to account for and no one would believe for an instant that Gertie’s death was an accident.” I waited for this to sink in. “Goodbye insurance money.”

  “Aw, shit.”

  “Language, Bull. Language.” How much longer could I stall? Why wasn’t Fortune burning up the road to rescue me? “Tell me what happened to Gertie,” I demanded.

  “All you need to know is that she’s dead.”

  “You’re lying.” Please God, let him by lying. I didn’t want to live in a world without Gertie.

  When he didn’t answer, I pulled my arm back as if I were going to pitch the keys. “Last chance to work something out with me.”

  Bull didn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead he flipped his gun around and struck me on the side of my head with the butt of it so quickly that surprise and pain barely registered before everything went black.

  “STEPHANIE, WAKE UP. I want you with me.”

  The disembodied voice floated through my mind. Gertie? Was that really her? I struggled to open my eyes but the resulting jolt of pain warned me it was too soon.

  “For crying out loud, Stephanie, open your eyes.”

  It was Gertie. A strangled sob caught in my throat. “Gertie? Is that really you?”

  “Take a look and see for yourself.”

  I forced my eyes open to find Gertie’s lined face framed by a ray of bright light. Her smile was wide and her words were gentle. “You’re okay, honey, you’re safe here with me.”

  I blinked rapidly. “Is this heaven? Are we angels?”

  Gertie’s laughter rang out like Sunday church bells. “Shucks, no, sweetheart. What a hoot! No one’s ever confused me with an angel before.”

  A curious disappointment filled me. The thought of being in heaven with Gertie was a comforting one. She’d be a fun angel, in a saucy, sassy sort of way. “Where are we?” I made the mistake of attempting to lift my head but the ensuing pain discouraged me from trying any harder. I did, however, manage to keep my eyes open. “You’re not dead.”

  Gertie’s smile faded away. “No thanks to you know who.”

  I reached up and touched her cheek. “He told me you were dead.”

  She shook her head. “It’s going to take more than a broken heart to kill me.” She took my hand in hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I need you to stay awake. Just in case you have a concussion.”

  “I’ll try.” My eyes had adjusted to the light by now. The brightness was coming from a light bulb that dangled from the ceiling by a single cord. “How long have I been here?”

  “A couple of hours,” Gertie said. “I was starting to get scared you were going to slip into a coma.” She reached out and brushed the hair from my forehead. “You’re going to have a terrible bruise.”

  “Where are we?” What I’d first taken for white fluffy clouds were, in fact, grimy white cinder blocks. I hoped God would forgive my faux pas, for surely the real heaven was delightful, not dingy. “I think I can stand up. We should leave before Bull comes back.”

  Gertie held up two fingers crossed into the shape of an X. “Don’t ever say his name again in my presence. I never want to hear those four letters strung together unless the word ‘crap’ follows right after it.”

  “Agreed. But we have to get out of here.”

  Gertie shook her head. “No can do, honey. You’re stuck here with the rest of us.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’re not alone, Stephanie.” She slipped an arm around my shoulders and helped me to a sitting position. Aside from the initial rush of pain, it felt good to be upright. “This is Jean-Claude, next to him is Catheline, and the young’un is Michael.”

  I stared wordlessl
y at the frightened faces of a man, woman, and teenager. Collectively they put a human face behind the ugly words ‘human trafficking’. I wiped away the tears that slipped down my cheeks. “Oh, my God, Gertie. These poor souls.”

  “I know, honey, I know,” she comforted me.

  I took a deep shuddering breath. I had to pull myself together if I was going to be of any help getting us out of here. I did my best to smile at the Haitians across from me but they, quite understandably, didn’t respond in kind. My lord, but they must be frightened half to death.

  I turned my attention back to Gertie. “What are we going to do?”

  “Well, now, I haven’t quite figured that out,” she admitted. “This would be a good time for a one-armed Ida Belle and Fortune to come riding in to save us, huh?”

  Fortune. Of course! “I’m wearing a wire, Gertie.” The excitement and relief in my voice was palpable. “We can tell Fortune where we are.” I hurriedly unbuttoned the top three buttons of my blouse. “Look.”

  Gertie leaned forward. “Honey, there’s nothing there aside from the décolletage that your maker graced you with.” She sat back on her heels and shook her head ruefully. “The dipshit must have stripped it off of you while you were unconscious.”

  Instinctively, I crossed my arms over my chest. I hated that man, truly I did. I tore my gaze away from Gertie and looked at the three people across from me. However they’d ended up here, it was by the ill will of Bull Dozer. They were the victims, not I. But still, the thought of Bull’s fingers touching my skin made me nauseous.

  Gertie snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it. We can be angels. Avenging angels.”

  I looked around the windowless room. Calling it a room was verbal generosity in the extreme. I’d been in nicer broom closets. Essentially, the chamber we were in was nothing more than a cinderblock box with one overhead light. “How exactly will that help us escape?”

  Her smile faded. “That I haven’t figured out yet.”

  “Okay, so here’s what we know for sure. Fortune knew I was with...what’s his name...and she must have heard that he had me at gunpoint before he knocked me out. So, we know she’s looking for us.”