Lawyer Trap

27





DAY FIVE–SEPTEMBER 9

FRIDAY MORNING


Morning at the cabin broke with a chilly dawn, hinting of colder days ahead. Draven removed every last stitch of his lovely captive’s clothing, rolled her unconscious body around so he could study her tattoos, and then made sure she was securely chained to the bed. She had a killer physique, he had to admit, in fact sweet enough to make his cock stand up. But he didn’t screw her. Instead, he covered her with a blanket, gave her a shot that would keep her out until at least noon, and then checked the equipment.

All was in order.

Then he got in the van and headed down the twisty mountain roads until the flatlands appeared. He worked his way into the Denver skyline and ended up at a Starbucks near Washington Park.

The designated place.

He drank coffee and read the Westword until his phone rang.

It was the person he only knew by voice.

Swofford.

“Is everything set?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Come out the front door and walk west,” Swofford said.

Draven stood up, threw the coffee away and pushed through the front door. The day had warmed up considerably. He walked west, holding the phone to his ear.

“I’m walking west,” he said.

“I know.”

He almost looked around, to find the face behind the mystery voice, but knew better.

“Okay, stop. There’s a black trash bag under the blue car to your right.”

He bent down and looked.

There it was.

He pulled it out and walked back towards Starbucks.

“I’ll let the client know it’s a go,” Swofford said. “He’ll be there about noon, so don’t go back.”

“Noon?”

“He had to move it up.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Swofford said. “Make yourself scarce until I call you. That’ll be sometime tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding,” Draven said. “He’s going to take that long?”

“Apparently so,” Swofford said. “Is that a problem?”

Draven felt the weight of the bag in his hand.

Inside was $75,000 in cash.

His cut.

“No, that’s cool,” he said. “I’ve got about four thousand in expenses, by the way. I gave the woman two grand to get her to come to Denver. That was easier than abducting her. Then I got the cabin rental, a van rental, and a bunch of miscellaneous stuff.”

“Not a problem,” Swofford said. “We have another one in the works, by the way. He has someone specific in mind.”

Draven smiled.

A specific target meant more money than a generic one.

$100,000 instead of $75,000.

“Who?”

“I don’t know yet.”

With the rest of the day to kill, Draven stopped in a small Mexican mom-and-pop restaurant, sat in a red-vinyl booth with his back against the wall where he could see everyone who came and went, and ate a smothered burrito.

The waitress was cute.

So he hung around and drank three or four cups of coffee after she took his plate.

“How’d you get that scar?” she asked.

“Eating an ice cream cone,” he said. “It went horribly wrong.”

She laughed and said, “Remind me to stay away from ice cream cones.”

“Lot’s of people don’t appreciate how dangerous they are,” he said. “Especially those hard sugar cones.”

He paid in cash and tipped her a twenty.

Out in the parking lot he heard someone shout behind him.

It was her, running to him, with her white waitress apron flopping up and down.

“You forgot this,” she said, handing him a piece of paper.

He looked at it as she turned and ran back.

It had a phone number on it, under her name—Janessa.

He waved to her and shoved it in his pants pocket. Then he drove over to Avis, traded the van for a 4-door Nissan sedan, and headed south on I-25. Two hours later, he arrived in Pueblo.

He swung past the dead biker’s house just to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t. Then he drove past Mia Avila’s tattoo shop. There was no activity there either. Everything was exactly as it had been yesterday.

The Closed sign still hung in the door.

The lights were off.

From there he headed over to the hotel, drank a swig of Jack in the parking lot, and walked up the stairs two at a time to surprise Gretchen. Music came from inside the room. The drapes were drawn but he found a slit big enough to peek in, just to be sure she wasn’t on her knees giving some a*shole a blowjob.

Shit!

Gretchen was sitting on the bed.

Two cops stood in front of her, talking intently, a male and a female.

Draven quietly walked down the stars, jumped in the car, and got the hell out of there.

After the cops left, he parked a block down the road and doubled back on foot. A peek through the curtains showed Gretchen lying face-down on the bed.

Alone.

He found the door unlocked and walked in.

She ran to him and he held her tight. “The cops were here,” she said.

“I know,” Draven said. “What’d they want?”

“They partly wanted to see if I had anything to do with the a*shole biker’s death,” she said. “It’s no secret around town, about what they did to me—and what I’d do back, if I ever got the chance. But I played dumb and said I was here turning tricks all night. They believed me, I could tell.”

Draven felt the stress melt.

“Good job.”

“But they also came to warn me,” she said. “Apparently the word’s spreading around town that the bikers think I had something to do with it. There’s talk that they’re going to interrogate me.”

“Not on my watch,” Draven said.

She hugged him tight.

“Thank God for you,” she said. “The cops said I’d probably be better off getting out of town until the whole thing blew over.”

Draven agreed.

And kissed her to prove it.

“Pack your suitcase,” he said. “I’m taking you to Denver.”

She studied his eyes.

“You mean it?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “I have money. You won’t need to work.”

She pulled a suitcase out from under the bed.

Then hesitated.

“The cops asked about you,” she said. “Not you by name, but about a tall Indian with a scar on his face.”

Draven pulled the curtain an inch to the side and peered out.

No one was there that shouldn’t be.

“The bikers figure I did it,” he said. “Their buzz has already been picked up by the cops. It’s time to get out of this screwed-up town once and for all.”

She agreed.

“And I’m not ever coming back,” she added. “Even if you dump me.”

He smiled.

“That’s not going to happen.”