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Chapter Four
Rylee had made visual contact with her charge and could report that Mr. Billionaire, Jake Andrews, had arrived and was now safely on board. Another agent she’d previously worked with who’d been watching Andrews for weeks, whispered from behind her, “You lucky bitch. He’s a sweetheart and he’s all yours.”
“Like I want him,” Rylee grumbled. And her ire rose when the other woman snorted, made a rude comment and walked away.
Surveying the area for possible problems and not willing to embark until he was safely on board, she watched the man get organized with a strange looking character. Some might call the man downright ugly, even scary ugly from scars and a broken nose never set properly. But when he smiled, his face changed. What had repulsed now became surprisingly interesting and even fascinating. This man arranged the baggage on the quay to be taken aboard.
Stunned, she watched as the man of the hour approached a bag-lady near the quay and saw him hand over a roll of money. He whispered something to the poor dear that left her face wreathed in smiles.
Considering Rylee had a hard time passing anyone on the street who appeared truly desperate, she waited her turn. As soon as he walked away, she approached the old dear and gave her the cash she had ready. Having a hidden agenda – to gain knowledge of her quarry – Rylee’s gambit to get the lady talking worked. “It looks like you’ve had a lucky day.”
“Oh, dear me, yes! The nice gentleman who just came over offered me more than cash, he gave me hope. And he seemed so genuine.” Wariness faded. Rylee stared, catching her eyes on purpose and relieved when they appeared clear and drug-free. The shaky voice took on a note of glee as the woman continued, “I’m praying that my luck might be turning in a good direction. And now you’ve come over to be kind. It’s been a very special day, sweetheart. If you only knew what most of my days were like, you’d understand the importance when people treat me kindly and don’t condemn me for going through bad times.”
Rylee took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “How wonderful! I’m happy for you.” Before she could pull away, out popped a bunch of the cutest kittens from the sack the older woman held on her lap. The gorgeous bundles of fur were huggable and of course Rylee couldn’t resist. She loved kittens almost as much as she loved babies. Cuddly furry ones she could bear to pick up. Human babies she couldn’t, not without a huge steel post of regret driving into her heart.
She lifted the closest and the little monster decided he liked her hair and began working his way to nestle there. Releasing his tiny claws, she laughed and told the worried woman that her hairdo was a gift from her sister’s hairdresser, and she preferred wearing it down anyway.
“No, my dear. Your hair is beautiful like that. As soon as you began walking over to me, I thought that the men who were staring obviously liked your body, but the women shooting daggers were envious of your beautiful hairstyle. Especially that blonde with the more forward look.”
Laughing, slowly turning in the direction pointed out to her, she noticed the woman shooting daggers from eyes packed with so much makeup it was hard to imagine how long it must take her to apply it every morning. She giggled. This was the silliest thing she’d ever encountered. No other female considered her competition in her regular life. This new development tickled her funny bone before she shrugged and paid attention to the only person who mattered at the moment.
“I hope you’re right and the future holds only good things for you. Take care.”
On her way back to the baggage area, she reminded herself the same way she’d done since she was fifteen:not all people are bad and out to hurt. There are good, honest folks down on their luck. Not everyone is out to take advantage and harm the person who’s younger, frailer, less able to take care of themselves. Not everyone is like the monster who ruined your life.
For all the hundreds of times she’d repeated her spiel, she still didn’t quite fully believe the message. Dealing with the people in her line of work often showed her the scum of humanity and did nothing to reinforce this point of view.
Seeing that Andrews had entered the terminal where the ship’s personnel were waiting to help with embarkation, she headed to the building. On her way, she noticed a couple of youths loitering around the piles of suitcases spread randomly throughout the covered dock area. Fellows with carts were loading them as fast as possible; a hive of activity ensued with people rushing everywhere.
Maybe it was the way that one of the teens stood in front while the other nonchalantly lifted an expensive looking case and then strolled away as if he had every right to be carrying it. Except he didn’t stack it onto one of the ship’s carts, like the others, he was heading in the direction of the street where a car waited with the trunk open.
What the hell was he doing? It looked to her like they were bringing random cases to the car rather than loading them to be brought on board the ship.
Maybe it was the sneaky way they handled themselves, something she was trained to be aware of. Or maybe it was that their vests were similar enough to the other porters, but not exact. Whatever it was, she knew they were up to no good.
Looking around to report it to an official who would deal with the situation, she couldn’t spot anyone who appeared to be a security type.
Shit, the two had pretty well loaded the trunk and appeared to be closing down shop. She couldn’t let that happen. Again, she checked for backup but no one of authority appeared.
Finally, making up her mind, she strode up to the crook opening the car door on the passenger side. Knowing they were out of view of most of the travellers, she acted.
Before he could say a word, she kneed him in the groin. As he dropped, his mouth widening to yell from the pain, she grabbed his thumb and wrenched it backwards, her warning serious. “Shut up.”
His friend came around the car to see what the hell had happened to his accomplice and started his attack.
“Oh, no you don’t. Not unless you want me to break his finger. I’m an agent with the FBI, and I’m thinking you need to get the hell out of here before I call for help. And trust me. You come any closer, asshole, and you’ll hear your buddy here scream like a banshee. That’ll bring them running.”
She kept the pressure on the creep on his knees in front of her and saw his skinny body had been hidden under baggy jeans and an even baggier hoody. His dirty blond hair desperately in need of a cut, hung all around his acned face.
To his credit, his younger sidekick who looked similarly unkempt hesitated, obviously thinking of his friend. “DJ?”
Short cropped black hair, curled tightly, framed dark brown skin and narrowing shifty eyes, wary and looking in all directions, hesitating… wondering.
Pissed off with the whole situation, Rylee added more pressure to the thumb. The yelp emitting from the creep in her hold broke out with no hesitation. “Fuck off, Harold. She’s a cop, man. Git!”
Harold got.
