Michael Prescott - Deadly Pursuit

Leaning forward, resting his elbow on the long mahogany bar, he gave the woman a look at his white smile.

You dont mean that? he asked quietly.

But I do. I envy you, living in L.A. Thats a real city. You can do things.

Phoenix isnt a real city?

Well, sure it is, but She giggled. You know.

He liked her laugh. He liked everything about her. She was exactly his type. Blue eyes, smooth skin lightly dusted with freckles, blond hair. About twenty-seven, hed guess; eight years younger than himself. The tight blue dress showed a lot of leg and cleavage and, when she bent toward him, offered a glimpse of her white breasts.

Shed been sitting alone at the bar when he alighted beside her an hour ago. Hed bought her three cocktails so far. She was drinking vodka, straight, and though she held her liquor surprisingly well, the drinks were having an unmistakable effect.

Personally, he said, I like your town. He sipped the slush of gin and ice in the bottom of his glass. Nice and clean. Feels safe.

If you lived here, youd know different.

Its not safe?

Not hardly. Her sudden intensity brought out a Southern dialect only partly scrubbed away by years spent far from home. Why, my girlfriend Erin, she was out walking two-three weeks ago, just after dark, and these Mexicans-not that Ive got anything against them in general

What did they do to her?

Stole her purse. Yanked it right off her arm and started running.

He grunted disapproval.

Nobodys safe anymore. She tipped her glass to her mouth, and he watched the lazy swallowing motion of her throat. Here-or anywhere.

His gaze drifted away from her to take in the rest of the bar. The place was crowded, doing good business on a Friday night, even at this post-midnight hour. Two overworked waitresses, bearing trays laden with fresh drinks and dirty glasses, maneuvered through the crush of people in the dim ambient light. Cigarette smoke soured the air, diffused by the ceiling fans and the humming air conditioner.

He returned his eyes to her face. Sorry to hear about your friend. Even so, Phoenix is considerably safer than L.A.

Safer maybe-but a lot more boring.

Im sure you know ways to have a good time.

A grin flickered at the corner of her mouth. I might.

She studied him. He endured her frank inspection without flinching. He knew he made a good impression, sitting relaxed at the bar in his conservative brown suit and open-collared shirt.

He pictured himself as she was seeing him: the sharp planes of his face, the crisp white line of a vaguely wolfish smile, hazel eyes that squinted coolly in a way that was both promise and warning.

These were assets he knew well, assets hed exploited throughout his life-ever since high school, when in his senior year he had been voted Prom King, Class Stud, and Most Likely to Succeed. He knew the rare secret of appealing to both sexes. Men found him instantly likable and unthreatening; women found him sexy.

You planning to be in town long? she asked, still watching him, appraising his face as he had appraised hers.

Only for the weekend.

Business?

Pleasure.

She hooted. Honey, nobody comes to Phoenix in August for fun.

I do.

Its hottern Hades in the daytime. Doesnt cool down much at night, either.

I like my nights hot.

She looked down at her hands, thinking about that. Slowly her gaze traveled up the length of her glass, then higher, and met his eyes. Sometimes so do I.

He let her words hang in the space between them, gathering weight.

You live around here? he asked, his voice just loud enough to be heard above the background clamor.

Mile away.

Alone?

My roommates out of town for the weekend, getting banged by her boyfriend in Santa Fe.

Doesnt seem fair she should have all the luck.

Maybe she wont.

He touched her hand, let his index finger slide slowly over her knuckles, then gently caressed her thin and delicate wrist. Youre a very beautiful lady.

The compliment, and his slow stroking, lifted a blush to her cheeks. You L.A. guys

What about us?

You know.

He traced faint whitish lines in the smooth skin of her forearm, watched them fade like contrails in a cloudless sky. Were operators? Hustlers? Is that it?

She wouldnt look at him. Sure.

Youre right. He teased the sleeve of her blouse. We have to be. The women there-theyre jaded. Tough. Not friendly. Not trusting.

She answered with a soundless laugh.

What? he asked.

Like I should trust you?

Why not?

I dont even know your name.

Its Mike. Mike Allen. How about you?

Veronica Tyler. Folks call me Ronni.

Thats cute. Youre cute.

Actually so are you, Mike.

You dont want me to be lonely tonight, in a strange city all by myself, do you, Ronni?

If I walked away, you wouldnt be lonely for long. Youd charm some other sweet young thing.

I dont want some other sweet young thing.

She took his hand. Thats good, mister. Cause youre getting me.

He paid for the drinks, adding a standard tip. He let Ronni Tyler lead him out of the bar.

They emerged into the balmy night. Downtown Phoenix rose on their left, bright and stark, the tall buildings aglow. Traffic hissed past on Second Street. Somewhere a car radio howled a Garth Brooks tune.

Howd you get here? Ronni asked.

Delta shuttle from LAX.

She blinked at the answer until it made sense to her. No, silly, I mean, howd you get to the bar?

Took a cab. My motels in Scottsdale.

My place is closer.

Youve got a car?

Heck, yes. Im a regular career woman, you know? Unsteadily she guided him down the street. Eight to four, Monday through Friday, First Interstate Bank. She pronounced it Innersate. Im an assistant manager.

Thats good. Real good.

Oh, yeah, fantastic. Whatre you, some hotshot movie exec or something?

Nothing like that. Im in sales.

Sales? She made a breathy sound, not quite a hiccup. Shouldve figured.

They reached a blue Toyota Paseo parked at the curb. She let him in on the passenger side, then climbed behind the wheel.

Sure youre all right to drive? he asked.

Im okay. Its only a mile from here, like I said.

She started the engine and eased into traffic. He noted with some relief that she had used her directional signal. Apparently she really was sober enough.

Youre not from around here originally, he observed, just to make conversation.

No. From South Carolina. Little town called Bennett.

Nice?

If it was, I guess I wouldnt be in Phoenix, would I?

Point taken.

She turned onto Jefferson Street. No, honestly, its not so bad. Nice country. But theres no work to find, and no young people. No life, you know? Thats what Im always looking for. Life.

The car hummed a tuneless air, strip malls and billboards swept past, downtown receded.

After exactly a mile the Paseo hooked left onto a residential street lined with apartment complexes and elm trees. Ronni Tyler swung the Toyota into the parking lot of a five-story building identified by a lighted sign as Saguaro Terraces.

Well, she said, here we are.

Nice place.

She eased into her assigned space in a crowded carport and shut off the engine. Yeah, Im pretty happy with it. Everythings first-class, you know? Pool, spa, clubhouse, the works. Works came out badly slurred. Even got a security guard in the lobby.

Security guard? He on duty now?

Always is. I mean, not the same guy all the time

She was fumbling with the latch on the drivers-side door. He stopped her. Wait.

What for?

I want to kiss you.

Right this second?

Ive held off long enough.