Taking the exit to my house, I tapped my steering wheel and thought about the situation. I couldn’t very well refuse to see the mayor. I could demand that his attorney, and others, attend the meeting, but that would make me look weak. I needed to schedule it, but on my terms.
“Call Il Porto. Explain the situation to Abrianna and see if you can get us a table for lunch on one of the days the mayor has available.”
Il Porto was an upscale Italian restaurant owned by an honest-to-god mafia princess named Abrianna De Lucca. Three years ago her son, Matteo, was set up to take the fall for a robbery one of his associates actually committed. I’d represented Matteo De Lucca, and when he was found innocent and acquitted of all charges, I became like family to the De Luccas. There is no bond like an Italian mother and her son, after all.
I knew I’d be safe in any establishment Abrianna owned.
“I’ll let you know what she says,” Jayson promised before hanging up.
Arriving at home, I fobbed open the garage door and rolled my Jag inside. Two years ago, I’d purchased a three bedroom, two and a half bath, seventeen hundred square foot townhouse in the Rainier Vista neighborhood. It wasn’t too far from my office in the International District, and it had a garage, making it worth the more than seven hundred grand I forked out for it. Seattle real estate prices were beyond outrageous, but I loved the city and had no intention of moving.
I hurried upstairs, changed into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed my gym bag, and headed back out, planning to stop off at the gym after Grandma’s house.
Although I liked to think I was brave and independent, only an idiot wouldn’t be anxious about taking on the son of the mayor of Seattle. This wasn’t my first case against one of the city’s less savory characters, though, so I knew the drill. Over the past few years I’d developed numerous practices to keep myself from becoming a victim. I visited the gym regularly, focusing on both strength (so I could disable an attacker) and cardio (so after they were down I could run like hell). I had a Concealed Carry Permit and was an active member of the West Seattle Sportsman’s Club, which meant I knew how to use the dainty little Ruger LC9 I kept tucked in my purse. For situations not requiring lethal force, I also carried pepper spray and a taser.
But, as any decent self-defense instructor will tell you, the key to staying alive isn’t weapons, physical strength, or speed. It’s paying attention to your surroundings. Over the years, I’d gotten really good at noticing when something was out of place, which was how I knew I had a tail.
I spotted the blue motorcycle, parked three doors down, the minute I’d backed out of my garage. A few of my neighbors rode bikes, but none of the motorized variety. Keeping an eye on the mysterious biker in my rearview mirror, I drove out of my neighborhood and headed for the freeway. He hung two to three cars back for a few miles. Growing increasingly wary, I changed freeways. Traffic bunched up and I lost sight of him. Just when I thought I was in the clear, he showed back up, once again three cars back.
Frustrated, I took the next exit, pulled into a busy shopping center parking lot, parked and dug through the papers in my briefcase.
The blue motorcycle drove past me and turned into the next lot.
Keeping one eye on him, I found the paper Link had given me and dialed his number. He picked up on the second ring.
“Link here.”
I didn’t even bother introducing myself. “Do you have someone following me?” I snapped.
“You know, babe, you don’t need an excuse to call me. You can ring my cell anytime you want.”
Could he be anymore cocky? This wasn’t a time for jokes, it was a time for honesty. My heart was racing as I kept my purse full of goodies in sight, just in case the biker decided to come for me. “He’s driving a blue Harley. Is he one of yours or not?”
Link must have heard the panic in my voice, because he got serious really quick. “Yes. I didn’t mean to scare you. I told you I’d be putting a man on you.”
“And I told you not to.”
“Yeah, well how’d that work out for you?”
I was going to have to kill Link. Yes, he was hot, but he was far too cocky to live. “Call him off,” I growled.
“Sorry, sweetheart, not happening.”
Sweetheart? I don’t know what pissed me off more, the nonchalant way he kept giving me pet names or the fact each one made me want to curl up in his lap and purr.
“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I’m a grown ass woman and the minute I feel like my life is in danger, I will hire my own bodyguard. I have a service I’ve used in the past and am very happy with it.”
“Are they ex-military?” Link asked.
Taken aback, I replied, “I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t matter. I told you I’d put a man on you, and that’s what I did. I bet Mayor Kinlan already knows you’ve taken this case and I wouldn’t put it past him to screw with you.”
It would probably be wise to tell Link that I would be meeting with the mayor soon, but because of that comment, I didn’t.
“I understand and appreciate what you’re saying, Link,” I said in the voice I used to deal with irrational, crazy clients. “But again, I can and do take care of myself, and right now I have somewhere private I need to go.”
“Where?”
