She opened her mouth to apologize, but before she could get the words out, Alex spoke.
“Fair enough. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night around seven. It’s just dinner—no expectations beyond that.”
Lacey sighed with relief, glad that he hadn’t been offended. They exchanged numbers, and she gave him her address, then watched him get into his blue pickup truck. She smiled as she climbed in her SUV, actually looking forward to not only seeing Alex again, but going on a date. She hadn’t felt this kind of excitement about seeing a guy in a long time, if ever.
But the moment Alex pulled out of the parking lot and disappeared from view, it was like a glamour was lifted from her eyes, and tension gripped her. What he’d said about this simply being a dinner date with no expectations had sounded very mature, but something told her even a single date with Alex would lead to more. Her stomach clenched. She really hoped she’d done the right thing. Her life was going so smoothly right then, and getting tangled up with a man—even one as amazing as Alex—was a complication she didn’t need.
* * *
Lacey sat in her car a few blocks down from Bensen’s junkyard, tucked behind the side of a big brick building so no one would see her. She wasn’t sure what the hell she was doing there. If she was smart, she’d be at home in bed, getting her beauty sleep so she’d look gorgeous for her date with Alex tomorrow night. Instead, she was parked outside the fanciest junkyard she’d ever seen, trying hard to peer through the darkness and steady rain as she attempted to work up the courage to climb the fence and sneak inside.
This wasn’t the small junkyard they’d rescued the dogs from the other day. This place out on Interstate 20 just past Lawson was the heart of Bensen’s car-part empire. It was as much of a do-it-yourself car-repair depot as a junkyard, but this late at night, it was closed. She’d seen Bensen and his albino security chief walking around the place about an hour ago, so she knew they were still there.
While they probably weren’t planning to run a dogfighting event on this particular property anytime soon, she’d come hoping to see something—anything—she could give Wendy to help put some heat on this guy. She would have hired a PI if she had the money, but she didn’t. If she wanted to find something, she’d have to do the digging herself.
After leaving the shelter, Lacey had gone to the vet clinic to check on the three pit bulls they’d rescued from the junkyard. They’d survived their first round of surgeries but were still fighting for their lives and definitely looking at a long, difficult, uphill battle. Every time she thought about them, she wanted to hit something or someone. Preferably Bensen and his security goon Pendergraff. According to Wendy, the brass wasn’t interested in going after a man like Bensen for dogfighting without any slam-dunk evidence. Instead, the caretaker at the junkyard would be issued a citation, and the case would be closed.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she muttered to herself.
She wasn’t leaving until she had something on Bensen.
Of course, this had seemed like a good plan on the way over. But now, as she sat there in the darkness, it didn’t seem like such a great idea. The place was dark and creepy looking, with all the abandoned cars and racks upon racks of extra parts, and the rain only made it worse. It also didn’t help that the facility looked damn near impossible to get into, with its single entry gate and ten-foot-high fence.
Lacey was ready to admit she’d made a mistake coming when a car pulled up to the closed gates of the place and honked its horn. Silence reigned for a few long moments, but the car didn’t move or sound its horn again. The man behind the wheel sat there unmoving as well, eyes fixed on the building. A minute later, Pendergraff stepped outside and walked toward the gate, his hair practically glowing phosphorescent in the darkness.
The driver got out of his car as Pendergraff opened the gate. From where she was parked, Lacey couldn’t see the newcomer’s face or hear anything they were saying, but if she had to describe the meeting in a single word, it would be suspicious. The way both men looked around like they thought someone was watching them screamed out loud and clear that they were up to no good.
After a few minutes of conversation, the man opened the back door of the car, then reached inside and dragged out a good-sized cardboard box, handing it to Pendergraff.
Lacey sat up a little straighter, staring hard through the rain and trying to see what might be in that box. Dogs for fighting were normally transported in cages, but the box was certainly big enough to hold a dog. She couldn’t tell how heavy the box was, though. Was it sturdy enough to carry a dog? The albino didn’t seem to be straining under the weight, but then again, he was a big man.
The two men talked some more, then the mysterious stranger got back in his car and drove away. Pendergraff stood there for a moment in the rain, his pale eyes surveying the area as if he were worried someone had witnessed the exchange. When the man’s eyes swept over Lacey’s hiding place, she couldn’t help but scrunch down in her seat a little—even if there was no way the albino could possibly see her. Still, she sighed with relief when Pendergraff finally walked back into the building.
Lacey was out of the car and running for the fence before she realized what she was doing. She had to get in there and see what was inside that box. If it were a fighting dog, Wendy might be able to use that knowledge as probable cause for a search warrant or something.
She was soaking wet before she reached the chain-link fence surrounding the place. It didn’t help that she was forced to follow the fence along the road, trying to find a place she’d be able to climb. Preferably a section that wasn’t rusty as hell.
The climb over the fence demonstrated that she was still as uncoordinated and unathletic as she’d been in high school. She’d been a klutz as long as she could remember and was lucky she didn’t fall off and kill herself.
When she finally dropped down on the other side of the fence, she ran through the maze that was the junkyard as fast as she could, eager to reach the main building where Pendergraff had taken the box in time to see what it contained. She made it there and saw that the big garage door on the side of the building was up, revealing a well-lit interior. She pushed her long, wet hair back and pressed close to the building, taking a quick peek inside. Pendergraff and Bensen were standing over the open cardboard box, talking.
Blinking water from her eyes, she moved a little farther to the left, trying to see what they were looking at—without them seeing her—and ended up behind a rack of mufflers that were dirty, rusty, and twisted into all kind of shapes. She was careful to stay well away from them. All she needed was to knock one down and bring Pendergraff running.
“Is this the best our supplier could do?” Bensen asked sharply.
Pendergraff nodded. “For the moment.”
Lacey stood up on tiptoes, trying to see what the two men were looking at. Was it a dog? That didn’t make sense. The animal would have been out of the box in a flash now that it was open. Unless the poor creature was drugged.
She glanced at the rack of mufflers, tempted to climb it so she could see into the box. But that was insane. She’d end up slipping on the wet metal, and they’d hear her for sure.
“It’s not good enough,” Bensen snapped. “I want more, and I want it now.”
The albino didn’t even blink. “There’s a lot of heat on us and our supplier. It might be best to back off and wait until things calm down a little.”
Bensen’s face turned red under his sickly yellow complexion. “I don’t have time to wait, and you know it. Contact our supplier and tell him that if this is the best he can give me, I’m going to feed his ass to the dogs!”
Turning, Bensen stormed off. Well, as much as a man that old and infirm could storm off. Pendergraff watched him go, then looked back at the box for a moment before walking away.
