Whiskey For Breakfast Page 6

  I took a good twenty minutes in the shower, using all the hot water, but when I got out my muscles felt relaxed and I no longer wanted to vomit. I’d decided to work at home this morning, so I pulled on a pair of soft cotton pajama pants in gray and an old Metallica concert T-shirt I’d gotten in high school. It had a giant rip in the armpit, but I couldn’t bear to get rid of it.

  I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and slathered cream on my face and then I headed into the kitchen. Only to stop short at the sight of Savage making himself at home.

  “What are you doing?” He’d managed to shower and was dressed in cutoff khaki shorts and another tight T-shirt—this one in blue. His feet were bare and he was slicing bananas and feeding them into the blender.

  “Breakfast protein smoothie. It’ll give you a boost for the day.”

  “Are there donuts in there?”

  “If it’ll make you drink it, then yes.”

  I sighed and then pulled up a bar stool, watching how natural Savage looked in the kitchen. “Do you do a lot of cooking?”

  “You bet. I’m a single guy with a crazy schedule. It’s cook or starve.” He set the smoothie in front of me, and I couldn’t bear to ask why it was green. Anything green made me a little nervous.

  “So this is going to help me pass the physical portion of the test?” I was highly doubtful.

  “This and a solid regimen of cardio and muscle training. One feeds the other. And it’ll help if you’ll lay off the donuts.”

  I took a giant sip of the smoothie and tried not to gag. It tasted like grass and bananas. Savage sucked his whole drink down in a couple of gulps and looked entirely too pleased with himself.

  “There are no donuts in here.”

  “So I lied.”

  “You wouldn’t be the first. Now if you’re done trying to kill me I’ve got some work to do.”

  “What are you working on?”

  I pushed the file for Johnny Sakko across the bar. I wasn’t ready to share any info on the Tannenbaum case yet. Savage had a way of horning in and taking over. He and Nick had that in common.

  Savage let out a low whistle. “Johnny Sakko is bad business. Every law enforcement agency in the country has been looking at him a long time. He’s slick. Who’s taking you to the restaurant? You need good backup.”

  “I can take care of myself. I don’t need any backup.” I told the lie with a straight face. On even my best day I needed backup.

  “You can’t go eat dinner alone at a place like Mambo. You’d look like a loser eating there by yourself on a Saturday night. Good thing I’m free tonight. Besides, you don’t have a car.”

  Damn. I’d forgotten about that. “It’s not a date.”

  When I’d first met Savage a couple of months ago he’d blackmailed me into going on a date with him. We’d actually been on a few outings over the last couple of months, but I never called them dates because Savage had mentioned something about taking things to a whole new level by the time we made it to number five. The whole new level had a lot to do with being naked and sliding together horizontally so I was staying far away from the date label.

  “Just business,” he said, mouth twitching. “Mambo is a place to see and be seen. Make sure you look hot.”

  Savage left and I locked the door behind him. I was a little worried about going out on a non-date with Savage. He was the Devil in disguise, a temptation I knew I shouldn’t have, but wanted anyway. And the longer I spent in his company the harder it was to resist him. It would be a mistake all around.

  I washed out the blender and put on a new pot of coffee. I figured it would take at least two cups to get rid of the grass taste in my mouth. Once the coffee finished brewing I took my laptop, coffee cup, and the Tannenbaum file to the kitchen table.

  It was disturbing how easy it was to dig up information on people, especially with some of the programs that were available to the agency. I did a full background check on Mr. Tannenbaum for my own records and then started the search for a woman named Rose in the state of Georgia who was married to a banker in the 1940s.

  I let the computer work for a while and went to make myself a sandwich. I felt a little guilty for using the white bread instead of wheat and mayo instead of mustard, but I figured the grass smoothie probably evened it all out. I added a fruit roll-up for dessert so the meal was more balanced.

  By the time I was finished with lunch the computer had completed its search for Roses. There were more than three hundred of them to go through. I was actually expecting it to be worse since Georgia’s population was somewhere over 3 million during the 1940s.

  I needed to weed out the ones who didn’t have sons and then I could narrow my search from there. The problem was this was all extremely time consuming. I had to do it name by name since there wasn’t a program that was accurate enough to do it for me.

  I looked up at the clock and saw it was past 7:30 and went into an immediate panic. I didn’t have very long to look hot. And I was finding the older I got the longer it took. I closed down the computer and dashed into the bedroom to my closet. I pulled out a red tube dress that fit like a second skin. Red looked excellent against my olive complexion.

  I didn’t have time for hot rollers and big hair so I settled on straightening it so it ran sleek down my back. It would last all of two minutes after I walked out into the humidity. I put on my makeup and shadowed my eyes dramatically. And then I slicked on red lip stain that would make my lips feel like sandpaper as it dried if I didn’t put on a coat of clear lip gloss immediately after.

  All in all, I didn’t look bad for half an hour’s work. I also couldn’t breathe in the dress, but oxygen was apparently overrated next to looking hot. I decided on nude skyscraper heels to make my legs look longer and when I went to get them from the floor of the closet I found I could only bend halfway, so I kicked them out of the closet and across the floor until I came to the little covered bench at the end of my bed. I put a hand behind me and sat down slowly, hoping the dress didn’t roll down from the top or up from the bottom. I slipped my feet into the shoes and somehow managed to hike my leg up so I could buckle the straps.

  The dress rose up to my hips and I felt a twinge in the calf that had knotted earlier that morning. If anyone had walked in at that exact moment I never would’ve gotten past the embarrassment of them seeing more of my lady bits than my gynecologist. Fortunately I had everything pulled down and back in place by the time Savage knocked on the door.

  I made sure I had the file and tucked it into my purse, and then I went to answer the door. I was ready to get the job over with so I could get back home and let my internal organs breathe, so I didn’t stop to let Savage in. I was almost positive it was his grass smoothie that was making my dress so tight. Everyone knew all that healthy stuff caused bloating.

  “Nice dress you’re almost wearing,” Savage said. “You think it’ll hold? I don’t want to have to kill anyone tonight.”

  “It’s a precarious situation, but I’m afraid to take it off and put on something else at this point. I don’t want to rupture anything.”

  I walked over to Savage’s black Expedition and I could feel his gaze like a laser beam against my backside. I turned back to look at him—his mouth was slightly open and his eyes were almost black, the lids hooded. I arched a brow and he shook his head a couple of times as if he were coming out of a trance.

  “Do you need help getting into the truck?”

  I sighed and looked at the side step on the Expedition. “Just watch where you put your hands.”

  “Oh, I’m watching.” He opened the door and then picked me up around the waist like I was a bag of flour and then tossed me into the seat. I kind of teetered back and forth like a Weeble since I couldn’t bend all that well, and managed to prop myself up in a slanted position against the bench seat.

  “We’re supposed to pick the Porsche up from Kate’s office. She said it’ll be parked right in front and you’ll just need to run in and grab the keys
from Lucy. The camera and everything will already be set up inside and the company credit card will be in the center console to pay for dinner.”

  “10-4, Kemo Sabe.”

  The ride was short and silent, mostly because I wanted to conserve my breath, and Savage was able to park directly behind the silver Porsche. It was a beautiful car, but I had no idea how I was going to squat that low to get inside.

  Savage, gentleman that he was, came around and helped me out, and then I propped myself up against the Expedition while he went in for the keys. Kate and Lucy often worked late hours, well into the night, and when Savage came back out with the keys they followed behind him and got ready to lock up. Only I wasn’t expecting Nick to come out with them.

  I was a mess. I didn’t officially have a man in my life, so it was completely unfair that I had the kind of reaction I did to a man I couldn’t even lay claim to. Nick’s gaze raked me over from head to toe, and his eyes turned to blue chips of ice.

  “Busy weekend,” he said.

  “A girl’s got to pay the rent.”

  Kate burst into laughter and the tension eased a little, but I wanted to remind Nick he had no say in my life anymore, and the only reason I was going with him to his brother’s wedding was because he was paying me. But I wasn’t going to lie, maybe it was a little nice to see the jealousy.

  “Jesus, Addison,” Kate said. “How are you supposed to sit in that dress?”

  “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

  “It’s like paint. How in the hell did you get underwear on under that?”

  I heard Nick and Savage both suck in a breath and I felt heat rush to my face. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing I have police connections if the seams happen to unravel. I can probably get out of a public indecency charge. And please don’t tell my mother I’m not wearing underwear. She’ll kill me.”

  “If you walked out of your house like that then she probably already knows. Mother’s intuition.”

  Kate was right. My mother had radar when it came to me doing inappropriate things.

  “The camera is already in place in the car and it’s live. Hopefully they take the bait. Vice is waiting to step in once the car leaves the garage and any deals are made. Hopefully they’ll be able to get someone to roll on Johnny.”

  Savage opened the passenger door of the Porsche and raised his brows at me to get in.

  “No time like the present.”

  A collective breath was held as I lowered myself into the seat, and I managed to do it without displaying the results of my last bikini wax. Savage slammed the door closed and went to the other side, and I caught one last glimpse of Nick staring back at me, the thoughts unreadable on his face.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Savage said as he weaved in and out of traffic.

  Savannah nightlife had picked up over the past several years, especially in the riverfront area. Bars and clubs popped up overnight within walking distance from hotels and apartment buildings, and the cops mostly did a good job of keeping the drunks from drowning in the Savannah River.

  My cell phone rang and I saw it was my mother calling. Someone in my neighborhood was a snitch, but I had no idea who it was. The first time Nick had spent the night and his truck had been parked in my driveway all night I’d had so many calls from her I was surprised the phone didn’t go up in smoke.

  “Are you going to get that?”

  “I’m thinking about it.” And then I sighed and answered the phone. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Addison, I wanted to invite you and your man friend to lunch Sunday after church. You could even bring him to services if you’d like. He can sit in the family pew.”

  I turned to look at Savage and saw he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. My mother had a voice like a freight train.

  “I wish I could, but I’ve got work.”

  “On the Lord’s Day? This is why the world is going down the toilet. No one takes time to rest anymore.”

  I’d heard this speech before so I was mostly on autopilot. We were getting close to the restaurant and I could tell she had at least another half hour of conversation in her.

  “I’m going to have to call you back, Mom. I’m working tonight.”

  “Who is the man you’re working with? Do you think he’s good husband material?”

  “I’m working with Agent Savage. And no. He most certainly is not.”

  “Is he gay?”

  Savage cracked out a laugh and I slunk lower in my seat. “I have no idea. Maybe.” Savage stopped laughing at that and I knew I was probably going to regret saying it.

  “Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean you shouldn’t wear underwear. It’s not nice to tease a man. You remember what happened with your Uncle George. He was as gay as the day was long and then all of a sudden he fell in love with that nice Anastasia Dupris from Jersey, and now they’re living happily ever after.”

  “That’s because Anastasia Dupris is a drag queen.”

  There was a pause for several seconds on the other end of the line and I knew my mom was processing that information. “I never would have guessed. How do you think she gets her skin so smooth?”

  “I have no idea. Maybe you should ask her.”

  “You’re getting me off topic, dear. What I’m saying is that you don’t want men to think you’re too easy by advertising your goods everywhere. Men like a little suspense when they’re wooing a lady. Maybe this is why you’re not married yet.”

  “I’m sure that’s what it is,” I said dryly. “I’ve got to let you go. We’re just pulling up to the restaurant.”

  “Have a good time, dear.”

  I disconnected and immediately felt the pressure headache right behind my eyes. It was a miracle I managed to live eighteen years under the same roof with my mother without my head exploding. I loved her dearly, but a little Phyllis Holmes went a long way.

  “Your mother reminds me a lot of my own,” Savage said, stopping the car in front of the valet stand.

  “Oh, good. I thought it was just me.”

  Savage got out and passed off the keys to a white male in his early twenties. He was blonde and blue-eyed. Frat boy was my first thought, and I was probably right. Those were the kinds of people Johnny Sakko would be looking to hire. Someone who looked respectable and probably came from a good family. But I’d taught kids like the one taking our keys, and they were always the ones I kept an extra eye on during test time.

  Savage came around and opened the door for me before the frat boy could reach it, and he blocked the door so I could get out with a modicum of respectability. Savage was a good guy all in all. It was too bad I didn’t love him.

  By law, the restaurants and businesses had to fit in architecturally with the rest of downtown Savannah, so Mambo was in a two-story crumbling brick building facing the waterfront. It had black wrought iron railing around porches on both floors for outdoor seating, but that was pretty much where Johnny had stopped with the authentic Savannah architecture.

  The inside was pure Miami. Including the pulsing salsa music that was already changing the beat of my heart so it thumped in time with the bass. Red lights flashed from the ceiling and bodies were crushed together on the dance floor. The entire lower floor was a giant bar and club.

  Savage managed to give our names to the hostess without yelling, and we followed her tight leather skirt up a spiral staircase to the top floor where the restaurant was located. All of the waitresses were in leather mini skirts and bustier tops and the waiters were in leather pants without shirts. Clearly Johnny Sakko was as crazy as everyone said. No one wore leather in Savannah.

  Physical fitness seemed a requirement to work at Mambo. There were no spare tires hanging around anyone’s middles. Of course, it was a lot easier not to have a spare tire when you were eighteen and all your body parts were still in the correct location.

  Once we reached the top floor the music lessened so we could only hear th
e dull thud of the bass through the floorboards. Savage’s hand was warm on my back as he led me to a round corner booth that looked out over the waterfront.

  “Too bad this isn’t a date,” Savage said. “This would be a pretty nice table.”

  “I’ll have some wine, please.” I smiled brightly at the sommelier. “A bottle will be fine.”

  Savage’s lips twitched but he nodded that he’d have wine as well. Now that we were here and I wasn’t thinking about what was happening with the car, it kind of did seem like a date. And then I saw my saving grace bouncing toward us in a tight blue sweater that showed an enormous amount of cleavage and a black wrap skirt that showed way more thigh than I was comfortable with with every step.

  I heard Savage’s groan, but my smile kept getting bigger. I didn’t know what I’d done to have such luck, but if I had the money I’d send Rosemarie Valentine an edible fruit basket in thanks.

  “What a surprise,” Rosemarie said, her face pink like a cherub.

  I could tell Rosemarie had already had a glass or two of wine. Her eyes were glazed over and her lipstick was smeared at the corner of her mouth.

  “I had no idea you had a date here tonight,” she went on. “I had to make reservations six months ago.”

  “Agent Savage has connections,” I lied smoothly.

  Rosemarie’s eyes got big and round in her face just like they always did when she stared at Savage for too long. “I bet he does,” she whispered, nodding her head.

  “This is my date, Leroy.” Leroy was about five-foot-three and looked a lot like Danny DeVito. So much like him that I had to stare for a good thirty seconds before I saw the large mole with the little hairs sticking out of it just below his ear. He wore brown slacks and a cream colored Hawaiian shirt with hula girls on the pocket. A wiry bush of chest hair stuck out just above the top button. His gaze hadn’t strayed very far from Rosemarie’s cleavage since he’d been standing there.