Girl Undercover 1, 2 & 3: Three-Part Bundle Page 4

  “No, no, that’s okay,” I replied quickly. I smiled at her. “I just thought he looked like someone I used to know is all. But the more I look at him, the more I see that it’s not the same person.”

  One of the Hispanic kitchen workers behind the long lunch counter called out our names, letting us know our food was ready, saving me from having to discuss this further. If I was going to learn this guy’s name, I preferred doing so when Emma wasn’t around. After that comment about him reminding her about Annika, I’d better keep her at arm’s length. Random or not, it had been weird. But I appreciated that she’d confirmed for me a trainer could still find out about members and visitors to the club by talking to the front desk people. As soon as our lunch was over, I’d head over there and ask them about him.

  I got to my feet. “Let me get it.” I motioned for Emma to stay seated.

  Hurrying over to the cashier where all finished courses were brought, I grabbed the tray with my stir fry and Emma’s turkey wrap. On my way back to her, I nearly bumped into one of the other trainers I used to be friendly with—Burt, a good-looking black male who always wore the most outlandishly colored contacts, causing him to appear alien. He wore the Nikkei trainer’s uniform, which consisted of a black shirt with the words “Nikkei Trainer” and plain black pants or tights. I hadn’t seen him in all the time I had been here, so I had assumed he was no longer working at the club despite being very attractive, intelligent and hard-working. It was great to see that he was still here. He must have been away.

  Our eyes met and he smiled at me. Nothing in his expression suggested that he recognized me, thankfully. It was too bad I had to act like I didn’t know him as I would have loved to catch up with him, see how life had treated him; now we’d have to start over.

  After I returned with our food, Emma and I continued to talk, mostly about how life in New Mexico was, which I totally winged. I had barely taken a look at the city I was supposedly from, Rio Rancho. It was just another medium-sized city in our country, nothing special after all.

  Then Emma had to go because she had a client and I was alone.

  Great, now I can go up to the front desk and ask about the guy, I thought. The people working there could easily see him from where they were—well, if they turned around. My eyes went to the blond man’s table, but, much to my disappointment, he was gone. All that was left of him was the big newspaper he’d been reading. The New York Times, it looked like from where I sat.

  I searched the spacious cafeteria area hoping to spot him somewhere, but he was nowhere to be seen.

  Damn. This was not good. I needed to find out who he was. I pondered whether to go up to the front desk and ask the receptionists about him even though there was no one to point out for them. I chewed on my lower lip. What would I tell them? I didn’t know the people working there and they didn’t know me either since I had just started at the club. Asking them to try to dig up the name of a thirty-something dude whose only identifying traits were that he was sandy blond and had a faint beard would just sound odd. Even if they agreed, with all the people entering the club at noon, it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack for the receptionists.

  I sighed. I should just forget about it. It wasn’t much I could do but be extra careful from now on. Maybe that look hadn’t meant as much as I had initially thought. Maybe the guy had just eaten something bad, which had made him look so grim right as he laid eyes on me. Or maybe I’d just reminded him of someone he didn’t like and he hadn’t been able to hide this fact. I didn’t think we’d met before. He had a fairly distinct look about him, so I’d surely have remembered him.

  Also, this guy hadn’t looked like a man involved in the criminal underworld, the kind Nick had been so deeply immersed in. Nothing about him had said Mexican cartel member.

  A shiver of extreme discomfort went through me as an image of Nick’s slashed back suddenly materialized in my head. I closed my eyes for a moment.

  “Rats always get what they deserve.”

  There had been so much blood… I could only hope he was already dead before the sadists had carved that sentence directly into his body. Sadly, knowing how cruel Cardoza and his cohorts were, he’d probably been alive. It was more likely that they had taken their time marking his body and enjoyed every moment of it. The cloth stuffed into my husband’s mouth could have been there to muffle the screams that had surely come out of Nick’s mouth as they had applied those other cuts and punctures to his body. To his face and eyes.

  Ice cold and feeling like I was about to throw up the stir fry I had just finished, I opened my eyes and forced the horrible images out of my mind. Then I rubbed my arms to feel better.

  I took my plate, silverware and emptied water bottle and went to the area where the trash was kept in the cafeteria. I threw the bottle and placed the plate and utensils in the designated spots. I decided to take a walk in Central Park, get some fresh air before it was time for me to do my afternoon floor shift. It was sunny and rather warm out for an afternoon in late March, so I should enjoy it having been inside most of the day.

  I didn’t run into anyone else I knew as I kept walking to the elevators that would take me down to the lobby and out onto the street. When I pressed the button to get the elevator, I thought about how Brady believed I was in Hungary now. I was lucky to have become very good friends with George, our IT guy at the station as well as a masterful hacker. He was the other reason I’d been able to pull off my stunt. Not only had George ensured it showed in American Airlines’ records that I’d boarded my connecting flight to Hungary in New York when I hadn’t, but he’d also taken care of my email situation. Each time I sent an email, my IP address showed that I was in Europe, not in the states still. Not that I thought Brady would ever check on me, but in case he did, he would have no reason to believe I actually wasn’t where I’d claimed.

  Having deceived him to his face, I didn’t think Brady would have my back the way he had when he’d pushed for me to get the undercover job being a rookie cop, assuring everyone I had the goods. He was big on ethics and I’d promised him I’d go straight to Hungary. He would be so disappointed to realize I’d lied to him. My career in law enforcement would be over.

  I supposed I could live with not ever getting to be a cop again. What I couldn’t live with was not having at least tried to find Nick’s killer.

  Chapter 4

  There was a light breeze when I got outside the health club that smelled faintly of blooming trees mixed with exhaust and something else I couldn’t define. Manhattan had always had its distinct smell, one of the things I’d missed about it when I left. It had taken me a while to get used to the hectic city, but when I had, I was addicted and it took me several weeks to stop wishing I was still there after returning to the West Coast.

  New York City, while often rough and scary and unfriendly, definitely had its charm.

  I inhaled deeply as I began walking toward Central Park. Despite that I had rented an apartment close to the gym, I had yet to visit the park, my favorite part of the city. At least now I would get to enjoy it as often as I wanted, working and living so nearby, I mused bittersweetly.

  I checked my smartphone and discovered that I had less time available to take a walk than I had counted on. Only forty-five minutes. I’d better make the most of them.

  I picked up my pace and quickly reached the wide entrance to the park and walked inside. I couldn’t help but smile as I took in its splendor. Many of the trees that competed for space along the asphalted walkways were already green and luscious and flowers, bright and colorful, sprouted in several places. Squirrels ran across the bright green grass and up tree trunks, dogs played with each other and fetched balls their owners threw. All kinds of people milled around the famous landmark: joggers and bikers, mothers with baby carriages, couples holding hands, tourists snapping photos, professionals taking a break from the office to steal a bit of fresh air.

  I still spotted the man from the club
cafeteria almost instantly.

  He was walking along the large, hemmed in grass field known as the Sheep Meadow where plenty of people were sitting or lying down, many directly on the grass and wearing little, enjoying the sunny, pleasant weather. Looking straight ahead, he was talking to someone on a cell phone. He was only about fifteen yards away from me and, as far as I could tell, he hadn’t noticed me yet. He made a turn as he reached the edge of the narrow Sheep Meadow and now his back was toward me.

  Having no specific destination in mind, I decided that I might as well use my break to see what he was up to. Maybe I had written him off a little too quickly. It seemed too much of a coincidence that I’d run into him again and especially so soon. Maybe fate was trying to tell me something, push me in the right direction by having me spot him so easily in the crowds of people.

  Wishing that I had access to a baseball hat that I could wear to hide my face, I did the second best—I found my sunglasses in my purse. Someone had sat on them by mistake at work, breaking the frames, which was why I had chosen not to wear them despite that the sun shone brightly from a cloud free sky. Putting them on anyway, I also lowered my head to make myself as inconspicuous as I could while setting after the man. He kept walking along Sheep Meadow toward the eastside of Manhattan at a brisk pace, weaving through others who were sauntering along like they didn’t have a care in the world.

  My object walked the way someone did when they had a purpose in mind.

  I used the same pace as he did, maintaining about fifteen yards between us. It helped that there were several people ahead of me that I could quickly hide behind in case he turned around all of a sudden.

  By the time we had passed the football-sized lawn and were heading toward the eastside exit of the very long but very narrow park, there were suddenly a lot fewer people for me to hide behind. The majority of them were suddenly heading either north or south as they reached the wide asphalted passage at the other side of Sheep Meadow. I kept virtual fingers crossed that Mystery Man didn’t sense I was following him. He had stopped talking on the phone and put it in his pant pocket, walking even faster now. I was a fast walker myself, but this one had me half running to keep up.

  He got to the low stonewall that surrounded the entire park in which there were exits here and there. The traffic light that controlled Fifth Avenue, a road with multiple lanes that edged Central Park’s eastside, gave pedestrians the right of way at the moment. The blond man crossed it quickly. I was running to catch the light before it turned red and didn’t make it, angry drivers honking as I snuck in front of their cars. I raised an apologetic hand, mouthing “sorry” to as many as I could. As I kept weaving through all the cars, I watched how the man disappeared behind the corner of the building closest to the next cross street.

  Damn, I thought as I finally stepped onto the curb on the other side of the avenue. He’d better not disappear on me again. I dashed up to the edge of the building and stopped, peering around the corner. I relaxed when I spotted him walking down the street. Walking slower now, I set after him. Where was he going?

  I scurried after him faster than before so he wouldn’t cross Madison Avenue that was quickly creeping up ahead of him and leave me stuck on the other side because the street light had turned red and cars began to move. The distance between us shortened drastically to a paltry seven, eight yards.

  But when he reached the end of the block, instead of crossing Madison Avenue he stopped and raised a hand, scanning the street.

  He must be looking for a cab. I stopped dead in my tracks. If he turned around right now, he would no doubt see me—and see me clearly—as no one was between us. Barring an old couple that had come out of a store and just passed me, the street was completely empty.

  I held my breath as I thought about what to do. Stay in place and hope he kept looking ahead? There was a restaurant to my left that I could run into and peek out from, wait until he got a cab. Then I could get one of my own and follow his. I’d come up with a plausible excuse if necessary to explain why I was late for my shift. The way my gut was screaming, telling me I needed to know more about this man, was just too loud to ignore.

  Deciding the chance he’d turn around was even smaller now, I remained in the street.

  It felt like forever as the two of us stood there on the quiet sidewalk, he waving indignantly after yellow cabs and me staring at him. I was beginning to expect that he would give up and take the bus instead he was having such a hard time. But then one suddenly took a sharp turn and slid up beside him.

  My body tensed as I got ready to find my own cab and follow him—hopefully I’d hail one much quicker than he had. Not that it looked promising. As I kept searching for one, I watched out of the corner of my eye how he opened the door to his cab and prepared to get in. My heart pounding, I waved frenetically in the direction of each cab I spotted, even the taken ones. Come on, I hissed under my breath as they swished by, all of them ignoring me. His car door was fully open now. But instead of climbing in, he turned around and gazed straight at me.

  I couldn’t stop the gasp that pushed through my lips as his eyes landed on me. I glanced around in a vain search for somewhere to hide even though he had clearly already discovered me. Even so, my fight or flight instinct was well and alive, urging me to make a decision.

  Before I could dash into the restaurant, his face changed. The sullenness faded and there was the tiniest of smiles on his lips. I couldn’t determine whether it was sarcastic or kind because his lips soon shrank back to the straight line they had been in prior. Then he swiveled around and climbed into the cab. It took off with a shriek shortly after he had closed the door.

  I kept staring after the yellow car as it quickly headed northbound on Madison Avenue. When did he notice that I was after him? Had he known all along? That seemed most likely. When had he seen me? Before I’d spotted him? And what had he tried to tell me with that little grin? It had been so quick I wasn’t sure I’d actually seen it. I was completely dumbfounded.

  I watched how his cab got smaller and smaller as it kept driving up Madison Avenue, zigzagging smoothly between all the other cars crowding the lanes. I opted not to try to follow him in the end. There were no available cabs around for me go in; everywhere I looked, the occupied lights were on. He would be long gone before I found one.

  I sighed. I might as well head back to Nikkei for my shift. While there, I’d sweet talk the front desk staff and see if I could find out his name that way. If he was a member, he’d be in the computer system and if not, he’d be on the sign-in list all guests had to sign to gain access to the club. As long as he used his real ID and the receptionists worked with me, I’d figure out who he was. It couldn’t be that many names on that list and not all of them would be male.

  I jogged back toward the club. My shift started soon, so I needed to hurry.

  I punched in my employee number right on time, still catching my breath. I would take a round covering every floor of the club and then head down to the front desk and talk to the receptionists, ask them to dig up the mystery man for me. I would have to use all my charm to win them over, convince them to help me with my investigation. Too bad they were all girls.

  I climbed the stairs to get to the fifth floor. On my way I bumped into Ron, an investment banker who used to hang with Cardoza and his men when I was undercover. For a while I had suspected that he might be involved in Cardoza’s organization, but as I’d gotten to know him better, I changed my mind. This guy had no idea what thugs he often partied with. To Ron, Cardoza was just another wealthy real estate developer.

  Did I jump to conclusion? I asked myself as he approached me in the staircase now. What with Nick’s murder, I could no longer be sure despite that the FBI seemed to have gotten all of Cardoza’s underlings and cohorts, especially the ones who’d hung out at Nikkei. Until I had figured out if he’d been involved after all, I was better off avoiding him. I tried my best to just walk past him. Unfortunately, he
stopped me.

  “Hey, the TV on one of the treadmills on the fifth floor isn’t working,” he said, scowling. “Can you fix that for me?”

  “Um, I could take a look at it,” I said in a lighter voice than the one I’d used when I had been Annika, even though the fact that I spoke with an American, not Swedish accent should be enough. “What’s wrong with it?”