“Which way was the car going when you saw it, honey?”
Marla leaned forward and pointed straight ahead. “Simi Valley.”
“Before we take Marla home, let’s take a run down that way. We might get lucky and spot the car.”
Dylan’s van was already facing the direction he wanted him to go, so he eased back onto the road. They drove through the hilly, mostly undeveloped land between Simi and Spring Grove. “I doubt we’ll find them, but it’s worth a try. If we don’t see anything by the time we hit the east end of Simi, we’ll turn around and take you home.”
“You don’t need to take me home. I’m fine. I’d rather help you look.”
Dwayne leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Whatever you say, boss.” He admired her spunk. She was strong and smart. How did he get so lucky?
She chuckled. “I’m not your boss anymore, remember? I already paid you off so I could be rid of you.”
Dylan chimed in, “You may not be his boss, but I doubt you’re rid of him.” They’d reached a fork in the quiet road. “Which way do you want me to go?”
“There’s nothing up there, go left. It’s more likely they’re staying in one of those fleabags at the edge of town.” Not sure what to do if he found them, Dwayne took out his wallet, found his lawyer’s card and tapped the number on his cell.
Marla nodded at his phone. “Who are you calling?”
“My lawyer. I want him to know what happened.” The man was with a client, so he left his number. The receptionist told him it would probably be at the end of the day before he’d call back because he’d be in court all afternoon.
“Dylan! There’s the car! Over there. See?” Marla bounced in the seat and flapped her hand at the pot-holed parking lot of the Nighty Nite Motel. “I’m sure that’s the car.”
“I’ll park by the office.”
Dwayne’s heart rate increased. He squeezed Marla’s knee. “We’ll go inside. You stay in the van.”
“But…”
“Dammit, just do as I say for once, please!” He didn’t miss the offended expression on her face, but he didn’t care either. He yanked open the door and stepped out.
He and his brother entered the seedy, deserted office. Dylan nodded to a sign that said Ring Bell for Assistance. He slammed his hand on it a couple of times. They waited.
Finally a potbellied man in his fifties pushed through the swinging door. “Can I help ya?”
Dwayne stepped close to the counter and gave the man a friendly smile. “Yes, we’re friends of the Henrys. Luke and Francine. I don’t remember the number of the unit they’re in.”
“Lemme have a look.” Dwayne caught a whiff of the man’s body odor when he leaned forward and tapped his computer. He squinted at the fingerprinted screen. “They’re in 14A, first floor. Down that-a-way.”
Dwayne slapped the counter. “Thank you.”
They stepped outside. Dylan stuck his hands in his pockets. “Now what?”
“I’m going down there and throw the fear of God into that bastard, Luke. You can come with me or wait in the van with Marla. This isn’t your fight.”
“Like hell it isn’t. Let’s go.”
Dwayne pounded on the chipped orange painted door. Luke opened it but left the chain in place.
“Well, lookie who’s here, Frannie. Your ex-husband, the gimpy war hero.”
Dwayne put his shoulder to the door, slammed into it, and the chain snapped, hitting Luke on the cheekbone. He shoved the door open, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him back against the wall.
Francine screamed, “That’s assault! That’s assault! I’m calling 911!”
Dylan stepped inside and grabbed the phone from her hand. “I’d keep my mouth shut if I were you, Francine.” He hung it up and faced Dwayne. “Take it easy, brother. We’re just here to impart information, remember?”
His big brother’s words seeped through Dwayne’s blinding rage. He eased up on Luke’s throat but didn’t let go. “Here’s some ‘information’ for you, asshole,” he growled through gritted teeth. “If you ever approach me, my family, or any of my employees or my friends again, I will personally tear you apart piece by piece. Do you understand this ‘information,’ Henry? Because if you don’t, I’ll gladly repeat it.”
For emphasis, he tightened his grip. Luke Henry’s murky black eyes bulged, and he tore at his hands, struggling to breathe. The more he fought back, the tighter Dwayne gripped.
Dwayne felt Dylan’s hand on his shoulder. “I think he got the message. Let’s go.”
Francine pointed to the damage on the door. “You’re gonna pay for that! I’m still gonna call the cops on your ass.”
He whirled around and glared at the harridan wildly waving her arms and wondered what he possibly could have ever been attracted to. “Go right ahead. I’ll wait till they get here.”
Luke bent over, grasping his throat and gagging. Francine ran to him. “Get out! Get out!”
Dylan gripped his arm. “Let’s go. Now.”
When they exited the room, he headed back in the direction of the office. Dylan kept pace with him. “What are you doing?”
“I broke his door. I’m going to pay for it.” He pushed inside and slammed his hand on the bell.
The man came in. “Need somethin’ else?” He took a step back when he got a good look at Dwayne’s face.
“No, sorry, I broke the security chain on your door.” He took out his wallet and tossed a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “This should cover it.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Marla and Skipper sat on Dwayne’s sofa while he showered. She took her phone from her purse and called Rosie Wyland.
“Wow, Marla. Dylan told me what happened. Are you okay?”
“I’m still a little wobbly, but I have to tell you—this morning was the first time anybody ever threw the F-bomb in my face. It’s not like I never heard it before, but it was pretty shocking. Don’t mention it. Dwayne already has murder in his eye.”
The memory of the black look on his face when he came out of
