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said.  Never heard that one. She jumped up, suddenly hyper.  Those bolillos are sounding
good, after all. You want one? She pulled a plastic bag from the freezer.
"No, I'm good, thanks. So, how's the job?"
"Sucks, but it's gotta be better than doing dirty work for vampires, right?"
"Okay. Cyn stood, hurt and insulted.  Clearly I've made a mistake here. You go back to
sleep, maybe wake up sweeter, and I'll get my information somewhere else."
She was halfway to the front door when Benita called her back.  Look, I'm sorry, Cyn.
Come back. This assignment's gone on too long and it's getting to me, that's all. Come back.
Please."
Cyn turned around and studied her doubtfully. Then she shrugged.  All right. Let's start
over. So, what's up, Benita?"
"They've got me working the Russians is what. It's not my territory; it's not what I'm used
to. I don't know these people, I don't know their culture, their customs, and it's stringing me
out like crazy."
"Why you? I mean, you're a great cop, but... Cyn gestured.  You don't exactly blend.
Benita was a pretty Latina with dark eyes and curly black hair that she kept painfully short.
Benita blew out an exasperated breath.  Tell me about it. Unfortunately, one of the targets
likes his meat nicely browned, so here I am."
"No accounting for taste, huh?"
She laughed.  That's what I keep telling him. Her face sobered before she turned to pour
the coffee. She walked over and handed Cyn one of two mugs, gesturing at the sugar on the
bar behind Cyn. Opening the refrigerator, she poured half and half right from the carton into
her own cup. Cynthia shook her head at the raised carton and spooned some sugar into her
coffee while Benita put the cream away and joined her on the bar stools.
"So, where'd you get Kolinsky? Benita asked.
"From a dying man."
"Who was he and how'd he die?"
"I didn't know him, and as for how ... too young and unexpectedly."
"How do you know his information's any good?"
"Let's say this guy was motivated to tell the truth."
"Fuck."
"Yeah."
"Bad luck about that hit last night, Benita said too casually, taking a sip of her coffee.
 Might be bad luck for me, too."
"Wait, he wasn't your guy, was he?"
"What? Oh. No. No, my guy's a lot higher than that. She lifted her gaze, taking inventory
of Cyn's battered face.  You look like you've hit some bad luck, too."
"What, this? Cyn waved away her friend's concern with one hand.  A stake out gone bad.
Guy cheating on his wife didn't want his picture taken."
"Imagine that."
"Yeah. Listen, Benita, you be careful with this Russian. Eckhoff tells me those are some
bad people."
"Yeah. She looked away, then back.  You know, I think it might be too late for careful.
Look, she continued, suddenly full of enthusiasm.  If you really want to know what's going on
with these guys, why don't you come with me tonight? There's a big to-do, some fucking Rus-
sian thing, I don't know. But they're all going to be there. It's a crown performance. Should be
a good party if nothing else. She reached out and tugged the ends of Cynthia's stylishly
ragged hair over the cut on her forehead.  They'll love you, girl. A little makeup and you'll be
fine as always."
Cynthia thought it over. Something odd was going on. Benita was acting strangely, full of
secrets one minute, then all happy and  Hey come to the party the next. On the other hand, if
Cyn could get inside even for a night, chat up a few of the bad guys, flirt a little. She didn't
think much about her own looks, but that didn't mean she wasn't aware of them. Men gener-
ally liked her, at least until they found out she had a brain.
One thing she knew for sure after seeing last night's operation, Kolinsky wasn't the end
game of Alexandra's kidnapping. She'd bet money his involvement ended with blackmailing
Judkins and inserting the unlamented Barry onto the estate. He probably had nothing at all to
do with the actual kidnapping. Of course, what she should do, instead of haring off on her own
investigation, was wait until after dark, and call Raphael to find out if they'd questioned Kolin-
sky yet, and what, if anything, he'd told them. But then, Cyn had never been one to do what
she should.
"Okay, she agreed.  Sounds good. She glanced down at what she was wearing.  I have
to get some different clothes."
Benita ran her gaze over Cyn's worn denims and leather jacket.  Yeah, you do. These
guys are really big on dressing up. Wear something sexy and short, something that shows off
those long, skinny legs of yours."
"My legs are not skinny, you midget. It was an old, familiar argument between them.
"You keep telling yourself that, chica. Benita checked the time.  Look, the party's closer to
your house than mine, so why don't you wait while I change, then we can go directly from
your place."
"Mmm, maybe not. I'm kind of avoiding my place today. You go ahead and get ready, I'll
go shopping. She stood, her muscles reminding her of how sore she was, which in turn re-
minded her she'd never gotten that hot bath. She sighed.  Listen, uh, before I go, can I grab a
quick shower? She stripped off her jacket without thinking.  I mean I don't want to try on
clothes all "
Benita gasped, her eyes widening as she took in the full extent of Cyn's blood and bruises.
 You got boyfriend trouble, girl?"
"Yeah, Cyn mumbled.  Something like that. How about that shower?"
Benita gave her a doubtful look, shaking her head in disapproval.  Be my guest, chica.
Clean towels in the hallway closet."
"Thanks."
"And don't use all the hot water!"
* * * *
Three hours later, Benita was rolling through the stations on Cyn's satellite radio, mutter-
ing about finding something with a little  salsa. Cyn was only half paying attention, more wor-
ried about the dress she was wearing as it crawled up her thighs, not to mention the four inch
heels that looked great with the dress, but were far higher than what she was used to. The
challenge had been finding a dress that was sufficiently sexy and still concealed the worst of
her bruises from the night before. Not to mention that while she was willing to be a party girl in
the interest of finding out more about Kolinsky, or more to point, whoever was backing him,
she had no intention of being somebody's easy pickup. She wasn't that dedicated.
She'd settled on a form fitting black knit, with a high neck, long sleeves and a hemline sev-
eral inches above her knee. She'd had to buy makeup as well, spending a fortune on stuff
she'd never wear again, and having the girl at the counter slather it on for her. The cosmetics
girl had been vastly sympathetic about Cyn's rapidly healing injuries, working hard to cover
them up, while dropping hints about some crisis line for battered women. All in all, it had been
a pretty humiliating trip to the mall and Cyn had been more than happy to leave it behind, pick
up Benita and turn the car west once again.
The party was at a house deep in Decker Canyon, well off Pacific Coast Highway and
close to the northern county border. As the crow flies, it wasn't that far from her condo or, for
that matter, Raphael's estate. But for a mere human, confined to established roadways, it was
a good ten miles of twisting canyon along a circuitous route that surely backtracked on itself
more than once. Normally, she would have taken the 10 freeway west from Benita's house all [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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