I Hear Voices Read online

  “The hell you don’t.” He grabbed for me.

  I shoved the plate of cookies in his face. He wanted them. He got ‘em.

  Sloan growled like a rabid pit bull and lunged at me.

  I ducked under his outstretched arms, slammed the cart into him and ran for my life.

  “You little bitch. You’re after the gold, too!”

  “Ya think?” One glance at the chocolate smeared predator on my ass and I went to plan B.

  Yanking the fire alarm, I dropped a smoke bomb and hauled ass down the stairs.

  I was wheezing like a stranded guppy when I finally made it to the parking lot. Twelve flights of stairs in less than five minutes had to be a record.

  Sirens wailing, several fire trucks and cop cars squealed to a stop in the front drive. A large crowd of panicked people poured out of the front doors.

  I’d say my diversion was a success.

  My calf muscles protesting loudly, I hobbled over to my gold Sonata and climbed in.

  The door to the staircase flew open and the enraged Tomb Raider barreled out.

  I waved all friendly like at him and started the engine.

  He mouthed, I will find you.

  Flipping him the bird, I mouthed back, not a chance.

  His fists clenched, Sloan sprinted towards me.

  Wow! That sucker could really run.

  I gunned it and roared out of the parking lot.

  Ha! I showed him. A smug look at the rear view

  mirror had me groaning. He was writing my license plate number down.

  Grabbing my cell phone, I dialed —. The line rang and rang and rang. To my horror an automated voice answered, “You have reached —. All the lines are busy. If you have a life threatening emergency, please stay on the line.”

  Good God, — had an answering machine.

  Were the budget cuts that bad?

  My cell phone snapped, crackled and went dead. Crap. I glanced over at the passenger seat and sure enough, there sat Granny Annabel still decked out like a gypsy.

  “You’re messin’ up our plan!”

  “Aldo was arrested.”

  My stomach clenched in horror. “That’s not possible.”

  “Derek recognized Aldo at the museum. He called his detective friend and told him that your uncle was the famous El Gato. They put… What is the word?”

  I rubbed my suddenly aching head. “A tail?”

  “Si, la Polizia was waiting for him when he left the penthouse.”

  “That skunk is so going down.”

  “Derek is a clever man, bambina. He will make you a good husband.”

  “Husband!? Are you nuts! I’m not his type.”

  “I do not like your tone.”

  “He’s a predator just like Uncle Dante.”

  “Derek knows how to protect his woman.”

  “I am not nor will I ever be his woman,” I hissed through gritted teeth.

  Granny Annabel gave me the evil eye. “You doubt me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then do as you wish but fate will not be denied.” She vanished.

  Fate will not be denied? What a bunch of hooey.

  My cell phone sprang to life with a wonky ring.

  “Hello?”

  A sexy, deep timbered voice asked, “Zelda Dragos?”

  The hair on the back of my neck literally stood up. “Derek Sloan, how did you get my number?”

  He laughed a not very nice kinda laugh. “I have resources.”

  “Like your detective friend?”

  “Very good. Maybe you do have some psychic abilities.”

  The slimy, conniving Tomb Raider had investigated me? “What do you want?”

  “A meeting.”

  I laughed, genuinely amused. “Not happening.”

  There was a steely edge to his voice when he promised, “I will find you.”

  “Does your detective friend know you’re planning on robbing the museum tonight?”

  His breath hissed out. “Don’t get in my way, sweetheart. You won’t like the consequences.”

  “Neither will you.” I disconnected and hit speed dial. As soon as my favorite cousin, Sebastian, answered I quickly filled him in on the situation.

  “Don’t worry I’ll have Aldo out in an hour, luv.”

  Utter relief filled me. Sebastian could hack any computer and was an expert at making criminal records permanently vanish. His release documents were a work of art. “Thanks, I owe you one. What’s with the English accent?”

  “I’m impersonating John Seymour, the Duke of Somerset.”

  “Hasn’t he been dead for like two hundred years?”

  “My mark doesn’t know that.”

  Horns honked and brakes squealed. I shot a worried look at my rear view mirror. A half a block back a silver Hummer weaved in and out of traffic.

  I could sense an almost palpable fury emanating from Sloan. His predatory instincts had taken over and he wouldn’t stop until he had caught his prey. Me. Guess he wasn’t used to women running from him.

  I swerved around a Lexus and shot down a side street.

  The Hummer followed, barely missing a city bus. Betcha he was still pissed about the cookies. I would be.

  “I’ll call you back, Sebastian, gotta ditch a moron with a death wish.”

  “You need help? I can be there in eight hours.”

  Sebastian had a protective streak a mile wide and always treated me like his little sister. “Nah, I can handle him. Just get Uncle Aldo out of the country.”

  “Be careful, luv.”

  “I always am. Ciao.” I disconnected.

  I took a hard right, sped down an alley and squealed into a parking lot of a large shopping mall. Hiding between two oversized trucks, I opened my psychic eye. Well hell. Sloan’s Blackberry had an application used by the CIA to track cell phones. Wonder if I could borrow it?

  An image flashed across my mind and a wicked laugh broke from me. My favorite client, Deborah Kline, was at the mall and she owed me a big favor.

  I had tracked down her ex-husband and used my special effects computer to scare the living bejeesus out of him. Within two days the slimy bastard had sent her the three hundred thousand dollars he owed in back child support. Digging her business card out of my purse, I called her and asked for her help.

  “I would be delighted,” Deborah replied.

  “He’s in that silver Hummer heading towards you.”

  “Don’t worry I’ll take care of your stalker ex-boyfriend.”

  “You’re the best.” Okay, I might have stretched the truth a tiny bit but Sloan had gotten Uncle Aldo arrested.

  Deborah’s brand spanking new white Cadillac suddenly shot out from a parking space. She missed the front bumper of the Hummer by a scant inch and crawled slowly down the aisle.

  The Tomb Raider honked impatiently at her.

  Deborah drove even slower.

  Sloan laid on the horn and yelled, “Get the hell out of the way, you old bat.”

  The Cadillac came to a complete stop. Deborah stepped out of her car and walked up to the Hummer.

  Sloan leaned out the driver’s window. “What the fuck is your problem, Granny?”

  Now he had gone and done it. Granny was in disguise and had a bit of temper.

  Deborah yanked a can of mace out of her purse and let Sloan have it right in the kisser.

  The Tomb Raider yowled and rubbed frantically at his face.

  She smiled up at him. “You’ve got a nasty mouth on you, son.” She put the mace back in her purse and calmly walked back to her car.

  “That’s tellin’ him,” I giggled. Deborah might look sweet and helpless but she’d been a top homicide detective until she retired and became a bounty hunter. She always got her man.

  I pulled out of my parking space, gave Deborah a thumbs up, and headed for the exit.

  A loudly cursing Sloan poured a bottle of water over his face. I honked as I drove away and yelled, “Way to go, numb nuts.”


  The Tomb Raider yelled back, “Run little girl.

  Run as far and fast as you can. The gold is mine.”

  “Finders, keepers,” I shouted. Okay, riling him up even more probably wasn’t a good idea.

  I pulled up at a stop sign and eyed the landscaping truck next to me. Perfect. They were heading to Nogales. Sometimes being psychic rocked. I rolled the window down and tossed my cell phone in their trailer.

  With his burning, watering eyes, it would be difficult for Sloan to even drive and I bet it would take him about an hour to realize he was following the wrong car. By the time he made it back to Phoenix, the medallion would be mine.

  Granny’s disembodied voice hissed, “How can you treat your man that way?”

  “Sloan’s not my man and it was easy.”

  “The fates have chosen him for you. They will not be denied.”

  “Omigod! You are so full of it. Sloan dates women who would make that model Twiggy look fat. I’m not his type.”

  “Men like large-breasted women.”

  “Okay, I’ll agree with that, but my little voice says Sloan prefers bimbos without an original thought in their heads.”

  With a blast of arctic air, Granny Annabel appeared in the back seat. “He is built like a stallion and he knows how to fuck.”

  My granny was using the F word!?

  “You need an experienced man, one who knows how to pleasure a woman.”

  The image of his cock popped into my mind.

  Damn, that sucker was big! No. No. No. She wouldn’t get to me that easily. “He’s got a big dick, so what? I want a man who will respect me, treat me as an equal and be my best friend.”

  “Friends? Bah! You need passion and fire.”

  “Like you had with Grandpa Frederic? He broke your heart and took every penny you had. So, I think I’ll pass.”

  Granny grabbed her chest dramatically and cried, “You hateful child, I raised you better than that.”

  “Uncle Aldo raised me,” I retorted.

  The temperature in the car suddenly became sub-arctic and ice formed on the windshield.

  “La famiglia is more important than gold,”

  Granny Annabel snapped.

  A snow flurries erupted in my car.

  Crap! I could barely see out the windshield.

  “I’m sorry, okay? Can we lose the blizzard?”

  “I want your promise that you will allow Derek to court you.”

  Like that was going to happen. In a desperate kamikaze move, I cut across two lanes of traffic.

  Ignoring the squealing tires, blaring horns and profane curses, I pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store and skidded to a stop.

  My teeth chattering, I cried, “You win! If he asks me out on a date, I’ll go.” The chances of that happening were zero.

  Someone knocked on the driver’s window.

  I rolled it down and peered up at the big, brawny motorcycle cop. “I’m having a bit of a problem with my air-conditioner, sir.”

  The cop lowered his sunglasses and surveyed the snow coating my seats in utter amazement.

  “I’ll say. You should get that looked at.”

  “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

  With a disbelieving shake of his head, the officer climbed back on his motorcycle and rode off.

  “Derek will give you many fine babies.”

  A slightly hysterical laugh broke from me.

  “Whoopdee-do, I’m all atwitter in anticipation.”

  “You will be,” Granny Annabel answered and vanished.

  The sooner I got the Tomb Raider out of my life, the happier I would be.

  Chapter Two

  Since the apartment manager had stuck the eviction notice on my door a week ago, I had been moving my stuff to Uncle Aldo’s safe house. A good thief always had one. The quaint redbrick house in downtown historic Glendale was rent free and had a freezer full of food.

  Moving in with a friend was out of the question.

  I never made any. After Uncle Dante killed my one and only boyfriend, it was just too dangerous. I hated freeloading off my uncle, but it was better than living on the street or going back to a life of crime. Besides, he’d get his cut of the gold and finally be able to buy that villa on the French Riviera he has always wanted.

  I had less than a day to tweak my Montezuma’s revenge holographic program and find a proper disguise. I knew that rat bastard had told his detective friend about me and my photo would soon be plastered all over their most wanted list.

  You’d think the Phoenix Police Department would show a little gratitude. I had found that missing three year old girl for them and just in the nick of time, too. The sicko pervert had been five minutes away from killing her.

  Of course, the fact that her father was Dixon Deeter the head of the notorious Dirty Dozen biker

  gang hadn’t won me any brownie points. Or when out of misplaced gratitude Dixon had made me an honorary member of the pack complete with a swell skull tattoo on my butt. The suspicious jerks followed me around for weeks. Hey, I was legit.

  The minute I walked through the door, the phone rang. My stomach knotted in alarm. It couldn’t be Sloan, could it? I hesitantly picked it up. “Hello?”

  My uncle’s worried voice asked, “Va bene, Zelda?”

  “I’m okay. How are you doing?”

  “Bene. Bene. Sebastian arranged my release and I’m on my way to the airport. You cannot go after the gold alone. It is too dangerous. I will send Sebastian or Fabian to assist you.”

  Fabian, my prissy cousin, had lived with us for a year while his parents were in a Russian prison.

  That man couldn’t walk past a mirror without admiring himself. And dig for treasure? It would muss his suit. “No! I don’t need his help. I can do this and Derek Sloan won’t be a problem much longer.”

  “He is a dangerous man, bella.”

  “If I can handle Uncle Dante, I can handle Sloan.”

  “You have always been a stubborn child.”

  “I need to find the gold, Uncle Aldo. I can’t… I won’t go back to Seattle and Aunt Sophie’s house of horrors.”

  He let out a long sigh. “Si, evil resides there.

  Be careful.”

  “I always am.”

  My uncle chided, “Always?”

  Sometimes I did have the tendency to be a bit of a risk taker but it always worked out in the end.

  Okay, there were a few times where Uncle Aldo had to ride to the rescue, but I had learned from my mistakes. “I promise I will not take any unnecessary risks.”

  “If I do not hear from you every day, I will send Fabian.”

  “I’ll call you. Please, I’m begging you, do not send Fabian.”

  There was amusement in my uncle’s voice when he conceded, “As you wish, bella. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, Uncle. Be safe.” I disconnected before he could change his mind. The last thing I needed was that prissy prima donna mucking things up.

  I stared at my image in the full length mirror and grinned. Even Uncle Aldo wouldn’t recognize me. My short spiky black hair was covered by a long blonde wig. The brown contacts disguised my violet eyes and the low cut black velvet dress enhanced my girls, while camouflaging my not so perfect curves. I looked hot. Picking up my silver evening bag, I sauntered out the front door, knowing that gold was mine.

  The Phoenix Art Museum was a mad house. Who knew there were so many limos in Phoenix? The dizzying flashes of the photographer’s cameras mingled with the twinkling fairy lights draped over the trees. Ancient Aztec stone statues stood like sentinels at the entrance.

  I paused in the shadows and watched the rich and not so famous stroll into the museum and hand the suited guards their invitations. Good thing I was a skilled pickpocket. All I needed was the right mark.

  A silver-haired woman stumbled out of her limo, snapped something at her driver and staggered up the walkway. Kinda early to be that drunk, and what kind of idiot wears
a white fur coat in Phoenix when it’s already hitting degrees? A pretentious society matron with more money than sense, that’s who. I had found my mark.

  I stepped out of the shadows and bumped into her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

  She hissed like a cat and tottered unsteadily on her six inch heels “How dare you touch me?”

  Her breath stank of whiskey. “Do you need help inside, ma’am?”

  “No! Get away from me.”

  Yikes. Her face didn’t move. She kinda reminded me of Joan Rivers with the whole eyebrows in the middle of her forehead thing.

  She pointed a dagger-like nail at me. “Get away from me. Now!”

  “Yes, ma’am.” I hurried inside and handed the guard my invitation.

  Pausing at a display of snake frescos, I watched the society bitch wobble up to the guards. She opened her purse and surprise! Her invitation had mysteriously vanished.

  The slender female guard politely informed her, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but without an invitation, I can’t allow you in.”

  Spewing a litany of foul curses, the woman hauled off and smacked the poor girl upside the head with her purse. The other guard, a big, burly dude, stepped up and got the same treatment.

  I looked around and grinned. Everyone in the museum was watching the society bitch’s screaming hissy fit in open-mouthed horror. The photographers were having a field day, snapping dozens of shots of her meltdown. Her feral cat imitation would be plastered all over the morning newspapers and hey who knows, she might even make the evening news, too.

  A carefully orchestrated distraction is a good thief’s best tool. After quickly planting my holographic projectors, sound discs and smoke bombs; I turned and watched the show.

  A bean pole of a police officer helped the guards wrestle the society bitch to the ground.

  Ouch! For such a skinny thing, she had a kick like a mule. The pissed-off cop clapped the cuffs on.

  “You’re under arrest for assault and disturbing the peace.”

  The society bitch hissed at him, “Do you know who I am?”

  The cop dragged her to her feet and answered, “Yes, ma’am. You’re the same woman we arrested for drunk and disorderly at Tarbells last week.”

  “I’m going to sue you, the museum and the city for defamation and wrongful arrest.”

  “Do what you have to, ma’am.”