back into Lydia’s room, and maybe follow from a safe distance, if Marty hadn’t chosen that precise moment to call his phone. Connell hadn’t lost all common sense - he’d had the forethought to put the cell on silent before he’d entered the apartment - but when it vibrated against his leg at such an inopportune moment, his involuntary intake of breath could be heard almost as loudly as his escalating heartbeat.
Okay, there was only one way to deal with a situation like this - bluff. Connell stepped into the open doorway, squared himself up and confronted the man.
“You want to tell me what you’re doing here?” he demanded and was disappointed when the man stared back at him impassively. Okay, so still zilch in the intimidation department. He began to understand how men of a certain age felt when their equipment failed at crucial moments. He tried again. “Who are you? What you doing’ messing around under the floor?”
The man merely cocked his head and looked Connell up and down, slowly - too slowly. Connell got the uncomfortable sense of being scrutinized and found lacking. The ma n blinked once when he was done and returned his gaze to Connell’s face. His dark eyes added to the illusion of otherworldliness and Connell half-expected additional lizard-type lenses to sweep the orbs clean.
Despite the real urge to take a step back, Connell shook his hackles out of hiding instead and took a step forward. The man reciprocated with lips that twitched with amusement and a reproving shake of his head. With surprising speed for such an ungainly individual, he shot out his hand and thrust a taser, close range, into Connell’s chest. Connell went down for the second time that day and the intruder calmly stepped over him and left the room.
* * *
“Tommy, you gotta get yourself an answering service or learn to pick up your cell. I’ve been calling for the last half hour. Where you been, buddy?”
Connell rearranged himself with his back p ropped against the wall and rubbed his chest and shoulder painfully. With friends like Marty he didn’t need enemies.
“Oh, just lying low, you know how it is. What you got for me?” He checked his watch; he was definitely running late now and he still wasn’t done. Lizzie was not going to be happy.
“What do you know about Frankie Vasin?”
Huh? “He owns the lease on my apartment building, along with a few others in slightly better locations,” replied Connell.
He flexed his arm and hand. Damn tasers should be banned, if it was a taser. It felt more like a beefed-up cattle prod, and considering he was nowhere near the weight of a steer, it had certainly knocked out his stuffing. Who the heck carries a taser anyway? Maybe old ladies might have a need to carry a little zappy thing in their purse along with a can of mace, but not weirdo lizard house breakers. Just what was the story there? The guy had been looking for something specific, and found it by all accounts. Connell was confused and admitted, reluctantly, that these days it didn’t take much.
“Yeah, but what do you know about him?” pressed Marty.
Connell dragged himself back and tried to concentrate. His skin burned and he pulled his shirt away from it.
“Buddy , you still there?”
“Sure ... I’m thinking,” muttered Connell.
He knew Frankie and his buddies had lost a boatload of money when the markets were down. He also knew Frankie was an arrogant prick who had tried to play games when he’d tried to sell back his apartment to Frankie’s company. Connell had wanted out of the city in a hurry two years ago and Frankie thought that gave him a license to steal. Connell had declined his pathetic offer and leased it out instead. No way was some jacked-up developer going to steal from him. But that was the extent of his acquaintance. He didn’t know the guy any more than he knew the Mayor or the Chief of Police.
“Frankie’s mom is from some pizza ‘n’ pasta country,” he
Okay, there was only one way to deal with a situation like this - bluff. Connell stepped into the open doorway, squared himself up and confronted the man.
“You want to tell me what you’re doing here?” he demanded and was disappointed when the man stared back at him impassively. Okay, so still zilch in the intimidation department. He began to understand how men of a certain age felt when their equipment failed at crucial moments. He tried again. “Who are you? What you doing’ messing around under the floor?”
The man merely cocked his head and looked Connell up and down, slowly - too slowly. Connell got the uncomfortable sense of being scrutinized and found lacking. The ma n blinked once when he was done and returned his gaze to Connell’s face. His dark eyes added to the illusion of otherworldliness and Connell half-expected additional lizard-type lenses to sweep the orbs clean.
Despite the real urge to take a step back, Connell shook his hackles out of hiding instead and took a step forward. The man reciprocated with lips that twitched with amusement and a reproving shake of his head. With surprising speed for such an ungainly individual, he shot out his hand and thrust a taser, close range, into Connell’s chest. Connell went down for the second time that day and the intruder calmly stepped over him and left the room.
* * *
“Tommy, you gotta get yourself an answering service or learn to pick up your cell. I’ve been calling for the last half hour. Where you been, buddy?”
Connell rearranged himself with his back p ropped against the wall and rubbed his chest and shoulder painfully. With friends like Marty he didn’t need enemies.
“Oh, just lying low, you know how it is. What you got for me?” He checked his watch; he was definitely running late now and he still wasn’t done. Lizzie was not going to be happy.
“What do you know about Frankie Vasin?”
Huh? “He owns the lease on my apartment building, along with a few others in slightly better locations,” replied Connell.
He flexed his arm and hand. Damn tasers should be banned, if it was a taser. It felt more like a beefed-up cattle prod, and considering he was nowhere near the weight of a steer, it had certainly knocked out his stuffing. Who the heck carries a taser anyway? Maybe old ladies might have a need to carry a little zappy thing in their purse along with a can of mace, but not weirdo lizard house breakers. Just what was the story there? The guy had been looking for something specific, and found it by all accounts. Connell was confused and admitted, reluctantly, that these days it didn’t take much.
“Yeah, but what do you know about him?” pressed Marty.
Connell dragged himself back and tried to concentrate. His skin burned and he pulled his shirt away from it.
“Buddy , you still there?”
“Sure ... I’m thinking,” muttered Connell.
He knew Frankie and his buddies had lost a boatload of money when the markets were down. He also knew Frankie was an arrogant prick who had tried to play games when he’d tried to sell back his apartment to Frankie’s company. Connell had wanted out of the city in a hurry two years ago and Frankie thought that gave him a license to steal. Connell had declined his pathetic offer and leased it out instead. No way was some jacked-up developer going to steal from him. But that was the extent of his acquaintance. He didn’t know the guy any more than he knew the Mayor or the Chief of Police.
“Frankie’s mom is from some pizza ‘n’ pasta country,” he
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