Page 6 of Bringing Chelsea Home

“Nice hat,” a guttural voice commented.

She pivoted and saw the drapes fluttering against the French doors as a man wearing ski goggles moved to block them. From where she stood, it was a good ten feet back to the door leading to the hall.

“This time you won’t get away so easily,” the man chuckled, taking out a long, wicked-looking knife from inside his heavy leather jacket. “All those folks in there, singing and drinking that whiskey will never hear you scream.”

He lunged, holding up the knife, but Elaine jumped to the side, grateful for the gown’s fuller skirt. “Help!’ she shouted, jerking to one side. “Someone please, help!”

“No one to hear you,” the man mocked. “By the time they find your carved-up body, it will be too late. I’m gonna take that hat with me. My girlfriend will love it.”

He stepped in, clutching the knife in his upheld fist, but then instinct and years of training kicked in and Elaine’s hands took on a life of their own. She jerked the hat pin from its place, stepped in a fencer’s lunge and raked the pin across his left cheek, just below his goggles. The blood spatter hit Elaine’s eyes, soaking her dress, but she kept her arm stretched out, prepared to strike again. “Help!” she screamed again. “Someone help!”

“Bitch!” The man’s scream answered hers. He ripped off his goggles and dropped them and his knife to slap a hand over the gaping wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, and he stumbled to yank open the courtyard door. A motorcycle started up just as running feet in the corridor announced help had arrived.

The office door pushed in, and Griffin Tyler bolted into the room, followed by Mother Winnifred. Her breathing coming in short bursts, Elaine staggered to the chair behind the nun’s desk and sat, still clutching the hat pin.

“Merciful heavens!” Mother Winnifred declared as Lieutenant Tyler charged into the courtyard. Taking a handkerchief from her habit’s pocket she gently wiped Elaine’s face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Elaine gasped as Tyler returned, his mouth tight with anger.

“Gone,” he reported. “His partner must have been waiting in the service alley.” His blue-grey gaze narrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right, Ms. Prescott?”

“I think so,” Elaine answered, trying to slow her breathing. “Do you think Eliza Doolittle would approve, Lieutenant Tyler?”

The Marine frowned. “I don’t get it.”

“Using my hatpin like a fencing foil to stop him.” Elaine held it up. “Remember what she said at the Ascot Races? I don’t know if he was trying to ‘pinch’ my hatpin or my hat, but I’ll bet it’s going to be a long time before he comes after a woman wearing both.”

CHAPTER4

Later that afternoon

“I thoughtyou said you could take care of the Prescott bitch, Rogers,” Obadiah ‘Big Daddy’ Collins exhaled a stream of cigar smoke. “First you stab the wrong woman and now this. What happened?”

“She opened my face with that skinny little knife she pulled from her hat.” Grimacing, Neil Rogers gingerly touched the make-shift bandage on his face. “Waving it like some damn sword.”

“Hatpin,” Big Daddy sneered. “So much foryoubeing ‘good with a knife.’ What were you thinking, hiding in that office?”

“‘Cause I saw her go in there with that old nun when she got there and come out in that fancy outfit!” Rogers protested, but his voice trembled. Screwing up one job for Big Daddy was bad enough, but two? Sweat broke out on his forehead. If he weren’t damn sure he’d be found, he would leave town on the next bus. “Stands to reason she’d come back to change clothes, right?”

“And it stands to reason you’re an idiot.” Big Daddy stubbed out his cigar in the Baccarat cut crystal ashtray on the corner of his desk. “If you’d killed the Prescott woman instead of that nun, we wouldn’t be in this kind of trouble.” He had no problem with having those who opposed him killed but killing a nun was bad luck-even if it was an accident. But Elaine Prescott deserved to die for stealing Lulu.

But now it looked like she’d helped Roxie get away too. The little bitch must have told the social worker what she’d overhead even after he threatened to break her jaw. Maybe he should have had Roxie killed before he left for Chattanooga.

Then again, he needed to find out just how much Elaine Prescott might know about his plans of bringing inLittle Honeys, that group of dancers before she told the cops. He’d let his anger at her taking Lulu cloud his judgement. Hiring Neil Rogers-who Big Daddy would almost swear was certifiably crazy-was a mistake. He hadn’t spent years building his empire by letting emotions rule his judgement. He needed to regroup with a different strategy.

“So, am I still on the case?” Rogers whined. “Give me another chance, please. I won’t mess it up again, I swear.”

“I’ll think about it,” Big Daddy said, enjoying the terror in Rogers’ eyes. “Now get your ass out of my office before you bleed all over my carpet.”

After Rogers slunk out, Big Daddy poured himself three fingers worth of his favorite whiskey and settled back in his leather chair to think.

He had a meeting with a representative from The Cadre-the crime group who’d moved into the area this past spring-tomorrow and he was eager to finalize the details of bringing inLittle Honeysto work at next weekend’s conventions. He’d heard other groups were bringing in their own women, but none of them wereLittle Honeys.Men attending the conventions had already paid him sizeable deposits and there was no way in hell Big Daddy was going to lose money on this deal or have his reputation damaged.

But there was the Brotherhood Protectors to contend with. Big Daddy needed to find if the sons-of-bitches were still in town. He’d heard through street talk about how BP, as they called themselves, interrupted The Cadre from transporting kidnaped teens to customers out of state about a month ago. The bunch of damn do-gooders needed to keep their noses out of Big Daddy’s business or else he would have them killed. Simple as that. The only reason he’d agreed to “do business” with The Cadre was to find out how deeply they were entrenched here before he taught them a lesson about muscling into his territory. His empire. East Tennessee was his.

And finally, he would find Elaine Prescott and after slowly and deliciously torturing her into telling him where she’d stashed Lulu, he would kill her himself.

“He was tall, but not quite as tall as Lieutenant Tyler”,

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