“Sorry. If I’d known you were going to stop by, I would have made sure we had hors d’oeuvres.”
“You’ve got a real smart mouth for a dame.”
“I like to think I have smart mouth for anybody.”
Armitage grunted and shook his head. He seemed more amused than angry. “I understand you’re in a spot of trouble.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Word on the street is that some of the people you’ve been talking to have been ending up dead or in jail.”
“And what’s that to you? Still sore about those goons of yours that died in my apartment?”
“Nah. I’ve moved on from that. Hell, I’m even willing to forget about the dough you stole from me.”
“Aren’t you the sweet one? Turning over a new leaf?”
Armitage grinned. “I want us to be friends.”
“This another try at getting me to work for you?”
“I want you to work with me. There’s a difference.”
Violet sighed and stood up. “I don’t have time for this crap. I’m ankle deep in shit right now and the last thing I need is you trying to drag me down into your cesspool.”
“So… you interested in some Limey name of Aleister Crowley? The magician?”
Violet’s eyes widened slightly but she kept her features neutral. “What about him?”
“He’s arrived in Atlanta. In fact… he was just at the hospital.” Armitage grinned like the Cheshire cat. “You were just there, too, weren’t you?”
Violet swore violently, less concerned by the knowledge that Armitage was tracking her movements than she was by the notion that she’d just missed Crowley. Did that mean Sinclair was in danger? Her concern for her new friend morphed into something else very quickly — a sinking realization that she might have been played for a fool. “Frater Perdurabo. That’s what Bill was calling him. It’s a title.”
“I’m not following you, Violet.”
“What was Crowley wearing?”
“My men say you should know that. They say he entered the same room you were in and stayed with you for quite awhile.” Armitage seemed to be enjoying his role. “Hah! You didn’t even know it, did you? The man behind the goons who killed your partner and you sat right next to him. Some detective, eh?”
“Damn it!!” Violet turned her back to Armitage, fuming. No wonder ‘Frederick’ had been so insistent that she let him have The Damned Thing. And poor Bill….! “I have to call the hospital. Have them check on—”
“Too late,” Armitage said. “The guy’s dead.”
Violet whirled around. “Tell me you’re lying,” she said.
“Sorry, doll. The docs found him smothered to death not five minutes after you took off.”
Violet tapped her chin, thinking things through. “You seem to know an awful lot about things… like The Followers of the Eclipse being behind Miles’ death, not to mention all this stuff about Crowley. How long have you been following me?”
“I wish I could say ever since you busted into my office but I can’t. Only since this morning. A guy named Burkard came to see me. He wants me to lie to you and offer you a place to hide out with that statue thing. But once I take you to the safe house, he’ll be there to take it for himself.”
“And you’re telling me all this why?”
“Because I think we could make sweet music together, sweet cheeks.” Seeing the expression on Violet’s face, Armitage waved away her concerns. “Not like that, doll. I wouldn’t turn you down, mind you… What I meant was that you’re tough as nails and deadlier than any black widow. And I’ve got contacts all over the place but twice as many enemies as friends. I help you square away all this mess with the statue and then you come work for me.”
“Bodyguard work?”
“No, nothing like that. I’d just want you to dig up some dirt on my competitors and then leak it to the cops. Let them bust them, nice and legal like.”
“And all the while you take more and more control of the underworld? No thanks. I’ll take my chances on my own.”
“Burkard will kill you if he has to. He told me that. And he’s got a lot of money… he doesn’t have to do it himself or even send his boy Bane to do it. He can hire the best. He can hire people who can make it look like an accident.”
Violet gave it some thought. She actually shared Armitage’s view of Burkard. The man was dangerous… but she wasn’t sure she could trust Armitage and even if she could, what kind of a deal with the devil would that be?
Armitage leaned forward and stubbed out his cigar in an ashtray. “So what’s it gonna be, doll? I know where he’s at and I can tell my boys to take him out… then you come work for me.”
“And you don’t have any interest in The Damned Thing?”
“I don’t deal in art, especially not satanic art.”
“Didn’t know you were superstitious, Danny-boy.”
Armitage stood up and adjusted his collar. “So. I need an answer, doll.”
“You have men downstairs?”
“I came alone. Didn’t figure you’d listen to me if I brought a bunch of goons with me.”
Violet walked over to the window and looked down at the street below. There was only one car parked out front, a black sedan. “That your car?”
“It is. You want to go for a little ride?”
“I do.” Violet walked around the desk and, when she was close enough to Armitage to strike, she whipped up with the butt of her gun. She caught him on the chin and knocked him into the wall. His forehead struck it hard and chipped the plaster. He fell to the floor like a sack of lumpy potatoes.
Violet crouched over him and rifled through his pockets. She took his car key and approximately $25 in cash. Normally, she didn’t steal but in this case, she felt like he owed her something… after all, his men had damaged her apartment and Armitage was unlikely to offer anything to compensate her for it.
Less than two minutes later, she was downstairs, stepping out on the street and looking both ways. She was relieved to know that Armitage had only been trailing her since she’d gone to the hospital — that meant that they hadn’t seen where she had hid The Damned Thing.
She drove the crime czar’s car away from her office, wondering where she should go. It wasn’t safe to go back to her apartment at this point and she didn’t want to involve anyone new in this affair. Dropping in on Will didn’t seem right, either. The last thing she wanted was to be the damsel in distress, making it seem like she needed McKenzie to rescue her. It crossed her mind that she could go and grab The Damned Thing, then speed straight out of the city. On that level, at least, perhaps Crowley had been right in his advice to her.
A flash of light in the rearview mirror caught her attention. Closing fast behind her was the dark car that belonged to Burkard. She couldn’t see anyone in the back seat but at the wheel was the man’s perpetually silent driver, his grim face betraying no emotion.
Violet let out a cry of annoyance when the car crashed into her back bumper, obviously trying to knock her off the road. They were outside the downtown area now and with a sharp twist of the wheel, Violet sent her car bouncing along a dirt road that led to the poorer areas of the city.
The sedan sped along behind her, sending up a plume of dust in its wake. Violet knew the area better than the other driver but his car was certainly faster. Before long, she again felt his car slam into the rear of hers and this time she was unable to keep control of her vehicle. It skidded off the road and the rear door of the driver’s side slammed against the base of an old oak tree that leaned out over the scene, blanketing it in shadow. Violet had slipped out of her door even before the car came to a complete stop, drawing her gun and crouching low, using the side of the vehicle as cover.