Solid Gold: A Red Riley Adventure #3 (Red Riley Adventures)

  Table of Contents

  Solid Gold (Red Riley Adventures)

  Copyright 2017 by Stephanie Andrews

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  Thirty-eight

  About the Author

  Red Riley #3

  Solid

  Gold

  Stephanie Andrews

  Copyright 2017 by Stephanie Andrews

  All rights reserved.

  Visit the Author at www.redrileybooks.com

  One

  With one quick blow, Salena Salerno knocked the wooden staff from my hands. It clattered across the old dock and splashed into the water as I ducked her return swing, staying low and rolling backward a few feet to get out of her immediate range.

  I popped quickly back to my feet as she lunged at me, poking her staff hard at my chest. I turned sideways and grabbed the staff with both hands as it passed my torso, pulling hard and then letting go, bringing Salerno off her balance as she stumbled forward and past me.

  We had changed positions, which made her grin. I was now at the end of the dock, with no staff, and she stood in the middle of the dock, blocking my way.

  It looked like I was out of options, except perhaps for jumping in the lake for a nice cold swim (it was December), but luckily for me, wood floats, and out of the corner of my eye I could see my staff bobbing in the water and bumping up against the dock. I ignored it, and instead looked Salerno square in the eye and took up a fighting stance like I was Lawrence freakin’ Fishburne.

  Salerno laughed, her warm exhale pluming out into the cold air. She was wearing a thigh length fitted quilt jacket that had a leather belt around the waist and a big metal buckle. She also wore suede pants that tucked into black leather boots. We were both wearing leather gloves against the cold.

  “You are brave, Red, but foolish. You can’t defeat me with the staff, you’re never going to beat me without it.”

  “No,” I responded, “I can do it. You’re going to love this. I just need a running start. Can you back up, like ten feet?”

  Salerno raised her eyebrow at the odd request. “Si, but only because I am curious what you could possibly have in mind. I warn you, though, I’m going to knock you into the water, just to teach you a lesson.”

  She backed up, never taking her eyes off me. The dock was a long one, there was still plenty of it left behind her, and I figured the frigid water would be about five feet deep where she was. I wouldn’t drown, but I might get hypothermia.

  “Little bit further,” I said, motioning back a bit until she was far enough away to give me room for my plan.

  She looked at me expectantly, and I responded by taking two quick steps to the edge of the dock, scooching down, and grabbing my staff from the cold water. As soon as she saw what I was after, Selena leaped forward with her staff raised overhead like a long sword, but she couldn’t close the distance in time. I was up on my feet, centered and braced, by the time her staff came sweeping down and around at my midriff. I twisted toward the oncoming force, holding my staff vertically in front of me, one hand at head height, the other at waist height. Her prodigious blow shook my hands and arms all the way to my shoulders, and cold drops of water flew off my staff like a wet dog shaking itself, hitting my exposed face. But I held my stance, leaning into it and pushing my energy back toward Salerno.

  She tried to catch me off guard by yanking her staff back quickly, making me lunge forward, but I was ready for this and windmilled my staff down like a kayak paddle, repeatedly, alternating sides as I went, pushing her back along the dock. Every third or fourth strike I would repeat on the same side, instead of alternating, with no planned pattern.

  Because she is an awesome monster, Salerno blocked almost every one—I caught her once on the right thigh and once on the left shoulder—but she couldn’t stop me long enough to launch a counter attack. Five feet, ten feet, I pushed her back along the dock toward the shore. I was winning, I swear for a moment there I was winning.

  But only for a moment. On a hard downward chop from my right to her left, she chose to step back and twist to the side instead of block. My momentum brought my strike all the way down until the end of my pole struck the dock, at which precise moment Salerno stomped on it so hard she broke my grip and the pole clattered to the deck. She was too close in to use her staff, but before I could recover my stance she elbowed me hard in the chest, then squatted down and twirled, her staff coming around and sweeping my feet. I landed on my back so hard that even my down vest didn’t offer much cushion, the wind forced violently from my lungs.

  I rolled onto my side and pulled my knees up to my chest, but I couldn’t get any breath. When I looked up, Selena was kneeling next to me.

  “Can you breathe?” she asked.

  I shook my head. She opened my outside pocket, reached in, and pulled my iPhone out. Was she calling 911?

  She slipped the phone into her own coat pocket.

  “You don’t want to get this wet,” she said with a grin.

  “No,” I wheezed, “don’t...” The iron band around my chest would not let up, I couldn’t breathe, much less defend myself.

  “Siento,” she said, though it didn’t sound like she meant it. “A promise is a promise.”

  And with that she rolled me off the dock and into the freezing cold water.

  Two

  When Ruby and El came in, carrying several bags of groceries, I was lying prone on the couch in front of a roaring fire. I’d made it out of the hot bath, but not much further; I was wearing sweats and a t-shirt, and was wrapped in an old quilt that had come with the cottage.

  “Please tell me one of those bags is full of Advil,” I said without getting up to help.

  They passed through the living room and into the kitchen, where I could hear them unpacking bags and putting things away. A few minutes later Park came back into the room carrying a glass of water and three Advil. She was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt that said “OBLIGATORY ASIAN SIDEKICK” on it. Hilarious.

  I groaned myself into a sitting position and held out my hands. She handed over the goods and then sat on the couch next to me.

  “This is new,” she said, “I’ve never seen you hung over before.”

  “I’m not hung over. I barely ever drink.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Salerno.”

  “What?”

  “Training session. I lost.”

  She smiled with empathy. “I can see that.”

  “Who the hell fights with quarterstaffs anyway?”

  “Monks?”

  “Great. If we go up against St. Francis I’ll have the edge.”

  Park stood up. “Well, I’m going to go help with the spaghetti. I’m sta
rving.”

  Ruby stuck her head in from the kitchen. “You still alive?”

  “I am.”

  “Then get in here. Being stupid doesn’t get you out of making salad.”

  Over dinner I asked El about her new job.

  “Lucille’s completely senile,” she told me. “It’s mostly sitting in cars with cameras waiting to take pictures of people entering and exiting buildings.” She cut herself another piece of bread and reached for the butter. “It seems like she cracks most of her cases through an old boyfriend who works for Citibank and gets credit card statements for her.”

  Ruby raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to be learning.”

  “I know, right?”

  “A year ago I would have insisted you turn her in, but now?” Ruby raised both hands in an exaggerated shrug. “It seems we’ve thrown the rule of law out the window.”

  I finished chewing my greens and swallowed. “Are you having a hard time with that?” I asked.

  “Of course I am.” She set down her fork and wiped her lips on her napkin. “I was police officer for a very long time,” she said, her Czech accent always increased when she was annoyed or troubled.

  “So was I.”

  “Pfft. Me? Twice as long. I always believed things were best left in the hands of the police. We used to make fun of the private investigators.”

  “In the hands of people like Lawrence Haines?” I asked. Haines was a police captain who had sexually assaulted Ellery, and would have gotten away with it if Ruby and I hadn’t taken matters into our own hands. He was forcibly retired now, and it was a bit of a cheap shot to throw him up as a defense, because Ruby had instigated our involvement.

  “Even that, yes.” She nodded gravely. “I should not have done that. There were other, legal avenues that we had yet to exhaust.”

  “They would not have been nearly as much fun.”

  “Well,” said Park, who had been following the conversation like a tennis match, ”I’m sure glad you did, or we never would have met.” She was always unfailingly chipper.

  I turned to her, glad to change the subject. “Why did you even take that job? Have you learned anything at all?”

  “Lucille has given me full access to her Quickbooks, which she is unexpectedly diligent about. I’ve had a crash course in the budgeting, balance sheets, and profit and loss of an independent PI firm. It’s going to make things loads easier when I start my own business.”

  I had pushed hard, after her involvement with the diamond affair a few months ago, for Park to go to law school, or business school, or some school. Anything to get her out of the shadows and back into the real world. She was too young and had too much to live for to be doing the crazy stuff I had in mind.

  Not that I was old, mind you, or had a death wish. I just had few attachments, was presumed dead, and had a strong desire to clean up some parts of the city where the police were not getting the job done. Park, along with Ruby and her nephew Marty, had helped me and the Shelby family dissuade a Mexican arms dealer from setting up shop in the city.

  Which is why I had invited Park to dinner tonight.

  “That reminds me,” I said, when she had finished outlining her plans for opening her own private investigation firm “I think I have a job for you.”

  Ruby’s eyebrows shot up again, but I held up my good hand to shush her.

  “Don’t worry, it’s not illegal, it’s a proper job for a private investigator.”

  “Really? What is it?” Park was visibly excited.

  “You know I promised Selena that I would help find her sister. Well, before training today, she told me she had a solid lead, and that I should be ready to go at a moment’s notice.”

  “And?”

  “Well I’ve been following a woman named Elena Ruiz, a businesswoman in the city, who I think might have a connection to Negron.” I picked up my water glass with my not-good hand, the one missing the ring and pinky fingers, and took a drink. “I’d like you to do some basic surveillance on her while I’m gone, and some delicate, very delicate probing into her background. Selena agrees I may be on to something.”

  “Oh,” said Park, “I wish she had hung around, then, she might have some background info I could use.”

  “She never stays,” I said, matter-of-factly, “she’s afraid of Ruby.”

  Park looked disbelieving, but Ruby broke into a smile.

  “It’s true,” I went on. “I’m pretty sure Ruby’s the only person on the planet who isn’t afraid of her, and that makes Salerno wary. Even Negron, with all his leverage, treats Selena like a bomb that might go off at any minute.”

  Salerno had been my nemesis during the events of the past year, almost killing me several times. But when she told me that Negron had kidnapped her sister, and was forcing Selena to do jobs for him, even Ruby agreed: we had to help.

  “That is good work for us,” said Ruby. “Legal, but not just busy work.”

  “Us?” I turned to her with a surprised look.

  “Sure,” Ruby shrugged. “The kid needs some help. I’m happy to help. Plus,” she added, standing and collecting some of the dirty dishes, “I am bankrolling this new firm of hers. I want to see it succeed.”

  “And you’re bored silly, admit it,” I called after her as she left the room.

  “Bring me your plates,” she called back from the kitchen.

  I was gathering up the rest of the dishes when my phone buzzed from where it sat on the table. I looked down at it and read the one word text: Vamos.

  The mission was a go.

  Three

  Windsor. It sounds so regal, as in Duke of Windsor, or Lord and Lady Windsor. As I looked out across the rooftops, I pictured castle spires and maybe Big Ben, or that big Ferris wheel they have now...

  “Riley!”

  “Huh?” I snapped out of it and turned back to Selena, who was kneeling a few feet away working on unlocking a small window on the upper floor of a warehouse in Windsor, Canada. We were standing on a lower roof, the little windows in front of us ran the length of the building to let natural light into the large open warehouse space.

  “I said I’ve got it,” she hissed.

  “Sorry,” I whispered back. “I was distracted by the horrible view. I expected Canada to be a lot more, I don’t know, majestic.” I could see my breath as I spoke, and I was grateful for the hour I had spent on the Athleta website buying cold-weather workout gear. The tights I bought were very warm, and I had a short jacket that was quilted and fitted, but still gave great range of motion to my arms. My red hair was finally long enough to get in my way, just, so I kept it tucked away under a black knit watch cap.

  Selena stood up, sliding her small metal tools into a little pocket on the upper arm of her leather jacket. Under her jacket she was wearing her standard issue white Lycra jumpsuit, with a pair of knee-high black boots. Her legs must have been freezing, but she would never show it. She leaned close to me so she could speak quietly.

  “I cannot see the women. But there are signs of habitation—table and chairs, little kitchen area—but no surveillance cameras that I can see. Also,” she added, “I count seven guards, and there is at least one out front.”

  “Eight?”

  “That I can see.”

  “How do you feel about that number?”

  “It’s a little high,” she admitted.

  “A little?”

  “Shh. Keep your voice down. Just follow my lead.”

  She took her jacket off and dropped it, then turned back to the window. It hinged at the top, and she pushed quietly on it until it opened inward. Her feet slid through and then her hips and then her head and she was gone. I squatted down and peered through the window. Selena had picked a good spot. The entire upper floor was just a balcony, about ten feet wide, all the way around the outside of the warehouse. You could have held track practice on it, it was probably a quarter mile if you followed it all the way around and back again
. Large crates were stacked in the area just below the window, and I could see Selena crouched behind them, already sneaking looks over the railing to the floor below. From my vantage point I could only see one guard, dressed in black pants and a tight black t-shirt that showed his impressive—to him—muscles. He had a shoulder holster, and was holding something small in one hand that I couldn’t make out. He brought his hand up to his mouth, and took a big bite. It was a sandwich. Clearly these guys were on low alert status. Well, they’ll be sorry for that.

  I took off my coat. Underneath I had a shoulder holster of my own, and I made sure the security strap was properly snapped. Nothing more embarrassing than having your firearm clatter to the floor when you’re performing some amazing gymnastic feat. I kept my gloves on. They were light and flexible, and I wore them not just for the cold, but to disguise the fact that I was missing two fingers from my left hand.

  I waited until sandwich man turned to grab his water bottle from the table behind him, and slid through the window. It was a short drop to the balcony deck, and in seconds I was squatting down next to Selena. She turned to me and winked, then pointed to the far end of the balcony, where another guard was just entering through a door that most likely led to a staircase. He looked left and right and then started ambling slowly clockwise around the perimeter of the balcony. Selena and I shifted to the far side of the largest crate to be sure he would not see us until it was too late.

  I was tapping my fingers on my thigh, for some reason the song “Beautiful Day” by U2 was running through my head. I don’t think I’d heard that song in ages. In fact, my clearest memory of it was my high school friend Alex playing it in her car, constantly, our senior. She used to drive me everywhere. My Dad didn’t think I should have unrestricted use of a car, even though we had one just sitting in the garage, since Mom didn’t drive anymore.

  I looked over at Selena. I wondered what her high school was like, on Isla Grande, way down off the coast of Chile. I’m sure the music was different. Did her older sister, Valentina, drive her to school? What kind of cars did they have there. Did they have cars?