My Risky Business

by KeepingTogether

-AU- Being a private investigator is a big challenge. So what if my two biggest clients were a known mobster and ten-year-old kid - business was business.

2. No way!

Disclaimer: I do not own Avenger or any of its characters.

AN: I apologize for the delay. Anyhow, enjoy.

CHAPTER 2

Finding a gray cat is not like looking for a needle in a haystack. It is the haystack. The world is full of gray cats – at least, Lakewood Park was on this particular day.

There were dozens of small parks in and around town, not to mention the valley, a system of parks in and around town around a good portion of Cuyahoga County. However, using my deductive abilities, I took the direction the kid had headed and his comment about the pool and choose Lakewood over Madison Park, since they were the only two that had pools nearby.

Searching for a cat is a job for Animal Control, not a private investigator, but the kid had hooked me with those sad eyes. And I admit the whole bit about his mother being killed had dangled a carrot I could not resist. It could have been a traffic accident. Hell it probably had been a traffic accident. But I wanted more information.

Besides, the kid had given up an Iron Man gaming thingy – whatever that was – to hire a detective to find his uncle's old cat so his father would not be upset anymore. Hell I did not have any choice. Not when he had paid up front.

I had no intention of keeping his money, of course. I had locked it away in my friend's desk and I will give it back to him as soon as he picked up his cat. And hopefully one of the two beasts I had managed to catch would turn out to be Mr. Jarvis.

Not being totally moron, I had stopped by a pet store on my way to the park to pick up a few things I figured I was going to need to trap and hold Mr. Jarvis. Silly me. I should have added bandages, iodine, even tourniquets, to my list of necessities. Blood still trickled down my hand, squishing between my fingers and smearing the steering wheel with sticky residue. I should have remembered that cats come with claws. Nevertheless I had two mostly gray cats that sort of matched the picture Tony had given me. One of them had better be Mr. Jarvis.

As far as I'm concerned, one gray cat looks pretty much like another. Even though the first one was a darker gray and had white under chin and the second one had a patch of white on his belly, either one could be the cat in the picture as far as I could tell. The two nasty-tempered little monsters were in my car yowling at the top of their considerable lungs. They had been friendly enough when I was petting them and offering them treats, but once I had put them inside, all hell broke loose.

Jarvis One was inside the box a stock boy had given me. Since I had not planned on finding more than one cat, I did not have a second box, however Jarvis Two had come willingly into my arms until I had tried to add him to the same box. Hence all the blood. Jarvis Two was now crouched on the floorboard in the narrow backseat after tearing strips of skin off my hand.

Driving with a cat loose in the car made me nervous, but I was not about to try picking the beast up a second time. And short of putting him in the trunk, there was no other option. To make matters worse, I had stopped a third gray cat right before leaving the park. By then my need to help the kid was waning big-time. It was growing late and my stomach was grumbling over the small salad I had for lunch, and where would I have put a third cat anyhow? As it was, I was going to have to smuggle the two beasts into my apartment without being seen and doubted they were going to cooperate.

I debated blowing my small portion of meals by stopping for a fast-food big burger mac on my way home, but given my luck, Jarvis Two would prefer fast food to the kitty tuna I had bought. He probably have it eaten before I got it out of the car. He had certainly eaten the treats I had offered him as if he had been starving – which from the paunch on that cat, was a big, fat lie.

I figured my best bet was to go straight home and change into something more appropriate for tailing someone who lives in the Shaker Heights area. I could get fast food on my way to the assignment. Besides, I needed to call Natasha and remind her I wanted to borrow her car tonight. I could hardly drive around on the east side of town in an antique VW Beetle painted mostly in apple-green.

My cell phone rang as I pulled onto Lake Avenue coming out of the park. I dripped a splotch of blood on the seat cover while reaching over to answer the summons. I would not have bothered except that my cell phone is listed on my business cards and I cannot afford to ignore a possible client.

"D. L. Laufeyson," I snapped out, hoping for a red light so I could use a tissue to mop the blood before it stained. Between the rivulets of sweat dripping down my body, the throbbing gouges on my hand and the noise emanating from both cats, I was not in the best of moods.

There was a pause on the other end that made me regret my tone. Then a familiar voice – one that sounded as if the speaker had swallowed gravel shards – spoke in my ear.

"Mr. Laufeyson, this is Thanos."

I cringed. Clenching the cell phone against my ear, I prayed he was not calling to cancel tonight's job. The rent was due next week and I had counted on that money.

"Mr. Thanos!" I exclaimed, trying to infuse my voice with enthusiasm. "What can I do for you?"

This time the pause was enough to send my heart in my throat.

"Have I called at a bad time, Mr. Laufeyson?"

"Certainly not."

Jarvis Two contradicted me with a plaintive yowl. The sound filled the interior of the car. I grimaced.

"I apologized about the noise, Mr. Thanos. I'm currently transporting a pair of unhappy cats, uh… for a friend."

What else could I say?

He sniffed. "Nasty creatures, cats."

I was not about to argue the point. At the moment they did not rank high in my esteem either. I only hoped they had all their shots. And why had I not thought of that before I gone and picked them up with my bare hands?

"Mr. Laufeyson. I'm wondering if you could see your way clear to start the assignment a bit earlier this evening than we agreed?" he went on. "It seems my wife made dinner plans with some acquaintances and just communicated this information to me. I'm sorry for the short notice, but she intends to leave the house a little past six. You will need to be in position before then."

I glanced at the dashboard clock. It was few minutes past five already. Rush hour. And his address was clear across town in an area I was not familiar with. There was no way I could go home and change clothes and still make it to Shaker Heights before six. I glanced down at my faded jeans and stained light green shirt and bit my bottom lip.

"Is your wife going somewhere fancy for dinner?" I asked. If so, I was utterly doomed.

"I believe she mention Bergan's in Legacy Village. Is that a problem, Mr. Laufeyson?"

His cold tone indicated it had better not be a problem.

"Of course not," I lied. "I'm on my way."

"Excellent. I'll send someone by your office tomorrow morning for a copy of the pictures and your report."

"Ah, that would be fine, Mr. Thanos, however there is no one at the shop before nine. If you like, I can bring everything by your office earlier than that."

"Nine o'clock will suffice, Mr. Laufeyson. My associate will call on you then."

"Alright, if that is your preference."

"It is. Good evening, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Too late for that," I muttered at the sound of the click on his end.

Actually I could have gotten to the shop earlier than nine, but I'm not a morning person. Besides, I did not want to risk any flower shop customers coming in when I was there alone with a client. Or in this case, a client's representative.

That cat in the box on the seat beside me was scrabbling furiously at the cardboard and swearing at me in cat. The one in the back had settled for piteous mews of unhappiness. I was not sure which was worse.

"Look, guys, let's just make the best of this, all right? Whichever one of you is Mr. Jarvis is going back home tomorrow. The other one gets to go to the animal shelter to find a nice new home, so let's be silence and let me drive, are we clear?"

Not a chance. Time stretched unbearably between the cats and rush-hour traffic. All in all I made decent time to Shaker Heights, but then I got lost on the side streets trying to find the address.

I was sweating profusely by the time I stumbled on through sheer dumb luck. The sweat was only partly due to frustration. Mostly it was result of the lack of cool air in the small car. I did not dare open the windows, even the wings more than a crack, for fear Jarvis Two might prove suicidal.

The east side of Cleveland is different from my part of town. Sleipnir would not raise eyebrows on the west side, but here he stood out like red spot at a funeral. Somehow I was pretty sure no one in this neighborhood was apt to mistake him for one of the trendy reissued Bugs that had come out couple of years ago. Sleipnir made no pretenses about what he was. His numerous rust spots had been sanded, filled in and painted with primer, but I had broken things off with Svadilfari again before the mechanic got around to putting any paint on Sleipnir for me. Bad timing on my part.

I have known Svadilfari since high school. We graduated together. He is a nice enough guy when he is not being a bastard, however our relationship is not exactly the romance of the century. More like a comfortable habit when we are both at loose ends. Svadilfari's happiest when he is covered in grease, with auto guts spread all around him. Whatever our relationship at any given moment, I have to give him credit for keeping the important parts of Sleipnir running all these years past their prime.

As I drove past the address I had been given, I wondered what it would be like to live in a place this fancy. Somehow I did not think I will be comfortable behind an ornate fence in neighborhood where even the houses managed to look snobbish.

Since there was nowhere I could park and look inconspicuous, I pulled to the side of the road a few houses down and spread out the map I had been trying to read when I gotten lost. I had the perfect cover story ready in case someone came along demanding to know what I was doing here. I will tell the curious that I was trying to deliver a pair of lost cats to their owner. I have found it always pays to use what you have to hand.

Besides, I was not the only car parked along the street, even if the other vehicle was a burgundy Honda that looked far more presentable in this neighborhood than Sleipnir. Tough cookies, as Svadilfari like to say. I was here and I was staying here until my quarry appeared. I had her picture, her license plate number and a description of her car. All I had to do was wait and pray Mrs. Freyja had not left before I found her house.

My hand had stopped bleeding, so I used tissues and spit to clean up as best I could. Hygiene be damned. I was running out of saliva when I realized the car had grown ominously silent. No sound came from inside the box. Worse, there was nothing from the backseat.

My shoulders tensed. My neck prickled. Was Jarvis Two preparing to spring over the seat and attack me? Or worse, had he died of asphyxiation back there? The last thing I needed was a pair of dead cats. I had not thought to poke any air hole in the box since I had not expected him to be in there for any length of time. But cats like heat, right? They were always pictured curled up in front of a roaring fire.

I lowered the windows as far as I dared and opened the wings to the extent where I was pretty sure the cat's head would not fit through. Then I debated lifting a flap to check on Jarvis One. Except things would be worse if he got loose in the car with the other one. I was twisting to peer over the backseat to check on Jarvis Two when movement over near the burgundy Honda caught my attention.

A man appeared between some tall hedges. Not just any man. This was a delicious hunk of serious eye candy. He strode toward the car with the assurance of someone who knew where he was going. A simple white t-shirt and black blazer, over neatly black jeans gave him a suave, and rough edge of hot and cool, debonair look that captured my full attention – and my imagination.

Yum. He was gorgeous. Even his blond hair, curled slightly against the nape of his neck and in need of a trim, did not diminish his appeal. He carried his tall, muscular frame with comfortable authority. His features carried a trace of ruggedness that kept him from being too pretty, however it was a face no sane man or women would mind waking up beside. The man exuded raw sex appeal.

I sighed wistfully and decided I needed to get out more. My love life was nonexistent. Since moving back to Ohio, the only guys and girls I had dated on a regular basis had been Svadilfari and Sigyn. Sigyn was Natasha's accountant. A freckle faced strawberry-blond, she was nice shy girl, however she saved her passion for glittering little tiara and pageants. Put her in a neat social gala with a group of woman wearing their outmost beautiful gown and the transformation was downright scary. The meek accountant turned into a raging miss universe wanna be.

Now, I like pretty girls and as well as social function and gala, but it was just a game of social etiquette and moral standard! Sigyn took every bad posed and wrong answers as a personal affront. She had actually thrown her expensive jimmy choo shoes through his mother's television set one time when Miss USA had slip and fall to the floor. With the season about to begin again, I knew it was time to start looking around for someone else to date.

Svadilfari and Sigyn are pleasant to look at, steadily employed, good to their family and… well, frankly, boring. The man sliding into the Honda did not look the least bit boring. I could not speak to the rest, but it was too bad I had not been hired to tail him.

I looked back toward the driveway just in time to see a gleaming white Jaguar glide through the open gate of the Thanos driveway. Freyja was leaving.

Her car turned right onto the street. The opposite direction I was facing, naturally. The handsome stranger's car fell in several car lengths behind her while I had to shoo Jarvis Two back over the backseat and start Sleipnir.

Putting him into gear, I made a tight U-turn on the narrow street as the burgundy car disappeared around the corner at the end of the street. Both animals protested loudly as I hurried to close the distance. Jarvis One went back to desperately clawing the insides of the box while Jarvis Two tried to drown him out with sheer volume right behind my seat.

I turned on the radio in self-defense and hung back as far as I dared as soon as I spotted the white Jaguar some distance up ahead. There was no way I was inconspicuous if she was watching for tail. I blessed the burgundy Honda's presence in between us until it turned off onto a side street and left me the only car on the road behind her.

Apparently Freyja was not paying attention to her rearview mirror. While she might not be concerned if she did notice me back here, that would change if she continued to see my car everywhere she went. If only there had been time to borrow Natasha's light gray Buick.

Fortunately Freyja did not seem to be in a hurry. Everyone had heard of Legacy Village, however it is not familiar to me. The east side of Cleveland is not my territory, so I was not sure how to get there from here. My map was so old, it did not even show the development. That meant I had to stay close enough to the Jag that Freyja did not lose me.

I was concentrating on maintaining the proper distance when suddenly occurred to me to wonder why Mr. Thanos had selected me to tail his wife. I mean, there had to be other private investigators he could have hired. Ones that lived on his side of town. They would have been more familiar with the area and no doubt would have blended in far better than I was doing.

When Mr. Thanos had called and asked for a meeting, I had simply been grateful for the work. Now I started wondering. They say you should not look a gift horse in the mouth, however, as Svadilfari liked to point out, how else are you going to determine how sharp the teeth are?

Both cat continued making a ruckus as I pulled into the shopping center two cars behind the Jag. The village concept for housing tract is all the rage right now, even though I'm pretty sure I read somewhere that Walt Disney pioneered the concept long before I was born. The problem is, with land being at such a premium, the builders make their money on retail spaces, not parking spaces, so they do not bother planning for adequate parking.

The Jaguar had no problem, of course. Cars could not get out of its way fast enough. Those same cars sneered at Sleipnir. I lost two parking places to vehicles that cost more than the contents of my entire apartment before I got lucky. A Lexus started pulling out four cars down from me. I had to beat out a bastard with a dark-tinted SUV to claim the spot, zipped in with ease. Not only that, but it was one of the few spots completely in the shade. I thanked the fates as I climbed out of the car, taking care that I was the only one who got out.

Fortunately my camera was in the trunk. The last thing I wanted to do was dispute territory with the angry animal on the backseat. The box on the front seat gave me pause. I was pretty sure Jarvis One could not eat his way through the heavy cardboard, but it sounded as if he was giving it a valiant try.

There was no time to worry about that now. I grabbed my camera and set off after Freyja before I lost her in the crowd. A tall, leggy brunette with short swingy hair and an aristocratic bearing, she strolled along as if she owned the place, looking neither left nor right.

If her husband had thought this dinner was a cover for an assignation with a lover, he was going to be sadly disappointed. I was in a good position to watch her meet with three women close to her age – twenty-eight, according to what her husband had told me. Freyja was obviously a trophy wife. Mr. Thanos was close to seventy if he was a day.

I snapped several good shots of the women while I pretended to photograph the area. Freyja had her back to me the whole time. I willed her to turn around to no avail. I figured it did not matter since Mr. Thanos knew what she looked like. It was the people she met with he wanted picture of.

The restaurant was surprisingly crowded for a Monday evening. People stood inside and outside talking in clusters. The four women were standing outside. I was pretty sure I was not going to be able to get inside with them, however I decided it did not matter as long as I did not miss Freyja when she left. Besides, I felt self-conscious dressed the way I was. There were plenty of other people wearing faded jeans and t-shirt, but theirs had not come from a discount store, nor were the stained with blood and smudged with dirt and cat hairs.

At least the crowds offered plenty of cover for me. I stood wilting in the sun, trying to appear as though I belonged there and was waiting to meet someone. And as I was looking around for a place with a view to await while they ate dinner. I glimpsed a blond-haired man moving away from me. Something about him reminded me of the sexy stranger with the Honda. To my profound disappointment, he stepped inside the store before I could get an unobstructed view of him.

I should not really be wasting time ogling sexy strangers anyhow. My job was to keep my eyes on Freyja, and it was good thing I did. We had only been standing there a matter of minutes when she did the unexpected. She left.

With a wave and a smile she sauntered back to the parking lot, nearly catching me flat. Perhaps Mr. Thanos had not misread his wife after all. It appeared that this dinner with friends was nothing more than a setup for her real assignation.

I felt a hum of excitement. I had no idea where she was going next, but this was bound to be the reason Mr. Thanos had hired me. If she lost me now, my client would be most unhappy.

The idea of a man with possible mobster ties being unhappy with me started a thread of tension mingling with my excitement. Tension quickly turned to panic when I nearly lost her coming of the parking area. There was some sort of fender bender two rows over that caused enough confusion that she made the traffic light and I did not.

I spent several minutes sweating buckets and muttering profanity before I was able to charge down the road in the direction she had taken. I did not slow down until I came up in front of me. Breathing a considerable sigh of relief. I noted Freyja was talking to someone on her cell phone as she drove. The boyfriend to tell him she was on her way?

Freyja was a careful driver. That came as something of a shock because the perky brunette did not strike me as the slow and methodical type. Still, I was deeply grateful as she all but led me by the hand, using her turn signals well ahead of time as we headed into downtown Cleveland near the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. I was on more familiar territory now, however my relief was short lived. I was seriously underdressed for her next stop.

Scarpanelli's is a new Italian restaurant with a commanding view overlooking Lake Erie near the Burke Lakefront Airport. I was not sure, but I thought it might be one of the places my client, Mr. Thanos, owns. I had heard the food was superb if you did not mind dropping close to a hundred dollars on a meal. I minded. I did not even date guys or girls with that sort of money.

Assuming I could get the hostess to let me inside dressed in faded jeans, I still had a problem. I could not afford an appetizer let alone a meal in there. The restaurant was busy but not yet crowded. That would come later. Right now it was mostly wealthy families and blue-rinse walker-and-cane crowd. Freyja would stand out in that mix. Too bad I would not be able to see who she was standing out to meet. This was not good. In fact, this was very bad.

I debated calling Mr. Thanos on the number he had given me to explain the problem, but I could not see him being particularly sympathetic. He was attending some important business dinner tonight and he had hired me to do a job. He would not want excuses as to why I could not do said job.

From now on, I vowed, I will keep a couple of outfits in the trunk for emergencies like this one. In the meantime I was stuck. I could not follow her inside, so I have to see if I could find a place outside where I could peer in.

No such luck. The entire back wall was elevated and composed of tinted glass. Patrons could see out over the lake, but could not see in.

I was making my way around the building when I surprised a young women near the kitchen entrance. He was puffing a joint in a secluded nook near the trash bins. His body jerked sharply startled when I appeared around the corner.

"Hey. What are you doing here? You aren't allowed back here."

At a guess, she was about seventeen. Based on her dark skirt and white shirt I figured her for a waitress. I offered her a friendly smile.

"You are not allowed to smoke weed either, however that does not seem to be stopping you. Listen, I'm not interested in your drug habits, I'm a private investigator," I told her before she could get bent out of shape.

"Yeah, right."

Whipping out my ID folder, I offered her proof. She studied it almost as carefully as Tony had.

"Hey, cool. You want a hit?"

"No, thank, but I could use your help."

"Yeah?"

"There is a woman inside the restaurant. Tall brunette, short hair with bangs. She is wearing a pale blue shirt and a matching silk blouse." I pulled out the picture of Freyja and gave her a look. "She went in alone a few minutes ago. I need to know who she is meeting in there. There is a twenty in it for you if you can help me out."

Which would leave me exactly three dollars in cash until I found an ATM. But, hey, I had get the money back under expenses.

The kid smirked. She looked me up and down curiously. I could see she was intrigued.

"How come you want to know about her?"

I shrugged, trying for the blasé. "It's my job. Her husband hired me to see if she is meeting another man."

"I thought P.I's were tall guys with black trench coat and a blue scarf like they show on television."

"Wha—are you watching Sherlock? Anyways, he is not a P.I, he is the world's only Consulting Detective. Haven't you ever heard a normal and real life Private Investigator?" I asked.

"You're the first. Are you carrying a gun?"

She seemed to be trying to decide where I was hiding one under my faded jeans and light green shirt.

"Not at the moment. This is a simple tail job. No guns required. Do you think you can help me?"

She finished her joint and nodded. I could see the questions bubbling up inside her, so I was surprised when she glanced at her watch and straightened.

"I'll check for you, but you had better wait around the corner over there. Other waiters will be dumping trash pretty soon and they won't like you hanging here."

"Thank you. That's fine."

"I'll be back, but it might be a while."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Unless Freyja decided to leave here all of a sudden, too. I tried not to feel conspicuous as I moved to stand near the corner of the restaurant where I could keep an eye on the parking lot. The day's heat was finally melting away. There was even a welcome breeze coming in off the lake. Unfortunately, I was too nervous to be properly appreciative. The luscious smells wafting from the kitchen were making me drool. I wandered if they fed strays at the kitchen door. I had willing sit up and beg for a taste of what I was sniffing. The longer I stood there, the louder my stomach complained. I fervently wished my waitress would return and tell me what was going on inside.

After what felt like I had been standing there for hours, she scooted out the back door and rushed over to where I was waiting.

"I can't stay," she told me breathlessly. "Your woman's in there, all right. Table thirty-two. She ordered the French onion soup with tonight's special, the lobster fettuccine—"

"Did she meet anyone?" I interrupted before she could give me any more details. Visualizing food when my stomach was knocking against the back of my ribs was sheer torture. "Has anyone approached her table?"

"Nope. As far as I can tell, she's completely alone. Kinda surprising. I mean, she's not bad looking for an old woman, you know? She just ordered coffee and the white-chocolate-mouse cake, so she'll probably be in there for another half hour or so. She doesn't seem to be in any hurry."

I fished out my twenty and watched it disappear into her bra. "Thanks. I appreciate your help."

"No problem. Want me to bring you something from the kitchen while you're waiting?"

More than anything in the world. With extreme reluctance I shook my head, reminding myself I was supposed to look out for Freyja in things get off hand.

"Thank you, but I have to be ready to roll when she is. What is your name, anyhow?"

"It Sif."

I stuck out my hand. "Loki Laufeyson." I told him as we shook. "Thanks again for your help, Sif. If you ever need a P.I., look me up. I'm in the phone book. I do not have any cards on me at the moment." The new ones I had printed were still sitting on my desk in the office back at the flower shop. I had forgotten to stick them in my folder again.

"Cool. Thanks. I gotta get back before they miss me."

As she ran back to the kitchen entrance, I hurried across the parking lot to the Jaguar. There were a lot of people moving about now, but on one gave me a second glance. I'm not sure why I went over her car, really. I was not looking for anything specific, but since I had time to kill, checking out her car seemed like the natural thing to do.

Freyja had not struck me as a careless person. She certainly did not drive like one, yet she had left her driver's door unlocked. The temptation was irresistible. This was probably the only opportunity I had ever have to sit in a Jaguar. Besides, there was a sheet of paper lying on the passenger's seat. I needed to check it out. It could be a clue.

The plush leather seat cocooned me the moment I sank down. The opulent interior still retained a trace of coolness from the air conditioner. Reaching for the paper, I saw it was a set of hand-printed direction to a piano lounge downtown called Balder's. I had never heard of the place, however the directions were straightforward and it was not far from here. Tuesday, 8:00p.m., and a phone number had been printed across the top like an afterthought.

This was almost too easy. Fate seemed to be nurturing me for once. I blew it a mental kiss and made a note of the phone number. I wondered if the number went with the lounge or the person she was supposed to meet. Since it looked like a cell phone number, odds were it was the latter, but I would not know for sure unless I gave the number a try.

The car itself was so pristine, it could have just come from a car wash. Hell, it probably had. Sleipnir had not seen the inside of a car wash since… come to think of it, he may never have seen the inside of a car wash. I decided to make it up to him first chance I got while continued to search the interior of the Jag. I did not expect to find a thing.

Certainly not the .38 revolver she had tucked up under the driver's seat.

That gave me serious pause. Why was someone like Freyja carrying concealed? I guess it made sense if her husband was a mobster. And I suppose it was possible she had a permit. Still, that heavy lump of metal made me very nervous. It implied a whole lot of things and none of them were good. People with guns have a bad habit of firing them.

I own a gun, but I have only ever used it on a firing range. It is not something I carry around, even though I have a permit. I replace the weapon carefully back under the front seat. A strand of brown dark hair on the carpeting caught my attention.

Interesting. Either Freyja had extremely dry, coarse hair or she like wigs. Wearing one in this head did not seem likely unless she had some sort of physical problem requiring one.

Tucking the hair in my pocket, I stepped from the car and crossed the lot to where I had parked Sliepnir. Jarvis Two sat on the driver's seat scratching at the box on the passenger side. The minute he saw me, he leaped onto the box and over the seat into the back once more.

Sleipnir was warmer into than the Jag had been, but the temperature was not too bad anymore. That breeze coming in off the lake through the windows had cooled things down considerably, and it probably helped that I was parked in the shade. Still, I was worried about the cats.

"Sorry, guys. I should have asked Sif for some water. I could use a drink myself. However we will have to wait until I get you home."

Neither of them made a sound as I reached for my cell phone and dialed the number printed on the paper I had found.

"Hello?" A decidedly delicious voice answered.

Deep, rich, sexy and male, the sound washed over me. Definitely not Balder's Lounge unless this was Balder himself.

"Sorry," I told the voice. "I must have the wrong number."

"Who were you trying to reach?"

There was a sudden edge to the voice. It was still great voice.

"Maria Hill," I told him. I pulled a friend's name off the top of my head and read him back his number, transposing the last two digits. He corrected me immediately.

I could have listened to his voice forever, however my quarry chose that moment to leave the restaurant, so I apologized and hung up. I wondered if the man matched his voice. Then I wondered if I was about to find out. Was she on her way to meet the man behind that voice?

There was enough traffic on the street that I did not have to worry about being spotted now. When I felt certain Freyja's destination was the address on the paper, I decided to take a chance. I turned off, took a shortcut that would bring me up on the street behind Balder's and parked the car where I had have no trouble getting out in a hurry. I walked around the block and stood across the street in the doorway of a closed shop. It afforded me a good view of the parking lot as well as the front door of the lounge while keeping me relatively concealed.

Freyja pulled in even as I slipped into position. She stepped from the Jag and flashed a look around as if she was expecting someone. After a few seconds, she frowned and headed for the entrance.

I decided to give her ten minutes to get settled before going inside myself. I was regretting my generosity with Sif. Since I only had three dollars left, I could not go sit at the bar. The best I could do was have a quick peek inside to see who she met. I might be able to snap a picture unobserved, but it was not likely. I had have to try for the man's picture when they came back outside.

And I was fairly sure it would be a he. A woman does not go to a place like Balder's alone unless she is meeting someone or trolling. Either way I needed to capture the moment on my digital camera.

Since I could not read my watch in the growing darkness, I had to guess at the time. I was about to make my move when there was a movement near the back of the lounge's parking lot. Someone had stepped out of a car that was already parking before Freyja arrived or I would have noticed it pulling in. Given that I do not believe in coincidence, I knew the driver would turn out to be even before he came into view.

My heart skipped a beat, then started thumping like a wild thing. I almost forgot to bring up the camera. I was right. The zoom lens was not necessary to tell me that this was the same man who had been parked on Freyja's street earlier this evening.

TBC..