Confidential Prey (Nick Teffinger Thriller) by R.J. Jagger Page A

cell phone.
    She was a stray cat out in a stray night.
    “I’ll get you a hotel room,” Teffinger said. “My treat. Then we can touch base in the morning and figure out how to get you back home.”
    “Thanks but I don’t take charity.”
    “It’s not charity. It’ s just one person helping another.”
    “I can’t take money.”
    “You can pay it back later if that makes you feel better.”
    “I don’t like owing people either,” she said. “Just drop me off anywhere I can get out of the weather. I’ll take it from there.”
    Teffinger argued.
    He lost.
    He did, however, talk her into at least sleeping on his couch.
     
    His neighborhood was in total darkness when they got there. Not a streetlight was on and not a single light came from inside a house. The storm had defaulted the neighborhood back to its prehistoric days.
    Inside, Teffinger got a flashlight for the woman, gave her the best dry clothes he scrounge up—a T, a fresh pair of boxer shorts and white cotton gym socks—and showed her where to dry off.
    “I’ll be in the garage,” he said. “You want some wine or a beer?”
    She did.
    A beer.
    In fact, a beer would be perfect.
    “No problem,” he said. “Whatever you do, don’t look under my mattress.”
    “Why, what’s under your mattress?”
    “Nothing. Just don’t look there, okay?”
     
    He had the garage door open and his six-two frame was behind the wheel of the ’67 Corvette, watching the lightning show , when she showed up . She slid into the passenger seat and flicked the flashlight off.
    He popped the top of a blue can and passed it to her.
    “This is better than TV,” she said.
    “Way better.” The pounding of the water was so powerful on the ground that it resonated into the garage and up the tires. “Tomorrow morning I’m going to drive you to the airport and get you on a plane back home.”
    “I told you—”
    “I know,” he said. “No charity and all that. The problem is there’s no way to solve this without getting money involved. I’m not just going to let you wander out into the world with thirty dollars in your pocket.”
    She took a long swallow.
    “We’ll see.”
    He clinked his can on hers.
     
    They talked.
    She was sophisticated, educated and, most surprisingly, an ex-marine with two years of her tenure in the Middle East.
    “I don’t get it,” Teffinger said. “How does someone like you end up in a storm with only thirty dollars?”
    “It’s a long story,” she said.
    He shrugged.
    “I have time.”
    “It also a private story.”
    “I won’t tell anyone.”
    “You know what I mean.”
    He did.
    He did indeed.
    “So at least we’re agreed on the airport tomorrow?” he said.
    “Only if I can pay you back.”
    “You can.”
    “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning,” she said. “What do you like?”
    He swallowed what was left in the can.
    “If you feel like working up some pancakes, I have fresh strawberries and whipped cream.”
    She shook his hand.
    “Deal.” A beat then, “I think I’m ready for that couch now.”
    He checked his watch.
    It was 11:02.
     
    It took a solid argument but Teffinger convinced her to take the bed and let him take the couch. He got his frame as comfortable as he could on the cushions, sunk his head into the pillow and closed his eyes.
    The intensity of the storm hadn’t let up.
    The walls creaked and the fireplace whistled.
    It was music .
    He was almost asleep when he sensed a presence in the room. Then a warm naked body was snuggling up next to him.
    Atasha’s voice whispered in his ear, “Hi there.”
    Teffinger’s instinct was to screw her so hard there’d be nothing left. He shut it down and said, “You don’t need to do this .”
    “This is for me, not you.”
    That might be true.
    It might be payment, too, or at least have a payment component to it.
    “Next time,” he said.
    She licked his ear and wiggled on him.
    “Come on.”
    “I will, but next time,” he said.
    “You