Mr. Andrews (Andrews and Chase Book 1) Read online

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  ©Mr. Andrews

  ©Andrews and Chase

  Copyright © 2019 Suzanne Steele

  Published by H.I.P Publishing

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of Fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales, are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. The author acknowledges the trademark status of various products and locales referenced in this fictional work, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. All rights reserved. No part of this book can be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover photo © Dollar Photo Club

  Edited by Patricia Commander Editing

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  This e-book is Rated 17+

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  Acknowledgements

  First and foremost, I want to thank God; without him none of this would be possible.

  I want to thank my family, who carry the weight of everything so I can write. I love you guys and I couldn’t do what I do without you.

  I want to thank Patricia Commander, my editor.

  I want to thank my readers. You keep me writing when the literary world gets crazy. You guys are amazing and I love you.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty One

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Chapter Thirty Four

  Chapter Thirty Five

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  Chapter Thirty Eight

  Chapter Thirty Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty One

  Chapter Forty Two

  Chapter Forty Three

  Chapter Forty Four

  Chapter Forty Five

  Chapter Forty Six

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Chapter Forty Eight

  Chapter Forty Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  “Andrews! You’ve got one in room two,” a voice bellowed from behind him. He knew who it was without turning around; the heavy smoker’s voice was a dead giveaway. It was Copeland. The man had been forced to quit when a trip to the doctor’s office had convinced him that an inevitable heart attack was in his future. Now he was grumpy and had a sucker in his mouth; a real modern-day Kojak, but with hair.

  Roman Andrews’ gait was more of a stride as he lazily made his way back to the interview room with a gourmet coffee in his hand and a determined look on his face. This witness had something he wanted, and he had every intention of beating it out of him if he had to. To look at him you’d never think he was capable of violence, but Roman Andrews was an onion no one had been able to peel back over the years.

  He opened the door to the interview room. There was a small room with a metal table, a two-way mirror—he now wished he’d taken the time to look through—and a very angry brunette shackled to a metal ring on said metal table.

  “Hey Suit, yeah you,” she snarled when he looked at her like she had to be talking to someone else. “You want to let me out of here, and while you’re at it give me back my very expensive camera that lollipop-sucking cop took from me?”

  Roman resisted a smile; one that would actually reach his eyes in this case, which was a very rare occasion when it came to the well-coifed FBI consultant.

  When he sat down, Chandler eyed the file with her name on it. Bastards. This wasn’t the first time she’d been down here. The Louisville police station that housed cops, detectives, homicide, and now evidently FBI agents was familiar to her. Clearly, the suit had to be a feeb. No cop dressed like that. The guy looked like he’d walked off of a fashion magazine for men.

  “What is this all about?” She was glaring at the handcuffs as she yanked at them, where they were hooked into a metal ring in the table. He was waiting for lasers to shoot out of her eyes and melt the metal. He hoped that didn’t happen.

  “Chandler Chase,” he said, ignoring her question.

  She didn’t like the way her name rolled off his lips, like some decadent dessert on a pull cart in an overpriced restaurant.

  “Very interesting,” he said, looking in the file like he knew some secret she wanted to know but couldn’t.

  “Hey, Suit… snap out of it. I work for a living,” she tapped her Timex for emphasis, “and I’m late for a date.”

  “And you’re a poet and didn’t know it,” he mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

  “That’s it, Suit!” Chandler tried to stand and was prevented from doing so by her handcuffs that had been too durable for her angry laser eyes to penetrate.

  Roman looked up through dark lashes and hooded eyes at the tall brunette in tight jeans, boots, and a leather jacket.

  “I know my rights. I want my camera, and that SD card better be there or you’re going to be hearing from the most cut-throat bastard of a lawyer you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting.” Who the hell am I fooling? I can’t afford to put gas in my jalopy.

  She’d been jabbing her finger against the metal table. Now she was half standing, half sitting, looking at him like he’d grown a third eye.

  Roman reached over and unlocked the cuffs, then leaned back in his chair and interlocked his fingers behind his neck, giving her a blank stare. “No one’s forcing you to stay Miss Chase.” He waited until she got to the door, “You should know you’ve drawn the attention of some very dangerous people, though.”

  “Won’t be the first time, Suit. Won’t be the first time.”

  Chapter One

  Chandler jerked the door to her 1970 pea green Chevy Chevelle Malibu jalopy open and threw her camera bag in the passenger seat. That
guy in there wearing the suit that cost more than she made in two months had made her late. Not like he’d care. She dialed the number for Chandler’s Photography, and Judy picked up on the third ring.

  “Big Booty Judy at your service. You seat ‘em, we shoot ‘em.”

  “Judy.” Chandler took a deep breath and blew it out in an effort to release some of the stress of the day, and it was only ten in the morning. “How many times have we been over this? At least try to sound somewhat professional. And what the hell is ‘You seat ‘em, we shoot em’ mean?”

  “Well, you know how the moms get everybody seated, and then we shoot the family portrait. I was thinking we could use it on a business card.”

  “Sounds like a morgue.”

  “Morgues don’t shoot people, Chandler,” Judy said, sitting back in the chair and situating the ‘girls’ in the too tight neon green tube top she was wearing.

  “True. But there’s still something very dark about that tagline.”

  “Well, you know me. I’m full of ideas. So, I’ll keep working on it. Where you been?”

  “You don’t even want to know.”

  “Oh hell no. Now I really wanna know.”

  “Hey bitch, get off my ass.”

  “You don’t have to get so touchy about it.”

  The lady in the soccer van who was tailgating Chandler pulled up beside her and gave her the finger, a smug look, and then hauled ass like she was scared she’d get beat up.

  “I’m talking to the soccer mom who’s riding my ass; not you.”

  “Ooh girl, you better watch out for them soccer moms. After the third kid, they lose all patience. Lots of pent up anger in those bitches. Now, where were you? You got me all kinds of curious.”

  Chandler pulled up in front of the rundown mall strip, the downtown building she called an office, and cut the car off. A senior citizen pushing a shopping cart jumped when the car backfired.

  “Sorry, Mrs. Mattingly.”

  Chandler stopped on the sidewalk for a moment as the woman slowly wheeled her cart over. Mrs. Mattingly leaned in whispering, “I thought it was a gunshot.”

  “I get that a lot, Mrs. Mattingly. Are they treating you okay in your room?” Her room consisted of an efficiency apartment in a bad neighborhood. More than once Chandler had to go threaten the life and limb of the slum lord when he tried to raise the rent because he knew Chandler paid it when she could afford to.

  “He’s been so nice since you visited him.” Mrs. Mattingly looked at Chandler like she was a super-hero with the ability to save her from all of life’s woes that came in the form of her greedy landlord.

  Yeah, after I took Nitro over there and he stuck a gun down the guy’s throat.

  “That’s great, Mrs. Mattingly. Now go get breakfast, lunch, brunch, whatever they call it.” She handed her the last ten bucks she had and watched Mrs. Mattingly stuff it somewhere deep within the trenches of her bra. God only knows what could get lost down there.

  Mrs. Mattingly patted her arm. There was a sadness in her eyes when she spoke. “You’re so good to me, Chandler.”

  “It’s nothing.” She waved over her shoulder and bounded up to her office door. A bell tingled over the entrance when she entered. It was there more for the security of knowing what or who was coming through the door. In this neighborhood, you couldn’t be too careful.

  “So where ya been?” Big Booty Judy sat behind a desk looking at her as she eagerly awaited the tea to be spilled, or that’s what she called gossip sessions. Chandler took in the neon green tube top that threatened to spill the girls on the desk any second.

  When she was assured the girls weren’t going to make an appearance, she walked over and got a Yoo-hoo out of the mini fridge. She then walked over and sat down propping her legs up on the desk. “Being questioned by some feeb in a five-thousand-dollar suit.”

  “Mm, sounds hot.”

  “Not by the time I finished fantasizing about Nitro getting ahold of his face.”

  “Nitro’s been edgy lately. You probably don’t want to turn him loose on anybody right now. Somebody needs to talk to that boy about getting some meds.”

  “He says it’ll get in the way of his creativity.”

  Judy nodded her head. “Yeah, a man needs that to blow shit up. Building all those contraptions he needs his wits about him, for sure. I like him. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “I don’t want him to get hurt either. I love him.”

  Chapter Two

  Copeland fingered the Tootsie Pop in his mouth as he eyed Roman trying to get a read on him. He should have quit a long time ago; Roman was way too polished to give anything away. More than once Copeland had made Roman wonder how many licks it took to get to the middle of a Tootsie Pop. Oh, the power of the media.

  “Boy, she was quite the firecracker, wasn’t she?”

  “Yeah, just a real barrel of laughs. We’ll see how hard she’s laughing when Bobby Ed Beastly”—it was a nickname they’d given a very high profile businessman in the Louisville area—“finds out she has photos of him consorting with the Born Bayou mafia.”

  “One thing’s for sure, they’ll underestimate her for the tomboy paparazzi she is.”

  “It’s paparazza—not paparazzi,” Roman mumbled, deep in thought.

  “Huh?” Copeland said, crunching down into the chocolatey goo of the Tootsie pop. There went the chance of finding out the mystery of how many licks to get to the goo.

  Roman looked up at Copeland, giving him his full attention. “Paparazza is the feminine singular form. Never mind.” He shook his head, more concerned with what Copeland had said that made a lightbulb in his head go off. “You may be onto something, Copeland. We might be able to use him underestimating her to our benefit.”

  Copeland’s face broke out in a huge grin. Even though Rowan was well bred and overeducated, he was never an ass about it. "You gonna use her to draw ‘em out?” He was leaned forward in his seat in a state of anticipation.

  “I’m not going to have to use her. Trouble follows that girl.”

  Chapter Three

  “But was he hot? I mean I get that he was on the stuffy professional side, but did your lady parts get all tingly?”

  “No!” Chandler lied.

  “Ooh, que mentirosa.”

  Chandler looked at her partner in crime. “I am not lying, Judy,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, you are. You know how I know?” Judy crossed her arms in defiance and answered the rhetorical question. “Because you looked up and to the right. Body language, baby; not to mention we’re besties.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Chandler met her gaze, “and what if I would have looked up and to the left?”

  “Then you would have been telling the truth.”

  “I’m more concerned about why ‘Suit’ was so interested in what’s on my camera.”

  “And that is called deflecting, changing the subject. Who is ‘Suit’?”

  “The uptight FBI agent. I figured the nickname fit him.”

  “We should Google him. What’s his real name?” Judy’s fingers were hovered over the keyboard waiting to unleash all the fury of a woman’s sixth sense. More than once Judy’s intuition had dug people out of hiding who didn’t want to be found.

  “Roman Andrews,” Chandler answered; standing up and stretching.

  “Oh. My. Goodness.” Judy stared at the screen as if Google had just unleashed all the mysteries of the universe.

  Chandler rushed around the desk and bent down looking at the computer screen.

  “Shit. Roman Andrews is some blueblood gazillionaire that consults for the FBI. He’s got a whole string of offices of special investigations. In other words, he owns a string of very elite Private Investigative offices. Seems the guy has an ability to find out things no one else can. Have to admit, the guy’s got it going on. This isn’t good, Chandler. Well, at least he isn’t FBI.” The weak grin on Judy’s face showed she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or
not.

  “Owning his own company that’s hired out to consult for the FBI is worse.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he doesn’t have to follow the rules—he makes them. I think we better go see Nitro.”

  “And what… have him blow him up?”

  Chandler actually looked like she was thinking about it.

  “Not sure yet.”

  “Oh great. When trouble isn’t following you, you go looking for it. That’s what I like about you, Chandler: never a dull moment. I need excitement in my life. Sittin’ up in that one room shithole I call an apartment all the time would be boring.”

  “If it wasn’t for you being there who would watch over Mrs. Mattingly?"

  “True. But that still doesn’t nix the fact I need excitement in my life.”

  “Yeah, life’s a real roller coaster ride for us.”

  Judy nodded her head overlooking the sarcasm in Chandler’s voice. “Yep. Thanks to you there’s never a dull moment.”

  Chapter Four

  Nitro sat at a workbench in a darkened garage with an adjustable reading lamp on. The only other lighting came from the attachment he wore on his dental loupes. He was building a one-shot, and he didn’t want the damn thing blowing up in his hand, or worse yet, his face. Too pretty for that. He’d let his hair grow over his skull and tribal tats on his head, and judging by the way club whores came on to him all the time, he figured it must look good.

  “Son of a bitch!” He grabbed his Uzzi SMG and stomped out of the open garage door. A sly smile crossed his lips when he saw it was Chandler and Judy. He sauntered up to Chandler and kissed her cheek, and then looked Judy up and down and licked his lips before he hugged her.

  “Why you all tensed up, girl?” The former amusement in his eyes was gone, now giving place to a deadly if somebody’s fucking with you I’ll kill them look.

  Judy looked at him and rolled her eyes. “I have a tendency to do that when somebody hugging me is holding an Uzi.”

  Nitro backed up and kissed the butt of the gun. “This is my baby. I even named her: Psycho Sally.”