Atlas walked closer so he could see inside Valerie’s car. “Get those handcuffs off her.”
The driver reached inside with a tiny key and inserted it in each lock. His overbite and the vacuity in his eyes made her think of a barracuda swimming along the glass wall of an aquarium. He removed the handcuffs and dropped them into his pocket, never looking at her.
“I’ll get you for this, buster,” she said.
He didn’t answer. His attention was concentrated on V
ick Atlas. “We were going to scare her.”
“Who you working for?” Atlas said.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re telling me you don’t know who you work for? You think I’m dumb? That’s what you’re saying? You insult me to my face?”
“We get a phone call. We do the job,” the driver said.
“I know who you are,” Atlas said. “I’ll be dialing you up, know what I mean?”
“We’re gone, Mr. Atlas,” the driver said, stepping back toward his car, his hands raised.
“You’re gone, all right,” Atlas said. “You got till three.”
Both men got into their Ford. The man with the overbite started the engine and backed straight to the next intersection, then turned on his lights and headed down a side street. Atlas reached into Valerie’s car and offered his hand. “I’ll take you home, Miss Valerie. I’ll be dealing with those guys tomorrow. You’ll never see them again.”
She didn’t move.
“You don’t trust me?” he asked.
“How do you know my car won’t start?”
“If you could start it, you would have driven away from those bums. That’s what they are. Bums. They’re going to pay a price.”
“They were dressed like police officers. They could have pulled me over. I might have a tank full of gas. There’s no way you could know that someone punched a hole in my tank or damaged my fuel line.”
He smiled. “I’m getting confused here. I offered to take you home because I figured you were a little shaken up and didn’t want to be driving. I’m getting wet. You want a ride or not?”
“How did you know where I was?”
“Because I was coming to your house,” he said. “Because I wanted to tell you I heard somebody was going to do something bad to you. Can I get in the backseat? I’m getting soaked. I felt bad about what happened at the Balinese Club. That’s not my style.”
“Yes, it is. You’re a criminal.”
“Jesus Christ, are you nuts? I saved your life. Those are bad guys. I’m getting in the back. You don’t like it, that’s tough.”
She tried to lock the back door, but he pulled it open and got inside before she could push down the door button. He took out a handkerchief and blotted his face and hair. “Those guys are freelancers. You wonder who sent them after you? Probably Grady. You heard the guy—they wanted to scare you so you’d run back to Grady.”
“Grady wouldn’t do that.”
“You study psychology? He was strapped on the pot too long. He’ll do anything to get his way. His old man got him discharged from the Marine Corps so he wouldn’t have to go to Korea.”
“All right, you saved my life. Now please get out.”
“Do you have brain damage?” he said, tapping the side of his head. “I’m your friend. Look, you need a ride somewhere, call me. I’ll send a car service for you. You got guys bothering you, call me. I’ll put them out of business. You ask, you get.”
“I’m going to walk home now. Please don’t follow me.”
He leaned forward and cupped his hands on her shoulders. His breath was moist on her ear. He seemed to be gathering his words, his thoughts, before he spoke, as though about to say something he had never said and did not want anyone to hear him say again. “I got a thing for you. You’re like nobody I ever saw or met. I’m just a reg’lar guy. That means I’m not a bad guy, even though I look different and other people say I’m a bad guy. I’m not like my father. He hurts people because he likes it. I defend people. I stand up for myself and my friends. I’ll defend you. I’m different from other people. That’s all I wanted to say, Miss Valerie.”