There was a light breeze when I got outside the health club that smelled faintly of blooming trees mixed with exhaust and something else I couldn’t define. Manhattan had always had its distinct smell, one of the things I’d missed about it when I left. It had taken me a while to get used to the hectic city, but when I had, I was addicted and it took me several weeks to stop wishing I was still there after returning to the West Coast.
New York City, while often rough and scary and unfriendly, definitely had its charm.
I inhaled deeply as I began walking toward Central Park. Despite that I had rented an apartment close to the gym, I had yet to visit the park, my favorite part of the city. At least now I would get to enjoy it as often as I wanted, working and living so nearby, I mused bittersweetly.
I checked my smartphone and discovered that I had less time available to take a walk than I had counted on. Only forty-five minutes. I’d better make the most of them.
I picked up my pace and quickly reached the wide entrance to the park and walked inside. I couldn’t help but smile as I took in its splendor. Many of the trees that competed for space along the asphalted walkways were already green and luscious and flowers, bright and colorful, sprouted in several places. Squirrels ran across the bright green grass and up tree trunks, dogs played with each other and fetched balls their owners threw. All kinds of people milled around the famous landmark: joggers and bikers, mothers with baby carriages, couples holding hands, tourists snapping photos, professionals taking a break from the office to steal a bit of fresh air.
I still spotted the man from the club cafeteria almost instantly.
He was walking along the large, fenced-in grass field known as the Sheep Meadow where plenty of people sat or lay down, many directly on the grass and wearing little, enjoying the pleasant weather. Looking straight ahead, he was talking to someone on a cell phone. He was only about fifteen yards away from me, and, as far as I could tell, he hadn’t noticed me yet. He made a turn as he reached the edge of the Sheep Meadow, and now his back was toward me.
Having no specific destination in mind, I decided that I might as well use my break to see what he was up to. Maybe I had written him off too quickly. It seemed too much of a coincidence that I’d run into him again, especially so soon. Maybe fate was trying to tell me something, push me in the right direction by having me spot him so easily in the crowds.
Wishing that I had access to a baseball hat that I could wear to hide my face, I did the second best—I found my sunglasses in my purse. Someone had sat on them by mistake at work, breaking the frames, which was why I had chosen not to wear them despite that the sun shone brightly from a cloud-free sky. Putting them on anyway, I also lowered my head to make myself as inconspicuous as I could while setting after the man. He kept walking along Sheep Meadow toward the eastside of Manhattan, weaving through others who were sauntering along like they didn’t have a care in the world.
My object walked the way someone did when they had a purpose in mind.
I used the same pace as he did, maintaining about fifteen yards between us. It helped that there were several people ahead of me that I could quickly hide behind in case he turned around.
By the time we had passed the football-sized lawn and were heading toward the narrow park’s eastside exit, there were suddenly a lot fewer people for me to hide behind. The majority of them were suddenly heading either north or south, as they reached the wide asphalted passage at the other side of Sheep Meadow. I kept virtual fingers crossed that my target didn’t sense I was following him. He had stopped talking on the phone and put it in his pants pocket, walking faster now. I was a fast walker myself, but this one had me half running to keep up.
He got to the low stonewall that surrounded the entire park in which there were exits here and there. The traffic light that controlled Fifth Avenue, a road with multiple lanes that edged Central Park’s eastside, gave pedestrians the right of way at the moment. The blond man crossed it quickly. I was running to catch the light before it turned red. I didn’t make it, so angry drivers honked as I snuck in front of their cars. I raised an apologetic hand, mouthing “sorry” to as many as I could. As I kept weaving through all the cars, I watched how the man disappeared behind the corner of the building closest to the next cross street.
Damn, I thought as I finally stepped onto the curb on the other side of the avenue. He’d better not disappear on me again. I dashed up to the building wall and stopped, peering around the corner. I relaxed when I spotted him walking down the street. I set after him. Where was he going?
I scurried after him faster than before so he wouldn’t cross Madison Avenue that was quickly creeping up ahead of him and leave me stuck on the other side because the street light had turned red. The distance between us shortened drastically to a paltry seven, eight yards.
But when he reached the end of the block, instead of crossing Madison Avenue he stopped and raised a hand, scanning the street.
He must be looking for a cab. I stopped dead in my tracks. If he turned around right now, he would no doubt see me—and see me clearly—as no one was between us. Barring an old couple that had come out of a store and just passed me, the street was completely empty.
I held my breath as I thought about what to do. Stay in place and hope he kept looking ahead? There was a restaurant to my left that I could run into and peek out from, wait until he got a cab. Then I could get one of my own and follow his. I’d come up with a plausible excuse if necessary to explain why I was late for my shift. The way my gut was screaming, telling me I needed to know more about this man, was just too loud to ignore.
Deciding the chance he’d turn around was even smaller now, I remained on the street.
It felt like forever as the two of us stood there on the quiet sidewalk, him waving indignantly after yellow cabs and me staring at him. I was beginning to expect that he would give up and take the bus instead he was having such a hard time. But suddenly one took a sharp turn and slid up beside him.
My body tensed as I got ready to find my own cab and follow him—hopefully I’d hail one much quicker than he had. Not that it looked promising. As I kept searching for one, I watched out of the corner of my eye how he opened the door to his cab and prepared to get in. My heart pounding, I waved frenetically in the direction of each cab I spotted. Come on, I hissed under my breath as they swished by, all of them ignoring me. His car door was fully open now. But instead of climbing in, he turned around and gazed straight at me.
I couldn’t stop the gasp that pushed through my lips as his eyes landed on me. I glanced around in a vain search for somewhere to hide even though he had clearly already discovered me. Even so, my fight or flight instinct was well and alive, urging me to make a decision.
Before I could dash into the restaurant, his face changed. The sullenness faded and there was the tiniest of smiles on his lips. I couldn’t determine whether it was sarcastic or kind because his lips soon shrank back to a straight line. Then he swiveled around and climbed into the cab. It took off with a shriek shortly after he had closed the door.
I kept staring after the yellow car as it quickly headed northbound on Madison Avenue. When did he notice that I was after him? Had he known all along? When had he seen me? Before I’d spotted him? And what had he tried to tell me with that little grin? It had been so quick I wasn’t sure I’d actually seen it now. I was completely dumbfounded.
I watched how his cab got smaller and smaller as it kept driving up Madison Avenue, zigzagging smoothly between all the other cars crowding the lanes. I opted not to try to follow him in the end. There were no available cabs around for me to use. He would be long gone before I found one.
I sighed. I might as well head back to Nikkei for my shift. While there, I’d sweet talk the front desk staff and see if I could find out his name that way. If he was a member, he’d be in the computer system, and if not, he’d be on the sign-in list all guests had to sign to gain access to the club. As long as he used his real ID and the receptionists worked with me, I’d figure out who he was. It couldn’t be that many names on that list, and not all of them would be male.
I jogged back to the club. My shift started soon, so I needed to hurry.
I punched in my employee number right on time, still catching my breath. I would take a round covering every floor of the club, and then head down to the front desk and talk to the receptionists, ask them to dig up the mystery man for me. I would have to use all my charm to win them over, convince them to help me with my investigation. Too bad they were all girls.
I climbed the stairs to get to the fifth floor. On my way I bumped into Ron, an investment banker who used to hang with Cardoza and his men when I was undercover. For a while I had suspected that he might be involved in Cardoza’s organization, but as I’d gotten to know him better, I changed my mind. This guy had no idea what thugs he partied with. To Ron, Cardoza was just another wealthy real estate developer.
Did I jump to conclusions? I asked myself as he approached me in the staircase now. What with Nick’s murder, I could no longer be sure despite that the FBI seemed to have caught all of Cardoza’s underlings and cohorts, especially the ones who’d hung out at Nikkei. Until I had figured out if he’d been involved after all, I was better off avoiding him. I tried my best to just walk past him. Unfortunately, he stopped me.
“Hey, the TV on one of the treadmills on the fifth floor isn’t working,” he said, scowling. “Can you fix that for me?”
“Um, I could take a look at it,” I said in a lighter voice than the one I’d used when I had been Annika, even though the fact that I spoke with an American, not Swedish, accent should be enough. “What’s wrong with it?”
“If I knew that, I’d fix it myself,” he snapped.
“Let me call buildings operations and have them come look at it,” I said, not feeling like dealing with Ron’s bad mood. “Which treadmill is it?”
He explained which treadmill it was and I told him I’d call for help. Someone should be there shortly.
“Let’s hope so or I’ll be canceling my membership,” he grumbled. “I’ll be on the treadmill waiting.” He turned around and walked back up the stairs. I turned around myself and walked down to the front desk. From there, I’d radio buildings operations to be sure someone went up to Ron immediately. I hadn’t missed the way he’d thrown glances at my nametag, and I didn’t need him to complain about me.
I asked Natalie, one of the front desk girls, to find building operations for me. Then, having already broken the ice with her, I asked if she could help me find a member.
“Sure,” she said, pushing her cat-eye glasses up her nose. Her strawberry blond hair was tied back in a French twist and she was wearing virtually no makeup. “What’s the name?”
I grimaced. “I misplaced the card he gave me. All I know is that his first name is Jacob. We spoke in the cafeteria during lunch today, and he told me he wanted a trainer. I obviously know what he looks like, though. Can we look at who checked in during lunch maybe?”
“Sure, but how do you know that he didn’t check in earlier? Maybe he ate after working out.”
“That’s true. How about we look through all members who checked in after ten today? We spoke at one.”
“Okay.” Natalie brought up the check-ins on the screen before her. I leaned over the counter as much as I could without breaking my back to see. She kept scrolling through members.
“Anyone?” she asked me when we got to members who had checked in at noon.
“Um, no.”
As Natalie kept scrolling, I prepared myself to ask for the sign-in list. It would be harder to justify getting access to that. When we got to members who’d checked in after twelve thirty, I gave up on him being an actual member. I also knew what excuse to use to get my hands on the list.
“Oh, I just remembered that he said his membership doesn’t start until next week. So he was only here as a guest today. May I take a look at the sign-in sheet?” I gave her the friendliest smile I could muster. “There can’t be too many Jacobs there.”
She handed me the clipboard with the sign-in sheet. It took me only a quick glance to realize that at least thirty people had scribbled their names there. I would need to make a copy in the business office, using the photocopier; doing it by hand would take forever. I couldn’t stand around at the front desk much longer without a manager wondering what I was up to.
“Can I make a copy of this sheet?” I asked Natalie in a quiet voice so that the other receptionists wouldn’t hear me. The fewer people who noticed me, the better. So far, Natalie obviously thought my requests were totally legit. Others might not be as easy to fool.
“Sure,” she said. As I was about to remove it from the clipboard, she put a hand over mine. “But I would need something in exchange for that.”
My heart sank; I should have known this was going a little too well.
“And what would that be?” I asked, careful to keep the irritation out of my voice.
She smiled at me, revealing that she wore a small brace. “Three free training sessions.”
“I’d be happy to train you,” I said. “Just text me whenever you want to do them.” I gave her my cell number. Hopefully, she would be too lazy to actually reach out to me.
“Thank you,” she said and lifted her hand from the sheet. I removed it and scurried into the nearby business office, making a mental note that Natalie was someone to be leery of.
Now that I had a copy of the sheet, all I needed to do was go through the names and put faces to each of them. It was a shame the guests didn’t also have to add the time of their arrival, as, this way, I would have been able to narrow down the list significantly.
I went to the locker room and stuck the copy into my purse, then I returned to the gym floors. I needed to focus on getting some clients now; so far, I had only picked up one. In the evenings, most members were working out on the third or fifth floor, so I was better off hanging out in those areas.
As I stepped onto the fifth floor, an older woman with significant curves in a hot pink outfit and black tights struggled with one of the machines. She gazed at me helplessly.
“Do you need some help, ma’am?” I asked.
She looked relieved. “Oh yes, that would be so great. How do I use this machine?”
“What are you trying to accomplish?” I asked. The woman was on one of the club’s many ab machines. In my days as a trainer, I never ceased to be surprised about how many people kept thinking that by working their abdominal muscles, the fat on top would magically melt away.
In fact, my client Felipe Cardoza had been one of them.
She pointed to her chunky midriff and smiled a little embarrassed. “I want a flat stomach.”
“Well, in that case, this machine won’t help you.”
“Really? Then what should I do?”
“The club offers complimentary sessions to all members. Did you use yours yet?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Well, if you let me train you, I can show you what you need to do to get a flat stomach. Flat stomachs are my specialty.”
The woman smiled. “Really? That sounds great! When can we do it?”
“What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”
She screwed up her face. “Could you do sometime in the afternoon?”
“How about four p.m.?”
“I think that should work. Where would I meet you?”
“We meet our clients on the fourth floor by the fitness desk. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes, I do. Okay, I will see you there tomorrow then.”
I got out my phone and took the woman’s contact information before I moved on. Now that I’d picked up a person who seemed like she could afford to train on a regular basis—I hadn’t failed to notice the huge diamond on her ring finger—I would go back down to the fourth floor and Google a couple of the names on the sign-in list on the desktop computers there. Thirty-seven people had signed it, and twenty of those were males. I had my work cut out for me. I went to grab the sheet out of my locker, and then walked out to the area where the employee computers were.
Keeping the sheet next to me, I Googled the first name, a Richard Otey. The screen filled with several results out of which one was Whitepages.com. I clicked on it and found fourteen exact matches. Out of these, only three were in their thirties and none lived in New York. I Googled the three young Richards with their respective cities and then clicked on the Images tab. If I was lucky, there would be a photo of this man somewhere on the web. Unfortunately, none looked even remotely like the blond man.
I did the same with the next three Richards, and none appeared to be my man. Exhaling frustrated, I went to male number five, a Norbi Novak. Sounds Eastern European to me, so this might be the one, I thought. Biting my lip in anticipation, I punched in his name on the keyboard.
“Spying on your boyfriend?” a smooth male voice asked behind me.
I turned to the voice and discovered one of the new, gorgeous trainers standing there.
“Norbi is a weird name for a guy,” the tall, muscular, drop dead gorgeous guy continued and swiped away his long bangs, revealing striking green eyes with the longest lashes I had ever seen on a man. “You should dump his ass.”
I smirked at him and checked his nametag.
“Are you trying to tell me that I should upgrade to someone called Jonah instead?”
He grinned at me, perfect teeth flashing white. “Would be a lot better than Norbi.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that.” As discreetly as I could, I grabbed the sheet and flipped it over so Jonah wouldn’t see what it was. It was best I continued my search when I got home instead. I didn’t need to be interrupted like this.
“You’re feisty,” Jonah said, still grinning. “I like it. I don’t think we officially met. I’m Jonah Green.” He held out a big, square hand in my direction. As I took it to shake it, he flipped it around and brought it to his lips, pressing a light kiss onto my knuckles. Speechless, I just stared at him. “Welcome to Nikkei, Jamie. When did you start with us?”
I cleared my throat, annoyed with myself that he’d gotten to me just a little bit with his ridiculously great looks and confident seduction moves. Oily moves. I pulled back my hand.
“A few days ago. How long have you been working here?”
“Nine months. Representatives from Nikkei recruited me and my twin sister directly from college. We were both on athletic scholarships at Princeton.”
I frowned at him. “You were recruited?” I had never heard of a health club going to colleges to recruit employees. I wanted to ask him if he was given a signing bonus too, but felt that was too nosy. As I took a closer look at him now, I realized he was younger than I had first thought. Which would totally explain his arrogant behavior and the kiss on the hand, a total overcompensation. I suddenly liked him a lot better. The poor boy just didn’t know any better and was probably just trying to hide the fact that he was inexperienced.
“Your sister must be gorgeous,” I said, feeling almost maternal toward Jonah now.
“Yeah, but you’re sexier.” He fired off a boyish grin at me. “I love older women.”
I couldn’t stop myself from chuckling at his forthright comments. Jonah could not be from the big city acting this way.
“You do, huh?” I said. “And why is that?”
His cheeks went a light pink, but he still went ahead and said, “Well, for one, they’re a lot more confident than girls my age. More emancipated.”
I arched a brow at him. “Emancipated?”
“Yup. You go straight to the point when you like a guy. No playing games, driving guys crazy. So you wanna hang out later? Have some pizza?”
I chuckled. “Sorry. Norbi wouldn’t be very happy if I did that. Hey, I need to get going. I’m supposed to be talking to members, not trainers.” I took my paper and slipped past him.
Folding it and sticking it in my pants, I walked down to the club’s third floor.
When I was done at Nikkei and I went home to google the rest of the guys on the sheet, I would also google The Adler Group. It seemed to be a most interesting company, and it was time I learned more about it.
Read Chapter 5 →