Traffickers

CHAPTER ONE

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It was a brisk autumn morning; if you call forty five degrees brisk. In Phoenix, Arizona that is a bit chilly. There was a storm rolling in from the southwest and Baker could feel the damp air settling deep in his bones. He was hopeful rain would be coming with this storm. He unlocked Coffee & Books. It was the book store he had opened just a few years prior. He had decided, he needed to take a break from the life that he was leading and find a quiet, comfortable place, to kick back and do something he really loved. (No, not read.) Keeping in shape gave Baker a longing for the things he loved; hiking, biking and repelling. However, he hadn’t had time for himself the last ten years and he wanted to enjoy life, before he got any older.

It was nothing for him to read three to four paperbacks a week, when he was in his early twenties. That was during the first year at college. Life had got busy, though, and he got caught up. Baker ran his fingers through his thick black curly hair and sighed, a bit loud. He hadn’t started feeling his age yet, but he had spotted a gray hair or two.

The girl who had followed him into the book store looked up from the magazines she was thumbing through. What? She asked.

I’m sorry. It’s not you, Baker quickly replied. I was just thinking about something else. He turned his back to her and started pouring coffee. Would you like a cup? he asked, just above a whisper.

No. No. No. No! The girl said in an exasperated tone, then slapped the magazines onto the table.

OK! I was just being polite, Baker said, as he looked over his shoulder at the girl. He now realized that she was in a black trench coat, just like he once wore.

I’m sorry, the girl said half disgusted. I thought for sure you would have the November Issue of The Journal.

Well, it should be there. Baker replied, as he came around the desk, holding his tea in hand. Let me take a look.

Baker quickly thumbed through the magazine pile. He had been distracted with his thoughts of years past, this morning when he came into work. (Something he never did; get distracted and not pay attention to his surroundings). He knew, oh to well, what could happen when he didn't pay attention to what was going on around him.

Suddenly, he felt uneasy. The girl backed away a few feet. He tried not to act suspicious, but his gut told him that something was up. She turned and started toward the door. She was reaching for something inside her coat.

Baker didn't hesitate. He dove down the row of book shelves to take cover, sliding across the floor. He was sure she had a gun. The door opened and the bell rang. He could hear the door close and then there was complete silence. He scurried down the row that led to the back office, as quickly as he could. He took the revolver from its shoulder holster and sat on the floor quietly.

It seemed like at least ten minutes had past, when he heard the front door open and the bell jingle; announcing that someone had entered the building. Baker looked at his watch, It had been two minutes and fifteen seconds, since the woman had left the book store.

Baker? Baker? You here bud? a familiar voice sounded. It was his brother, Thomas.

Baker, quickly stood up and stuck his gun back into the holster, then popped into the bathroom. In the bathroom, he muttered. Be right out. He flushed the toilet and washed his hands. He opened the door slowly and looked around.

Hey Thomas, Baker asked. Is that you? He walked down the row of books, looking for the girl. Are you by yourself today? Baker asked.

Ask a dumb question. Thomas piped back happily. Just thought I heard someone else come in with you, that’s all. Baker replied, as he ran his fingers through his black curls and walked toward the front of the book store.

Thomas shoved two large white bakery bags into his hands, as he commented. You didn’t come into the Bakery this morning. I thought I would come by and see if everything was ok. You never forget your fresh baked pastries on Monday!

Why wouldn’t everything be ok? Baker asked.

Thomas looked at Baker, almost disgusted. You’ve been coming to the Bakery every morning for the past ten years and then you don’t show up this morning. Just thought I would check on you and make sure everything is ok.

Yah, Yah! Everything is fine. Why wouldn’t it be? Baker mumbled, as he turned to get a coffee mug. Coffee? he asked his big brother.

Lucy called in sick this morning, so I had to open up. Yah! Everything is fine! Baker stuttered, as he opened the bag and took out an old fashioned glazed donut, his favorite. He shoved half of it into his mouth, trying to appear that everything was quit normal.

Easy! Don’t scarf too fast, you will choke on that gem, Thomas teased, as he flipped the glaze off Bakers chin. He laughed, as he slapped Baker across the chest.

Baker’s chest tightened with the sting, but he knew it was coming. Big brothers like to torture their siblings. He rubbed his pecks, as he asked. Hey by chance, did you see a blond in a trench coat, come out of the book store as you were coming down the street? Baker was talking with his mouth full.

Yes. She got into a black sedan with a couple of guys, he commented casually. Thomas started toward the door. Did you see the legs on that broad? She looked like a gazelle; tall and skinny. He stretched his hands into the air, like he was measuring her legs.

What's the hurry? Baker asked, as he wiped the glaze from his chin and took a drink of his tea, to wash down the donut.

I better get back to the Bakery and get the supplies ordered, Thomas replied. I have five thousand pounds of flour coming in tonight and I have to make room in the store house. Then, I will pressure wash the floor and set up the pallets before it gets here. Thomas spoke, as he waved his hand over his head and opened the door. See you later.

Thomas looked a lot like his younger brother, Baker. He was just a few pounds heavier, but strong. You couldn’t see just how toned he was because he had on a long coat. But, his broad shoulders and narrow hips showed his chiseled physic.

If you get a minute come by the Bakery tonight. I could use some help with that load of flour. Thomas hollered, as he walked out the door.

Will do, Baker responded. He walked toward the front windows, looking out at the street for the black sedan, or the girl. He took a sip of his tea. It wasn't very warm anymore, so he set it down on the table by the magazines and walked down the row of books that led to the window facing the east street. He looked carefully up and down the street. His trained eyes would spot anything out of place. Baker didn't notice anything out of the normal. But, he hadn't noticed the blond this morning, and she came right in the book store behind him.

Baker blew a sigh of relief. Man, he said out loud, he was talking to himself again, you better pay attention to what is going on. He reached across the table to pick up his tea, when he noticed a white piece of paper sticking out of one of the magazines; the blond had been fumbling through. He pulled the scrap of paper and opened it up. It was a hand written message that read. I need your help. Meet me at the north corner of Bethany Home Rd and Seventh Avenue at 9 pm.

Baker ran his hands through his curly black hair. Oh man, now what? He thought, as he shook his head and went to get a shot of hot tea.

As he walked around the corner of the front desk, he heard a car speeding down the street. Brakes were screeching. He quickly dropped open the cupboard above his head and pulled down a shot gun. He laid the gun across his desk and checked the hand gun in the back of his pants, then pulled his shirt down.

The black sedan pulled up in front. Baker could see two men in the front seat. A tall blond man got out of the car. There was no sign of the girl.

Show Time! Baker said, as he took a deep breath. He opened the newspaper and laid it over the gun.

The man came into the book store. He looked like the textbook gangster. He had on dark slacks, shirt and tie, but he also had on a very heavy winter coat; a little unusual for Phoenix. Baker studied the man, as he came through the door and started toward the front desk.

May I help you? Baker greeted the gruff looking man with a smile and took a sip of his tea with his left hand. His right hand was under the news paper with a firm grip on the shot gun.

Yes, the man gruffly spoke. I’m looking for a blond woman about five foot six. The man looked around the book store. Did she come in here? He sounded like he was reading a script.

Yes, she was here only a moment and did not find the book she was looking for, Baker responded. She left about ten minutes ago. That was the exact truth, as far as Baker knew.

The man looked down the isle of books. What book was she looking for? He asked gruffly.

She asked for the November Issue of the Journal, Baker responded, still looking down at the paper, but following every move the man made.

You don't have that magazine? The man looked at Baker with a puzzled expression.

No. …Well, yes I have that magazine, but it has been checked out for a few days. Baker acted confused, but smiled at the man as he spoke.

The man walked to the desk. I am with the FBI, he quickly flashed a badge, or something that looked like a badge. If that woman comes back in here I want you to give me a call, immediately. The man turned and started toward the door. She is armed and dangerous. Take no chances with her! he almost shouted. He turned and pushed a business card toward Baker.

Baker looked the man in the eye, he could see a long scar that ran across his forehead. He looked at the business card and read it slowly. Officer Jenkins, he said, inquisitively. If I may ask, what did she supposedly do?

She would just as soon cut your throat as look at you, the man said, as he glared back a Baker. Do you understand? The man’s eyes seemed cold and Baker could feel them piercing through his flesh.

Baker backed away; acting intimidated by the man, and immediately threw up his hands then responded. Yes, Yes Sir!

The Man quickly walked out of the book store and jumped into the car, then sped away down the street.

I just bet he was FBI, Baker mumbled under his breath. He kicked the desk. I don’t have time for this, but I know dang good and well that those boys are NOT FBI.

Baker folded his newspaper. It’s always nice to have a gun around, he said, as he patted his shotgun. He put it back into the cupboard over his head. I guess I better find out who the blond is." He smiled and took another sip of tea.

Baker picked up his cell phone and quickly punched in some numbers. Hey, Meg. Is there any way you could come to the book store and work today? He tried to act nonchalant.

Sure, I can come down in about an hour and give you a break, but I can’t stay all day. I’ve got a million things I need to do, Meg answered.

Hey, it’s ok. I just thought you might want some overtime, Baker cut in.

Overtime? Meg asked. Like, time and a half overtime? She paused in unbelief. Meg was just the extra girl on the payroll. She only came in periodically to cover during an emergency or illness.

Sure, Sure, Baker replied. If it’s time and a half you want, I’m good with that. Baker was silent.

Meg stammered, Is everything alright Baker? Meg timidly asked. You never offer me time and a half. Meg sounded worried.

Hey, Yah. Everything is all good, Baker said, as he gave Meg a fake laugh. I just need to take care of something I completely forgot about, he continued.

Are you sure? Meg asked half hearted.

Sure! Baker replied. Just two hours Meg.

OK, she said. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.

Great! Baker answered quickly, and then closed his phone before she could say anything else.

When Meg pulled up in the alley, it had just started raining. She hopped out of her car and popped up an umbrella. Gee wiz, she whined, as she came through the back door. You could have had the door unlocked back there. She blotted her face with a tissue, as the rain dripped off her large red umbrella.

Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking. Baker said, as he watched her hang up her rain coat and galoshes. Her slender waist was accented with a broad black belt and she slipped a pair of black stilettos' from her oversized handbag and slipped them on. Then, put her black gloves into her coat pocket. When she turned around she was smoothing her tight skirt. There now, that is all better, she said.

She flashed a warm smile at Baker. Now, please don’t be over two hours Baker. she said, as she walked past him, trying to ignore his gaze. I have things to do, places to go, and people to see.

You and me both, Baker responded, still looking at Megs tight, tight skirt.

Meg turned to face him. Well, get a move on it bubs! Time is wasting, she scolded.

Baker grabbed his hat and coat off the chair, by the desk and headed to the back door. He paused and turned to Meg. Meg, I’m going out the back. Dead bolt the door behind me. he said mechanically.

He didn’t turn around to see her or hear her response, but both of her hands were on her slender hips, as she looked after Baker.

What's up Baker? She said, as she followed him to the door. She looked out, but Baker had disappeared. I swear that man is just like Houdini, here one second and gone the next. She locked the door and walked back to the front of the store.

A man was standing near the magazines, when she got to the front. Well, good morning! I didn’t hear you come in. She smiled and walked behind the desk. How may I help you?

The gentleman walked down a row of books, as he replied to Meg. I am just looking for a book. I think I can find it myself. He quickly turned down a row in fiction books.

OK. Meg called after him. She went to work cleaning off the desk and throwing the newspapers in the recycle bin. She put another pot of coffee and tea on, and put some mugs into the cupboard. Then, she looked around to see if the gentleman was still there. He was coming back down the isle with an irritated look on his face.

Can I help you find a specific book? Meg asked and again smiled at the man. She had such a warm personality that no one could resist her.

The gentleman looked up at her, and then took a second look. He smiled back then said, Well now, when did librarians start looking like this? He came closer and looked her up and down.

Meg acted like she had not heard his comment and asked, What book are you looking for Sir? Maybe I can help you find it. She started down the row. The man watched her walking away.

My goodness sweetie, he took a deep breath, as he spoke, then let it out slowly.

First of all, Meg said, as she turned around and held up her perfectly manicured finger. I’m not anyone's sweetie and I’m not a librarian.

The man smiled from ear to ear. He enjoyed thinking that he had got a rise out of her. He started to continue, but Meg put her finger up to her puckered red lips.

Shhh, can’t you read the sign? She pointed up above their heads, as she spoke softly. The sign read, Quiet Please.

He laughed out loud, and then said, You are a feisty little thing, aren't you? He followed her down row W watching her tight skirt swing with her hips.

Meg turned again, Now Sir, she said politely, Which book are you looking for?

The man looked up to meet her gaze. He realized that he had been caught in the act and turned a little red. It..., I… The book is….is Gone with the Wind." He stammered, as he almost choked on the words. He tried to hide his embarrassment.

Oh, I’m sorry. Meg replied, as she put on her pouting face. That book was checked out three days ago and it’s not due back until next Thursday." She smiled and waited for a response.

The man turned around and started back down the isle. Shoot! He responded. He clinched his fists and almost stomped off like a pouting child. It will be too late by then.

Now, now. Meg spoke quickly. I’m sure we can find you a great book.

The man broke in, I need that book! He responded with irritation. His dark eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.

Well, I’m sorry, but ‘THAT BOOK’ will not be available until next Friday, Meg responded, with a bit of sharpness.

You said, Thursday! The man snapped back.

Look, Meg whispered, as she smoothed her skirt. The book is due on Thursday. I don’t put the books back on the shelf until the next day. That would be Friday.

The man turned and walked quickly to the front door. It will be too late by then, he mumbled, as he walked out the door.

So sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. Do come back and see us, Meg said, as she walked after the man.

Too late... It’s never too late to read a book, Meg said, as she shook her head and went back to the desk. She fanned her face and sat back in the desk chair, then almost shouted, Frankly Sir, I don’t give a damn! Meg laughed out loud, as she quoted the book.

She got up and poured herself a cup of steaming hot coffee. Sure hope he leaves that attitude in the trash outside, next time, if and when, he comes for a visit. She was still talking to herself, something she did frequently.

There was a knock at the back door. She walked, as quickly as she could, down the isle to the back. She unbolted the door and swung it wide.

What are you thinking? Baker asked, as he quickly walked past her.

I don’t know. What was I thinking? She laughed, as though Baker had heard her last comment.

I have told you a thousand times, Meg, not to answer the back door unless you recognize the person’s voice, or at least look through the peep hole, he spoke with alarm. He walked quickly to the office. Is anyone here? he whispered.

No, not a soul. Meg whispered. The rain is keeping everyone away. Meg was caught off guard at Bakers sudden abruptness.

Why are we whispering, and what is going on with you? Meg asked, as she stopped behind Baker at the office door. You are wound up tighter than panty hose, she responded playfully.

Meg, what if that had been a robber? Baker asked, as he turned to face her.

A robber? Meg asked jokingly, then laughed, I’m sure that is probable. Meg held both of her hands out like guns and using a gangster voice she said, Stick em’ up. I’m here to rob the fiction section or maybe the 101 ways to steal a paper back. She laughed at her own quick humor, and then blew across her fingers like she was blowing smoke off the barrel of a gun. She winked at Baker.

Shooting Meg a dirty look, Baker turned around and went into the office and closed the door, without another word. He had several bags that he didn’t want Meg to see inside.

Meg walked back to the front desk. What is up with you Baker? She asked herself, as she sat down in the chair and crossed her long legs.

Ten minutes later Baker came out of his bathroom, drying his hands on a towel.

Did everything come out all right? Meg teased. Her long strawberry blond curls dangled across her shoulders and her green eyes danced with playfulness.

Can’t a man take a dump in peace, or are you the Potty Police? Baker smarted back at Meg. His black eyes were gleaming, but definitely not with playfulness.

Well now, Mr. Smarty Pants. Meg turned and picked up her newspaper and slowly walked to the back. I guess my services are no longer required. She bent down and unbuckled her stilettos and slipped them back into her oversized handbag.

You know I’m right, Baker spoke with a calm voice, as he watched her put away her shoes.

Right....... Right about what? Meg replied, and turned to look at Baker, she was no longer playful.

You need to look out the peep hole, before you unbolt the door. Baker said, as he smiled at her.

Yah, whatever, Meg smarted back at him, as she slipped her galoshes on. She popped open her umbrella and swung the door wide. See you Monday, she replied, as she rushed out into the rain.

Don’t you know? Baker stopped talking because he knew Meg could not hear him. Then, he finished his sentence as a whisper to himself, raising both hands high above his head. Its bad luck to open an umbrella in the house! He through his hand up in the air.

Baker’s grandmother was highly superstitious, and growing up around her, she had left Baker a bit superstitious too. Never walk under a ladder. Never let a black cat cross your path. Never carry an ax into the house. Never go out one door and back in another. Never step on the cracks of the sidewalk. ….

He stopped yammering to himself. He thought he heard someone at the back door. Baker quickly approached the door and peeked into the peep hole. He could see what looked like big white teeth.

Meg, I think I can see a cavity. Baker said, and then laughed. Meg kicked the door with her high heel.

Baker opened the door just a crack. What? He said, teasing her.

I was going to tell you something important but… she said, glaring with attitude. Mister, I don’t think you deserve to hear about the man that was just going through your truck.

Baker flung the door open and pulled Meg into the building and quickly closed the door.

He’s gone now, what’s the worry? Meg said, laughing at Baker. She could see from the look on his face that he was caught off guard and did not know who it was, or why they were there.

I will walk you to your car, he told her. That man in the alley, going through my truck, is exactly why you need to make sure you know who is behind the door before you open it. Baker said sternly.

Ok, you made your point Mr. grumpy. I can take care of myself, she said, as she pulled her arm away from Baker and ran across the alley to her car. When she got in, she backed up and rolled down her window. Thanks for caring, she said and winked teasingly.

Baker walked back inside and bolted the door. I don’t think she will ever take me seriously about one thing, He muttered to himself.

Most women came into the book store just to look at him. Some women called him eye candy. Bakers’ dark skin and eyes gave away his Italian roots, but his piercing baby blues would steal any girls’ heart.

Baker had befriended a few of the women who just needed someone to talk to. He kept his business relationship with all employee’s and cliental exactly that, business.

The door bell jingled and women began to come into the book store. His two o'clock Book Club would be coming in ten minutes. He looked at his watch. Oh, man! He chastised himself and bumped his forehead with his hand. He had forgotten to cancel the book club. Lucy always took care of the Book Club ladies. He quickly flipped his phone open, looking for Cynthia’s number. If he could catch her before she left home….

Baker, darling. Cynthia called out, as she came through the front door and toward his desk. I knew I would finally catch up to you, you naughty boy. Baker Smiled and waved Cynthia over.

Cynthia, I am so sorry. I forgot to call you and let you know that Lucy is home today. Baker sounded genuine. She came down with a sudden cold and will be unable to fulfill her obligations with your club this afternoon. He spoke quietly, as he fixed Cynthia her usual cup of hot tea and handed it over the desk.

Oh dear, I’m so sorry to hear this. Cynthia said, as she slid her hand softly down his shoulder to his hand and, then slowly took her cup. She smiled warmly, but her eyes teased at Baker. Her salt and pepper hair was neatly tucked under her broad hat and she flashed her dark eyes at Baker, as she smoothed her dress that showed off her slim figure.

Cynthia leaned toward Baker and spoke softly, So does this mean you will be entertaining the club this afternoon? Cynthia winked at Baker and moved toward the room where the club met once a week.

No Cynthia, you naughty girl. Baker replied, teasing her, as she puckered her lips and batted her eyelashes at him. Cynthia giggled like a school girl and vanished beyond the rows of books to the back lounge.

Cynthia had formed her book club with twelve of her closest girlfriends, just to give Baker some business and give them something to do. The girls would choose a special title and Baker would order in twelve copies of the book; one for each lady. After reading the book the girls would have their afternoon tea and visit and have a book review once a week. The club had been great for business. Baker always tried to make all his clients feel welcome and appreciated, when they came into his store. Cynthia was a very good friend of his mother and he had always enjoyed her flirty sense of humor.

The afternoon quickly passed and the evening sun was just going down behind the Valley Mountains when Baker thought about the mysterious blond again. He had already decided that he would meet her at the designated place, with the note he had found. He just had a funny feeling that she was in trouble and he might be able to help her.

The phony FBI agents didn’t have him fooled for one minute, and Baker was pretty sure that he had not seen the last of him.

Baker finished washing off the counters and unloading the mugs from the dishwasher, when he heard Lamont come through the front door and begin greeting the clients. Lamont, a young energetic college student worked for Baker three days a week on the evening shift, until closing at ten.

Well, I see you have been very busy. Lamont said, as he hung his coat and hat and washed his hands in the sink.

Ah, yes my young Fred Astaire. Very busy, Baker responded, with an accent. The two men laughed. Baker called Lamont Fred Astaire, because he loved to dance and entertain people. However, he looked nothing like the star.

Lamont liked working at the book store because there were so many beautiful women to assist. It was his way of associating without any commitments. He never got tired of visiting with the women and the pay wasn't half bad either. He could make more at the book store than just about anywhere else in town and Baker had been very flexible with his hours, so he could keep up his studies.

Lamont was an aspiring law student. Sometimes being Iranian was tough business. Some people have no tolerance for Iranians. He had been brought to America by his Aunt and Uncle, at the age of six. They had no children of their own. They wanted to give him a better life, a safer life, a place, and a home that he could be happy in. His father had been killed in the war and his mother was frightened to leave the country with her children.

One night, his Uncle came to their house and told his mother they were leaving, right then, for America.