Free Locked and Loaded by Alexis Grant Page B

suspicions. Roberto had been the one to insist that she quit her teaching job, move in with him, and become acquainted with a lavish lifestyle. She’d moved her contact cell, weapons, and backup ID from the hidden location within her school locker to the spa. Everything about the places she chose was strategic. She’d picked this particular spa, even above the Ritz Carlton’s fabulous services, because given Roberto’s jealousy and paranoia, if she made regular trips to a hotel, her virtue could be called into question. That would have been a dangerous complication. At a spa or at a non-hotel-related gym, her activities could be monitored easily by one of his goons.
    To stay on the safe side, she even had a female personal trainer at the gym, one that she was almost sure Bruno was doing. However, the last thing she had to worry about was for one of Roberto’s henchmen to follow her into the ladies’ locker room at the spa, or barge in while she was getting a facial, or burst in to argue with the queen who was the undisputed czar of fashion in the hair salon section.
    Sage entered the open, pristine sanctuary and felt her body relax. Light lavender and eucalyptus scents helped calm her wire-taut nerves. Soft, rippling wall fountains flowed in gentle currents over smooth stones.
    “Hello, Ms. Rodriguez,” a well-coiffed blonde intoned with a wide smile. Her smile faded a bit as worry entered her eyes. “Welcome … and what will we be able to help you with today?”
    “Oh, thanks so much, Julie. I just have time for a mani-pedi, can you fit me in?”
    “Of course we can,” Julie mewed, opening the book. Then she looked up again, seeming as though she was trying to hold on to her professional distance, but not quite able to fully conceal her concern. “Chen Lee will be able to help you in a moment. We’ll get you right back in a private room today, all right?”
    “I just need to powder my nose,” Sage replied. “Thank you so much.”
    “Of course. You know the way back to our lockers, right?”
    “Definitely,” Sage said with a smile. Julie’s remark had been a mere courtesy; as a regular, they both knew that Sage knew the place inside and out. “Thanks again.”
    “You’re more than welcome. There are fresh robes and slippers in the back, if you do decide to change your mind and get more done. You know we’ll always accommodate one of our best clients … and all you have to do is tell whoever is giving you your services to adjust the pressure.”
    “Thanks,” Sage said quietly and slipped away from the front desk toward the back of the spa.
    Julie’s discreet appraisal of her cheek said it all—we’ll help move out the bruised blood and can treat this, but we know what happened and have seen this before.
    A facial and massage were out of the question, even though it would have bought her time away from Bruno and his men. But the thought of anybody touching her face or body right now didn’t seem appealing in the least, not when every inch of it ached.
    Sage hurried to her permanent locker, glanced around quickly, and grabbed a metal file out of her purse. The moment she spun the combination and popped open her locker, she hung her purse inside the long, walnut enclosure. She peered around again; the other ladies were oblivious as she quietly removed the false metal back wall and felt for the contact cell phone that was duct-taped behind it. Then, as smooth as silk, she extracted it, dropped it in her bag, locked her locker again, and hurried to the bathroom closets.
    Each stall was its own spacious mini chamber, complete with pedestal sink, floor-to-ceiling slatted walnut doors, a commode, and a fresh stack of hand towels and fragrant lotions and soaps. She waited, listening, and then dialed Hank Wilson, keeping the message brief as soon as he connected.
    “You okay?” he asked quickly.
    “Never better,” she replied. “Target is in New Orleans—I’ve got a reprieve.”
    “Good.” Hank