When Dusk Comes Read online

  J.J. Arias

  When Dusk Comes

  Copyright © 2019 by J.J. Arias

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy Find out more at reedsy.com

  For my wife.

  Contents

  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 Eighten

  Chapter Ninteen

  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

  Afterword

  About the Author

  Also by J.J. Arias

  Chapter One

  The sultry sounds of street corner jazz and the spicy scent of crawfish boils hung heavy in the Louisiana air. Despite the cool evening and malfunctioning heater, Erin couldn’t help rolling down her window to take in the sights. This was as far south as Erin had ever chased any bounty. She wondered what took her so long to visit the city.

  Night fell over the old station wagon while Erin navigated the mounting congestion. The clunker crawled along with the other cars and trucks packing the narrow turn-of-the-century roads. Tourists and revelers spilled into the streets, unperturbed by the traffic. It looked like Mardi Gras in February, and the energy was intoxicating. It was almost enough for Erin to shake off the twenty-six-hour drive and let the good times roll, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

  Erin ran her fingers through thick, wavy blonde hair before double-checking the slip of paper in her pocket. The note, scrawled in her own rushed hand, showed her target was just ahead. Her heart raced in double time as she checked her location. She had done this a thousand times before, but never so far from home, and never with so much money on the line. Every bounty hunter in the country was looking for Paul Aloro, and Erin was sure she’d found him.

  Old cobblestone made for a bumpy ride until the station wagon slowed to a stop in front of a grand French Colonial hotel taking up most of the city block. Nice Digs, Erin thought while scanning the ornate fourteen story building. The painted white brick was only interrupted by intricate carvings and sculptures adorning the building like a multilayer wedding cake.

  Erin’s gawking was interrupted by a man in a dark gray suit. “Good evening ma’am,” the doorman greeted her while opening the car’s door.

  The wagon’s metal hinges creaked loudly triggering Erin’s fair skin to flush dark red and brightening the green in her eyes. The young man’s easy smile and soft brown eyes oozed Southern charm, and he regarded Erin as if she had driven up in a Rolls Royce.

  “May I help you with your bags?” the doorman asked when Erin stepped out of the car, her joints cracking as obscenely as the car door. She pushed wild strands of wavy hair out of her face, trying her best to compose herself.

  “No, thanks.” She smiled as warmly as she could, an arctic blast compared to the man’s welcome. “I have a meeting with the hotel manager,” she explained as she snatched her messenger bag from the back seat. The man tipped his hat in understanding. If he found it odd that she’d attend a meeting in faded jeans at the end of an evidently lengthy road trip, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he instructed a kid in a red vest to park Erin’s car while he escorted her inside.

  As she followed the man, in his extravagant tails and top hat, Erin felt herself slipping into an entirely different time. She half expected the revolving door to open up on a smokey salon where the ghost of Marlene Dietrich would be taking a drag from a cigarette holder while listening to

  Oscar Wilde recite poetry. Erin was more than a little disappointed to find the lobby inhabited by fancy furniture and people in modern day dress.

  The doorman called to an older woman behind a white antique reception desk. “She can help you,” he said, turning to Erin and smiling before tipping his hat once more. She ignored the strange and overwhelming urge to curtsy, opting instead for a grateful thank you and a shake of his hand.

  Crap, she cursed to herself, embarrassed when the young man disappeared out the door. You’re supposed to tip.

  “May I help you?” The clerk smiled as her eyes scanned Erin from black mid- calf boots to wild mane.

  “I’m here to see your manager, Mr. Aloro,” Erin replied with an encouraging smile. She tugged at the bottom of her black leather jacket to hide the gun holstered on her hip.

  “I’m sorry, miss, but our manager’s name is Williams,” the clerk responded amiably.

  Erin tilted her head as she considered the information. Fugitives often use fake names and create new lives while on the run.

  “Right, of course.” Erin pulled out a worn, leather-bound notebook from her bag. “I’m sorry,” she continued, reading the blank sheet. “Williams, right? I was thinking of my next meeting.” She explained without missing a beat, but the clerk narrowed her eyes.

  “Have a seat. He’ll be right with you.” She gestured with a nod to a seating area.

  Erin held her breath until she heard her call Williams on the phone. A few minutes later, a handsome dark-skinned man in a suit emerged from a door behind the front desk.

  “May I help you?” he asked, his southern accent firmly in place.

  “You’re the hotel manager?” Erin couldn’t disguise her confusion. The good looking, six-foot-tall man in his late thirties was not the five-and-a-half-foot-tall, old, bald, overweight, pale New Yorker she was chasing.

  “I am,” he responded pleasantly despite Erin’s unintentionally rude tone.

  Her eyes darted uselessly around the room. “Is there another manager?”

  “No, ma’am. Is there a problem?” he asked, dropping his smile and straightening his posture.

  “Well, I’m trying to find my long lost father, and he’s supposed to be the manager here.” Erin summoned her gentlest voice and tried to make her tired, sea-green eyes widen. The long drive had dampened her acting chops.

  Williams adjusted his pink tie unnecessarily. “Miss, I have no children, and certainly none I fathered when I was ten years old.”

  “Oh, no, I mean, that’s why I asked if there was another manager,” Erin faltered, her face turning bright red. “Here,” she groped through her bag,

  “this is his picture.” She offered him a blown up eight-by-ten mugshot of her mark.

  Williams scanned the photo for several seconds before shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry, but he doesn’t work at this hotel.”

  “I have it on good authority he does,” she responded more seriously.

  She was no stranger to people covering for her targets.

  “M
a’am, I am the hotel manager. I know everyone who works here or who has worked here over the last eight years.” Williams’ tightened his jaw.

  “He doesn’t work here in any capacity.” His words were sharp and aimed at cutting the conversation short.

  “Listen, I’ll level with you.” Erin rested her hands on her hips, the gun holster peeking out from under the bottom of her jacket. “I’m looking for a

  fugitive, and if you’re harboring him, you’re looking at criminal charges.

  That means real prison time, buddy.” The blood pulsed through Erin’s body as she struggled to keep her composure. The situation was slipping out of her control, and if he asked her to leave, she would have no power to refuse, which would spell the end of this lead. Aloro would likely get wind she was on his trail and vanish.

  “Lady, I don’t know what your problem is, but you have no right to come here making threats. This man is not here, and I think it’s time you left.” A small crowd had gathered to watch the escalating drama as the pressure mounted at the base of Erin’s skull. She had to salvage this.

  “Is there a problem here, Teddy?” another man in a suit asked as he approached them.

  “No, Mr. Sanders. This lady was just leaving,” Williams snapped.

  “Actually, Mr. Sanders, there is a problem.” Erin earned a sideways glance from the irritated manager.

  “Why don’t we step over here?” The man extended his hand toward a closed door at the end of the lobby. Erin guessed it was a conference room outside of earshot from the main part of the hotel.

  “I don’t think so,” she said defiantly, not willing to be corralled into a back room and give up the tiny advantage she had. The pressure of onlookers might have produced much needed answers. “I’m here looking for a wanted criminal employed by this hotel,” she said louder than necessary.

  A curious hotel patron gasped in shock at the assertion. Erin could almost hear the sound of the lady clutching her pearls, and it spurred her on.

  She stiffened her back and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrows raised expectantly. Your move.

  “Keep your voice down, please,” Sanders pleaded in a hushed tone.

  “What is she talking about?” he asked, turning to the manager for answers.

  “I’ve told her several times that the man she’s looking for isn’t here,”

  Williams answered through gritted teeth, exasperation oozing from his pores.

  “He is here,” Erin insisted. As much as Erin’s well-trained gut told her these men weren’t lying, she trusted her source and the weeks of work that lead her here. Maybe they weren’t lying, but Erin was sure they were hiding something. There was no way she could have gotten it completely wrong.

  “All right, please, everyone calm down.” Sanders glanced back at the pair he had been escorting through the hotel. The woman in the white pantsuit was staring in their direction. Erin pushed aside her guilt at the panic rising in his face. “I’m the general manager for the Southeastern United States, and I can assure you that we would never let a fugitive work for us. We do thorough background checks. No one slips through the cracks,” he explained, beads of sweat forming at his temples.

  “He could be laboring under an alias. Do you recognize this man?” Erin flashed the mug shot in a last-ditch effort to salvage her investigation.

  “I’m sorry, no,” the general manager replied after a critical evaluation of the photo.

  “Problem, Mr. Sanders?” the woman in the white suit asked. The husky melody of her voice sent heads snapping in her direction. Erin hadn’t sensed her approach until she was already upon them. Her brain struggled to make sense of the woman in front of her. It was like catching a glimpse of a foreign movie star. Erin had no idea who she was, but it was obvious she was somebody. The woman’s silky black hair, cut into a short bob, framed an elegant face, Grecian nose, and pointed chin. Her tanned skin

  was flawless, and Erin was positive it would be soft to the touch. But her eyes where the most captivating part. Erin couldn’t stop staring at the almond shape and dark honey tone.

  Sander’s voice shattered Erin’s enthrallment and forced her back to the present. “No,” he replied, mouth contorted into a pained smile. Erin had to work to remember what he was talking about, and then she remembered the bounty. “We’ve sorted it all out,” he continued, perspiration soaking through his expensive looking shirt. “Let’s continue, shall we?” he added after an audible gulp.

  The woman gave no hint she entertained Sanders’ idea of resuming with business as usual, and her dark eyes regarded the trio with open skepticism.

  She glanced at the photo in Erin’s tight grasp. Erin could do little but silently stare while the woman observed the upside-down photo. Through her periphery vision, Erin saw hotel patrons being moved along and away from the main lobby, but she barely processed anything other than the woman patiently waiting for her to hand over the photo.

  “May I see that?” she asked more directly, meeting Erin’s gaze as she made her request.

  “It’s okay,” she responded weakly, her words barely audible. She’d never been in the presence of a more attractive person in her life. The effect was devastating. Erin couldn’t feel her legs below the knee, as if her entire body was turning slowly to stone. This woman was literally stunning.

  “You say this man is a criminal?” she asked, her fingertips grazed Erin’s hand lightly as she took the photograph in spite of her objection. The sensation sent an electric current pulsating through Erin’s body, the jolt restarted her brain.

  “Yes, but don’t worry. He’s not here. You have nothing to fear. This is a great hotel. You’re in safe hands. And anyway, he’s an embezzler, not like a murderer or anything,” Erin rambled nervously. Get your shit together, she willed herself to focus.

  The woman smiled in response, causing the managers to exchange terrified glances. “No. He’s not here,” she replied lifting her eyes from the mugshot and letting them fall on Erin once more. The weight of her gaze sent the temperature in the room soaring. Erin suddenly understood all the sweating. Interacting with this woman was like trying to hug the sun. “You have the right hotel, but the wrong city.”

  Erin’s eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t understand, the manager—”

  “No disrespect intended toward these capable gentlemen.” Even the kindness she extended towards Sanders and Williams was intimidating.

  They dropped their eyes to the floor at her words. “But I can assure you I’m better suited to provide information on the persons I employ.” A small, icy smile, the kind that appeared only in obligatory settings, graced the woman’s full red lips. “My name is Lucía Guerra. I own this hotel,” she explained what would have been more obvious if Erin’s mind were functioning at full capacity.

  “You own this Noctis?” she asked redundantly for lack of a better response.

  “She owns every Noctis,” the man that had been by Lucía’s side at the stairs clarified when he joined the group. His bright brown eyes complimented the bronze tint of his flawless olive skin. From his having guided people out of the lobby, Erin guessed this guy was Lucía’s fixer. He

  probably didn’t want to risk any tarnish on the hotel’s reputation if the wealthy clientele found out they were employing known felons.

  Well, that’s unexpected. Erin had no idea pursuing this target would lead her to so many firsts. A first time in New Orleans, a first time in such a fancy hotel, and her first drop dead gorgeous probable millionaire acquaintance. Not that Erin had ever met an ugly tycoon either.

  “I’m so sorry to have troubled you.” Erin began bowing out slowly. The embarrassment sent a flight response surging through her system. All she wanted to do was leave. She spun on her heels, eyes trained on the front door.

  “Miss,” Lucía called, obviously expecting Erin to turn around and supply her name.

  “Lewis,” she responded before turning to leave once more. “But you can c
all me Erin. Miss Lewis is my dad’s name.” Erin cringed as soon as she heard herself. She had lost all control of the words evacuating her mouth.

  “Miss Lewis.” Lucía’s voice was warm and soothing like drinking hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire. Erin stopped in her tracks. When Lucía didn’t speak right away, she got the hint and rejoined the group. There would be no swift end to her mortification.

  “As I was saying, you have the correct hotel but have arrived in the wrong city,” Lucía repeats, something like amusement playing on her lips.

  “He’s not in the New Orleans Noctis. He managed the property in Orleans.”

  Erin’s confusion at the information must have been plastered her face.

  “Orleans,” Lucía repeated. “France,” she finished, and Erin’s eyes widened for real.

  “France?” she mimicked like a slow parrot. “Oh.” Erin’s shoulders dropped at the news. “I will alert the authorities there, I suppose,” she said, attempting to hide her disappointment.

  “Is there a problem? You can apprehend him, can you not? I don’t want a criminal in my employ.” Lucía’s sculpted eyebrow lifted just slightly at the end, sending another wave of heat through Erin’s poorly equipped body.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t arrest him there, and I couldn’t afford the trip anyway,” Erin admitted from under a metric ton of embarrassment.

  “That has a simple enough solution.” Lucía returned the photo to Erin’s clammy hands. “We will leave for Orleans tomorrow. You will join us. I can’t have this matter going public. I would rather he went quietly with you than be dragged out by government agents with his face plastered all over the news. I cannot risk being associated with this,” Lucía explained as if her need for Erin should be apparent.

  “Ms. Guerra, thank you for your offer, but I—”

  “You will be compensated for your services, and discretion, of course,”

  Lucía interrupted confidently.

  Erin laughed to expend some nervous energy. This must be a joke. “ I can’t go to France tomorrow,” she explained. “I don’t even have a passport,” she added in total bewilderment. “And anyway, like I said, I can’t make him come with me. He might run and no one will ever see him again.” She hoped Lucía was of the understanding sort who took kindly to hearing the word no.