Fierce Defender: Book 2, Hard to Handle trilogy (17 page)

“Hey, Norcross. I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you. How’s Eva doing?”

“She’s hanging in. I wish this brother of hers would move the fuck to Siberia already, though. Makes me sick how he just seems to keep causing her more grief.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that too. So tell me about the... Yes!”

“Tell you about the yes?”

“Sorry, found what I was looking for, and a bonus.” Along with the cups, Gray had found a canister of sugar. He liked his coffee black and sweet. “Anyways, tell me about the letter.”

“It said he got to Illinois, but he thought he was being followed, so then he went to Mexico. He promised he would keep in touch. The letter is postmarked from someplace called Matamoros.”

That triggered something in Gray’s memory. Gilberto Sanchez was from Matamoros. “When was it mailed?”

“Hang on,” Zack told him while he went to get the envelope. “Two days ago.”

“Alright, put the envelope in a plastic bag for me. I’m in town, so if it’s okay, I’ll swing by in an hour or two and grab it.”

“Sure, what are you doing in town?”

“Long story… for over a beer sometime in the future. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Thanks, buddy,” Zack said.

***

When Danielle came out of the bathroom, she was dressed in a pencil skirt and blouse, and she had her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She felt better, more focused, but she was still upset. How had she not seen this coming? Ayden was truly a mastermind. She hated him even more for that, but she had to be careful. As long as Justin was still in prison, there wasn’t much she could do to the scoundrel that protected him.

“You smell good,” Gray noted when she approached him. “I found some cups. And sugar.”

She gave him a weak smile and said, “Thanks,” before pouring herself a cup. Coffee never tasted so good. She took several long sips, inviting the warmth of the coffee into her bones. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said. He knew she was embarrassed, but being a surprising gentleman, he tried to minimize it as much as possible. “Sit, please.” She came over to the table and sat down in the chair next to his. “Will you please tell me what’s going on? Start with how you know Ayden, and maybe throw in a little information about your brother over in Dominguez.”

Surprised, she couldn’t find the words to answer him. How did he know about Justin? She bit her lip, stuck between wanting to accuse him of investigating into her private life and letting everything she’d held in over the years come rushing out.

He hated to be the one to tell her, evident by the way he nervously ran his hand through his hair, but he explained, “It was on the news last night.”

Oh. Composing herself, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and then began. “When my brother was a teenager, both of our parents passed away within two years of each other. I was at school in Boston. I... I should have been there for him.” She took another deep breath and pushed on. “My dad was in the bike business. He did restorations and worked on custom bikes. He had a shop in—”

“San Antonio,” Gray said.

“Was that on TV too?”

“No, I’m sorry, go on.”

“He had a partner when he died. The guy brought in a lot of customers, according to my dad. My mother never liked him, but my dad and my little brother thought he was okay. When Dad died, I asked his partner, who my brother was very fond of, to look after Justin until he finished school.” Her tears returned. Unable to stop them from spilling out, she wiped them with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she apologized before going on. “It was another mistake. A huge one that influenced the path my brother was going to take in life. My dad’s partner was a criminal. A drug dealer, a gun runner, and a racist pig.”

“Ayden Styles,” Gray stated.

“Yes. Back then, I knew him as Christopher. By the time I found out who and what he was, Justin was so deeply involved, I couldn’t get him out. The saddest part is that he didn’t want out. He had been taught by a master that what he was doing was okay. He was arrested a few times for petty stuff up until a few years ago, but I didn’t know the extent of what he was actually involved in. Not until he was caught holding almost an entire kilo of coke crossing the border into Mexico. Stupid kid tried to outrun the Border Patrol. He got shot and spent a month in the hospital. They offered him probation if he would tell them who he was carrying for. He refused. He’s been in prison two-and-a-half years. He’s on the downward slide now, and I think he’s ready to straighten out his life.”

“Does Ayden coerce you into defending them?”

She took a sip of her coffee, unsure of how to answer. When she spoke, her voice trembled. “Not exactly. About a year ago, Justin was stabbed by a Crip member. They were trying to kill him, and almost succeeded. He was in the hospital again for a long time. I approached Ayden then. I offered him my half of the business for much less than it was worth and told him I would do my best to catch any cases involving the Brotherhood, if he would make sure that Justin was protected for the last year-and-a-half or so of his incarceration.”

Gray stared at her with that intense gaze of his. She didn’t know what it was he was thinking, but she could guess. She never should have called him. She must have been out of her mind. There was no way she could convince him now that she hadn’t taken the cocaine—that Ayden hadn’t somehow told her to, using Justin as leverage. Gray would never believe she was innocent.

“Do you think Ayden had the cocaine taken to set you up?”

Danielle was astonished. It meant a lot to hear him suggest what she had also been thinking. Still, she wasn’t completely sure she could trust him. He did, after all, work for the DEA.

“I don’t know. Anyone could have taken it, Grayson. I was the last one there, but really, no one had seen it since Monday morning. There was a whole day of people going in and out in between.”

“Did they watch all the tapes?”

“I don’t know. My attorney said she was going to find out.”

“What about the disappearance of the witness?”

“Now him, I would bet money Ayden did something to. Either he paid him to go far away, or he had him sent somewhere, probably to the morgue, against his will. These are scary dudes.”

“I just spent a weekend in a cell with the guy. Trust me, I know.”

As the one who pretended to get him out on bail, she’d known he had been locked-up as part of some sort of investigation, but she’d forgotten it involved Ayden. “Grayson, I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

She laughed. “A lot of mean things that I have said—and thought—about you. Mostly, though, for that trial where I chewed you up and spit you out. That kid… He just…”

“Reminded you of your brother?”

She nodded.

“It makes sense now, at least.” He finished his coffee and looked at his watch. “I have to get over to Corpus Christie, but I’ll be back this afternoon, if I can. Will you be okay in the meantime?”

She smiled. “I’ll be fine. This all gives me some time to unpack, finally. Hey, Gray...”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t take those drugs.”

He smiled at her, and she realized that when he was smiling at her genuinely, and not sarcastically, he was really handsome.

“I know,” he affirmed. He grabbed his keys and his phone and added, “Stay home today. The media are all over this crap. And whatever you do, do not talk to Ayden or anyone connected to him. That goes for your brother as well.”

“Okay.” Then again, she said, “Hey, Gray...”

“Yes?” he replied with a tolerant smile.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She closed and locked the door behind him. Taking a deep breath, she surveyed the mess in front of her. For the first times since moving in, she was happy there was still a lot of organizing to be had. It would give her something to do while keeping her mind off her troubles.

Someone to Talk To

Sutherland Springs, Texas

Wednesday Afternoon

Zack heard Gray’s bike as soon as his friend turned onto his street. He wondered if bikes were supposed to be that loud, or if Gray’s precious Stella was going to need another restoration soon. Grabbing the plastic bag with the letter in it, he went outside to meet him. As Gray drove into the driveway and removed his helmet, the first thing Zack noticed was how rough he looked. If he didn’t know better, he would think he actually was a skin head biker.

“Hey!” Gray said, leaping off Stella.

Zack made a play of looking up and down the street before Gray approached him. “Hey, I just want to make sure none of my neighbors see me associating with a ruffian.”

Gray flipped him off. “This ruffian had about two hours sleep last night while sitting straight up. One night in his own bed, and the three nights before that on a cement cot with a mattress that was an inch thick. Do you really want to mess with me?”

Zack laughed. “I sure as hell wouldn’t if I didn’t know what a nice guy you really are. Thanks for looking into this. I don’t mind calling the Marshalls if you’re too busy to handle it.”

“No, I think it’s actually going to help me out with another case. So thanks.”

“Sure, anything my girlfriend, her dead-beat brother, and I can do to help.”

“I have to run,” Gray said suddenly, checking his watch. “Maybe we can get that beer next week?”

“Sounds good. Should I shave my head too, so I fit in?”

“Fuck you,” Gray said with a grin.

Zack watched Gray leave with a tiny twinge of envy. He loved Eva, and he loved his life here. Occasionally, though, the part of him that became a Navy Seal, not only because he wanted to save the world but because he was also an adrenaline junkie, felt like it might boil over. He shrugged it off. He had dishes and laundry to finish before Eva came home. His craving for a surge of adrenaline was replaced with something called contentment, and he liked that just as well.

After cleaning the dishes, he went out to the garage to transfer the clothes from the washer to the dryer. As he did, he heard a tiny little click. Anyone else may have ignored it, but Zack knew that sound as well as he did his own name. It was a magazine being pulled back.

There was someone in the house with a loaded gun.

Moving against the wall closest to the door that led into the kitchen, he reached up quietly to the top of the old storage cabinet that held his yard tools. On top, there was a small hand ax. Grabbing it, he stepped slowly around the cabinet and came face to face with the business end of a .38.

On the other side of the gun was a tall, very overly-dressed Mexican man. He was wearing a white suit with a black vest, like the one Travolta had worn in
Staying Alive
. His hair was even combed back in the same fashion Travolta wore his. His shoes were so shiny that Zack could see the reflection of the gun the man held in them.

As if he was here as an invited guest, he smiled insincerely and said, “Hola, Mr. Norcross. Cutting wood today?”

“I was thinking about cutting something. What about you? Going salsa dancing at the range?”

The man laughed. “Funny, even with a gun at your face.”

“I got the Most Likely to Become a Comedian Award in my senior class. But tell me more about you. What brings you and your gun to my home today?”

“I was hoping that you might be up for taking a ride with me,” the man said.

“I’d love to,” Zack challenged, “but I’m really not dressed for it, and if I don’t get this laundry done, the girlfriend will be mad as a hornet when she gets home.”

“That is okay, Mr. Norcross,” the man said. “She is not coming home tonight… or ever.”

That was it. No one threatened Eva. The adrenaline surge he’d wanted so bad was triggered. He did a round kick, dropping the man and the gun in one swoop. The man scrambled across the garage to where the gun landed, but Zack had another idea in mind.

Right before the man reached the gun, Zack stepped on his thigh, less than gently, and said, “I think you’re getting that pretty suit all dirty. Let me get that for you.”

But the man bucked as Zack reached forward and head butted him in the chin. Dropping the ax, Zack flew backwards and hit the storage shelf with the back of his head. He looked up in time to see the man grab the gun and spin around.

“Drop it!” someone shouted.

Gray was standing in the doorway, gun drawn.

Zack felt dizzy and slightly giddy as the room spun around him. “It took you long enough. Jeez, did you have to go home and get your gun?”

Without taking his eyes off the man he had his gun trained on, who was also pointing one back at him, Gray flipped Zack off.

“I said drop it, asshole.
¿Hablas inglés?
”

“Yes, I speak it very well,” the man said. “I just speak it better with my gun in my hand.”

“What did you mean when you said that Eva wasn’t coming home?” Zack asked him, his momentary haze leaving him.

This caused the man to look as if he was pondering something, and then he said, “Either way, I die.”

Within a second, he turned the gun back on Zack.

And then he was dead.

Gray had hit the man square in the chest, straight into his heart. The white of the man’s suit turned red under the stain of his own blood. But he would never know. Lying on the garage floor, he was lifeless.

“How did you know he was here?” Zack asked.

“When I pulled out onto the street, I looked into my side mirror and noticed a blue car sitting at the end of the cul-de-sac. There was a guy in the driver’s seat, and though he was pretty far away, it looked like he was watching your house through a pair of binoculars. I went towards the highway, so he wouldn’t suspect anything, and turned around.”

He reached a hand out to help Zack up. “You okay?”

A thought suddenly occurred to him. “I have to get to Eva,” he announced frantically, scrambling to his feet.

As he grabbed his keys and his phone, he repeated to Gray what the man had said about Eva. Gray was already on his bike when Zack left the house. He backed out behind Gray, holding the phone to his ear after punching Eva’s number on speed dial. It rang and rang.