Hell or High Water (7 page)

“Tomas tells me you think your attempted abductions and this murder are connected.”

“Yes.” She squirmed under his hard gaze. “Don’t you think the circumstances are odd?”

“I do. And if you’re right, you should be in protective custody.” He leaned forward his eyebrows raised in question.
 

Shit. She’d walked right into a trap.
 

“You couldn’t just come out and say no?”

“Kay.” His chest rose and fell with a sigh. “Homicide will handle the Vaughn murder.”

“But—”

He stuck his hand out indicating she should stop talking.
 

“Tomas and Wayne have their hands full. Two teenage girls went missing from North Park Mall Friday night. I’ve already asked the FBI to help out. They’ll decide whether or not to open a combined investigation into Leann’s death and human trafficking.”

A touch of relief combined with resentment settled squarely on her shoulders. “If my boss approves the temporary assignment, I can work with the FBI.”

“I spoke with her. She said you were on vacation. I suggest you take it.”

Evelyn Colvin, the matriarch of child protection and the chief had conspired to keep Kay off the case.
 

The ray of hope she’d carried into the police station withered like an orchid under a hot Texas sun when he strolled over, opened his office door, and then dismissed her.
 

Nice try. She didn’t dismiss easily.

Chapter 7

Johnny had been behind in his responsibilities all day. He’d searched Kay Taylor’s apartment at the boss’s personal request. If she had that damn ring, she’d stashed it somewhere else. If he could’ve ransacked the place and dumped everything on the floor, he’d be on schedule, but Mr. A had given instructions to be discreet.
 

His nerves had him ready to choke somebody. Anybody. He had a sale tonight. Which always made him edgy. One slip and everything could go to hell.
 

He unlocked the door to the first holding room, recoiling at the sound of sniffling and the disgusting odors of sweat, piss, and fear. The smell jogged a memory of something bad. Something that set off a series of explosions inside his head. Something best forgotten.

Damn it, he tried to be patient, but the two new girls for tonight’s auction were more trouble than the money they’d bring. Both had freaked when he’d explained how the process worked. Hard to turn a deaf ear to that much anguish.

Johnny used to struggle with the right and wrong of these sales, but he couldn’t turn off his loyalty. He owed his life to Mr. A., who’d provided a safe haven when Johnny had no food, no money, and nowhere to turn. At least the boss specialized in older product, selling nothing under seventeen years old.
 

“Please. I want to go home,” girl number one begged between sobs. She sat on the cot with her knees tucked under her chin. Long, sandy blond hair hung over one shoulder. Mascara and snot were spread across her face.
 

“We’ve been through this. You’re going to a new home. How you’ll be treated will depend solely on how you behave.” He pointed at the sink. “Clean up. Put this on.” He tossed a washrag, a nylon robe, and a hairbrush her direction. “Do something with your hair.”
 

“No.” Defiance flared in her hazel eyes while she unfurled her legs and came to a standing position. “I won’t. You can’t make me.”

“You will. And I can.” He tapped his chest, making sure she noticed the syringe.
 

Fuck. All he’d accomplished was more waterworks.

He didn’t have an ax to grind with the young woman. Fact was, he cared nothing one way or the other. This was business, and Mr. A gave specific orders. He liked his merchandise well groomed on sale day. Johnny made sure the boss got what he wanted.
 

He crossed the room in three strides, grabbing a fistful of her hair. Without stopping, he dragged her naked ass down the hall to her friend’s room. “Look through the peephole.”
 

His patience dwindled when she shook her head like a dog coming out of the rain. His grip tightened as he shoved her face against the door.
 

“Goddamn it. I’m trying to keep you from getting the same treatment as your girlfriend here.” He explained the auction process to her again. “Check it out.”

She reluctantly held her eye to the peephole and looked at her friend. The girl lying across the cot, face and arms swollen, barely resembled the one Johnny picked up Friday night at the mall.
 

Johnny hadn’t expected this girl to scream, but she blasted one out and then sagged in his arms. Done. Blank. All her fight gone. Crap. Probably should’ve medicated this one. He preferred not to drug them before a sale. A touch of ketamine made them more malleable, but many of the boss’s customers preferred the package without pharmaceuticals in their system.

“You got lucky. She fought when Hank stopped by. He hasn’t had time to get to you. Yet.” Johnny shoved her back inside her holding room. She stumbled, falling to the cement floor. Pain lanced above his right ear, and he grabbed the side of his head. The headaches were coming more frequently. And damn, they were a lot more intense.

“Wherever you send me, I’ll run away.”

“Really?” He removed two snapshots from his inside pocket and held them in front of the crying teenager. “She ran. Talked. She can’t do either anymore.” He turned his back and ambled away. Then he stopped at the door and without looking at her, commented, “For your own good, wash up, brush your hair, and have that robe on when I come for you.”

Jesus, it wasn’t like the girls were being sold for sex. Mr. A had no reason to lie about that. They’d have a roof over their heads and three squares. All they’d have to do in return was clean or watch some bastard’s kids. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stem the flood of pain.
 

His cell buzzed. Shit. He didn’t have time to talk with his so-called girlfriend. It required four shots of whiskey before he could fuck her. She meant nothing to him. But he followed the boss’s orders. There were times when he feared if she grunted one more time, he might cut her throat.

As long as she provided information about Leann Vaughn’s case and Kay Taylor’s activities, his girlfriend was prime time.

 
****

Nate picked the lock on Kaycie’s apartment and eased inside. The minute he stepped through the door, the hair on the back of his neck rose. She wasn’t home, so why the sizzle of nerves? He shook it off.
 

It wasn’t difficult to convince himself that looking around was purely tactical. Necessary to ensure he could protect her.

Tyrell and Marcus would arrive in an hour. The three of them were having an intervention with Kaycie when she got home. She’d protest him getting involved, but until he stopped the threat against her, she’d travel with an armed bodyguard.

The open floor plan of her small apartment lumped the kitchen, dining, and living area into one big room and made for easy defending. The solid wall of windows troubled him, but he could close the blinds, effectively eliminating the possibility of someone getting a clear shot. He double-checked the locks on the windows. He shoved his fingers through his hair, tying it off his face.
 

The room at the end of the hall had to be her bedroom. He moved silently, stopped just inside the doorway, and breathed in the air where she slept. Sensible Kaycie, the room wasn’t elaborate or fancy. She slept on a queen-sized bed. He’d figured her for a king.
 

He could make do with a queen. If she was stretched out naked in it. He applied a mental head slap. No complications needed.

Every open space had been filled with books, souvenirs, and pictures. Had she kept the Saint Jude medallion? Maybe tucked it away in the back of the jewelry box or wrapped in tissue secured in one of those drawers on the dresser? More likely, she’d dropped it in the nearest trash can the day he left for boot camp.

She deserved a better man, somebody without all his baggage. Somebody who didn’t reach for a weapon at every sound. Somebody who’d always be there for her.
 

The front door opened and closed, snapping him to the present. Nate froze. His pulse quickened. Not good. He’d let his thoughts wander and missed hearing the lock turn.
 

Did Kaycie have an unwelcome visitor?
 

Other than him?
 

Keys jangled, and Nate released the breath he’d held. Kaycie was home. He stifled a chuckle. Finding him in her apartment would seriously piss her off.
 

He silently moved down the hall. He found her in the kitchen with her back to him. Reaching up, she removed a glass from the shelf, giving him the opportunity he needed. He moved fast, trapped her between the counter with his body, and pinned her arms to her side.

She screamed and tried to whirl. Wasn’t happening. She stomped where his feet should’ve been. Nice move, but he’d spread his legs out of reach. He leaned in tighter. He wouldn’t hurt her, just keep her still. Damn, she’d mastered a few self-defense techniques over the years. He tightened his grip to immobilize her.
 

Inches from the nape of her neck, he fought the urge to lean down and test that spot right behind her ear. The sensitive place he used to kiss again and again until she purred.
 

She tried to butt him with the back of her head. Maybe, he should make her aware of who had her pinned.

“Nate, you bastard. Get off me.”

Apparently, she already knew.

“That Glock on your hip is no help if it’s holstered.” He’d intended to rest his hand on her gun, but instead, he rested his palm on her taut belly.
 

He stepped back before his erection pressing against her drew her attention. She whirled to face him, her fingers wrapped around the butt of the gun.

“Don’t try it,” he warned.
 

“Get over yourself.” Her tone matched the hate in her eyes. “You really think I care enough about you to shoot you?”

She unbuckled her belt, removed the holster, and placed her weapon on the counter. She opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, popped the top, and then sipped while watching him over the can.
 

“We still need to talk.” He tried to ignore her tongue as it darted across her lips. His dick, always with a mind of its own, twitched painfully inside his jeans.
 

“Your memory seems to be limited and your hearing impaired. I’ll speak slowly this time. No. We. Don’t.” Her venom-laced tone cut right through him. “I’m changing clothes. When I come back, be gone.”
 

He waited until she disappeared down the hall before opening a beer for himself. His stomach growled as he strolled across the room to get comfortable on her couch.
 

She’d listen if he had to throw her down and sit on her.
 

“You hungry?” he yelled at her closed bedroom door. Considering her state of mind, he didn’t expect her to answer. He assumed her silence meant yes.
 

He called Tyrell. “Where are you?”

“Almost to Kay’s. You already there?”

“Yeah. Looks like we’ll be here a while. Stop and pick up a bucket of fried chicken. Is Marcus with you?”

“Yeah. Our ETA is fifteen.”

Nate set his cell on her coffee table and settled back. A few swallows of beer later, he sensed Kaycie standing behind him. No doubt, her dark-brown gaze shot daggers at his back. He didn’t speak. The military had taught him that, on occasion, patience was a necessary maneuver.
 

She moved into his line of vision, twisting his insides into a knot. The jeans and faded DPD T-shirt she wore fit her like a glove. Jesus, her long black hair hung past her shoulders. She reclined in the monster-size chair directly in front of him, curling her mile-long legs and tucking her bare feet under her bottom. She rubbed her arms as if she were cold. Interesting, because he sensed she was nervous. Not entirely a bad sign.

God. She’d matured into a beautiful woman. Tall, lean and mean.

Ten years vanished.
 

“Why are you following me?”
 

“You’re in danger.” Would she take a swing at him if he moved closer?

“I’m aware of that. Exactly how do you know?”

The knock on her front door ended their conversation. He sank back deeper on the couch.

“I met with Tyrell and Marcus earlier today. You should let them in.”
 

“Marcus Ricci is here with Tyrell?”
 

Her face lit up as she dashed past Nate. She opened the door and threw her arms around Marcus, hugging him tight. Damn, the squeal she let out sounded like she’d found a leprechaun’s pot of gold. Getting together with the group might be good for him.
 

Nate stood and quickly found himself wrapped in Marcus’s embrace. Nate had a good two inches on Marcus, but if he decided you needed a hug, it was over before you had a chance to protest.