Hell or High Water (9 page)

The difference in him was incredible. The carefree, laughing young man she’d loved with all her heart was gone.
 

Her hand betrayed her by inching across her lap and toward his face. She wouldn’t touch him. Couldn’t touch him. Another heartbreak like the last one would be more than she could take.

“You were going outside to get me. Weren’t you?”

“Only because I need to clear up something.”

“What’s that?” The corners of his mouth lifted.

“Your protection services. What’s the going rate?”
 

“For you? Nothing.”
 

“Stop it, Nate. How much will this cost me? I won’t be indebted to you.” Her resolve strengthened when his gaze narrowed and one cheek twitched.
 

“It’s not like I’m asking you to have sex with me. You’re in trouble and I can help.”

She couldn’t listen anymore. She went to the bedroom and retrieved her checkbook from the drawer. Flipping it open, she returned to her chair. She poised her pen, ready to write.
 

“How much?”

His chin jutted out, giving him an air of arrogance. He glared at her. One eyebrow rose. “Standard retainer is five grand.”
 

Kay could be arrogant, too. The money her grandmother had left her meant Kay had enough in the bank to never worry about money. Not a fortune, but enough.

“That sounds reasonable.” She scribbled out the check and then handed it over. “This is strictly business.”

His eyebrows went up at her statement as his large hand engulfed her fingers. Funny how she’d always been fascinated by them. Loved the way ... stop.

“If that’s what you want.” He folded the check and slid it in his back pocket. “Does this mean I shouldn’t interpret being invited inside as proof you’re not mad at me anymore?”

“I didn’t want to be responsible if you died in your truck.”

His hand moved back to her knee, warming the skin where he caressed. His scent was clean and woodsy. And male. And Nate.
 

A look of desire clouded his eyes. The pulse in his neck thrummed to the tune of the one between her legs. Her breath caught in her chest.
 

Run.

“Why was it so important to be a SEAL?”

“My grandfather was a Vietnam SEAL. One of the first, since before then they didn’t exist. He was my mentor and biggest supporter. I guess I wanted to make him proud.”

“You could’ve told me.”
 

“I was too busy being young,” he stated matter-of-factly.
 

“Maybe so.” His reason wouldn’t have changed her feeling of abandonment.
 

She edged away from temptation, walking with determination toward her bedroom. The room behind her went dark.
 

 
****

“Last one.” Johnny lifted the limp teenager up to the truck driver, waiting until the man secured her in the sleeper compartment to hand him a bottle of water. “If she wakes, give her a swallow of this. It’ll keep her calm until delivery.”

“Will do,” the driver said.

“Just a swallow.” Johnny stood outside the warehouse, supervising the shipment of girls to their new owners. This was the last trailer to dispatch. “You let her sip along the way. She drinks the whole bottle in one sitting, and you’ll pay for her.”
 

When the trailer full of ceiling fans plus one teenage girl passed through the front gate, Johnny started inside only to find Mr. A standing aside, observing.

“Good idea keeping them tranquil until delivery.” He clapped Johnny on the back and then led the way through the warehouse. “Can’t have another one escape.”

“No, sir. The Vaughn girl taught us all a lesson.” Johnny’s mood was light after such a successful sale. Time to restock. The mall was too risky with its cameras and guards. Raves were much safer. The girls were already on Ecstasy, drinking and looking for a quick fuck. The next supply would come from a huge crowd where nobody would notice his movements.

Hank, carrying his overnight bag, met them in front of the boss’s office. His primary function was collections. While most sales were wire transfers, made and validated prior to shipment, every now and then, some stupid bastard tried to outsmart them. Hank made sure the customer paid his bill in full.

“Have a good trip,” the boss commented to Hank as he brushed past them, pausing at the exit.

“Find my ring,” Hank said over his shoulder.

Mr. A rolled his eyes and exhaled a sigh. It looked like the boss had forgiven Hank. Why was the question. The bruised face on the girl had reduced her value at auction.

“Anything for me before I leave?” The boss brushed a piece of lint off Johnny’s jacket.

“Yes, sir. My girl ran the motorcycle’s tags for me. Name’s Nathan Wolfe. He’s a private detective.” Johnny’s ears started buzzing and a sharp pain set off his headache. He paused to block out the pain. “I’ll get more information on him tonight. When I hear, I’ll let you know.”

“Getting to the Taylor woman will be more difficult.”

“She paid a visit to the chief. Apparently, nothing was said about a ring.” Johnny continued, “The rest isn’t good news. The FBI has been asked to look into the disappearance of these last two girls.”

“Damn. None of this bodes well for the business.” The boss poured two fingers of whiskey, offering the drink to Johnny. He quickly withdrew the glass. “I forgot you don’t drink on the job.”

“Never know when I’ll need a clear head. The boys noticed a female friend hanging out with the Taylor woman. We might find a use for her.”
 

Mr. A sipped his whiskey, and Johnny savored the pungent aroma.
 

“Maybe she would trade the ring for her buddy. Either way, when we get it back, that Taylor bitch has to die.”

“Yes, sir.” The KA-BAR warmed inside Johnny’s boot.

Chapter 9

The slow rhythmic beat of country music roused Kay from what had been a fitful sleep at best. Nate’s shift should’ve ended by now, giving Kay an inexcusable pang of regret.
 

Marcus must’ve tuned in the local radio station. Catching up with him would be good. By the time she’d learned of his wife’s death, the funeral had been over. Kay had planned to offer her sympathies, but Tyrell had strongly warned against it. He’d suffered guilt and pain when his sister had been murdered. His recommendation to let Marcus grieve in his own way was sound advice.

A light tap on her bedroom door sent her grabbing for the sheet. Seconds later, Nate invaded her privacy. Tall and shirtless, he filled the doorway. His broad shoulders and carved-from-granite chest tapered down to a trim waist and narrow hips.
 

Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t force one word past the lump jammed in the back of her throat. Her gaze was drawn to a tattoo on his left pectoral muscle right above his nipple. The eagle with a trident and ship’s anchor in its talons was obviously a SEAL emblem.

Something shiny caught her eye, and her gaze shifted to the middle of his chest. The earth stumbled. A vice tightened around her heart.
 

The Saint Jude medal hung on a chain around his neck.

He moved across the room. A predator ready to strike. “You still take cream?” He set a steaming mug of coffee on her nightstand.

His gaze swept across her face. Always perceptive, his brows knitted, his dark-blue eyes studied her.
 

“What’s wrong?” He leaned closer. The chain swung forward, dangling her broken heart in front of her.

His warm breath stroked her cheek. His lips were close enough to kiss. His face close enough to smack again.

“Nothing,” was all she managed to say.
 

“You’re white as a sheet.”

Why was he still wearing the medallion? What did it mean? Why did the one she wore under her sleep shirt burn against her skin? Stop. None of those question needed asking. The answers didn’t matter.

Kay scrambled further up on the headboard away from him. “Get out of my bedroom.”

He sighed and backed away. “Just trying to be helpful.”

She stuffed her hands under the covers and refused to look at the medallion. He straightened his shoulders and strolled out of the room. Funny, as soon as he was out of sight an empty feeling rushed over her.

Kay grabbed a set of warm-ups and hit the bathroom. Anywhere she could screw her head back on straight before facing Nate again. But the shower only gave her more time to wonder why he’d kept the medallion and, more important, why she gave a damn. She couldn’t resurrect a love that had died ten years ago.

The sound of Holly’s laughter greeted Kay when she stepped into the hall. She rounded the corner to find her best friend entertaining Marcus and Nate.

Enthralled by Holly’s bouncy personality, pixie face, and charming smile, neither man turned his head when Kay entered the room. She might as well have been invisible.

“Holly, what are you doing here?” Kay’s words came out snarky, but she was getting tired of people wandering in and out of her apartment.

“Enjoying the company.” Holly wore shorts and a lace cami, and her blue-streaked blond ponytail swished as her gaze shifted from Nate to Marcus. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Her having a key was the only thing that kept us from putting a bullet in her.” Nate shared a wink at Holly. “And I wanted to thank her for being there for you yesterday.”
 

“If I’d known who you were, I might’ve shot you.”
 

Holly sent a knowing smile at Kay, who choked down a chuckle as she refilled her mug.
 

“That’s quite a friend you’ve got.” Nate got up from the table and moved to lean on the kitchen counter.
 

He was too close. Smelled too good. Radiated far too much heat. Was this kindness part of his services?

“Yeah. She’s a real Annie Oakley.” Kay slid into the chair Nate had vacated. Holly’s huge blue eyes sparkled.

“I do look good in my boots.”

Holly could turn any situation into something funny. She was lovely, a tad ditzy, and the best friend ever. Snapping at her put a bitter taste in Kay’s mouth.

 
“Yes, you do.” Time to get down to business. “So Marcus, you’re hanging out with me today?” He nodded and she continued, “Good, because we need to run by Child Protective Services. Holly works with me, and she can dig around in the system. We need to know if any of the other investigators are working cases of missing young girls.”

“Be a good thing to know.” Nate rinsed his cup and set it on the counter. “You said the dead girl escaped a trucker. Marcus has friends in that industry and can put out feelers. Long-haul drivers are a tight group, but most want no part of transporting kidnapped females. I’ll try to find out who the FBI is sending.”

“You can do that?” Kay’s attention spiked. If Nate had a friend in the bureau, getting information just got a lot easier.
 

“I’ve done contract work for them since moving back to Dallas. We also need an insider to run the plates on the Mercedes. If we get lucky, the car will be registered to Hank Walsh.”

Just how long had he been back? The answer might hurt worse than not knowing so she refused to ask. Being in close quarters with Nate was a mistake, of that she was positive, but she might learn more by sticking with him today. Tomas would run the plate number for her while Nate got a name from his contact.
 

“I’ll take care of the plates,” Kay said. “Nate, I’m going with you. Holly doesn’t need my help.”

“Neither do I.” Nate’s firm jaw lifted higher, and he folded his arms across his chest.

Kay opened her mouth to argue.

Nate’s hands formed the universal timeout sign.
 

“Don’t you dare shush me. Leann’s death is on my shoulders. Get it?” Every muscle in her body contracted. “I will be involved in every step of this investigation.”
 

“Kaycie,” Nate’s jaw muscle twitched. “You—”

“What you need is sleep.” Marcus spoke directly to Nate. Kay was positive he’d interrupted on purpose. “It’s you and me until Tyrell finishes his gig.”

“He’s not tired. He slept on my couch last night,” Kay huffed, still stinging from Nate’s rebuff.

“No, he didn’t,” Marcus said. “No shut-eye while on watch.”
 

“I’ll sleep when I need to.”
 

Kay moved between Nate and the door. “I’m going with you, or Marcus and I will follow along behind.”
 

Nate made what sounded like a low growl while he slipped a holster with a Glock on his belt before covering it with a shirt. He tugged a set of keys from his pocket and then glanced over his shoulder. Kay recognized his look of surrender. She’d won this round.

“Go put on a pair of jeans and some boots.”

 
****

Nate handed Kaycie the extra helmet, fired up the motorcycle and waited for her to slide on behind him. Her thighs lay against his, breasts pressed into his back, and her arms wrapped around his waist. All reasonable thought went straight to hell.