Hot Mess (An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance Book 5) (10 page)

A
s soon as
I push the door of the division, a blond tornado descends on me. Catherine pushes me back to the second floor landing and closes the door behind us.

"What are you doing here?" She's whispering and yelling at the same time.

"I work here, remember?"

I'm slightly exasperated but I don't show it. I paste an artificial smile on my face for the sake of my colleague. Catherine is a great working partner and there's no reason for me to make her pay for my frustrations of the day.

"Don't be an ass," she scolds. "Stevens made it clear that he doesn't want you here. Not at all." She shrugs. "Well, at least not before Kristal is found."

"Yeah, he sent me out to find her, but I've no idea where to look," I sadly admit. "I tried the only place that came to my mind and she wasn't there. I have no clue where she could have gone." I shrug. "She's no career criminal, so she'll pop up eventually."

Catherine frowns at me. "You don't get it, do you?"

Looks like there are a lot of things I'm not getting today. I have no clue what she's hinting at. She sighs and frowns, "You need to find her
now.
There's a contract on her head."

"A contract?" Fuck.

"If we don't find her first..." She leaves her sentence unfinished. No use to spell out the consequences, I understand them loud and clear.

"Chances are they're just like us with no idea where she's gone." I'm not sure that's entirely reassuring.

"Well, I wouldn't bet money on that 'cause her father's in on it. Maybe she's confided in him. He could know stuff you don't."

Fat chance. Just a few weeks ago, she didn't even know he was alive. She's never met him in person. It’s probable that I know her better than he does.

"Her father ordered the hit?" What sort of sick bastard is he? Who orders his own flesh and blood dead?

Catherine looks as horrified and disgusted as I am as she answers, "Yep, the sicko ordered it Monday. Didn't even give her the benefit of the doubt."

"So he think she's turned?" I am stating the obvious. Sometimes it helps to think out loud. I have to figure out how I can get her out of this mess. That is after I find her. "We need to find a way to convince them of the contrary."

Yeah, we do ‘cause even if we do lock up the two we caught tonight, the rest of the gang will want to make good on the contract, and she'll never be safe again.

"There is one way we could make her safe," Catherine says, leaning against the wall. I observe her and notice how tired she looks. It's been a rough week for everyone.

"The witness protection program?"

That could work. If what she has to say is interesting enough, she could get in after her testimony. The problem is I'm not sure she has enough to testify about.

The more I think about it, the more I realize that it would be the safest course of action, but I hate the idea.

Hate is not the right word. It's worse than that. The very thought of helping her vanish from my life makes me sick to my stomach. It's plain and simple, I don't want to let her go.

Catherine snaps her fingers several times in front of my face and scolds me, "No, you idiot. I meant something less drastic."

I frown. Really? What else? Now Catherine has indeed caught my undivided attention. "If Stevens is right, and you're crazy about the girl, it's what you need to do but you're not gonna like it at all."

Looking into Catherine's eyes I see nothing but compassion. She's still recovering from a broken heart. She never shared the details, but I know that her previous partner and her were an item and that it didn't end well.

"He's right," I confess. "I really care for the woman."

"Then you'll have to arrest her and send her away." Catherine speaks softly with the tone doctors adopt to announce the passing of a beloved parent. "The only way we can convince her father that she didn't sell him out is by making sure the D.A. doesn't give her too good a deal."

"She may have to do real time then."

As I say the words, I let the idea bounce around my head. At first I don't like it. Who would? But then it starts to grow on me. It sucks, but it has more appeal than the alternatives. If the only other choices are a coffin or a new identity, sending her to jail for a short period of time doesn't sound half bad. Of course, I realize that one's perception of time changes the second one's locked up, but if she got a reasonable offer, it could be doable.

"It's not my idea," Catherine says. "Captain Stevens came up with it. He's thinking they could give her a deal, something like six months to a year."

Fuck me, a year is a long time behind bars. I sigh and rub my neck. I'm way to tense to think properly.

"When interrogating our two guys, he's been dropping hints about us chasing after Kristal as if we thought of her as a dangerous criminal as well."

Smart thinking! I can trust Stevens for that sort of thing. If he decided to give Kristal a chance at a normal life, he'll go the whole nine yards.

I lean against the wall next to Catherine and we remain in companionable silence for a minute until she pushes herself away from the wall and stretches.

"I've got to get back to work and you, well,
you
have to get out of here and find the girl."

She opens the door, and turns around again, "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, Pat called several times."

"Thanks." I have no time to deal with Styx business right now. Whatever it is, it will have to wait. My first order of business is to get back on the streets and find Kristal.

"She sounded real anxious to talk to you, but still she wouldn't leave a message."

Starting my way down the stairs and already trying to figure out what itinerary I should take to drive through the entire town in the most efficient fashion, I barely pay attention to the fact that Catherine is still speaking to me.

It's only when I reach the first floor and the reception hall of the station that a part of my brains decipher the last words I heard.

After her fifth call, Pat did leave a message, it's cryptic but it makes my day.

* * *

I
can't help
but smile as I climb on my bike again. I won't need to ride for hours around town to find my little bird. She's a homing pigeon and what do homing pigeon do? They return to the nest.

"Your guest has returned."

That's the message Pat gave to Catherine.

Four words. That's all it takes to flip my world around. The frustration I was fighting ever since Kristal drove away has evaporated. Its weight has lifted from my shoulders to be replaced with a fabulous jubilation.

Krystal did not run away.

She ran to me.

When her world shattered--when she realized that her father had betrayed her, that he had willingly made her drive around with drugs--she sought shelter in my home.

My heart swells with prides.

The trust she's demonstrating is heady.

It's giving me such a high, that for now, the only thing I want to do is show her how much this means to me.

How much time we have? I'm not sure. It will depend on what she decides, but right this instant, all my time is hers. I want to concentrate on us, to savor what we have.

Fuck, it could only be one more night before I have to let her go.

As soon as I arrive, I look around the parking lot searching for Kristal's car. It's nowhere to be seen. That's good. We don't want her to be visible.

I tuck away my bike under the awning as it starts to drizzle. I enter the Styx by the main door. Whatever is on the program for the day has not started yet. The only sound I hear is the soft jazz escaping from Pat's office, door left ajar. I knock and push it open.

Pat looks up from her computer, and with a motion of the hand, invites me to take the seat across from her. I simply wanted to check in and run upstairs but I'm guessing she has something to tell me.

She pulls out a glass and a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer and sets them in front of me.

Whatever she has to say, it's not going to be pleasant.

I sit and decline the drink. It's way too early for me, and I want to keep my head clear. The conversation that I need to have with Kristal will be delicate enough as it is. No use to make things harder with a clouded mind.

"As you wish," Pat says putting her bottle away. "Someone's put a price on this girl's head." Shit, how does she know that? "They almost got her, but she managed to lose them and find her way back here."

I shoot out of my seat ready to run up the stairs.

"Is she okay?"

"She's all shook up but not harmed. Daniel's watching over her, upstairs, in your crib." I notice the softness in her voice when she pronounces his name. Do I sound the same when I say Kristal?

"Thanks, I really appreciate this."

I'll have to find something special for her. Some way to express my gratitude better.

"Don't mention it," she says accompanying her words with a dismissive gesture of the hand. "You'll have to tell me what you want to do with her car. I'm guessing the crime lab may want to have a look at it."

I frown and ask, "What's wrong with her car?"

"Surprisingly not that much. I mean it's still running but she could be starting a new trend. It's spectacular looking, like a giant colander on wheels."

"She was shot at?" My blood freezes. Whoever did it is dead. I don't know when and I don't know how, but I'll find them and make sure they never terrify her or anyone else again.

"Go take care of your girl. If she's right and they didn't follow her up to here, the rest can wait ‘til morning."

Stopping at the door, I ask "But what if they did follow her and are waiting for back up?"

"Then we'll be fine as well," Pat answers. "I called up your brother and he's sent a team over. We have additional security for the evening."

"But ..."

"You didn't see them cause they parked their ride in the garage. We have two guys on the roof and Ice said that was enough to hold the fort."

And of course, my brother's right. This place was built and conceived to be our fortress. Two guys on the roof is all we need for discreet surveillance of the perimeter. Unless they come at us with a tank, the concrete walls and steel reinforced doors are enough to hold anyone out until reinforcement arrives.

Thanking her again, I rush up to my place.

Earplugs is sitting at my desk looking at a book of Harley collectibles. It's probably the only thing on my shelves that can capture his interest.

Kristal is in my bed, fully dressed, and fast asleep.

Daniel stands and speaks softly.

"Pat gave her a double scotch to calm her down," he says. "And I don't think she's much of a drinker 'cause she went out like a light."

I nod and make a mental note of the fact that my girl doesn't hold her liquor well. Good. The contrary would probably have annoyed me.

"Thanks, bro," I tell him as he puts the book back on the shelf.

"Don't mention it." He looks in her direction and smiles. "I like her, you know. I think she's sweet."

"Since when do you like sweet?" I can’t resist teasing him.

The corner of his lips twitches a bit as he looks me straight in the eyes to answer, "Well Master Everest, as you know, in love I do favor spicy, but I like my friends sweet."

Yep, the man has changed in the past months. Everything made him blush when he first visited Styx. Not anymore. He now owns who he is. It doesn't get better than this.

Silently closing the door behind him, he tells me to call if I need anything. I won't. I have all I need for the night right here.

The real question is what will happen tomorrow.

What will I do with Kristal then?

Fuck, we really need to talk but that's not what I want to do now.

The time we'll have tonight is precious.

I want it to be all ours.

It want the rest of the world to wait.

But I know better.

First we do need to talk and make some serious decisions.

* * *