Hot Pursuit (3 page)

Wolf had read everything he could find on the great Greg King, who had repeatedly been referred to as the best bounty hunter in the state of California, as well as nationwide. He and his wife owned KFA. They had their office right in their home and had started the business with their two sons working for them. Apparently, their kids were no longer in the picture. Greg and Haley had one bounty hunter on staff, working on commission. From what Wolf had learned, Haley King ran the office and helped in the field when needed. KFA had been in business eight years. Prior to owning KFA, Greg King had been a cop for the LAPD. Haley King, his wife, worked for the school district as a substitute teacher and was a homemaker. Now the two of them would have to live down their business being the last known place of employment for the Mulligan Stew assassin, although that was alleged.

“Alleged my ass,” Wolf mumbled, flipping through the papers in his file. He knew men like King. The man had clout, was established in his community, had an incredible reputation in his field. If all that power couldn’t keep his name from being associated with the Mulligan Stew assassin in the papers, it meant King hadn’t been able to deny it. Responding to reporters with “no comment” got your name in the paper. Adamantly denying something, insisting there was no way it could be true, and threatening lawsuits for slander was a much better way to stay out of the papers. Wolf glanced at one of the articles he’d clipped. King hadn’t adamantly denied crap, just refused interviews.

All the information Wolf had so far still had him at the cutting ground. He needed to know personalities, their insights, what made the people he would be contacting happy and what pissed them off. Wolf had to gain all of that information based off his facts. He’d gotten better at building a character profile over the years. One thing he’d learned so far, the almighty bounty hunter Greg King hadn’t gone after the Mulligan Stew assassin. That tidy bit of information spoke volumes.

After his last case Wolf had given himself some much-needed downtime, but once he’d started researching the Mulligan Stew assassin he knew he had to have him. There was a million-dollar bounty on the assassin’s head. Research was as important as footwork. Wolf had spent three months researching the Kings and learning what made them tick. There had to be a solid reason why Greg King didn’t chase down the assassin. King would have known the man better than anyone else. And King had to believe the man he’d employed as a bounty hunter was the assassin and guilty of many murders. Yet King had let the man run.

There were articles about KFA, quite a few of them. The only one that had interested Wolf was the article that talked about the bullet that shot and wounded a fugitive KFA had apprehended. That bullet came from the same gun that had shot and killed a CIA agent in Washington, D.C., six months prior. Police had scoured the area where the fugitive went down and hadn’t found the weapon or the man who shot him. A Harley-Davidson motorcycle had been spotted leaving the scene. That same bike was later found parked outside a church. The police searched the church and questioned the priests. They still hadn’t found their shooter.

None of this surprised Wolf. The man who shot the fugitive KFA had been tracking and who shot and killed the CIA agent in Washington, D.C., was the Mulligan Stew assassin. All investigators were sure of it. The men who had contacted the Mulligan Stew assassin and hired him to kill the CIA agent had been apprehended, had confessed, and were doing time. For killing the CIA agent the Mulligan Stew assassin was wanted by the FBI, the CIA, and probably every other agency in D.C. as well as multiple law enforcement agencies around the country.

What did surprise Wolf was that the assassin had used the same gun, which created a personal signature on each bullet it shot, on the CIA agent and the fugitive KFA picked up. The fugitive had been a nobody. He had written bad checks around L.A. and had simply ignored a bondsman and not shown up for court dates. He didn’t fit the profile at all of the kind of terrible scumbags the Mulligan Stew assassin usually killed. Wolf found it interesting that in all the newscasts and articles he’d compiled over the past months no one had mentioned this obvious aberration. In his opinion, the shot fired at the fugitive running from KFA bounty hunters was personal.

Of course, within a week of the Mulligan Stew assassin disappearing tornadoes tore across the Midwest, destroying homes and taking more lives than tornadoes had in recorded history. Hurricanes ripped through the Atlantic and hit the South, doing horrific damage. Almost at the same time, tsunamis terrorized the Pacific, damn near wiping out entire cities. News on the Mulligan Stew assassin took a back burner.

Wolf preferred criminals he chased not being the main spotlight in the news. He didn’t need a bunch of amateurs out there trying to catch the guys. There was a million-dollar bounty on the Mulligan Stew assassin’s head, and Wolf was going to find the motherfucker and make himself a very rich man. Not to mention secure his reputation so he’d no longer have to take every case that came his way. He would be able to pick and choose who he hunted.

“Not too shabby for someone whose mother threw him away,” Wolf muttered, looking over the file he’d created on the assassin.

Wolf waited for the busy parking lot around the convenience store to open up so he could reach the end of his road trip and the beginning of his hunt for the assassin. He was in the Mulligan Stew assassin’s old stomping grounds now. Hell, maybe the guy had frequented this convenience store. Wolf didn’t have a picture of the guy, nor did anyone else, so he couldn’t hold it up to the clerk and ask if she’d seen the guy. He was cool with that, though. It made the hunt all the more challenging. He had absolutely no problem earning his living.

Wolf drove by the KFA office, impressed with the spread where the Kings lived. He would live that way someday. He was getting there, slowly.

Next he drove by the church where the motorcycle had been found.

“Interesting,” he mused, glancing over his shoulder as he drove by. There hadn’t been any mention in any of the articles he’d read that a grade school and what looked like a high school as well were attached to the church.

That told him something right there. Wolf wondered how much other information was not mentioned in the news clips he’d gathered. This wouldn’t be the first case he’d worked where he’d learned so much more simply by casing out where his man or woman had last been known to spend their time. Freedom of press simply meant reporters wrote what they thought would get them headlines. Although if they’d mentioned an assassin spent time inside a church while children were playing at recess yards away, that would get headlines. Wolf was going to find out why that rather notable bit of information was left out.

The next stop was the family home of the woman who had allegedly disappeared with the Mulligan Stew assassin. Wolf stopped at the house once he got there. It looked homey, like there were happy times here. Shutting off his SUV, Wolf then headed up to the house. It was time to get to know the people who had known the assassin.

Chapter Three

“You’ve got it?” Haley King asked, her face bright with a large smile.

“Read it and weep.” Ben couldn’t help grinning as well. He held out a single piece of paper that meant so much. His future was printed out on that one piece of paper. “I’m now licensed in the state of California.”

Greg King patted Ben on the back. “Congratulations, son. Would you like a job?”

All of them laughed, and Ben crashed on the couch against the wall in the KFA office. He stared at his certificate that showed he was a licensed private investigator in the state of California. This was the best day of his life. No one knew about the money that had shown up on his kitchen table the day after Micah had disappeared. No one talked about him anymore. Some things were better off not mentioned. Wherever the guy was, Ben silently gave him thanks.

“Are you hiring?” Ben asked, staring over the piece of paper at his boss. A drained blue sky shown through the blinds in the window behind Greg.

Greg sat at the unused desk opposite the couch where Ben was. Haley leaned against the office manager’s desk, a role she was currently filling since they were in between office managers again.

“We might be if we found the right man.” There was a glint of humor in Haley’s eyes. She was a beautiful woman, actually sexy. And she had to be around fifty. It was her casual yet feisty manner that had any man who walked through that door almost always drooling in her direction. Haley only had eyes for her husband, though, and she looked at him now. “What do you think, Greg? Think Ben here would make a good bounty hunter?”

“Nope,” Greg said without hesitating. “I only train men to be outstanding bounty hunters.”

Ben knew he was grinning like an idiot and tried to rein in some of his happiness and appear cool. It dawned on him he’d come running to these two when he’d received his certificate authenticating him as a private investigator, which entitled him to be a bounty hunter. He hadn’t told his parents yet. Greg and Haley had been there for him, all the way through dealing with the courts and getting his record expunged. There was money left, secure in a bank account, and he still considered trying to take down Arnold Shots. The anger and hatred Ben had for the prick were still there, but getting his life back had allowed some of his determination for revenge to recede.

“I still have a lot to learn,” Ben admitted.

Greg lazily lifted his arm and gestured at Ben while looking at his wife, his expression one of pretentious innocence. “I also train humility into them.”

Haley’s laughter was melodic when she pushed herself from the desk where she was perched and walked over to peck a kiss on her husband’s forehead. Greg grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap, and made a show of molesting her. The alarm system wired throughout their home beeped, announcing someone had just opened the office door from the street. Greg just as easily released her, and Haley straightened, although a contented smile was plastered on her face.

Ben took in the stocky man who entered KFA. The man was shorter than him, definitely under six feet. He had brown thick wavy hair that looked windblown, except there was no wind outside. Ben would be the last to describe eye color, but this man’s dark green eyes were intense enough to draw attention as he took in the office.

“Something I can do for you?” Ben took the initiative.

“Maybe,” the man said, but shifted his attention to Greg. “I bet you’re Greg King, though, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Greg said in a relaxed tone. He and Haley had busted through four cases in the past two days. Greg was content amusing someone off the street for a minute, and it showed on his face.

“I’m not charging you with anything.” The man didn’t smile, which made his words seem more as if they were meant seriously than as a joke.

“Good to know.” Greg cocked an eyebrow. “Who are you? What do you need?” he demanded.

“I’m Wolf Marley, and I’m a bounty hunter.”

Ben straightened on the couch. He’d put over a year in with KFA doing everything from filing paperwork at the courthouse to helping Haley haul her old freezer out of the garage and putting her new one in its place. He’d emptied trash, even washed fucking windows. There were many times when he rode with the Kings as they went after whoever it was they’d agreed to apprehend. Ben went over the files; he learned the stats on their guy or woman and even put his input in on what to do to catch them. He would be damned if some asshole would walk off the street and try applying for the position that was rightfully his.

“We aren’t hiring,” Greg informed the guy.

Ben hoped he didn’t noticeably relax. Haley looked over at him and grinned, though. Ben leaned back, rested his arms on the back of the couch, and listened to the two men talk.

“I don’t need a job.”

Wolf wasn’t stocky as first thought. He was muscular, with very broad shoulders and a slim, narrow stomach. There was probably a defined six-pack under that T-shirt. He would be one of those guys who spent hours lifting weights instead of getting muscular through sheer hard work. And what kind of name was Wolf anyway?

“I’m here because you used to have an assassin on your payroll,” Wolf said.

Greg King was six and a half feet tall. Sitting down, he looked intimidating. Greg didn’t stand, but he definitely appeared to grow in size.

“I did not have an assassin on my payroll,” he said sharply.

“I believe you did.” Wolf might be short, but the asshole had balls. He looked Greg straight in the eye. “I need to ask you a few questions about him.”

“I did not have an assassin on my payroll,” Greg snarled, barely moving his mouth.

Wolf cocked a thick brown eyebrow. “So that was your gun that killed the CIA agent and shot the fugitive you were apprehending a year ago?”

Greg stood and towered over Wolf Marley. “Get out of my office,” he snarled.

Either Wolf had more nerves than was good for him or he was an idiot. Possibly both.

“Withholding evidence during an investigation for one of America’s most wanted criminals is a serious crime, Mr. King,” Wolf said quietly, not budging. “I’d appreciate it if you answered just a few questions.”

“Get out before I throw you out!” Greg roared.

“Suit yourself.” Marley seriously did not appear intimidated. He shrugged and turned to the door. “I’ll be back,” he informed them over his shoulder, opened the door, and closed it again.

“Son of a bitch!” Greg roared, and hit the middle desk with his fist.

“You’re going to send your blood pressure sky-high,” Haley warned, and rubbed his arm with her hand. “I thought we were done with people coming in and out of here looking for Micah.”

“Apparently not.” Greg put his arm around Haley and turned them toward the door leading into their house. He glanced at Ben. “Congrats again on your certification. We’re both really proud of you.”

“Yes, we are.” Haley smiled at him. “Come on inside and have a beer.”

“I’ll take a rain check.” Ben had learned that turning down a chance to hang out with the Kings out of the work environment didn’t mean there wouldn’t be other chances. The Kings were laid-back and more than willing to socialize when they weren’t working.