Hunt Her Down (13 page)

commanding Goose to sit. Over the barking, Dan made the introductions as Quinn unfolded

himself from the backseat.

“Hi,” he said, a little unsure of himself. “Sorry Goose jumped like that. He’s really a good

dog.”

“It’s all right,” Cori said, reaching out a hand. “I’m Cori Roper.”

He shook it and then looked at Max. “Hey. Cute kid.”

Normally that’s all it would take to turn the big guy into a ball of mush. A compliment to

Peyton usually resulted in Max’s goofiest smile and a five-minute dissertation on his son’s

latest accomplishment.

But Max merely stared at Quinn. After an awkward beat, he reached out his hand. “Max

Roper. And this is Peyton.”

“Hey, little dude.” Quinn reached up and stuck a playful finger in the baby’s face, and

instantly had it grabbed and giggled over.

Max’s gaze slipped to Dan, and a lifetime of nonverbal communication screamed the

obvious.

He knew.

Maggie stepped forward. “I really can’t thank you enough for letting Quinn stay here,” she

said to Cori. “I hope it’s not an imposition.”

“Not at all. Max abhors these weeks in Miami, and he’s happy for the company while I’m

out.” Cori reached out and slipped an arm around Dan. “And this one is a fixture in our

family.”

Dan smiled down at her, surveying her face for a clue.

Did she know, too? He got nothing but her guileless smile. “Thanks, Cor,” he said, giving

her a squeeze.

Goose was already bolting as Quinn struggled to hold him.

“Why don’t we take him to the back,” Cori suggested. “The yard’s completely fenced in,

and the dock is gated off. Would you like to come and look around, Maggie?”

She guided them around the side of the house, leaving Dan and Max to get the bags. Dan

popped the front well, practically feeling Max close behind him.

Peyton cooed and Dan lifted the bags out, not turning to respond to the child as he normally

would. Instead, he waited for the ax to fall.

Is he yours? Have you told her? Do you realize what this—

“Does Lucy know?”

Dan froze while lifting his duffel bag. Didn’t see that coming.

“That I’m here, and you’re protecting Quinn? Yes. In fact, she’s going to call in a few

minutes with some reports I asked for.”

“But does she know you have a son?”

He turned and met the challenge in Max’s dark eyes, an expression he’d seen a million

times. “What’s much more important is that Quinn
doesn’t
know yet, so don’t say anything.

Do you think Cori can see it?”

“Doubtful. She didn’t know you at that age. I did. How about Maggie?”

“I told her. It’s been kind of rough on her. She thought I was dead, you know.”

Max nodded, tugging Peyton a little closer. “What’re you going to do?”

“I told you last night. Find the cash, turn it over, and get the Jimenez family off Maggie’s

and Quinn’s backs.”

Max’s thick brows furrowed. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What
do
you mean? What am I going to do with a kid? How am I supposed to be a father

to him? What does this do to all that freedom I just acquired?”

Slowly, Max grinned, then slid a look at his little boy. “You know what I love about the

guy, Peyt? You don’t have to say a thing. He’ll just spill his guts all over the sidewalk and I

don’t even have to ask.”

Dan held in his curse in deference to innocent ears.

“Let’s go inside,” he said instead, heading toward the door, Max chuckling behind him.

In the cool marble foyer, he dumped the bags and stabbed his fingers through his hair,

turning to Max.

“I had no idea,” he said. “If I’d known she was pregnant . . .” He’d what? Sent money?

Called on Christmas? Tried to talk her out of keeping the child at all? “Anyway, I didn’t, and

now I have to deal with this. So I’d appreciate a little less humor and a little more sympathy.”

Max looked at Peyton. “See? Guts. Everywhere.” He set him down carefully, giving him a

hand until he was completely steady on his two-year-old feet. Then Peyton shot off like a

rocket.

Max led them deeper into the house, past a towering curved staircase and formal living area

and into the much less ostentatious family room. Toys and trucks and a playpen vied for floor

space, and Dan had to scoop up a few stuffed animals to drop onto the leather sofa.

“I’d ask if you’re sure, but he’s a clone,” Max said.

Dan spread his hands along the back of the sofa, exhaling. “I don’t know when and how or

even
if
Maggie’s going to tell him.”

“Then I better keep our old high school yearbook under lock and key. Because one look at

Danny Gallagher, class of ‘85, and he’s going to see which way the DNA twirls.”

“Yeah, I got your drift on that.”

“Don’t let him find out the wrong way,” Max said quietly. “It’s going to be hard enough as

it is.”

Cori’s laughter preceded the group into the room through an arched opening from the patio.

Quinn led the way, letting himself be pulled by Peyton.

“He’s strong for a little thing,” he said, pretending he was about to fall.

Peyton looked up and beamed a two-toothed grin. “Kin.” He pointed at the boy and

stomped his feet with excitement. “Kin.”

“He likes you,” Dan said. “I can never get him to say my name. C’mere, Peyton. Give

Uncle Dan a hug.” Dan reached his arms out and Peyton toddled over, drool sliding down his

chin.

He threw himself into Dan’s arms, then climbed up on his lap.

“What d’you say, monster?”

Peyton slapped a damp palm on Dan’s face and gave him a loopy smile. “Kin.”

Son of a bitch, could everyone see the resemblance?

On his belt, his cell phone rang with the first few notes of “Lucy in the Sky With

Diamonds.” He saw Cori and Max share a look as he set Peyton on the floor and stood up.

“Can I take this in your office?” he asked.

“Of course,” Max said, lifting a knowing brow. “You need privacy.”

“No, I need to put this on speaker.” He cocked his head toward Maggie, waving her toward

him. “C’mon. You should hear everything firsthand.”

Cori swooped in to gather the baby in her arms. “We’ll finish the tour with Quinn, then.”

In the plush jungle-themed office, Dan put his cell phone on the coffee table and did the

audio introductions as Maggie settled onto the zebra-striped sofa across from him.

Lucy, being Lucy, asked no questions about Maggie. But then Lucy, being Lucy, probably

had a full top-secret FBI file in front of her, had memorized every detail about their former

relationship, and had deduced the rest between the lines.

Dan pictured the woman he’d called boss for the past seven or eight years, seated at her

massive antique table, no doubt dressed in a cream or white silk designer suit, six-hundred-

dollar shoes hanging from her perfectly manicured toes as she crossed her mile-long legs, her

black hair loose and long.

The image usually pulled at something basic in his gut, but today he felt nothing but the

urge to look at Maggie, her jean-clad legs tucked under her, flip-flops on the floor, a thin T-

shirt clinging to her narrow frame. She nibbled on her thumbnail, listening, then looked up

and caught his gaze.

She couldn’t be more different from Lucy if she tried.

She held his eye contact, her expression dragging at something even more basic and raw in

his gut. Was that because she was the mother of his child? Or was this just ordinary garden-

variety lust? He’d fought the feeling all night long, sleeping on a lumpy sofa in her enclosed

patio, knowing she was right down the hall.

“Let’s start with Lourdes Jimenez,” Lucy said. “We needed to go to a Level 3 background

check, because no such woman seemed to exist.”

“But you found her,” he said into the speakerphone, not looking away from Maggie.

“Of course. The problem was that no one with that name was documented as being related

to Alonso or Ramon Jimenez. Level 2, which accounts for marriages, divorces, and changes in

Social Security docs, also came up empty. But then we tackled legal name changes and

bingo.”

“So who is she now?”

“Lola James, the president and CEO of a Miami-based shipping company called Omnibus

Transport, a rapidly growing freight and cargo company,”

Dan snorted. “Don’t tell me she’s gone into the family business of drug smuggling?”

“Yes and no,” Lucy said. “Omnibus is one hundred percent clean, without even a shadow of

a misdeed. Ms. James has a perfect record, with no obvious ties to the drug world. The

company is highly profitable, she’s a welldocumented workaholic, and her employees are

loyal and long-standing. But here’s where things get interesting.”

“They always do,” Dan said.

“Omnibus Transport is a new name for an old company that Lourdes bought, formerly

known as AJ Cargo. The original warehouse is still listed as property owned by Omnibus,

although her offices are downtown. And the house once owned by her father, Alonso Jimenez,

is also an Omnibus asset, although Ms. James lives in a condo on Brickell Avenue. The house

wasn’t confiscated by the feds because Jimenez paid his fine in cash, and Florida law prevents

the government from confiscating property of a felon if they pay.”

“Who lives in the house?”

“As far as we can tell, no one. I’ll send all this in an email with documentation and

addresses, phone numbers, et cetera, Dan. You can check it out.”

“Will do. What else do you have? Anything on Constantine Xenakis? I wasn’t entirely sure

how to spell that name.”

“I know how to spell it,” Lucy said flatly. “And I already had a file an inch thick. An

employee file.”

Dan shot forward. “He was a Bullet Catcher? When?”

“Briefly, before you joined the company. He did one job, a diamond drop. Then I let him

go.”

“Why?” Despite his suspicions about the guy, Dan could easily see him as a Bullet Catcher.

No wonder he’d moved over when he heard Dan’s name. No doubt he recognized it.

“I let him go on gut instinct, nothing tangible. Some diamonds were missing from the drop,

but they later reappeared. There was just something about him I wasn’t sure I could trust,

despite some exemplary skills. But it was early in the start of this company, and I didn’t think

he was what I wanted.”

“So what’s he doing now?”

“From what I can tell, living well in Tarpon Springs, Florida. But not employed. Not

gainfully, anyway.”

Dan dropped back on the sofa. “My guess? He’s a professional thief, a hired mercenary. He

doesn’t want the fortune,” he said, directing his comment to Maggie. “Someone’s paying him

to find it.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Lucy replied. “But, beyond what I just told you, I have nothing

new on him, except that I assume he freelances his services, so he could be working for

anyone. Oh, and I know you were going to arrange access to the evidence files in the FBI’s

Miami office. I’m friends with the new SAC there, Thomas Vincenze. Have you ever met

him?”

“No.” But who wasn’t friends with Lucy?

“He’s just taken over that office after some time in Los Angeles. He owes me a favor, so I

put a call in. He’s expecting you in an hour.”

“Great. I’ve already been in touch with Joel Sancere, my partner on the case. He knows I’m

coming in.”

“Now pick up privately, Dan.” It wasn’t a request.

He took the cell phone off speaker and put it to his ear. “ ’Sup?”

“I know you’re on leave, but I may have a job down in Florida. Since you’re already down

there, I thought you might consider it.”

He looked at Maggie, who was still curled on the zebra stripes, studying him carefully.

“I don’t know.” There was a lot of ground to cover with Maggie, and he hadn’t even started

yet.

He heard a soft sigh. “Dan, when are you coming back to work?”

“Someday.”

“That’s not good enough for me.”

Dan laughed. “Nothing’s good enough for you. See ya, Juice. I’ll be in touch.” He flipped

the phone closed and caught Maggie’s smile.

“Efficient, isn’t she?” she asked.

“You have no idea.” He stood and offered her a hand. “Do you think you can handle a trip

to the Miami FBI offices?”

She nodded, letting him pull her up. “Yeah. I think Quinn is in good hands here.”

As he opened the door, Peyton shot by, followed by Quinn.

“We’re going swimming,” he said, throwing the announcement at Maggie as he bounded

by. “The pool is like a thousand feet long!”

As he disappeared, she looked up at Dan. “He may never want to leave.”

Alonso Jimenez slammed his massive hands on the table, breathing so hard and so slow that

he could feel his nostrils quiver with each shaky inhale. His fury couldn’t be contained.

Across the table, the blood drained from his men’s faces.

“Viejo,” Pedro said.

“Think of your heart.”

“Think of yours!” he spat back. “Think how it will feel when I rip it out of your chest and

feed it to wolves for letting a woman outsmart you.”

Both men shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at Alonso. Fear, respect, and shame

kept their eyes averted. Not that he’d really hurt them. He had so few loyal men left, he

couldn’t afford to lose even a stupid one.

“And now she’s hiding him, of course. You’ve ruined the opportunity, now, when time is of