Kelsey kicked the rolling stool across the open area in the freight company’s back room, cursing a blue streak when her toe connected with the metal. She was frustrated, tired, and pissed. And fuck it all if she didn’t have to add careless to the list now. Her boss had almost fired her for leaving early last night, but she’d gotten spooked when the security system started acting up and bailed. And since she’d been in his office getting the mother of all ass-chewings, she hadn’t been able to get her package on the last flight out today and had been forced to volunteer to work late so she could slip it on to the first flight out tomorrow morning. The drugs would be hours late arriving, but at least they would be delivered. Her contact loved reminding her that failure was not an option.
“That’s the reason I don’t let my staff wear open-toed shoes.” The words came from behind her, and Kelsey turned so quickly she almost fell into a heap of tangled arms and legs. Holy shit, how had he gotten in without setting off the alarms? Dammit, was the fucking system messing up again tonight? She recognized him immediately, and a white-hot bolt of fear raced up her spine. “I don’t know why you look so surprised, Kelsey. You had to know I’d find you.”
“I didn’t tell you where I was.” She hated the catch she heard in her voice. The man standing in front of her didn’t look like anyone she’d want to tangle with. As she edged closer to the door, her eyes moved to the camera and for the first time since she’d worked there, Kelsey hoped the security company was paying attention. His laughter boomed around her, and she felt her blood run cold. “You don’t think I left the security feeds operational, do you? Kelsey, dear, you are not dealing with the local mountain bumpkin sheriff.”
“You know Brandt Morgan?” Dammit, she probably shouldn’t have given the man that information.
“Yes and no. I know he started poking his nose into my business within hours of our conversation. I didn’t know who he was at first, but once I’d tracked you down, it didn’t take long to figure out who was asking questions.” The smile he gave her was more of a sneer, and it sent chills racing up her arms.
“What kind of questions? I don’t know why he’d be asking about you.”
“You’re a lousy liar, Ms. Jones. I think you know exactly why he started asking questions. Or should I say, he had his friends grilling anyone who’d take their calls.” It wasn’t until her back connected with the cold steel door that Kelsey realized he’d been matching her step for step. For each step she’d taken back, he’d taken one forward, always keeping the distance between them the same…until now. He continued forward until he was close enough for her to see the fury simmering in his eyes.
Her first instinct was to run, but before she’d taken the second step, Merrett’s hands were wrapped around her neck. She fought to pull in oxygen, terrified each breath she took would be her last as she felt her feet leave the ground. “Where is Reagan? I saw her leaving the local kink club with her Native American boyfriend, but I couldn’t get to the car fast enough to follow them.” Native American boyfriend? “I’m tired of seeing that phony confused look, bitch. Tell me where she is—right fucking now.” Darkness began creeping in from the periphery of her vision, and its progression accelerated as his grip tightened.
She could barely breathe, and she wasn’t going to waste any air speaking. Her mind skittered to his comment about Reagan having a Native American boyfriend making her wonder what had happened with Rafe? Had he figured out how boring Reagan was? Kelsey felt like she was floating, and the last thing she heard was his vicious profanity-laced threats and the faint sound of a siren in the distance.
Phoenix stared at the large screen in front of him, tracking Merrett’s phone. The small green indicator showed the man approaching the back door of the freight company, but just as he turned his attention to the monitor on his right, it went black. “What the fuck?”
“What happened?” Brandt’s voice came over the speakers, and Phoenix heard the frustration in his voice.
“The security feed from the freight company just went down.”
“Switch to another cam.”
“Yeah, well, big brother, shocking as it may seem, I’d actually thought of that. When I say it’s down, I mean the whole fucking system is down. I don’t have shit.” The only way the man could have disabled the system that fast was by using a scrambler. Running the feed backwards ten minutes, he watched Kelsey Jones move around the room and stealthily avoid the cameras she and the other employees had been told covered the large room. What no one except the owner knew was that he’d recently added several more cameras. Brandt hadn’t had any trouble obtaining a warrant, and the two of them had finished the installation late last night after the system experienced a brief malfunction.
“Did you get anything before everything went dark?”
“Yes. You’ll have plenty to make an arrest.” If she’s still alive when you get there. “What’s your ETA?” He needed to know Brandt’s estimated time of arrival to gauge how much help to bring in to help track Merrett. No doubt the man could hear the siren. Sounds that shrill tended to echo up and down the valley in the most annoying way possible. If an emergency vehicle was far enough north, they could hear it at the ranch, and it always woke up every baby in the damned house.
“Five minutes unless I come up behind another hay trailer. Damn, I hate this time of year.” Brandt was the most impatient driver in the world, which was damned amusing considering he was the lead law enforcement agent in the county. Phoenix could hear Brandt speaking to central dispatch, requesting ambulance and officer back up. Before he’d finished his instructions, he let loose a string of curses that would send their mother into a tailspin. In Phoenix’s opinion, she was awfully thin-skinned for the mother of five boys.
He didn’t have to wait long to find out what had set Brandt off. Phoenix heard the distinctive click of Brandt opening the link so that his officers and dispatcher could hear everything Phoenix heard. “I was almost run off the road by a car matching the one owned by the suspect’s cousin.” He gave a quick description of the car and directed officers to pursue and detain.
Phoenix dialed Caila on another line. “Hey, doll, are you still working down by Rafe’s?” He let a sigh of relief when she said she was just leaving the area.
“I’ll be in place in ten minutes tops. What’s up? I can hear sirens over my radio so I know they’re close.” As loud as she played her music, he wouldn’t have thought she’d be able to hear a nuclear explosion. “And before you ask, yes, I’ve got warm clothes and a night vision scope. I’m just a regular fucking boy scout.”
“Har har. And you better not let Mom hear you talking like that—or Kip for that matter.”
“Yeah, yeah. But you won’t blab because I’m going to be sitting in a tree in the cold helping you out.” Brat. Unfortunately, she was right. Glancing at his phone, Phoenix groaned. “What’s wrong?”
“Rafe just landed. He’s so anxious to get back to Reagan he’s liable to jump out of the damned plane before it even comes to a stop.”
“Which means he’ll be coming in hot and you don’t want me to screw up and shoot the wrong guy, right? Damn, that’s just insulting.” Phoenix could hear the amusement in her voice, but she’d been right. That was exactly what he’d been thinking. “I only shoot bad guys, Phoenix.”
“I’m sorry, Cal. I just wanted to give you a heads-up because this jack ass actually bears a strong resemblance to Rafe.”
“I understand that at your advanced age it’s hard to distinguish differences at a distance, but I’m not pushing forty, so…”
Hell, she wasn’t even thirty. “You’re a menace. And I’m only thirty-five, so I think ‘pushing forty’ is a bit of an exaggeration.”
“You’re a Mensa, so I’m sure you understand the concept of rounding numbers. Anything five or more gets rounded up. Hence, pushing forty.” He heard the faint ding of her car door before she tested the earbud communication device he’d given her. The sound of her trunk closing told him she was ready to go to work. “Gotta go. Places to be. Bad guys to shoot.”
“Stay safe, little sister.” Opening the link between his office and Micah Drake’s at the Prairie Winds Club, he updated the other man and was grateful for his offer of help. He let Micah take the helm for a few minutes while he talked to Rafe.
“Brandt found Kelsey by the back door. Looks like Merrett was choking her when he heard the sirens and fled.” The son of a bitch dropped her like she was a piece of trash to be discarded. Phoenix certainly didn’t respect her, but she was still a human being.
“Where are they taking her?”
“North. Tally isn’t available, and Ryan has more experience with this sort of thing than the doctor on call.” Rafe already knew Tally had been drinking the day before, so he’d understand why she referred the case to Ryan.
Brandt looked on as the EMS personnel worked to save Kelsey Jones’s life. If he’d been a few seconds later arriving, she’d have died. The trauma to her throat and the position in which she’d fallen would have cut off what little oxygen she’d been able to pull in. He heard the EMTs mention asphyxiation and something about hypoxia and made a mental note to look it up later.
He snapped a couple of quick pictures and sent them to Ryan along with anything else he thought might help his brother treat her. Even though he wanted nothing more than to see her held accountable for selling out her friend and behind bars for smuggling drugs, neither of those meant she deserved to die.
When his phone vibrated in his pocket, Brandt wasn’t surprised to see a message from Ryan. Was assailant trying to find out Reagan’s location? Brandt didn’t know, but that was his best guess.
Probably.
Did he get it? Considering her earlier lack of loyalty, it was likely she’d told him everything he wanted to know—not that it appeared to have done any good.
??
Dick Merrett couldn’t get that bitch’s last words out of his head. She’d been so frantic to escape from him, he doubted she realized she’d spoken anywhere but her clouded mind. He’d done his research. He knew Reagan worked part-time at the club. It still amazed him she was using her real name and social security number. When he’d seen her leaving the club with a man, he’d assumed the man was her boyfriend. But Kelsey seemed confused by him referring to her man as a Native American. Instead, she seemed to think Reagan was with someone named Rafe.
Looking around, he found what he was looking for—a convenience store close to the exit for the airport. Over the years, he’d learned people are extremely predictable. They’d stop at either the place closest to their home or one near work for their caffeine fix, so this place would be a likely stop for the airport personnel.
Twenty minutes later, he could barely hide his smile as walked from the small store and settled back into his cousin’s beat up old car. The young man working behind the counter had been very helpful, and his confession to having a secret crush on Dr. Rafe Newell was enlightening. He hadn’t thought the man, whose nametag identified him as Treavor, was going to talk to him until Dick claimed to be Reagan’s ex-boyfriend and that he’d come to town to beg her forgiveness.
“You know Reagan. She’s got a such a good heart. I know she’ll come back home with me if I can just talk to her.” Treavor’s eyes lit up when he realized how easily he could rid himself of one person he believed was keeping Newell from claiming Treavor as his own.
“I’ve been to the club a few times with friends and watched Master Rafe top male and female subs. He never fucks any of them, though. I think he’s waiting for the right one to come along.” And I’m sure the good doctor has his sights set on you. Not.
Treavor, the helpful clerk, had even provided directions to Rafe Newell’s mountain home. Dick wanted to pat himself on the back; stopping at the convenience store had been a stroke of genius. Making the turn that would take him up the mountain, Dick looked in the rearview mirror in time to see an ambulance fly by, lights flashing and the siren piercing the air. He’d been sure the bitch was dead, but some well-meaning EMT probably thought they’d be a hero if they managed to revive her. Shrugging it off, he remembered the housing development he’d passed on the way into town. One of the old farts up there probably had a heart attack trying to breathe. This was one of the reasons he loved Texas. No fucking altitude sickness.
The mountains might be pretty to look at; the air was entirely too thin. Damn, even the smallest physical exertion was exhausting. He hoped Newell’s home wasn’t too far up the mountain. Dick had his heart set on fucking Reagan before he finished what the dirt bag in his facility was supposed to have completed over a year ago, and keeling over from heart failure for a piece of ass wasn’t part of his plan.