The Guard's Last Watch (A Bexley Squires Mystery)

by Quinn Avery

  “They think he’s going to make it?” she hoped, gripping his arms.

  “Sounds like it. They were able to stop the bleeding, and the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries or organs.”

  “How did your lieutenant know to send you? How’d you know about the deal?”

  “Apparently your friend has some kind of history with Baker.” Grayson’s smile vanished. “He called the station and gave him the details of the deal you proposed to Welder.”

  “What’s going to happen to Brewer?”

  “He’ll be extradited back to Papaya Springs. His fate will be in the hands of the new DA.”

  Dread climbed up her throat. “They appointed a new DA?”

  “Mariah Holmes.”

  Flinching, Bexley released him. Holmes was the depraved assistant DA who had attempted to prosecute Bexley for a bogus murder fashioned by the Mayor and elected DA. If Brewer was going to have a chance in hell of fighting whatever charges Holmes was prepared to throw at him, Bexley needed to retain Luke on Brewer’s behalf as soon as humanly possible.

  Her gaze cut to where Deputy Peck stood in the doorway. “Can I see Brewer?”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he replied, nodding with a smile before wondering off.

  Expression all at once stony, Grayson held out a plastic card. “I got you a room in the only motel nearby. Figured you’d want to clean up and stick around until I’m done with Welder. I’ll be staying in the room right next door. If everything goes as planned, we can catch a flight home together mid-morning.”

  Although she had intended to head back to California once she was released, the idea of freshening up sounded more appealing. “Thank you,” she said, taking the card and tucking it into her back jeans pocket. “I could sleep for days right about now.” When he started for the door, she grabbed his hand and tugged him back. “I truly appreciate all you’ve done for me lately. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat later?”

  Glancing down at the floor, Grayson straightened his tie. “I don’t know—”

  Deputy Peck returned in the doorway. “Sorry to interrupt. Miss Squires, the sheriff is allowing you ten minutes with Hawkins before they start transport.”

  Grayson turned his back on Bexley. “I’ll let you know when I’m finished here.”

  With a helpless sigh, Bexley watched him leave. It was obvious her relationship with Brewer was hurting him, and she didn’t know how to make it right.

  Seeing Brewer locked inside a cramped jail cell was beyond disheartening, but Bexley faked her way through it, greeting him with a crooked smile. “I can maybe learn to live with the clean face and short hair, but drab khaki is definitely not your color.”

  Chuckling, he rose from the cot and shuffled over to the bars, gripping them in his hands. “You’ve been here this whole time?”

  “You thought I had something better to do?” A feeling of helplessness clutched Bexley’s insides when she reached out to wrap her fingers over his. The connection both warmed her throughout, and made her sad at the same time. How long would it be until she’d see him again without a set of bars between them? “You may have saved my life today.”

  He smirked. “May have?”

  “Okay,” she rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “If you’re going to play the hero card, I’m pretty sure you don’t get to brag.”

  A deeper smile spread over his lips. “You were doing just fine on your own. I just helped you out with a little distraction.” Suddenly taking on an intense look, he lightly stroked his index finger along hers, sending an army of shivers down her spine. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Bex.”

  “I’m going to call Luke Jacobs the second I leave this ho-dunk station,” she told him, watching as their fingers interlocked together around the bars. She hadn’t intended to show him that sort of affection, but she was unable to stop herself from wanting more. “Don’t waste your time picking out a prison nickname, or befriending the biggest guy in the yard, because by the time you reach California, he’ll have formulated a defense to spring you free.”

  “Hey,” Brewer drawled, “look at me.”

  Her eyes slowly traveled from his hands to his chest, taking their time studying his firm jaw and pillow-like lips, the angular slope of his nose. By the time she was staring into his beautiful brown eyes, she felt the burn of tears forming. Though it seemed childish, she couldn’t help thinking it was unfair they’d be separated right when she’d finally decided it was time to look into a future of some type with Brewer Hawkins.

  “Don’t waste your energy or money on posting bail, Bex. It’s time I own up to the crimes I’ve committed…pay my dues. If I start serving time now, they’ll take it off my sentence later. It’ll bring me back to you sooner.”

  “Okay,” she promised, her voice cracking.

  There was no hiding the longing in his expression when he told her, “Thanks for helping me out of this jam.”

  “You were just arrested and you’re thanking me?” she scoffed.

  “If you truly believe you haven’t done anything significant at this point, you’re more delusional than I thought,” he sniggered, shaking his head. “Once Redding gives up his buyer, I’ll no longer have to worry if someone’s after me. You have no idea what kind of stress I’ve been under.”

  Bexley shrugged. “Regardless, the jam you speak of isn’t anywhere close to being pickled and jarred. Between the drugs planted in your storage unit, and uncovering what exactly went down in Mexico, I still have a lot of work ahead of me.”

  “You’ll figure it out. Can you at least concede that we make a good team? We’re close to bringing down a major drug dealer, Bex. In my book, getting narcotics off the streets is always a win.”

  “I wouldn’t thank me just yet,” she teased. “It’s going to take a lot of license plates to pay off your bill.”

  He lifted a lone eyebrow. “What if I make you one that’s customized?”

  She feigned a cheerleader-worthy squeal. “Ooo. Now we’re talkin’! Could you bling it out with rhinestones around the edges?”

  A chuckle died on his lips. “Promise me you’ll be careful. Whoever’s after me an’ the guys probably knows you’re involved. This isn’t over until their boss is behind bars.”

  Deputy Peck appeared with another uniformed officer who scowled like he was having the worst day of his life. “Time’s up,” the other officer grunted.

  “Try not to worry about me, Squires,” Brewer said as the officers worked on opening the cell and untangling a set of leg chains. “Everything will work out.” He flashed her a smirk that would affect anyone with a pulse. “I’ll see you soon.”

  18

  Once she’d showered and changed into her pajamas, Bexley asked Red to forward the information she’d gathered regarding Brewer and the handful of young men who’d died of GSWs while Brewer was in Mexico. Bexley was convinced there’d been a hit on Brewer, and wanted to get on top of the situation in case law enforcement caught wind of his connection to a dead man.

  As long as she kept herself occupied, she could honor her promise not to actively worry about Brewer’s impending fate. Deciding the woman Brewer was kissing at Mikey’s may be her best lead, it seemed another conversation with Colt Sawyer was in order. Fearing he’d washed his hands of her after their last encounter, she was pleasantly surprised when the MC president answered her call on the first ring.

  “What can I do for you this time, darlin’?” he drawled.

  “Brewer’s been arrested for possession of cocaine,” she told him.

  “Sorry to hear it. But I’m still not—”

  “No need to tiptoe around the subject. He disclosed his past involvement to me, including the reason he wanted to meet with you that night at Mikey’s. I’m merely hoping to retrace his steps so we know how he ended up in Mexico. I believe the two incidents are directly related.”

  There was a long, weighted pause. Then he said, “In that case, I’ll help in any way I can.”

&n
bsp; “Does Mikey have security cameras in his parking lot?”

  “Sure does. Had them installed myself once we started usin’ the bar as a meetin’ place.”

  “I’m out-of-state at the moment, but I’ll be heading back sometime tomorrow. Suppose you could get your hands on the footage from that night? I’m hoping to track this woman down through either a license plate or facial recognition.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Colt. I’ll be in touch.”

  As she ended the call, her laptop dinged with an email from Red.

  “That girl is as efficient as she is eccentric,” Bexley said aloud to the empty room.

  By the time she’d thoroughly combed through the documents Red had attached, Bexley’s gut rumbled demandingly. She checked her phone to confirm it was close to midnight, and she hadn’t received any messages from Grayson.

  The events of the day continually ran though her mind on an endless loop, some in excruciatingly slow detail. Whoever else had been at Redding’s farm could be posted outside her motel room, waiting to catch her alone. Why didn’t they rush the door? What were they waiting for? She debated looking out through the peephole, then the blinds, and finally stopped, positive food wasn’t as important as staying alive until morning.

  With that thought, sounds from the parking lot and adjoining rooms kept her alert for hours. She listened intently as a man argued with a woman over why he hadn’t left his wife before Bexley heard the jingle of keys and a door closing in the room on her other side. There was no mistaking the deep rumble of Grayson’s voice in the cough that followed.

  It was some time after three in the morning when she finally passed out with her phone in one hand, and her stun gun tucked beside her thigh.

  It felt as if she’d just closed her eyes when Bexley bolted awake to intense knocking on her motel door. Her phone buzzed a second later with a text from Grayson.

  It’s me. Let’s go.

  She stumbled from the bed, realizing she’d fallen asleep in jeans and a t-shirt. The dark room filled with daylight when she swung the door open. She squinted at Grayson. “You got in late. How’d it go?”

  He breezed in past her. “Welder isn’t talking. A sheriff’s deputy said right after he was brought in, he made a call that spooked him. By the time I was allowed to pay him a visit in the hospital, he’d changed his mind about making a deal. I spent half the night trying to convince him otherwise.”

  Bexley’s shoulders dropped. Redding’s confession may’ve been the only way Brewer could walk away from the situation as a free man. But even that was a stretch. “What happens to Brewer now?”

  “They’re transporting him back to Papaya Springs later today,” he said, taking an awkward stance in the middle of the room. He crossed and promptly uncrossed his arms while his gaze darted around the room. “Based on the information he gave Hawkins, the DA might be able to charge Welder with several felonies. It’d give me more leverage to convince him a deal’s his best option.” A deep-set scowl tugged at his features.

  “What’s wrong?” Bexley’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing,” he snapped, returning to the door. “We need to hit the road if we’re going to catch our flight home.”

  After he closed the door behind him, Bexley spotted the lace on her satin pajama set peeking out from her luggage. It had been Grayson’s gift to her on Valentine’s Day.

  By the time Bexley arrived straight from the airport, Colt Sawyer was already waiting in her office, the fragrance of his leather club vest overpowering the coffee in her hand. “You’re lookin’ beat,” he commented with a shrewd smirk. He leaned back in the chair and propped his black biker boots on the edge of her desk. “Somethin’ keep you up all night, darlin’?”

  Bexley nudged the door closed with her foot. “Maybe the thought of your wife coming after me because you insist on using outdated terms of endearment?” She eyed the biker sharply when he chuckled, then dropped her handbag on the credenza and plopped down into her chair. “Did you find the footage I asked for?”

  He tossed a large white envelope across the desk. “One better. We tracked down her name, criminal record, and home address. My brothers rounded her up, and brought her into the clubhouse.”

  “You kidnapped her?”

  “Not my style.” Dimples pressed against his cheeks. “Gave ‘er an incentive to come have a talk is all.”

  Bexley tried to imagine the girl’s reaction when a gang of bikers showed up on her doorstep. Her head throbbed with an oncoming headache as she snatched the envelope and tore it open. Camila Gonzales had an extensive criminal history for only being twenty-five. She’d even done hard time for larceny and grand theft auto. Bexley glanced over the paper at Colt . “You’re very resourceful.”

  “I have a little experience with this kind of thing…figured I’d save you some time. I’m just as eager to help Brewer. The guy deserves a break.” He stood while running a hand through his wavy locks. “Come on, you can catch a ride with me.”

  Her phone dinged just then with a message from Luke.

  Brewer is set to arrive in time for a 4:00 hearing

  “I’ll follow you,” Bexley told Colt. “I have other errands to run.”

  The handsome biker stood and flashed a blindingly white-toothed grin. “Try to keep up.”

  On the clubhouse property, they passed a spacious garage where close to a dozen mechanics in club vests worked on hoisted motorcycles and classic cars. Although Bexley had paid a visit to the Inferno Glory MC home base once before, she decided by the light of day it didn’t feel as sinister. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was undercover last time, and had now become a comrade of sorts with Colt.

  Inside the metal building, a group of Colt’s brothers surrounded a young, olive-skinned woman sitting beneath a patriotic mural bearing the club’s name. Between the woman’s dark, sensual eyes; generous curves inside a small tank top and mini skirt; and lush black hair that spilled in large waves down to her waist, it didn’t take a stretch of imagination to imagine Brewer’s interest.

  “Camila Gonzales?” Bexley asked, advancing closer. Tears streaked the woman’s sharp cheek bones, highlighted with a shimmering bronzer. Bexley eyed Ranger, the giant who was always one step behind Colt. “Everything okay here?”

  “I had no choice!” Camila blurted among a small sob. “They were going to send my brother to prison if I didn’t hook up with that guy! I didn’t know they were going to hurt him—I swear!” The woman bent over, shoulders trembling as she covered her face with both hands.

  Bexley turned to Colt. “Can I have a minute alone with her?”

  “Let’s give them some space,” Colt announced to his brothers. As the other men obediently shuffled outside, Colt gripped Bexley’s elbow. “No offense, darlin’, because I’m sure you can handle yourself, but I’m sticking around in case she tries to pull something. Never can be too careful.”

  With an appreciative nod, Bexley squatted down at the woman’s side. “It’s okay, Camila. They only brought you here because we’re hoping you can help us piece together what happened to Brewer that night. Why don’t you start from the beginning? Who contacted you about Brewer?”

  Sniffling, Camila wiped her tears with her bare arm. “I don’t know…some white guy…in a suit.”

  “Old? Young?” Bexley prodded. “Dark hair? No hair? Give me something to work with.”

  “He was like…my dad’s age. Kind of skinny. Darkish hair.” Camila scooted back in the chair and rolled her eyes like she was being inconvenienced. “I don’t really remember anything else except he looked like the kind of average, middle class dude that you’d expect to knock on your door and try to sell you something.”

  Or someone with a government job,

  Bexley perched on the couch beside the woman. “Where did he first approach you?”

  “I was in the alley behind the hair salon, taking a smoke break bet
ween clients. The dude just marched right up to me with a picture of Carlos on his phone, said my brother would spend the rest of his life behind bars if I didn’t do everything exactly as he said.”

  “Had you seen the picture before? Did it look like something they’d taken off social media, or was it new—maybe something recent?”

  “Lady, I have no idea.” Camila shrugged her bare shoulders. “It was a picture of Carlos being Carlos. My brother’s a thug.”

  Bexley arched an eyebrow. “Any chance Carlos dabbles in drug trafficking?”

  “What are you, some kind of cop?” Camila snapped, darting to her feet. “I told you everything I know.” Her eyes shifted to Colt. “Can I leave now?”

  “I’m not a cop,” Bexley assured her, standing. “I was hired to help the man you cat-fished. I’m trying to assess the reason he was kidnapped that night, and who organized it.”

  Camila’s eyes rounded. “Wait, the hottie was kidnapped? You mean they didn’t kill him?”

  “Was that the plan?” Bexley asked. “Did they tell you he was going to die?” When Camila responded with a one-shouldered shrug, Bexley balled her hands into fists at her sides. “What happened after you left the bar with Brewer?”

  “Things got hot and heavy real fast.” The woman fanned herself with one hand. “I’m telling you, that man can kiss unlike anyone I’ve ever met. And his tongue—”

  “I meant what happened after that,” Bexley clarified, hoping neither of them noticed as her cheeks flushed hot. One way or another, she was about to lose her cool. “Why’d you think they killed him?”

  “Because some scary dude came out of the dark and hit him over the head. The way the hottie dropped to the ground and started bleeding, I figured he had to be dead.”

  “What happened next?”