by G. K. Parks
Dangerous Stakes
A Detective Liv DeMarco Thriller
G.K. Parks
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and other concepts are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, places, establishments, events, and locations is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without express written permission from the author.
Copyright © 2019 G.K. Parks
A Modus Operandi imprint
All rights reserved.
Print ISBN: 978-1-942710-16-5
Other books by G.K. Parks
The Liv DeMarco series:
Dangerous Stakes
Operation Stakeout
Unforeseen Danger
The Alexis Parker series:
Likely Suspects
The Warhol Incident
Mimicry of Banshees
Suspicion of Murder
Racing Through Darkness
Camels and Corpses
Lack of Jurisdiction
Dying for a Fix
Intended Target
Muffled Echoes
Crisis of Conscience
Misplaced Trust
Whitewashed Lies
On Tilt
Purview of Flashbulbs
The Long Game
Prequel Alexis Parker Novellas:
Outcomes and Perspective: The Complete Prequel Series
Assignment Zero (Prequel series, #1)
Agent Prerogative (Prequel series, #2)
The Final Chapter (Prequel series, #3)
Julian Mercer Novels
Condemned
Betrayal
Subversion
Reparation
Retaliation
For my mom and dad
Table of Contents
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Twenty-seven
Twenty-eight
Letter from the Author
Other books by G.K. Parks
About the Author
One
A streak of yellow caught his eye. His pulse quickened. It was almost time. He knew he had to be patient. He couldn’t risk getting caught, not after all the planning and preparation that went into this.
The yellow sports car whipped around the curb and slid to a stop in front of the valet stand. The parking attendant came around, opening the driver’s door. He watched the owner step out of the car and go inside the hotel. This would be easy.
For a moment, he felt overheated, a combination of fear and excitement. The tingles raced up and down his spine. He was ready. He gripped the steering wheel harder to control the twitching, his knuckles turning white. The sudden adrenaline surge made his mind focus. He stared at the car, willing it to move.
And when it did, he pulled into the garage right behind it. He had to act quickly. Soon, everyone would know what he had done.
* * *
My phone rang, and I sighed. Reaching into my pocket, I wasn’t surprised to see my dad’s number on the caller ID. This was his third call in the last hour and a half, which meant I was running dangerously behind schedule. If I didn’t leave now, he’d send a search party to my last known location or have officers ping my phone. I typed a quick reply and put my phone away.
“I have to go.” I rubbed my eyes and tucked the surveillance photos inside the file.
“Hot date?” Logan Winters asked. The assistant district attorney raised an intrigued eyebrow before checking his watch.
“Dinner with my dad.”
“In that case, you better hurry. You don’t want to keep Captain DeMarco waiting.”
“You do realize he’s retired.”
“Cops like him never truly retire, Liv.” Logan shuffled through the paperwork, sticking a few files inside his messenger bag and the rest in the drawer. “Just make sure you don’t tell him I’m the reason you’re late.”
“Why?” I teased. “Are you afraid of him?”
“Absolutely. By the way, thanks for doing this. I know you’ve been slammed lately. How are things progressing at the club?”
“It’s hard to say, but if something shakes loose, you’ll be my first call.” I looked down at the photo on his desk. “You’ll let me know if anything turns up, right?”
“You’ll be my first call,” he parroted. “Truly, I appreciate all your help.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Let’s agree to disagree.” Logan opened his office door and pressed against the small of my back as he guided me out of the room. His hand lingered a moment longer than necessary. “Can I offer you a ride?” He palmed his car keys, a fancy fob for a luxury sedan.
“No, but you can validate my parking.”
We rode the elevator to the lobby, and he took my parking pass and handed it to someone at reception. He nodded at a harried-looking man who just made it through security. “Hey, Johnny, don’t forget we have that pretrial motion due at nine a.m.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” Johnny waved away the warning and gave me the quick once-over. “Detective, anything we can help you with?”
“Not today. I’m off duty.”
Logan held out the parking pass to get my attention, even though my eyes constantly roamed my surroundings, taking in every person, exit, and potentially volatile situation, a side effect from too much undercover work. I took the offered pass and pushed through the turnstile.
Once we were outside, I turned to Logan, a new thought forming in my mind. “Do you really think your witness went into hiding?”
“Where else would he be?”
“Lying dead somewhere.”
Logan bristled at my comment. He didn’t want to think about that possibility. He was still new at the DA’s office and determined to do a good job. This was his first big fuckup, and he was worried.
My partner and I gave the DA a slam dunk case, but a key witness vanished before his court appearance. That’s why Logan wanted to meet tonight, but rehashing the details of the case and going over the witness’s life history and statement proved useless. My gut said it was foul play, but we had no proof.
“I’ll find him. He’s probably camped out in some roadside motel.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Tahiti, Tijuana, Vegas, El Paso. How should I know? I didn’t stash him anywhere.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“He refused protection, and we had no reason to think he needed it.”
“He witnessed a murder.”
“Just like most of the witnesses you pass my way.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “If Duncan Crane should have been in protective custody, you people should have put him there.”
I gave him a look. “Oh, so now I’m you people? When you called three hours ago, you were singing a different tune.”
“For fuck’s sake, Liv, stop twisting my words. You’re the one who started pointing fingers. I’m just saying the police should have taken the first step. That doesn’t fall on me. It’s not my fault Crane’s i
n the wind.” He glanced back at the office building. “And I don’t need you accusing me of it.”
I eyed him curiously. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.”
“Well, it sure sounded like it.”
“Guilty conscience?”
His eyes smoldered, and he let out an annoyed growl. Resisting the urge to continue the argument, I turned on my heel. I was already late.
“I’ll see you around, Winters.”
The drive to my parents’ house didn’t take long, but I needed to be careful. Even though I didn’t plan on taking work home with me, I feared it might follow anyway. So I took the scenic route, adding an extra ten minutes to the commute.
My phone rang again, just as I arrived. Ignoring it, I let myself in and locked the door behind me. “Hey, Dad,” I called.
My greeting was met with the distinctive sound of nails skittering against the tile floor. A brown and black mass raced toward me. I dropped to my knees and held out my arms. Gunnie stood on my thighs and tried to lick my face, his tail wagging a million miles an hour.
“Your doting daughter is finally here. You can call off the search team.”
“I was wondering what was taking you so long. I’m starving,” Vince DeMarco yelled from the kitchen. “After you get the food in the oven, you can fetch my slippers.”
“You must have gotten me confused with your other daughter.” I entered the kitchen to find Dad dressed up. “Are we going out to eat?”
“No, I had a meeting at city hall earlier, and then I met some of the guys from the precinct for drinks.”
“Uh-huh.” I didn’t necessarily believe it, but Vince DeMarco could stonewall the best of them. “Where’s Mom?”
He chuckled and turned back to chopping vegetables for salad. “She’s at her wino meeting.”
“You mean book club?”
“That’s the story she’s sticking with, but you and I know better.” He finished making the salad and wiped his hands on a towel before coming around the counter and giving me a hug. “How’s work? Did you catch a last minute case?”
“No, I had to go over some things at the DA’s office.”
“Are you testifying?”
“Not anytime soon.”
“Good. It’s never a good idea to speak out in open court when you’re in the midst of an undercover assignment. UCs should be exempt.”
“Well, they do make the occasional exception.”
Dad didn’t say anything. He put the salad on the table and grabbed the oven mitts. “I heard you put in for a transfer.” He took the steaks out of the oven and placed one on each plate, ladling some mushroom sauce over the top. “Anything I should know? Is someone giving you a hard time at the station?”
I went to the sink to wash my hands, buying a few seconds to think. By the time I turned around, Dad had added Brussels sprouts and sweet potato fries to the plates and placed them on the table. He sat down heavily, ignoring Gunnie’s big brown eyes which silently begged for scraps.
“Just the usual whispers and cackles.” I pulled out my chair and sat down. “My captain used to be your partner, so it comes with the territory. The brass thinks everything I do is amazing and incredible, and everyone else thinks I’m getting special treatment. I don’t want it to be like this. I hear the rumors and snickers. I want to do this on my own. To make my own name and my own way.”
“Your achievements have nothing to do with me, Olive. You’re a good cop. You’re smart and dedicated, and the brass noticed. That’s how you got where you are.”
I cringed at the use of my full first name. My mother must have been out of her mind to name me after a fruit, or she was ordering a martini when the nurse was filling out the paperwork. One or the other. “Yeah, well, tell that to the rumor mill. Making detective at twenty-eight and working in intelligence isn’t normal. A lot of the guys think it’s favoritism. Sometimes, I’m not sure they’re wrong.”
Dad cut into his steak and spoke with his mouth full. “It’s called hard work.”
“If that’s true, it won’t hurt to move to a new precinct and start fresh.”
He shrugged and continued to eat, but from the silence, I knew he disagreed. However, it was my life. My career. My choice.
Gunnie let out a soft whine, and I slipped the puppy a piece of sweet potato under the table. The furball understood how difficult it was to be a woman in uniform without the added difficulty of having a decorated police captain as your father, or at least that’s what those big brown eyes conveyed as he pawed at my leg for a piece of steak.
My phone rang, and I fished it out of my pocket. “Dammit.”
“Work?” Dad asked, wiping his hands on a napkin. This had been a constant occurrence growing up, but now it was my turn to answer the siren’s song.
“Who else?”
I hit answer, prepared for the worst. Calls after hours usually meant one of two things. Someone was dead, or an op was in trouble. Tonight, it was both.
“We need you at the precinct,” Detective Brad Fennel, my partner, said. “Two high-end sports cars just got jacked. We’re talking a score of a cool million. The valet was killed, and we’re guessing Kincaid’s crew is behind it.”
“You need help working the scene?” I asked.
“Nah,” Brad replied. “We don’t want to risk someone making you as a cop. I’ll perform the preliminaries and let the techs process the rest. Homicide’s here to make sure we don’t screw it up, so I’ll meet you at the precinct. You’re gonna have to get in touch with Axel Kincaid and his boys sooner rather than later. If they get those cars out of the country before we stop them, they’ll likely get away with the murder.”
“Do we have any evidence?” I asked.
“Just the usual shit.”
“So nada.”
Brad sighed. “Get down here, Liv. We’re on a time crunch.”
“I’m on my way.” I pushed away from the table and looked at my dad. “I have to go.”
“Be careful. And don’t forget you’re coming to family dinner next week.”
“I’ll try. Tell Mom I said hi. I’ll see you guys soon. I promise.” I grabbed my bag and jacket, catching a glimpse of him emptying my plate into Gunnie’s bowl.
The puppy wagged his tail and lapped at the mushroom sauce. Apparently, my presence wasn’t as coveted as steak scraps. Traitor.
Two
I read the preliminary reports and reviewed the 911 calls. Since the crime occurred outside a swanky hotel, news reporters were covering the story. I watched the coverage, but, at this point, it was just speculation. We were keeping a lid on the details as best we could. We didn’t need the media turning this into a circus.
The police had Axel Kincaid under surveillance, but a few of his crew might have slipped away in order to boost the cars. Over the course of the last three months, my suspicions had grown concerning just how powerful Kincaid really was, but I hadn’t said anything to anyone at the station. Perhaps I should have.
Maybe if I did, this wouldn’t have happened, but until now, I had no reason to think he was dangerous. Most auto thefts were nonviolent. The parking attendant must have gotten in the way or seen their faces, so they killed him.
I made a few calls and checked with the crime scene team. The stolen cars had GPS trackers and security systems, but they had been deactivated. Whoever took the cars knew exactly what to do to get away with it. Obviously, we were dealing with professionals. That meant they probably had records.
Unfortunately, our prime suspect, Axel Kincaid, was hosting a private event at his club during the time of the murder. The police surveillance unit spotted him entering the club this morning, and he hadn’t stepped foot outside since.
Kincaid landed on our radar six months ago when vice got a tip he was running an illegal casino. After several failed attempts to bring Kincaid up on charges that never quite stuck, vice planted several undercovers inside Spark, Kincaid’s club. But Kincaid always sniffed them out.
&n
bsp; In addition to allegations of a casino, Kincaid had been suspected of several high-end car thefts. It was no secret he traded vehicles in exchange for lost bets or as possible payments. He commanded a fleet. Rumor was he owned a converted warehouse filled with nothing but exotic cars. But winning the vehicles in races or by playing cards wasn’t enough for him. Everything he did was about the thrill.
He’d even been brazen enough to joyride past two traffic cops in a hot Maserati. However, the plates were bogus, and with the engine inside that Italian beast, by the time the patrol car caught up to him, he’d already pulled into a warehouse and sealed the doors. He was walking down the block when they stopped him.
The officers detained Kincaid and obtained a warrant. However, when they checked the warehouse, the car was gone. There was no denying Kincaid was the common denominator in these high-end thefts, and the crime today fit Axel’s profile perfectly. However, without hard proof, nothing ever stuck. Kincaid was untouchable. Even I didn’t know how he made an Italian sports car vanish into thin air from inside a sealed warehouse. But he did. I was sure of it.
After his little car stunt and vice’s failed attempts to infiltrate Kincaid’s inner circle, intelligence took over, and I was sent inside. Thus far, Kincaid didn’t suspect a thing. I was the only cop who managed to stay off his radar, and every day, I wondered if that was about to change.
He had keen instincts. After all, he survived the streets and emerged victorious. His juvie record indicated a violent, troubled individual with an innate ability to boost cars. By the time he was fifteen, he’d stolen over two million dollars in exotic imports and had been brought up on over half a dozen aggravated assault charges, but as far as society was concerned, it was a phase he outgrew. Now he owned one of the most exclusive clubs in town, catering to the wealthy and enjoying the protection that position afforded him. His clientele boasted the names of some powerful people in government, which is probably how he’d been able to keep his record clean thus far.
Sports cars were his signature item. His commodity of choice. Something he collected and traded like baseball cards. His legal activities only helped to conceal his illegal ones.