Taken by the Lawman (Lawmen of Wyoming Book 6)

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Taken by the Lawman (Lawmen of Wyoming Book 6) Page 8

by Rhonda Lee Carver

“She saw me asking questions at a local coffee shop. She’s smart. That’s how they’ve gotten away with scamming people for so long. Still think it’s a coincidence?”

  Kiersten stood and paced the floor and he could tell by the way she bit her lower lip that she was working through her thoughts. She stopped in front of him and placed her hands on her hips, tilting them ever so slightly. “Where are you with finding Everest?”

  Deegan gave his head a shake. “I checked at his workplace and no one has seen him. I had an old address for him that I checked out this morning, but he moved from the location several months ago. Surprise. He didn’t leave a forwarding address. I think our boy is running from something.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “We? Does that mean you’re back helping?” He grinned.

  “Don’t get too excited. Just so we’re clear, I won’t jeopardize my career to save your friend’s ass. From my standpoint, he’s not free of guilt yet, and if at any moment I find even a sliver of his involvement he will have my handcuffs wrapped around his wrists so fast he won’t know what hit him.”

  He liked the way her eyes gleamed. “Duly noted.” He reached for his phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “For another fifty, I was able to convince the girl to give me the number they called to reach the owner of the briefcase.”

  “Wait. You had this all along and are just now telling me? What makes you think he’ll speak to you? He’s murdered a man, and maybe a woman, and I’m sure he’s across six borders by now.”

  “What I think is that this guy wants his pictures bad enough to kill for. I’d bet my eye teeth that he’s waiting and hoping that he’ll get another call from the girl asking for more money. That’s what I’d do. The killer is brave enough to shoot a man dead in the middle of the day in an alley. He’s in a business deal with someone and our job is to figure out what business that is exactly.”

  She crossed her arms. “Why hasn’t the girl made that call yet?”

  “She’s scared. She’s afraid the killer will hunt her down.”

  “Not scared enough to take the photos to the cops I see.”

  Deegan shrugged. “I’m calling him.” He dialed the number the girl had given him. The phone was answered on the third ring.

  “Yeah?”

  “How bad do you want your photos?” Deegan asked.

  The man’s laughter vibrated the line. “How did I know that I’d hear from you again? I’ve learned you can’t be trusted. It’s not very nice to keep a man’s belongings.”

  “I’ll bring you the pictures.”

  “For a price, I’m sure. How much?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice.

  “Five hundred. Where should we meet?”

  “In the parking garage of Calbre Plaza Hotel. Familiar with it? You should be. Isn’t that your stomping ground?”

  “I’ll be there at nine P.M.” Deegan clicked off.

  Kiersten looked at him in shock. “You nailed that one.”

  “I’ve seen his type. He thrives on the adrenaline rush.”

  “Wait…I’m getting a call.”

  He watched her grab her phone from her purse and answer. As she talked, her brows scrunched and her mouth twisted. Once she clicked off, she blew out a long breath through the corner of her mouth. “That was Abby who works with the pathologist who did Annie Steele’s autopsy. I asked her to call if anything suspicious came up on the preliminaries. They found traces of fentanyl in the syringe. Here’s another thing…she had bruising on her scalp up in her hairline above her temple that matches the size of the muzzle of a gun. It looks like our aide did have a story to tell.”

  *

  The man clicked off and resisted the urge to smash the disposable phone onto the table. No, he couldn’t do that, not yet. He could walk away, forget the pictures, but he didn’t like being played a fool. It angered him, and yet he found it comical that the dipshit scammer wanted his drugs so badly that he was willing to risk the same fate as his friend in the alley.

  Thrumming his fingers on the table, he didn’t enjoy the extra mile to get his pictures back, but he did like the thought of erasing another fucked-up human from the face of the earth.

  Standing, he crossed the space of the attic of the boarding house where he’d been staying for six months and braced his fingers on the doorframe, testing it for sturdiness. He did two hundred lifts, liking the bittersweet ache in his muscles. Sweat slicked his naked body and his breathing was labored, making him feel rejuvenated. He thrived on pain. Pounding his fists against his chest, he smiled at his reflection in the full-length mirror, then gave his biceps a proud flex.

  He’d come a long way from the scrawny kid who was bullied for his acne, dirty clothes, and trashy house on that backroad in hill jack country. He’d show them all. He was a man who would lead the world in erasing the scum.

  If the military taught him anything it was how to kill a man twenty different ways, leaving no sign that he was there. He couldn’t account for his mates, unfortunately. They were idiots who botched up jobs. Why didn’t he do the mission himself?

  It wasn’t that he enjoyed killing people as much as he liked the idea of ridding the country of trash. That was his duty.

  Tonight, he’d be prepared to complete the circle.

  Picking up the phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart, and when it was answered, he said, “I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to let you know that the mission is almost complete…yes…I’ll bring the pictures to you tonight.” He hung up, dropped the phone to the wooden floor and smashed it with his boot. He’d learned to never keep any evidence.

  9

  Kiersten sat in the security office of the hotel watching the surveillance monitor in the garage where Deegan and the mysterious briefcase owner were supposed to meet. The man was late, which left her biting her nails. She watched the row of screens, all six of them, and could see Deegan leaning against the wall close to the elevators. He seemed at ease, almost comfortable. There was no sign of concern or agitation in his expression. She wasn’t surprised. He was one of the best undercover agents in the Justice Department and why they kept him out in the field nine months out of the year. She liked watching him at work because he had such a quiet stealth. She didn’t like him doing this on his own, she understood that he could handle himself.

  Thankfully, her old friend, Johnson, was working security at the hotel and she managed to convince him to leave her alone for a half hour in the office.

  Deegan widened his feet and he pulled the cap lower on his head. The bulky ripped jacket he had on couldn’t even hide his broad shoulders. He probably wished he hadn’t shaved.

  Blowing out a long breath, she shifted on the swivel seat, feeling the temperature rise.

  A set of red lights flashed on the panel and an alarm sounded over the speakers, followed by a computerized voice saying, “Emergency. Please exit the building.” She jumped up from the chair watching the monitors as people started flooding the hallways and lobby.

  “What the hell?” She rushed for the door as it came swinging open.

  Johnson had a wide-eyed expression. “You got to get out of here, Cade.”

  “What’s happening? Why is the alarm going off?”

  “I have no clue,” he said frantically. “Just get out.”

  Kiersten looked back at the monitors. Deegan was no longer visible. “Shit!” She raced past Johnson and down the hallway toward the staircase. She took them as fast as her feet would carry her, breathless, more from adrenaline than getting a workout, as she rammed through the metal door that took her into the garage. Reaching for her gun, she gripped the handle, holding it steady as she took two steps, looking for any movement. The sound of the alarm resonated as she hurried to scan the dimly lit space, seeing nothing and no one.

  Where the hell was Deegan?

  Keeping her back to the wall, she moved slowly, looking for any sign of him.

  Making her way down one aisl
e, she got halfway when the door came slamming open and a couple raced out. They came to a sudden stop when they saw her. Both had their mouths agape and eyes wide. “It’s okay. FBI.” She pulled out her badge to show them. “Hurry out to the sidewalk.”

  A few more people came running into the garage. Not wanting to make a bad situation worse, she replaced her gun in the side holster and started for the middle of the garage to watch for anything suspicious.

  “Ma’am? Do you know if there was a false alarm?”

  Hearing the man’s question, she turned at the same time a large, beefy arm came around her shoulders, squeezing. After the millisecond of shock passed, she tried reaching for her gun, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled it roughly to her back. Lifting her foot, she brought her heel into his shin, hearing his painful moan, but it didn’t take him long to recover. He tightened his grip around her neck and she had to inhale deeply to catch her breath. He was strong and managed to drag her between two vehicles, hidden from people who were still rushing out of the building.

  Panic started settling in, but she controlled it, managing her breaths so that her emotions didn’t get the best of her.

  With her free hand, she reached up and clawed at his face, but he was wearing a rubber mask. All the hours of training and refined skills came to the forefront. While he was focused on her assault on his face, she jammed her heel into his foot, glad that he wasn’t wearing steel toes. The pain only ceased him for a second, but long enough that he slackened his grip just enough that she could drop down from the circle of his arm. She managed to get five steps before he grabbed her hair fixed in a topknot, clenching the mass in his fist, and threw her so hard against a vehicle that she felt a jagged pain in her ribs. She bounced off the door and landed on the concrete floor. The car alarm squealed loudly in protest.

  Wincing at the pain in her side, it was quickly forgotten as she heard his footsteps beside her and rolled to her back, bringing her foot up and landing it in his stomach. He fell to his knees, gripping her ankle in his unyielding grasp, sliding her toward him. She pummeled his chest, hooking several blows to his face and neck, but nothing seemed to deter him. His eyes were all that she could see and they were dark and beady. Evil.

  His fingers threaded into her hair with a force that ripped roots from scalp. She could hear the popping and tearing, but she wasn’t going down without a fight. Using the heel of her hand, she shoved it into his face, connecting with his nose. She heard an effective crunch, but she was too busy using her legs to push away with all her might. The man was relentless. A giant.

  She brought her knee up into his stomach, but the man had abs of steel and this only pissed him off more. His fist slammed into her cheek and she saw stars. Working from pure instinct, she kicked him hard in the knee, then aimed for his balls, but missed her target.

  The man grunted, and she grabbed at the mask, but his strength won out. He was on top of her, straddling her with his weight, his fingers choking her. Her vision blurred followed by blackness just about the same time she heard her name being called from somewhere in the garage. Was she imagining it?

  “Kiersten?”

  It was Deegan.

  The man jumped off her and she heard his footsteps thumping hard against concrete.

  “Deegan!” she called, but nothing came out of her sore throat. Attempting to push herself up, she felt a searing pain at her side. Managing to sit up, hidden by cars on each side of her, she winced at the ache in her body. She didn’t have any broken bones, but it sure hurt like hell. “Over here,” she called again, but it came out in barely a whisper. “Deegan! Here.”

  “Shit!” she heard him mutter, then he dropped down beside her. “What the fuck happened?”

  “He ran. Go after him,” she commanded.

  “I can’t leave you. You’re hurt.”

  “Go. Get that bastard!” She’d live. Hopefully the man who did this wouldn’t.

  Several uncertain expressions flickered over his face before he cursed under his breath and jumped up. She heard the thudding of his boots and she finally managed to push herself over to lean against the car she’d probably left a dent in.

  *

  “I’m taking you to the hospital.” Deegan could barely control his adrenaline as he helped Kiersten up off the cold concrete. “Put your arm around my neck and lean your weight on me,” he told her.

  She did as he asked and leaned into him for support. “I’m fine. Nothing’s broken.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” He helped her over to sit on the steps so he could examine her closer. The alarms, both the hotel and car, were finally turned off, but the ringing remained in his ears.

  There were no words to describe what he’d felt when he saw her laying on the floor of the garage. Blood on her nose and lips and bruising already starting on her cheek. Although he hadn’t wanted to leave her side, he’d also wanted to catch the fucker who had done this to her. Unfortunately, the bastard had a head start. If Deegan would have caught him, the killer would be a dead son of a bitch. “Now we know he isn’t working alone.” Once she was seated on the cold step, he ran his hand down her hair and rested his palm on her neck. “Tell me what happened,” he asked, realizing he had a vulnerable hitch to his voice.

  “I heard the alarm. I knew something was wrong, so I raced down to find out what the hell was going on. I put my gun away so I didn’t scare any of the people coming out of the hotel. The next thing I knew a man was on me. I didn’t get a look at his face because he was wearing a mask. Damn, he was strong, like he’d been trained to fight. I couldn’t get to my gun.” She blinked. “What do you mean he isn’t working alone?”

  “The alarm went off to cover up the shots. He got off a couple, but I was able to hit the ground for cover and get to my gun. He took off and I watched the car speed off. He couldn’t have been in two places at once.” He ran his hands down her arms, her legs, her ankles, checking for any broken bones. “Does anything hurt?”

  She snickered. “It’d be easier to list the things that don’t, but I’ll be okay, just a little sore.”

  “Did you see anything from the cameras?”

  “Nothing.” She closed her eyes a moment. “I’m going to catch him and when I do, I’m going to find great joy in sending him away,” she said through tight lips.

  Taking a deep breath, Deegan hated seeing her like this. When it came to Kiersten, he had a protective side that never lessened. He realized she was tough, but even tough people could get hurt. He felt a wave of nausea at the idea that she had been banged around by the killer. She could have been seriously injured, or worse. Deegan realized they weren’t messing with some two-pump-chump killer. The man didn’t even waste any time in asking for the pictures. He shot to kill. They would have killed Kiersten too.

  “No broken bones, but I’m still thinking you need checked over,” he said softly. “You could have a concussion.”

  She stared at him. “I don’t like hospitals. I’m fine, really.”

  “You look like shit.” He leaned in to look at the bruising and swelling on her face.

  Her eye roll told him she didn’t find him funny. “Thanks.”

  “You know what I mean. I hope you busted the killer’s chops.”

  “I got him a few times, but like I said, he’s trained in hand to hand combat.” Her cell buzzed and he watched her look at the screen. “The sky is about to fall. Hamilton wants to see us immediately.”

  “That didn’t take long.”

  10

  “Which one of you can explain what the fuck is going on here?” Hamilton slammed his fist down on the desk, upsetting the pen holder and his cup of coffee. He didn’t even seem to care. His brooding dark eyes were on Kiersten, dragging back and forth from her to Deegan. His gaze carried enough venom to poison their bloodstream. She knew the man could make the bravest of agents shake in their shoes, and she was no different, although Deegan seemed cool and unaffected. “And after that, then maybe you can explain
why your number was on this dead girl’s phone.” Hamilton dropped a sheet of paper into Deegan’s lap

  Kiersten looked down at the printed picture of a young brunette but didn’t recognize her. However, Deegan’s calm mood slipped some. “Dead?”

  “Found a couple of hours ago. Overdose. Now, tell me why in God’s creation did the local detective find your number as the last one she texted?”

  Kiersten shifted.

  “I can explain,” Deegan said.

  “The hell you better,” he ranted. “You both have a lot of explaining to do. First, we have a homeless victim found dead in the same alley as the homeless guy last week, and now you two just happened to be in a hotel where a false fire alarm was pulled and shots were fired. I have damaged vehicles. Scared people. And the media up my ass. Cade, you look like you’ve been run over by a freight train full of pigs. Hell, I know I should be offering to make you some cocoa with sprinkles, but I have two of my best agents hiding shit and you know I don’t play games.”

  Realizing that they both could go down for this, she volunteered, “We haven’t been hiding anything. I received a tip from an anonymous lead to the death of the homeless man, Gavin Franco I asked Bronx to meet up with the girl, our newest victim, who was in an illegal business with Franco and ask her questions.”

  “I gave her my number in case she remembered anything,” Deegan added.

  “Remembered anything about fucking what? And what lead?” Hamilton blew out a long breath and got up to round his desk, sitting on the corner. He was a pudgy, balding man who always had a red face.

  “Pictures, sir,” Kiersten continued. “Pictures of Annie Steele. Someone had been following her, monitoring her activities.” She realized she’d get the heat for not coming to him sooner, but at this point she wouldn’t stop until she caught the killer. She had skin in this fight now.

  “Well…well.” Hamilton shook his head. “Isn’t this just great! Where are the pictures?”

  Deegan reached into his jacket pocket and handed them over. Kiersten felt the heat of his disapproving narrowed eyes. Apparently, he didn’t like that she took the blame for most of what had happened.

 

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