“Yeah, we got work to do,” Reaper said, nodding and looking relieved by the change of subject.
Hook had given Brian a wink, and then clapped him on the shoulders with both hands. “So, what do you have that could pay for the new living room suite Felicity is keen on buying?”
He owed Hook a huge one for pulling him out of the breach. Who knew women could be so ruthlessly persistent when it came to romance?
Not that romance had had a thing to do with his and Raydeen’s “date.”
Fuck. Now, he was thinking the word, too. He snorted. As if. Someone like Raydeen would never in a million years be interested in someone like him. She deserved a full-bodied man. Someone who could keep up with her. Bend her over an arm for a deep kiss…or a couch…
Jesus, just the thought of seeing her like that made him want things he was better off never imagining.
Again, he snorted. Since he’d met the woman, he hadn’t been able to control where his imagination led. At times, he saw her as a drill instructor, a metal whistle between her lips as she ran alongside him, telling him to wheel faster and faster. Sometimes, he wondered whether she ever wore a dress or something…pink. Something soft and feminine that floated around her tawny legs as she walked ahead of him. Most times, though, he imagined what she’d look like first thing in the morning as she turned her head on his pillow.
Funny, he’d never imagined Jamie in his bed…
The door chimed again, and he blew out an exasperated breath, sure one of the women had “forgotten” something, just to provide an excuse to return and badger him some more. When he turned toward the door, his heart thudded in his chest.
Oh, dude, you’ve got it bad…
* * *
Raydeen pushed through the door and drew a deep breath. The parking lot out front was empty, so she knew the other hunters had already left. Brian would know straight away she was here to see him. Good thing she had an excuse.
When his glance turned toward her, his features went still. His face, anyway. Not his eyes. Again, she saw heat banked in his dark eyes before he blinked and gave her a nod.
“Mornin’. What brings you here today?”
To her ears, his voice held a note of tension. She held up a box of doughnuts. “I brought breakfast,” she said, forcing a smile and hoping she didn’t look too eager.
“The crew’s already out on the road.”
She arched a brow. The box wasn’t that big. “I brought you some of Gladys’s at Bear Lodge Bakery’s famous maple bars.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Coffee’s been on the burner for a while. I could make a fresh pot.”
“I had a cup already. Too many and I get the shakes,” she said, holding up a hand and shaking it.
“Um, you can put the box here,” he said, patting the table beside him.
She moved closer, knowing she was acting a little squirrely, not feeling her usual confidence. Why the hell was she here? Oh yeah, she had a favor to ask…
Setting the box on the table, she pondered how to broach her request.
“Raydeen…” he said, peering at her face. “Again, why are you here?”
He didn’t sound irritated, which was a good thing. In fact, his voice was softer…no, hoarser. A sound she could get used to, she thought. “I, uh, need a favor.”
His brows furrowed. “You need me to do something for you?”
“I don’t know who else to ask…”
“Just shoot. I won’t know whether I can help if you don’t tell me.”
“Okay,” she drew in a deep breath. “There’s this guy…”
His expression shuttered, and she realized maybe he was reading more into that than she intended. “He’s a patient.”
“Okay…?”
“He hasn’t shown up for therapy in two weeks.”
“You try calling him?”
“I did. And I dropped by the address he listed when he began therapy with me, but his landlord said he’d moved out a month ago.”
“Why are you so concerned about him, Raye? Maybe he moved or decided to be with family…”
“Brian, he never missed an appointment, and he showed up to work out in the Sanctuary’s gym nearly every day. He wouldn’t have quit without telling someone…without telling me.”
“He’s important to you?”
She shrugged. “As important as any patient I work with.”
His eyebrows lowered. “You show up at his work with donuts, too?”
Raydeen snorted through her nose. “I’ve only brought you maple bars, Brian, and I’ve never defended the size of anyone else’s dick.”
Brian gave her a long look. “Okay, so you want me to dig around to figure out what happened to him? Is there something that worries you about him in particular?”
Raydeen grimaced. “He has a problem with OxyContin. The VA quit dispensing. Some of the guys, they found another source. I don’t know much, but I think it’s not completely legal.”
“And you didn’t think to report it to anyone?”
“I reported my suspicions to my supervisor. What he did with that information, I have no clue.”
“And you think there might be a connection to the drugs and his going missing?”
“No.” She shrugged. “Maybe, but you asked me about why I was worried. Kenan always had a positive attitude. He worked hard to learn to use his prosthetic, but he needed help with his phantom pain. Sometimes, it was just too much.” Her shoulders sank, unsure what Brian could do if Kenan had decided he didn’t want to be found. And if Brian did find him, whether he’d be willing to accept her help. Still, she felt it was her duty to do what she could. She’d failed once. She wouldn’t again.
* * *
Seeing her concern, Brian nodded. Phantom pain was something he could relate to. Only, he’d decided to deal with the pain. It was the price he paid for living when Benny had died.
“I’ll help you. Might be a little harder, seeing as my usual resources might be reluctant to help, since he doesn’t have an outstanding warrant…”
“Whatever you can do…”
“Okay, then.” He pushed a pad of paper across the desk toward her. “Write down everything you know…”
Chapter 5
After Raydeen provided everything she knew about Kenan, Brian told her she could take off. He’d make some calls and see where they led before he spoke to her again. She’d huffed a breath, but he’d held firm. He’d call when he had something.
No way could he have worked with her underfoot, so to speak. Already, the light scent of her perfume lingered. Flowers and spice. Which flowers and spices, he had no clue, but he liked the scent. Smelled…sexy. He tried to ignore her essence as he rolled back to his desk. Raydeen had worn a sweater that hugged her tits just right, and she’d given him a nice view of the profile of her breasts, large but firm. Every time she’d turned. Her bra must not have been lined because he’d seen a hint of tip. The pretty green sweater had been cropped and fell to the waist of her jeans, which meant every time she’d reached or bent, he’d gotten a nice slice of her firm belly. And those jeans…? He couldn’t think of the way they’d made her ass look, like she’d been poured into them, a sweet upside-down heart of a bottom that looked just as softly cushioned as her full lips, to say nothing of the long length of her legs tucked into scarred, heeled cowboy boots.
Fuck me… He grimaced while he readjusted his thickening cock. Now, he wished he could get right on the search for Kenan Reynolds so he could call her, and maybe talk her into having dinner while they discussed what he’d learned…
Only, he had real work to get out of the way first—payroll to complete and calls to make for the team. Payroll didn’t take any time at all, because he’d already spent days deciphering the team’s expense reports. All he had to do was list any sick time—there was none—any vacation—again, none—and then let the program do the magic. The hunters earned commissions, which he paid upon receipt of the bail bondsmen’s check
s, but they also earned a small salary to tide them over between commissions. Since they’d moved from checks to automatic deposits, paying everyone was a breeze.
Then he moved onto the cold calls he made to run down leads for the hunters. Something he was getting good at—lying to strangers to ingratiate himself or put the fear of God into them in order to gain their cooperation.
Dagger and Lacey were shaking down friends of a kid who’d been busted dealing drugs to middle schoolers, so he spoke with teachers, coaches, even a pastor, until he discovered that Austin Sommers had spent time at a friend’s cabin the previous summer. He texted the location to the couple then moved onto calls to strip clubs in Bozeman where he located the girlfriend of a ranch hand who had rustled cattle on some celebrity’s ranch near Flathead Lake. That information he passed along to Reaper and Carly.
“She goes by Sparkle Plenty,” Brian said, his tone dry, “and she won’t be onstage until after six.”
“Another titty bar?” Carly said, sounding disgusted.
Reaper chuckled in the background. “I wonder if the ‘Plenty’ means she has big tits or a big a—oomph! Why’d you do that? I only said what we both were wondering.”
“I was not wondering…” she said, with a deadly edge to her voice.
“You two have fun,” Brian said, grinning as he ended the call.
At last, he had time to turn his attention to Raydeen’s request.
He glanced through the copy of Kenan Reynold’s Soldiers’ Sanctuary intake form. He began by calling the number the veteran had given for his next of kin—one Dewey Reynolds, his father.
“Hello,” a man answered on the fifth ring.
“Is this Dewey Reynolds?”
“Who’s askin’?” the man said, his words sharpening.
Given the hint of suspicion in the older man’s voice, he decided to lie as close to the truth as he could manage. “I know Kenan from the Soldier’s Sanctuary. I was hoping you’d know where he is. I tried his place, but his landlord said he moved out. I’m worried about him.”
There was a long pause. “You a friend?”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice roughening, because he really didn’t like lying. “Name’s Brian. I’m an amputee, too.”
“Army, like Kenan?”
“Reserves, yeah. I was an MP.”
The man sighed. “I don’t know where he is, but I’m worried. It’s not like him not to call at least once a week, and I haven’t heard from him in two.”
“Well, damn. I was hoping he’d at least touched base with family.”
“I’ve tried most of his friends from the VFW, but they haven’t seen him either. I was getting ready to call the police and report him as missing, but I didn’t want to cause him any trouble if he’s just wanting to spend some time alone. He’s had enough of trouble.”
“I only know him through Soldiers’ Sanctuary, but does he have any old friends, maybe from before he was in the Army, that I might talk to? He’s been missing meetings and therapy sessions. I worry about where his head is…”
“Kenan has an old friend from high school, Daryl Walker. These days, he’s bad news. If Kenan’s talking to Daryl, it can’t be good. But that’s the only person I can think of.”
“Well, sir, thank you for talking to me. I’ll let you know if I find anything out.”
“You do that. And take care, son.”
Brian rang off and sat for a minute, thinking about the fact Kenan had a dad who cared about him, and that he’d kept in touch with. He glanced through the notes on the sheet but didn’t find any other name that might lead him to another contact, so he conducted an online search for Daryl Walker.
As it turned out, Kenan’s father was correct. Walker was bad news. He’d bonded out of jail three times and done an eighteen-month stint in prison. Every bust had been drug-related, ranging from possession of cocaine to the final charge of distribution of methamphetamines and marijuana. The last time had been two months ago, and his address was listed.
The phone rang. “Montana Bounty Hunters, you’ve got Brian.”
“Not yet, I don’t.”
Brian bit back a groan. “Hi there, Rosalie,” he greeted the Bounty Hunters of the Northwest film crew’s director.
“Just wanted to touch base and make sure you and your team will be ready for us next week. We’ll be arriving in Bear Lodge bright and early on Monday.”
Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Forewarned is—”
“Don’t say it like that, Bri,” Rosalie said in her too perky voice. “Remember, we’ll be spending some time with you this season, too.”
Brian shook his head, even though he had agreed to being shadowed when Rosalie had backed him into a corner, literally, at the wrap party the previous fall. He’d hoped she’d been too drunk to remember.
“This season we really want to get up close and personal with the team. See inside their homes, their relationships. Got a girlfriend, Bri?”
“Uh…” His mind shot straight to Raydeen.
“You and Raydeen finally hook up?”
His eyebrows shot up. What? “We—”
“Let her know we’ll need to get some releases signed. Gotta go!”
Brian stared at the phone in his hand. His stomach was starting to hurt. He wondered if he could talk Raydeen into being his girlfriend for the shoot, just so he didn’t have to spend as much time being the main focus of the “Brian” segment.
His phone rang again. This time, he checked to see who was calling before he answered. The screen read Raydeen.
His heart pumped a little faster. “Hey, I was just about to call you.”
“You found something?”
“I did. Spoke to his dad first.”
“I talked to his dad, too. It was a complete bust.”
“Well, he gave me a name. An old high school buddy of Kenan’s, Daryl Walker. He’s been in and out of jail on drug charges. Seeing as you’re concerned Kenan might have been looking for Oxy, Daryl seems like a legitimate lead.”
“Give me his address. I’ll head over to his place.”
“You will not,” Brian said, his tone firm. “He’s a drug dealer. What are you going to do? Knock on his front door and ask him if he’s been dealing Oxy to Kenan?”
“No, but I could tell him I’m a friend and ask whether he’s seen him.”
“And he’s going to want to know how you got his name. What are you going to say then?”
Raydeen was quiet for a moment. “Well, what the hell else can I do?”
Brian blew out a breath that filled his cheeks. “How about we stake out his place and figure out who Daryl Walker is, see who visits him?”
“What about Kenan?”
“I have some toys. We could listen in to see if he mentions Kenan.”
“A stakeout, huh?”
Maybe she snorted, but there was no hiding the hint of intrigue in her voice.
“Where are you right now?”
“Home.”
“Give me forty minutes, and I’ll pick you up.”
“Got something to write with? I’ll give you the address.”
“I know where you live, Raydeen.” He wasn’t proud of the fact he’d looked her up a while ago, but he’d been curious about Raydeen Pickering and had wanted to be sure she was on the up and up. After all, she was in and out of the agency, worked closely with Hook—it was just due diligence to check her out. Right.
* * *
Forty minutes later, Raydeen climbed into the sleek black ops van. “This cool with your bosses?”
Using the spinner knob on the steering wheel and the hand control lever for the gas and brake, Brian expertly backed out of the parking space and drove out of the apartment parking lot. “Jamie and Reaper will be glad I’m blowing the carbon out of the engine.”
She arched an eyebrow.
He grimaced. “Okay, so maybe they wouldn’t like me doing surveillance on a drug dealer, but they’d have no issue with me using the van. T
hey want me to practice with the gadgets.”
“I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”
“It’s not like they’d fire me. If they knew what I was doing, sure they’d be worried.” He gave a careless shrug. “But it’s not like I don’t know how to run an op.”
“You do, right?”
“Of course. I mean, I’m not the one making the decisions on the ground, but I do direct action based on what I can see that they can’t. I know how to surveil a target.”
“And they won’t mind you being out of the office?”
“They’d be singing glory halleluiahs that I’m out and about. Jamie’s always telling me I need to get out of that building more. Besides, this van is wired. I can access the server via satellite if they need anything.”
Her lips pursed then stretched into a small grin. “This is kind of exciting.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Tell me that an hour from now. Stakeouts are boring.”
“Good thing I brought snacks,” she said, patting her backpack.
“Oh? What’d you bring?”
Her smile deepened. “You miss lunch?”
“Yeah, and it’s close to dinner. I haven’t had anything since those maple bars.”
“Well, as soon as we arrive at our destination, I’ll show you what I’ve got,” she said, waggling her eyebrows.
Brian laughed. “Not going to go there…”
* * *
Daryl Walker’s house was a ratty cracker box with, thankfully, an overgrown yard. Or so Brian murmured under his breath as he parked the van next to the curb two houses down from Daryl’s.
“Why’s that a good thing?” she asked, curious about how this would work.
“Because someone has to sneak up to the house and plant this against the wall,” he said, reaching behind him and pulling something from a black canvas bag. When he held up his hand, what looked like a thick disk with a wire attached to it sat in the center of his palm.
“And that someone would be…?” But she was only teasing. Sneaking through weeds and bushes wasn’t in Brian’s wheelhouse.
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