No One To Trust: Rockford Security Mystery Series

by Dobbs, L. A.

  Chase cocked his head to the side, his expression confused. “Is that kitten…chirping?”

  “Yep.” Shelby handed him the kitten and reached over to remove Henry from his head then place the iguana back on the front of a nearby cage. “They do that when they hunt.”

  “Good to know.” He stroked the kitten’s soft fur and smiled. “So, what do you say? Want to team up?”

  “I don’t know.” She crossed her arms, feeling way more vulnerable than she wanted. “How do I know I can trust you? You were in Katherine’s bedroom and there’s your sordid past and the drug dealing. Never mind the fact the dealing took place in my dad’s casino.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I should’ve remembered that.”

  “Remember what?”

  “Nothing.” He held up the kitten he was holding and grinned into its little black and white face. “What would I need to do to adopt this little guy?”

  “You need a steady address, for one thing. If you just got out of prison, that would be a problem, right?”

  “He’s not for me. I want to get a pet for the guy I’m staying with.”

  “Oh.” She took the kitten from him. “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work like that. We have to conduct interviews with any prospective owners, run checks, do site visits to make sure the home environment will be compatible.”

  “I see.” He looked genuinely disappointed and she felt a pang of regret. Still, the rules were in place for a reason and most of these animals had been abandoned once already. She would never put them through that again. “And you won’t help me prove it was Katherine?”

  “I don’t know.” She stared at him over the top of the kitten’s head. “I’ll need to think about it.”

  “Fair enough.” He ran his hands through his hair then brushed a few stray cat hairs off the front of his jacket before pulling out a pen from his pocket and snatching the folder from atop the cage where she’d set it earlier. He scribbled something on the bottom of the estimate then handed it back to her. “Well, now you know where to find me once you decide.”

  Shelby followed him back out into the reception area then watched as he walked to the nearby bus stop to wait for the next shuttle. Much as she hated to admit it, the idea of teaming up with Chase Evans grew more appealing by the second. He seemed smart and strong and steadfast to a fault. In fact, the more time she spent with him, the more he seemed to defy all of her preconceived notions of what an ex-con would be like.

  She watched as he helped an elderly lady off the bus and over to a bench before boarding himself.

  Nope. Chase Evans wasn’t what she’d expected.

  Not at all.

  8

  Instead of going back to Rockford Securities, Chase caught a bus in the opposite direction and headed to an address he’d found on the Internet the night before.

  He’d stayed up late last night searching public records sites for his brother’s last known address and had been surprised to find he’d moved from the somewhat crappy Northeast Las Vegas apartment they’d shared together before Chase’s incarceration to a more upscale community in a cushy complex downtown. He’d tried to keep tabs on his little bro while he’d been behind bars, but information was hard to come by and even then it was mainly second-hand. On the rare occasions when Shane had visited him—all two times during his time in prison—he’d never mentioned where he was living or what he was doing to earn his money. Now, Chase knew why. Too bad he hadn’t known then that Shane’s newfound prosperity had come from him falling back into his same old ways.

  Crap.

  Chase clenched his jaw and squinted out at the downtown landscape. The bright midday sun seemed to mock him from above. He wasn’t sure yet exactly how he’d respond to seeing his brother again, especially after what he’d witnessed in the alley that morning, but whatever actions he took sure as hell wouldn’t be all glittering light and rainbows.

  The bus swerved to a stop near the corner and Chase stepped out onto the curb, a doorman in blue keeping watch over the apartment complex’s entrance. Yeah, Shane had certainly moved up in the world these past five years, on the back of Chase’s sacrifice and his damned drug money. Anger and betrayal seared his gut like molten lava. All those years, all those sacrifices, for what?

  Chase inhaled sharply and forced himself to relax, flashing his most polite smile to the doorman.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the doorman asked.

  “Hi, um, yeah. I’m here to see my brother, Shane Evans.”

  “Is Mr. Evans expecting you?”

  Thinking fast, Chase came up with an excuse. “Not exactly. I just flew into town this morning and I’ve got a couple hours layover. Thought I’d stop by and surprise him.”

  The doorman looked Chase up and down, taking in his Rockford Security ID badge, then gave a curt nod. “No denying the two of you are related, that’s for sure. I don’t normally do this, but I’ll make an exception this time. I’ve got a good friend who works for Rockford Security. Great company.”

  “Yeah, it is.” Chase shoved his hands in his pockets and said a silent prayer of thanks once more for Blake’s trust in him. The guy had just saved his butt yet again. “Thanks, man.”

  “Have a great day, sir.” The doorman let Chase inside.

  He strode across the glitzy marble lobby and over to the elevators where he scanned the resident board for Shane’s place.

  Evans, S. Apt. 409

  The ride upstairs passed in a flash, yet seemed to drag on forever and by the time the elevator dinged loud to announce his arrival on the fourth floor, Chase felt ready to burst, Hulk-style, from rage and determination. He walked the few steps to Shane’s door and pounded twice, all thoughts of Shelby and whether or not she’d accept his offer shoved to the back of his mind. Now, it was all about Shane and Chase and some serious payback.

  Seconds ticked by in silence. Chase raised his fist again, ready to bust clear through the goddamned door if no one answered. Then the sound of a lock clicking was followed by the door creaking open a tad to reveal his younger brother—bleary-eyed and groggy. Without waiting, Chase shoved the door open wider, causing Shane to take a step back.

  Shane raked a hand through his dark, sleep-tousled hair, his low-slung boxers hanging off his thin hips and a large coffee stain in the center of his white tank top. Chase gave him a disgusted look and shook his head. Still a slob, even after all these years. He squinted at Chase with a lit cigarette hanging from his bottom lip. “What the hell, man?”

  “What the hell is right!” Chase lost it, shoving his brother back then slamming the door behind him. “Mind telling me why you’re still dealing? Why I rotted my ass in prison for five years for nothing?”

  “Jesus, dude.” Shane took a drag off his cigarette then exhaled slowly. “It’s too early for this shit.”

  “It’s noon.”

  “Seriously?” Shane scowled and leaned over to peer out the blinds behind him. “Fuck. I gotta get dressed, man.”

  “No.” Chase stepped in front of him when he tried to pass, blocking his way. “What you gotta do is explain yourself. I took the rap for you, Shane. Lost years of my life all to give you a shot at making something of yourself, to learn from your mistakes.”

  Shane snorted, crushing out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. Empty food containers and dirty clothes were strewn everywhere. The apartment would’ve been nice, if not for all the crap scattered around it. Well, that and the odor—a musty scent of dirty gym socks mingled with lavender air freshener. “Don’t feel bad, bro. I did learn something. I learned never to keep the product in my house.” He chuckled. “Won’t make that mistake again.”

  A small muscle ticked near Chase’s jaw, and he clenched his hands tight at his sides to keep from beating the living shit out of his brother. How could he have been so stupid, so blind not to see what a cocky, insufferable asshole his brother really was? The shy, scared kid he’d left behind had now morphed into an arrogant, unappreciative prick.
>
  He turned away, too furious to speak, his throat tight with adrenaline and hurt. From what he could see, the drug dealing biz must’ve been as lucrative as always. Several large leather chairs and a sofa filled the room along with a huge flat screen tv and a gaming console that would’ve made his buddies back in Cell Block G jealous. Hooks along one wall hung with designer outerwear that cost more than most people made in a month, fancy embroidered emblems covering the backs or the occasional front breast pocket. Built-in bookshelves lined the wall behind the entertainment center and the spaces were lined with dust-covered knickknacks and magazines and…

  He narrowed his gaze on one particular pile of stuff. Stepped closer and brushed away the layer of grime to see shiny gold twinkling back. His commendations and awards from his security job days. Sadness and affection sliced through him. “You kept these?”

  Shane sniffed then shrugged. “Yeah, so? Whatever. I thought they might be worth something, but they’re not.”

  Chase turned back to the bookshelves. There was his certificate from the mayor and the engraved paperweight he’d received from the Chief of Police, but where was his letter opener? It had been covered in eighteen-carat gold and had been worth more than all the other ones combined.

  I thought they might be worth something…

  Realization ripped his fledgling forgiveness to shreds. Shane must’ve sold that one already. “What the hell happened to you, bro? You had so much promise. You could’ve gone to college, gotten a great life. You could’ve gotten out.”

  “Fuck you, man.” Shane crossed his arms and glared with haunted gray eyes so similar to the ones Chase saw reflected back at him in the mirror each morning. “You don’t know anything about me anymore. And I’ve done just fine without you. Not like I need life advice from a ex-con anyway.”

  Pain rendered him speechless. Chase blinked at the man he’d once given up his life for, his future for, and wondered how in the hell things had gotten so far off track from what he’d planned. He’d gone to prison so his brother wouldn’t have to, gone to prison to give him the second-chance Chase had never had, would never have now if he didn’t find something to clear his name again.

  Shit.

  From the belligerent look on Shane’s face and his dickhead attitude, there wasn’t much point in arguing.

  "Jesus Christ." It was all Chase could think to say. Resigned to the fact things with his brother wouldn’t be getting better any time soon, he gave him one last look, then turned and left the apartment, still seething from Shane’s shitty statements and his own inability to refute them.

  * * *

  An hour later, Chase walked back into the Rockford Security offices, still pissed but back under control. The bus ride had helped. So had the walk around the block he’d taken before coming back in here again. It had given him time to think, time to assess what had happened so far and figure out where he wanted to go from here.

  Good thing too, because he now had a bone to pick with his boss.

  Chase made a beeline through the office and stopped at Blake’s doorway. “Seriously. I just get out of jail and you’re trying to set me up?”

  Blake never looked up from his paperwork. “Hello to you, too.”

  “And not just set me up, but with the daughter of the man everyone thinks I killed, including her.” He did his best to ignore that his outburst seemed to have drawn the attention of more than a few of his co-workers and lowered his voice slightly. “That’s pretty damned twisted, man.”

  After several moments, Blake exhaled and slowly looked up at Chase, his famous arctic stare—The Hurt—on full display. With one dark brow arched, Blake sat back in his black leather office chair and crossed his arms. “Are you done?”

  The guy made him feel like a misbehaving school kid, but Chase refused to back down. “You do realize that Shelby Bryant hates my guts, right?”

  “What exactly are you accusing me of?” Blake’s tone remained as cool as his expression.

  “I don’t know.” Chase shook his head, frowning. “You were trying to set me up. You’re meddling in my life.” He scraped his fingers through his hair. “You’re a…a…a frigging matchmaker, or something.”

  Shit. Matchmaker sounded like a woman, which Blake most definitely was not. Being a lawyer—or almost lawyer—he should’ve been able to use his words better, but he was out of practice and what he said would have to stand.

  “Really?” Blake said the word with the same level of snark as a teenaged girl’s eye roll. “Listen, I know you feel like a special snowflake these days, but honestly, I couldn’t care less about your love life.”

  “Yeah? What about that meeting we had right before all that shit with Katherine Bryant went down, huh? I distinctly remember you had your panties in a wad about what happened. You said you were glad I hadn't 'ruined my chances' and mentioned something about 'setting me up right' or something.” He used air quotes for emphasis. “I thought you meant with the right job, but the choice of words was strange. And now you sent me over to Shelby's animal rescue with some trumped up quote on video surveillance she can't afford. Are you trying to fix me up with Shelby Bryant? Was this your master plan the whole time?”

  God, now I just sound ridiculous.

  A guy like Blake Rockford had far more important things to worry about than whether some freshly sprung felon could get a date or not. Much as Chase hated to admit it, he had been acting like some kind of prima donna since he’d gotten out of prison. Hell, he was damned near as self-absorbed as Shane these days.

  “Look, Chase.” Blake sat forward and rested his forearms on the desk, his hands clasped. “I hired you because you needed a job and because I know you’re a good, honest worker. That’s all.”

  The fact Blake confirmed his belief in Chase, and even inferred he knew about his wrongful conviction, made him feel like even more of an ass. Before he could say anything though, Blake continued.

  “Now, are we done here? Because we both need to get back to work.”

  Chase let out his pent-up breath. “Fine. Yeah. I’m sorry about this, I just…” He shook his head and stared at his toes. “Just please don’t send me on any more imaginary jobs trying to set me up with Shelby or anyone else, okay?”

  “For the last time, I never tried to ‘set you up’ with anyone romantically, all right? But I do still have contacts at the police department and certain insights into this murder case and let me just say from what I’ve heard it would be beneficial to both you and Shelby if you guys called a truce and compared notes.”

  Stunned, he met Blake’s gaze once more. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that when two people work toward a common goal, they have more success.”

  “So that side trip to Paws and Play wasn’t about trying to get me a date?”

  “Not unless you want one.” Blake wrinkled his nose. “Though, I’d think you have more important things to think about right now. You know, like not getting accused of murder.”

  “Right.” Chase turned toward the door. “Okay. Thanks.” He made it out into the hall again before Blake stopped him.

  “And Chase?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t call me a matchmaker again. That’s a job for little old ladies.”

  “Right. Sure thing, boss.” Head down to cover the heat prickling his cheeks, Chase headed back to his desk in the corner. Even from across the room, he could see several new stacks of filing awaiting him. Oh, goodie. Unfortunately, he found his way soon blocked by several other members of the Rockford clan who herded him back toward Blake’s door.

  “Not a matchmaker, huh?” Logan Rockford, one of Blake’s younger brothers and the company’s Chief Financial Officer, said. “How about you assigning Dino to be Jan Winters’ bodyguard? That seemed pretty matchmaker-y to me.”

  Logan flashed his older brother a devilish grin to which Blake gave him a flinty stare. “Dino was up in the rotation. That was all coincidence.”

  Garrett Ro
ckford—yet another of Blake’s younger siblings and the company’s VP of sales—shouldered his way into the doorway beside Chase next. “C’mon. Like you didn’t know they were high school sweethearts. You guys hung out at the house like every single weekend back in the day.”

  “And don’t forget Laura and Mike.” This from Olivia Rockford, Blake’s younger sister and Chase’s new direct supervisor. As Rockford Security’s Chief of Operations, she kept the office running smoothly—and the stacks on Chase’s desk growing ever higher. Together, the three Rockford siblings had effectively caged Chase in between them with no hope for escape. “You brought them together too.”

  She looked over at Chase and winked, her green eyes sparkling with barely suppressed mirth. He was all for some fun family ribbing, but not when it would irk his boss and potentially get him in trouble. He tried to ease out of their huddle once more, but to no avail.

  Blake pushed to his feet and leaned over the desk, his voice terse but his icy blue eyes warm with affection. “For the last time. I am not now, nor have I ever, used this business to help people’s love lives. Now all of you better get back to work before I fire all of your lazy asses.”

  “Aw, that’s so cute, bro.” Olivia gave Blake a sweet smile. “Being all tough. But we’re all shareholders. No firing allowed. We can stand here all day and chat if we want and there’s nothing you can do about it.” She glanced sideways at Chase and hiked her thumb in his direction. “Well, except for him.”

  “And that’s my cue to leave.” He ducked out of the group again and this time they let him go. Glad for some space to breathe again, Chase headed back to his desk and the overflowing paperwork awaiting him.