by Carolina Mac
“Let him wonder. I want you to be safe and alive when I get there.”
“Okay, thanks.”
TRAVIS had left Mrs. Leighton at the hospital and gone home for a few hours. She was in good hands and would be spending a couple of nights with her children while the DA was in the hospital.
Travis had crashed on his bed for an hour and was making a pot of coffee when Blacky called.
“Got a locate on Thompson. Nobody available. Can you meet me?”
“Yep. Where, boss?”
“You at home?”
“Uh huh.”
“Come up one eighty-three from the I-10. Look for a motel with Coach in the name. I’ll come south, and we’ll meet when we find it.”
“How do you know he’s there?”
“The girl called. She’s alone and scared, and she’s stranded. She thinks he’s dying.”
“No matter. We’ve got to finish it.”
BLAINE headed south out of the city, siren on and strobes flashing. If he missed Thompson this time, he’d freak out and it wouldn’t be pretty. He took one thirty until he reached the one eighty-three intersection, screeched onto the southbound ramp and zooming southbound on one-eighty-three, he began searching both sides of the road for motels.
Thompson hadn’t gone too far. Maybe he couldn’t drive any farther with his damaged leg and the girl didn’t know how to drive. Just south of Lockhart he saw a possibility. A two-storey hotel/motel with Coach in the name. He took the off-ramp, circled around and parked at the front door, strobes flashing.
He checked the parking area and there was no sign of Travis—not yet. He had a lot farther to come.
Inside at the registration desk, he showed the clerk on duty Ewing Thompson’s picture. “Is this man staying here?”
The clerk on duty, was tall and slim with a face full of acne scars. He looked college age or a bit older.
“Umm… I’m not sure I can give out that information.”
His short fuse burning down, Blaine smacked his cred pack on the granite counter. “Tell me now. This man has killed more people than you can count. Tell me.”
“Yes, sir,” The clerk’s hands shook as he turned away from the computer screen. “Room two thirty.”
“Have you seen the girl that came in with him?”
“I saw her go out earlier but haven’t seen her since.”
“Okay, thanks,” said Blaine. “I’ll need a key card.”
“Oh, no, sir. I can’t give you that.”
“Two choices,” hollered Blaine. “Give me the card or you go up with me and open the fuckin door.”
He nodded, and his lower lip quivered as he fumbled around for his master key.
Blaine opened the front door and took another look around for Travis. Still not here.
Should I wait, or go on up there and take my chances?
He stuck his head in the breakfast room and it was empty, as empty as the lounge. Where was Kirstin?
Blaine motioned to the clerk. “Let’s go, sir.” He turned towards the elevators and Travis jogged through the front door. Blaine nodded, and the three of them hit the elevator.
“Two thirty,” said the clerk in a shaky voice. “Do you think I’ll get hurt?”
“Not if you open the door and then run,” said Travis. “Your best option.”
The skinny kid nodded.
Travis pulled out his Sig. “How do you want to do it?”
“As soon as the door opens, I’ll shoot him in the head,” said Blaine, “unless he’s out cold.”
His eyes as big as saucers, the clerk stuck his card in the slot. The green light came on, Blaine pressed the handle down and the kid ran for the elevator.
“Okay, he’s out of the way,” said Travis. “Good.”
Blaine opened the door a crack and looked in. The room was small and dark, the only light coming from the hallway. Queen size bed, round table in the corner, credenza holding a TV, an open door to the bathroom.
“He in there?” asked Travis.
“Looks like he’s in the bed.” Blaine raised his Beretta and pushed the door open wide enough to pass through. He kept his gun trained on the form in the bed.
Travis flicked the light on.
Blaine pointed his Beretta at Ewing Thompson’s head while Travis cautiously pulled the blanket off. Once the blanket was removed it was plain to see as well as smell the infected leg.
Thompson lay unconscious and barely breathing.
Travis rolled the still form over and cuffed Thompson’s hands behind his back. He never moved or made a sound.
Blaine called for an ambulance, then said, “I’ll wait here. You go down and wait for the paramedics. See if you can find Kirstin.”
Travis nodded and left.
Blaine sat at the corner table and called Chief Calhoun. “We have Thompson, sir. He’s unconscious and hardly breathing, but we have him in custody.”
“Did you call for an ambulance?”
“I didn’t want to, but, yeah, I did.”
“Good call. Talk to me in the morning, son. I’m glad you got him.”
TRAVIS was exiting the front door of the motel when the ambulance arrived. He gave them the room number and they hurried to the elevator with the stretcher. The desk clerk swore that Kirstin hadn’t come through the lobby since she first went out.
That would be when she went to call Blacky. Hours ago. The only other place she could be unless she hitched a ride with somebody was in the truck they stole.
Travis tramped through row after row in the parking lot looking for a pickup with an occupant. “Uh huh, there she is.” Kirstin was sitting in the passenger seat sleeping.
Trying his best not to scare her, Travis tapped lightly on the window. The girl jumped and screamed when she saw him standing and looking in the window. Her nerves were frayed.
He held up his creds and said, “Roll down the window, Kirstin.”
She shook her head.
He texted Blacky.
“Found her in the truck. She won’t open the door for me.”
“I’ll be right down.”
Blaine ran across the parking lot, stood beside the window and waved at her. She smiled and lowered the window.
“Ranger, I was so scared.”
“It’s all good now, Kirstin. Ewing has gone to the hospital.”
“He’s gonna die, ain’t he?”
“I’m not sure,” said Blaine, “he’s unconscious.”
“Can you pay me my money and take me back home? I did what y’all wanted.”
“You did. You were helpful,” said Blaine, “and yes, I’ll get your money for you when I take you back home.”
“There’s something horrible in the back of the truck,” she said. “Ewing wanted me to take them and deliver them to Chief Calhoun. That’s what I was supposed to be doing when I phoned you.”
“What kind of horrible?” asked Travis.
Kirstin hooked her thumb over her shoulder and didn’t say any more.
Travis glanced in the load bed and nodded.
Once they had Kirstin moved into Blaine’s truck for the trip home and a tow truck called for the stolen vehicle, he asked Travis what was in the back of the Chevy pickup.
“Mattie’s arms,” whispered Travis. “A gift for Calhoun.”
FARRELL AND PABLO stopped at the steakhouse in Smithville after they finished at the rest area crime scene. They had a couple of drafts, then a thick rare steak and fries.
“Best steak I’ve had in a long while,” said Pablo. “But I don’t go out much.”
“You have a girlfriend?” asked Farrell.
“Long time ago before I enlisted. More into being a Ranger. It’s hard work.”
“An elite bunch,” said Farrell, “Why did you leave?”
“My gig was up, and my Mom sent me letters every week about Austin and about my sisters and what all of them were doing. Mostly homesick, I’d have to say.”
“Annie is my home. As long as I
’m near the ranch, I’m home.”
“She raised you?”
“From when I was eighteen and my brother Neil was thirteen. Annie was married to a couple of club bosses and she knew about the young kids from bad homes that joined gangs, couldn’t cut it and then couldn’t get out. She got pissed off, built a safe-house and started helping the juvies get away.”
“Wow, like a saint or something.”
“A lot of the boys believe they’d be dead by now if she hadn’t helped them. Me for one.”
“Can’t wait to hear her sing,” said Pablo.
Farrell checked his watch. “The band starts about nine. We better get going.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Saturday, March 21st.
First Day of Spring.
“MORNING, MOM,” said Farrell. He clumped down the hall in his cowboy boots and plopped down at the harvest table. “Didn’t mean to get so fuckin drunk last night.”
“It’s okay,” said Annie. She hugged him and smoothed down his tangled hair. “If that’s what it takes to get you to sleep at home, I’m all for it.”
“Any coffee?”
“Sure, I’ll get you a mug. Is Pablo up?”
“He’s taking a shower to sober up. He had a great time.”
“I like him. He’s quiet and polite.”
Pablo strode down the hall a few minutes later, his black hair damp from the shower. “Thanks for letting me sleep here, Mrs. Powell. I guess I had a few too many Lone Stars.”
“Happens to everybody,” said Annie. “You can call me ‘Annie.’ I’m not Mrs. Powell so much anymore.”
“Any leftover biscuits from breakfast?” asked Farrell.
“Sure. How about some ham and eggs to go with the biscuits?”
“Umm… I’m good with just coffee,” said Pablo, “but thanks.”
“Farrell will eat, won’t you, baby?”
“I could eat.”
BLAINE sat at the kitchen table with Misty. She’d poured herself a second cup of tea and sipped it carefully.
“Maybe we should go to New Orleans for a couple of days and get a handle on your house repairs.”
“That would be fun if you have time.”
“We’re wrapping here, and I could use a few days off.”
“What about Daddy?”
“What about him?”
“He won’t let the repair men in.”
Blaine smiled. “I’ll hire ghost busters.”
Misty giggled.
Blaine’s cell rang, and it was the Chief. “Hospital called and said Thompson died in his sleep. We’ll get his corpse later today.”
“Uh huh. Okay. Do you want to charge Kirstin with anything? I took her home to her trailer and gave her the five K I promised her for turning him in.”
“I think not. She’s had a rough time of it.”
“Good,” said Blaine, “I’m going to see Cat in an hour and I’ll look in on Jack and Gene.”
“The DA goes home today,” said the Chief. “He got off light compared to the others.”
“I’m thinking about taking off to New Orleans until about Wednesday. There’s nothing pressing is there?”
“Nothing. We got the prints back from the guy at the rest area and he didn’t show up anywhere. That case is going nowhere. You need a break.”
“Thanks, Chief.”
AT NOON, Blaine and Misty arrived at Saint David’s. He checked on Gene Wyman and Jack Prima, and they were both heavily sedated and resting comfortably, according to the nurses on duty.
When they stepped out of the elevator onto the fourth floor Misty headed for the waiting room.
“Aren’t you coming in with me?” asked Blaine.
“She doesn’t like me,” said Misty. “I’d rather stay here.”
“I don’t care if she likes you or doesn’t like you, it’s none of her business.”
“You go, Beb. I brought a book to read.”
Blaine entered the ICU and sat down next to the Governor’s bed. She turned her head towards him and opened her eyes.
“Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi. You better today?”
“Hard to tell.”
“You don’t look so white, if that’s an indication.”
“Might be. Did you get him?”
“Uh huh. We got him. Case closed.”
I sincerely hope you enjoyed Vigilance, book eleven in the Blackmore Agency Series. If you would like to continue to book twelve in the series, Mystere, I’ve included some pages for you.
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Author Notes from Carolina:
That was book eleven in the series. I hope you are enjoying the books. I feel that this series will go on for a while yet. Blaine has a lot to say and a lot to accomplish before he’s finished fighting crime in Texas.
A special thank you to the fans who take the time to reach out and share their ideas, support, and opinions. You know who you are, Holly, Lynn, Dorothy, Shelley, Diane, Wendy, Shirley and Freda, Dawn, Alice, Billy and Melinda, Jim and Gayle, Ava, Terry and Celestia, Alisia and Pat to name a few.
Carolina Mac is the author of fifty books in five different series. The Regulators biker series, The Quantrall PI series, The Paradise Park series, Kin, a four part series, and The Blackmore Agency series. Carolina lives with her family in Ontario, Canada.
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Regulator Series:
Lily
Bad Beat
Panama Annie
Coulter
Searching for Billy
End of an Era
Wingman
Triple Homicide
The Foundation
Hotline
Powell
Quantrall Series:
Quantrall
Ink Minx
Ray Jay
Blacky
The Coven
You Forgot to say Goodbye
Payback
Rags to Rage
The Corner Office
Race
Coma
No Defense
Full Circle
The Blackmore Agency Series:
Double Down
Splitting Aces
Dead Man’s Hand
Drawing Dead
Under the Gun
Rivered
The Turn
Final Table
Cat
Dog
Vigilance
Mystere
Paradise Park Series:
Paradise Park
Return to Paradise
Paradise Sparks
Alone in Paradise
Together in Paradise
These are in series order.
CHAPTER ONE
March 23rd.
Saint Gillian Street. New Orleans.
MYSTERE ABELLA LEJEUNE was the name on her birth certificate, and also on the deed of the house she couldn’t enter.
She’d stood in this exact spot in front of her house so many times peering through the black iron fence she’d lost count. The grass had grown tall and died off, leaving ugly brittle stubble. Weeds thrived in every flower bed and almost reached as high as the window sills. The painted trim around the doors and windows peeled from sheer neglect, and it hadn’t been that long. Not even ten
years.
It seemed like a lifetime ago when she’d lived here with her family. Her beautiful mother, tall and graceful, long dark hair, brushed and shimmering. Always smiling. Her father, happy and successful running his own business. He always had time for his family and loved to lavish them with gifts and surprise trips.
What had happened to make Daddy so… so changed?
Today would be different. Today she’d push the gate open, bravely walk up the cracked sidewalk, put her key in the door and cross the threshold into her own house. Today he wouldn’t be able to stop her.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
UNABLE to leave Austin in good conscience with Governor Campbell in the hospital, Blaine stalled Misty for a week, then it became impossible to delay her trip to New Orleans any longer. He’d come home from the hospital the night before and she was gone.
Even though she told him she was used to the delays and the disappointments, and she’d wait until he was free, the work of the Blackmore Agency always came before what she wanted to do. For the most part, Misty was patient and understanding, but a person was only blessed with so much patience and Misty had run out.
He’d join her as soon as humanly possible, and he’d texted her those exact words this morning. Misty, wandering around alone in New Orleans, was not something Blaine wanted to think about, whether she regarded The Big Easy as her home or not.
Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.
ANNIE finished coaching Pablo at the shooting range and invited him in for a beer while they cleaned their guns. He was the newest addition to the Blackmore Agency and she liked him. Quiet and reserved, a former army ranger, Pablo had it all going for him. Dark and swarthy good looks with jet black hair and eyes, well-built body bulging with muscles. Polite and friendly disposition, yet somewhat introverted and controlled at the same time. There was a lot going on under that cool exterior. And sex appeal? Uh huh. Pablo had that all going on—cool and quiet on the outside—hot and steamy on the inside.