by Mandy Baxter
Another space of silence stretched through the receiver and Nick wondered if Morgan had started to fill out his discharge papers. He cursed under his breath a moment later and Nick punched his fist in celebration. “What do you need from me?”
Nick’s elation took a nosedive and plummeted to the soles of his feet. If he let Morgan in on what he’d learned so far, he’d be giving Livy up. That’s how someone on the other side of the law thought, though. He wasn’t betraying her trust. She hadn’t revealed any dark secrets to him. As far as anyone was concerned, she was merely a person of interest in an investigation. If Livy was scared of Meecum, he could protect her. But not until he knew everything there was to know about her. And since there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that she’d supply the information herself, Nick had to go after the truth the only way he knew how.
“You remember Lonnie Chapman, the informant who said he had information on Meecum’s ex?”
“Yeah,” Morgan answered slowly. “But since I don’t have my file in front of me, I’m not sure what her name was.”
Nick ignored the accusation in his tone. He’d get over it. “Kari Hanson,” he said.
“Right,” Morgan said. “Didn’t he say he’d run into her somewhere in Idaho? Going by a new name?”
“Yeah.” Nick’s gut burned. He would have preferred it was the start of an ulcer than the guilt at revealing Livy’s identity to Morgan. “Olivia Gallagher. Livy.”
“That lead dead-ended, though. We couldn’t find anything on Kari Hanson or Olivia Gallagher or anyone else that fit the description.”
True, and Nick still had no idea why. “I don’t think Hanson is her real last name. Or she hadn’t been going by Hanson for long when she disappeared.”
“An alias?”
Nick flipped through his notes. What he knew about Livy wouldn’t fill a teaspoon but he hoped it would be enough to find something useful. “I don’t think so. Not exactly.”
“You’re gonna have to spell it out for me, Nick. I’m not a fucking mind reader.”
Could Morgan sense his reluctance to give up what he knew about Livy? “I think she might have been going by her mother’s maiden name when she met Meecum.”
The tiny bits of Livy’s life that she’d shared with Nick might have seemed superficial but he knew they’d been deeply personal. She hadn’t mentioned her father when she told Nick about her celebration dinner. Just her mom. No one showered her with gifts and she talked about ski racing in a way that made him think she not only loved it, but someone had sacrificed to make sure she could continue to do it. She’d confirmed his suspicions last night when she admitted her parents hadn’t been married and that her dad had been scarce.
“I’m pretty sure Kari Hanson’s dad wasn’t in the picture.” No need to let Morgan know just how sure he was. “I think she changed her name because her mother had been her sole source of support.”
“That still doesn’t get us any closer to identifying her,” Morgan said.
“She was a junior division ski racer.” The words left Nick’s lips with a reluctance that tugged from his chest. “Lake Tahoe area. This would have been six or seven years ago. We should be able to search for competitors with the first name Kari and see if we get a hit.”
“It’s a long shot,” Morgan replied. “But if she was a junior racer six years ago, that wouldn’t make her very old now, would it? We put Meecum’s ex at about forty-five.”
That had been the assumption, but they’d been way off base. “Try twenty-five.”
“Jesus,” Morgan said with disgust.
Yeah, Nick’s sentiment exactly.
“Where are you, Brady?”
That was one thing Nick wasn’t willing to tell him. If Morgan knew he was already in McCall and had a very solid lead on Kari Hanson, there would be a convergence of marshals on the small town in a matter of hours. It was still too soon for that sort of action. Livy was spooked and Nick had a feeling she was planning to run again. He couldn’t let that happen.
“I’m following a lead,” he said.
“That’s not exactly helpful.”
Nick’s ears perked to the sound of Livy’s car coming down the lane. “Gotta go,” he said. “I’ll keep you posted. Let me know if you find anything out.”
Morgan grumbled on the other end of the line, something about him being an uncooperative SOB, but Nick didn’t pay it any mind as he ended the call. The acidic burn churned up in his gut as he stared out the kitchen window at Livy’s car. He hoped she’d understand that everything he’d set into motion was just as much to protect her as it was to take down Meecum. Then again, what if all of his good intentions only managed to protect someone who was just as guilty as the bastard he was trying to take down? Nick wasn’t sure that was a truth he’d be able to stomach. He said a silent prayer that everything he thought and felt about Livy was right.
* * *
Livy glanced through her rearview mirror at Nick’s house. She really needed to stop thinking of it that way. It wasn’t his house. In a few weeks, it would be empty again and she’d be alone.
A twinge of pain radiated from Livy’s knee and she stretched it out as best she could in the cramped interior of her car. She still ached from her epic yard sale on Alpine that had sent her skis and poles flying in the crash. Last night’s heated moments with Nick had been on her mind all day and had managed to drive her to the point of distraction. She’d taken the steep run at the end of the day hoping that the thrill of speed and the cold wind in her face would clear her mind. Obviously it was going to take more than a trip down a big-girl run to get Nick off her mind. Either that or she was seriously losing her edge.
A sigh slipped from between her lips as she shifted her focus to the snow falling softly outside the window. She’d expected so much more from her life. Maybe a couple of world titles, an Olympic medal or two. Instead, she lived in a small town in the middle of nowhere and taught tiny little kids when to make their skis like French fries and when to make them like a pizza wedge. She liked the kids. Her job wasn’t tedious. But she’d wanted so much more. Livy’s chest ached with unspent emotion and she brought her hand to her sternum in a futile attempt to rub the pain away. The death of her dream left a nasty scar, even though she’d sacrificed it for a good reason.
The sound of Nick’s front door closing drew Livy’s attention back to the rearview mirror. She watched as he strolled across the deck and crossed the lane with a slow, rolling gait that caused Livy’s breath to hitch. How he could pull it off while wading through the snow was a mystery to her. He was as sleek and powerful as a snow leopard. As though he’d been born to negotiate the drifts with ease.
He would have made a fantastic slalom racer.
Livy’s heart rate kicked into high gear. Her own stupid fear and anxiety had interrupted what she was sure would have been a night to remember. Hell, it was already etched permanently in her memory and they’d stopped before they really had the opportunity to get started. A thrill shot through her veins as she recalled the way his bare hands felt on her skin, the heat of his mouth as it moved over hers. His fingers as they circled her nipple, his lips as they’d sealed over her breast. And, oh God, the absolutely naughty things he’d whispered in her ear. Livy played them over and over again in her mind and each time she did, a thrill chased through her bloodstream.
A rush of breath left her lungs and heat rose to Livy’s cheeks. She got out of the car in the hopes that the winter air would help to cool her raging lust before Nick saw the evidence of it painted on her face. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting and the starch melted from Livy’s spine. He made her so hot she was surprised she wasn’t standing in a puddle of water right now and not a pile of snow.
“Hey.”
Dear God. Did he realize that even a simple word in that deep, edgy voice was enough to cause her sex drive to shift into high gear? She wanted to get him naked right here and now and straddle him in the middle of the snowbank.
> “Hey.” She tried to keep her voice as calm and cool as Nick but instead, it quavered on the word. Awesome. “How was your day?” Ugh. You’re so lame!
“It’s a hell of a lot better now that you’re home.”
Livy opened her mouth to respond, but Nick leaned in and put his mouth to hers before she could form a coherent thought. The kiss was soft and slow, and far too brief.
Oh, hell. Livy pressed her heels into the soles of her boots as though the simple act would keep her from tackling Nick to the ground. Sharks swimming in chummed waters had better self-control than she did right now. Locking her left knee had been a bad idea, though. It buckled as a flash of pain sliced through her. She’d have to wear a brace to work tomorrow.
“I’m sorry about last night.” If she didn’t at least try to attempt conversation, Livy would be dragging him into the house by the collar of his sweater. And holy fuck did he ever fill it out.
“What’s the matter with your leg?”
He didn’t miss anything, did he? Was it because he was a cop that Nick was so observant? Livy wanted to think it was because of his interest in her. “I yard-saled on Alpine today and fucked up my knee.”
Nick quirked a brow and a corner of his mouth hinted at amusement. A snowflake drifted from the sky and clung to his long lashes. She fought the urge to brush it away. “Yard-saled?”
“I wiped out. Bad. My skis and poles flew off and ended up about twenty yards up the run from where I landed. My hat and goggles went for a ride, too. I left my gear on the hill. You know, spread out like a yard sale.”
His amusement melted under an expression of concern. His brows drew down over his eyes and his lips thinned. “Are you all right?”
Livy’s stomach took a similar tumble, a moment of weightlessness before it crashed down. Aside from her mom and her coaches, no one had ever shown much concern for her. It was dangerous to let herself feel anything for Nick. To let him feel anything for her. Three weeks would pass far too quickly and this fairy tale she’d constructed for herself would come to an end.
“I’m fine.” She brushed off his concern as though it meant nothing to her. “I’ll probably have to wear a brace and ice it for a couple of days, that’s all.”
Snow had begun to accumulate in Nick’s hair. What had started off as a light dusting of snow in the air began to fall more steadily. There was no point in standing out in the cold, getting wet, when they could be inside. Though Livy had to admit that it would be hard not to pick up where they’d left off last night if that were to happen. She should be putting Nick at arm’s length, not inviting him closer.
Alone is better than dead.
“You’re going to be a snowman if we stand out here much longer. Want to come inside?”
Livy chose to ignore her mantra of the past four years. Just because Joel had dirty cops on his payroll didn’t mean all cops were dirty. And besides, Nick worked in Washington. She doubted he’d know or even care about something that happened in Northern California. She deserved to live her life, damn it. Even if it was only for a few weeks.
Nick’s gaze heated at the invitation and Livy no longer felt the chill of winter on her skin. Her knees threatened to give out on her again, but it wasn’t because of any injury. Unless she considered the irreversible damage Nick would undoubtedly do to her heart if she let this continue.
Athletes learned to live with pain. What was one more hurt?
A quiet moment passed. Nick’s gaze swallowed her until everything melted away but him. He reached out and fiddled with the end of one braid. Indecision made an unwelcome appearance in his expression and Livy’s heart pounded. She’d missed her chance last night, hadn’t she? The moment was passed.
“Let’s go out tonight.” He made the suggestion as though he needed a distraction.
“Again?” Aside from her dinner date with Nick, Livy hadn’t been out after dark since she moved to McCall. Unless you counted trips to the grocery store as going out. “Didn’t your credit card get enough of a workout last night?”
Nick gave a low chuckle that sent a pleasant rush of adrenaline through Livy’s veins. “I told you I’ve got cabin fever,” he said. “Nothing fancy. We’ll grab a bite and see what this town has to offer for nightlife.”
She could answer that for him: nothing. “There’s a movie theater in Cascade, about twenty miles south. The only other nightlife can be summed up in one hockey rink and a few bars.”
Nick smiled. In the back of Livy’s mind she heard the ping! that should have accompanied the act. Prince Charming with a side of dark intensity. Was there a better combo? “Sounds good to me. Which bar is the best?”
His gaze held hers. Didn’t he care that he was standing in a snowstorm in nothing but a sweater? For that matter, did she? Nick had a way of making the world around her disappear. “I have no idea,” she said, low. “I’ve never been to any of them.”
The spark in his dark eyes softened. “I think we’d better remedy that, don’t you?”
Damn. Was there anything he’d ask of her that she wouldn’t do? “Give me an hour to get ready?”
Nick’s smile widened and his voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Take your time. We have all night.”
Oh boy. Nick coaxed a recklessness in her that she’d thought long gone. Livy was so, so screwed.
Chapter Eleven
“Any of you find that bitch yet?”
Joel eyeballed every sorry son of a bitch seated at the long table. For four fucking years he’d been looking for her. The little twat up and ran at the first sign of trouble, which proved she wasn’t quite as dumb as he’d given her credit for. She knew way too much about his operation for him to let her just disappear. If the wrong people got ahold of her before he did, he’d be sent away for good. Either that or he’d wind up in a shallow grave somewhere. That wasn’t going to fucking happen.
“Chick’s a fuckin’ ghost, man.” Shorty sat back in his chair, arm slung over the back. “Ain’t nobody gonna find her.”
“Bullshit. Someone knows where she is. You ain’t lookin’ hard enough.”
“You remember Bill Stuart who used to run with the Lords of Malice up by Idaho?”
All eyes turned to the prospect at the far end of the table. The kid sat up a little straighter in his seat, suddenly full of confidence.
Joel set his forty on the table, the barrel pointed at the kid who thought he was tough shit. “I don’t remember asking you to open your mouth, prospect.”
His shit-eating grin faded. Joel didn’t have time for these little pricks. So goddamned full of themselves. When he’d been a prospect, the club’s officers had taken turns kicking his ass. And that was before they’d torn the shit out of his bike and made him rebuild it from scratch. These cocky motherfuckers had it too damned easy now.
He kept his eyes downcast and said, “I think I might know someone who’s seen her, that’s all.”
Joel scowled. He’d put out feelers for Kari years ago and had come up empty-handed time and again. He found it hard to believe this little shit had a lead on her when none of his other—and much more connected—guys did. Still, he wasn’t going to ignore an opportunity to get his hands on her, no matter where the intel was coming from. “You think so, huh? When and where the fuck did Bill Stuart think he saw her?”
“It wasn’t Bill,” the kid said. “Some guy he used to ride with says he saw her. Back in August. Some little backwoods town in Idaho.”
“August.”
Joel let the word hang. Six fucking months ago. Kari could have blown out of town by then and that was even if some fucking guy who knew some guy who knew this dipshit kid sitting at his table even knew what he was talking about. Joel wrapped his hand around the grip of his forty and brushed the trigger with his index finger. “What’s your name again, son?”
The kid swallowed hard. “Z-zack. Everybody calls me Z-Dog.”
Shorty leaned in. “He’s been hanging around the clubhouse since last summer. Just bar
ely became a prospect a month or so ago.”
Joel sneered. “And that’s supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” He leveled the gun on Z-Dog’s face. Jesus. He ought to shoot him for having such a stupid nickname.
“I’m just sayin’, brother.” No way was Shorty gonna jump in to save the kid’s neck. Not when it might be his that’s on the block because of it. “You want to find Kari or not?”
At the far end of the table, Z-Dog looked like he was about to piss his pants. Joel released the hammer and set the gun back down on the table.
“How’s this guy know it’s her he saw?”
“Tattoo on her wrist,” the kid replied. “She was serving drinks at some music festival. Ski area. The guys rode their bikes up there because they knew one of the bands performing.”
Joel’s interest piqued. “He say what the tattoo looked like?”
“A tree with the branches growing into the roots.”
It was the first promising bit of intel they’d gotten in four years. Joel swallowed down the rage that burned in his chest as he thought of the wasted months. If the lead didn’t pan out, he’d blow a hole the size of a baseball in the prospect’s head.
“Where’s the town?”
“McCall, I think. Little place outside of Boise.”
Joel regarded the prospect. He should shoot him anyway. Trust was a valuable commodity and there weren’t many people he gave his to. Kid could be a fucking cop for all he knew. There’d been too much heat on him for the past four years to jeopardize his freedom now.
“Everybody out.” The possibility of the prospect’s intel panning out earned him a temporary stay of execution. “Except you.” He stabbed his finger at Z-Dog. “And you,” he said to Shorty.
The room cleared in a heartbeat. Joel let the silence saturate the room. No one dared make a sound. Every single charter of the Black Death MC had been on the lookout for Kari Hanson for the past four years. She had something that belonged to Joel and he wanted it back. No one had seen her or heard so much as a fucking peep. Like Shorty said, the bitch had gone ghost. He didn’t know a damned thing about her aside from the fact that she had a tight ass and a lying, thieving asshole for a father. He’d tried to dig up any information about friends or any other family and came up empty-handed. She could have a taught a criminal or two how to hide like a boss.