Collision Control

by C. A. Szarek

  Jared smirked.

  “Jenna Marie,” Amy admonished.

  A fair-haired guy hovered under the archway into the living room, and Jared supposed he shouldn’t pretend his sister hadn’t brought someone home any longer.

  When his sister slipped her arm around the kid’s waist, Jared had to bite back a scowl.

  Jenna smiled sweetly up at him and when the guy looked back at her with the same adoration, Jared chided himself to calm down.

  They weren’t just dating.

  His sister had a ring on her left hand.

  If the yuppie hurt her, he’d kill him.

  The couple came forward and the dude met his eyes. He was tall, nearly Jared’s height. Blue eyes. Blond hair. Had the body of an athlete.

  He held Jenna tight to his side, rubbing her back.

  Jared wanted to bark for him to get his hands off her.

  Be real. They’re engaged. Probably does a lot more than touch her back.

  He cringed. Not like I can ask, ‘You boning my sister?’

  He didn’t want to know, anyway. It’d just make him want to pound the guy’s face harder…or ask, Where would you prefer the bullet wound?

  “Jared, this is Derek Harris. My fiancé.” Jenna practically glowed. “Baby, this is my big brother, Jared.”

  Baby?

  He forced his hand out, chiding himself to be polite. “Nice to meet you, Derek.”

  “Likewise.” The guy accepted his shake, returning it with the same strength.

  Jared gave him a grudging ounce of respect.

  “Jared’s a detective, like I told you before. Derek’s a second year, like me.”

  Jenna was going to school to be a doctor. She’d sailed through her pre-med in three years, valedictorian of her class.

  “Ah, we’ll have two doctors in the family.”

  Jenna beamed and Derek bent down to kiss her cheek.

  “When’s the wedding?” He tried not to narrow his eyes.

  “Next spring, I hope.” His sister exuded joy as she stood at her man’s side.

  Jared frowned when Renee’s smiling face popped into his mind.

  What the heck?

  But he still burned for Renee.

  “Your father and I feel they should wait.” His mom crossed her arms over her chest.

  Jenna’s smile fell. “Mother, I don’t want to go into this again.”

  “Jenna, I don’t—”

  Derek shifted on his feet when his sister broke their physical contact and glared at their mother.

  Jason cleared his throat. “It’s Thanksgiving, guys. Not often Jared and I get out of work, so let’s relax as a family. That discussion is for later.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” Jenna muttered.

  Their mother’s expression softened and she patted Jenna’s cheek. “I have things to do in the kitchen if we’re ever going to eat.”

  “I’ll help,” Jenna said.

  As the two women disappeared into the kitchen, Jared looked at his dad and shrugged. “Our family’s not sexist or anything. Women in the kitchen, men in the living room.”

  Derek laughed.

  Jason chuckled. “You know she’d just shoo you out as being in the way if you ventured in there.”

  “You’re probably right. But hey, I can cook!” Jared grinned.

  * * * *

  By the end of dinner, Jared decided he could halfway stand the kid his sister was in love with and intended to marry. Derek Harris was funny, kind and the way he looked at Jenna at least convinced Jared the guy loved his sister.

  He’d cornered him in the living room for his obligatory verbal, ‘You hurt her I’ll crush your balls’, talk, and Derek had taken the physical threat well. Hadn’t even asked if Jared was serious.

  Smart. He knows I mean it.

  No matter how many laughs and old stories Jared’s family swapped—even with Jenna trying to embarrass him—he couldn’t loosen up. Kept looking around the dining room at all the pictures on the walls then in the living room—hell, even in the hallways.

  His mom had tons of photos of Jenna and Jared as kids, amongst the family shots of the four of them. Even a few baby pictures of him she must had wheedled from a former CPS worker. But the one on the mantel rocked him to his core.

  It was taken here, right outside the house. A tiny towheaded Jenna sitting on the porch steps between two dark-haired brothers. Each of them held one of her small hands. All three of them wore grins. They sat close together.

  Happy siblings.

  Damn, even Joe looks like he belongs here.

  My family.

  Jared didn’t remember the when of the picture, but he and Joe couldn’t have been with the Mannings very long. They both looked so damn young.

  Innocent.

  Nothing like the shots of the angry tattooed man from the FBI file.

  Unexpected emotion roiled his gut and he gripped his beer until the condensation-dampened label ripped. He wanted to pick the photo up but didn’t.

  “Son? You okay?”

  Jared jumped at his dad’s voice, as much as the man’s hand landing on his shoulder.

  “Yeah, Dad. I’m good.” He cleared his throat and blinked. Plastered a smile on.

  Jason Manning didn’t buy it, if his expression was any indication. “You were awfully quiet today.”

  He forced a smile. “Well, yeah, it’s Jenna’s show. Her man is here for the first time.”

  “Well, I don’t buy that, but if you don’t want to talk, I get it. No pressure.”

  Guilt bit at him and Jared shook his head. “No, Dad, it’s just…” He looked around the large living room. The TV was on, volume low, and they were alone, except for the dog. Ranger was napping on his plush bed next to the fireplace.

  “Just you and me, kid.”

  “Where’s Mom? Derek and Jenna?”

  “You mother’s upstairs reading. Jenna took Derek to the park for the festival. They’re lighting the city Christmas tree tonight.”

  “Already? It’s Thanksgiving.”

  His dad shrugged. “It’s only a few days early, actually. They’re making a big deal this year. Fireworks, a concert or something.”

  “Yeah, I guess I saw the poster on the board at work. Just didn’t think about it.” His freak out about Joe warred with memories of Renee for the hundredth time. He could’ve taken her to the lighting. Them, wrapped in a blanket, watching the fireworks and the Christmas lights.

  Damn, I wish I could find her.

  Monday felt like a year ago. He missed her. Every night he crawled in bed he thought of nothing but Renee, remembered her lips, her taste, the delectable curves of her body. Them moving together—

  “Come sit with me. Talk to me, son.” His dad’s imploring voice jolted him from sexual fantasies he so didn’t need right now.

  Thanks, Dad. Jared clenched his jaw but nodded.

  His father cracked open a new beer then grabbed the remote. He switched off the TV and their gazes met.

  As he took a seat on the edge of the couch next to the man who’d raised him, Jared wanted to squirm. He could never lie to Jason Manning.

  Jason sighed and dragged his hand through his thinning dark hair. “Haven’t been over in a while, son. You mom doesn’t like it. Have to admit, neither do I. I know you’re an adult, but come see your ol’ mom and dad once in a while, okay? With Jenna all the way in Corpus, you’re all we got, kid.”

  “I know, Dad. Sorry. I caught a tough case.” His voice cracked and Jared winced.

  “That’s what has you upset?”

  Yes.

  “Do you ever talk to my brother?” Jared cursed the question as soon as he’d blurted it.

  Technically he couldn’t talk about the open case with anyone but APD.

  Jason’s hazel eyes sharpened, and he set the cold bottle down on the end table, leaning forward. “No. Do you?”

  Jared sighed and closed his eyes. “Yes. Occasionally.”

  “Is he somehow involved in
your case?”

  Yes. “Dad, this is an open investigation—”

  “Son, I know the drill. What you tell me stays between you and me. I’ll leave the rest up to you. You tell me what you want. Don’t tell me what you don’t. I won’t even tell your mother.”

  “I know.” Jared dragged his hand down his face. “Fuck. Me.”

  Amusement rippled across his father’s face, then faded. “That bad, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Jared, this is tearing you up. I don’t like it.” His father slid closer on the couch.

  He didn’t pull away when his dad squeezed his forearm in comfort. “I don’t like it, either. Believe me, Dad.”

  “What’s going on, son?”

  “The FBI is convinced Joe killed an undercover agent.”

  Chapter Ten

  Taylor’s phone rang and she scowled at Detective Jared Manning as she dug it out of her pocket. The call had saved her from the temptation of marring his handsome face. She was so sick of being questioned by him. “Carrigan.”

  “Tay, it’s me, Vasquez.”

  She straightened her shoulders as shock rolled over her.

  Eddie Vasquez was FBI, but out of the LA office. He’d gone out to California after a two-year stint in her unit. They’d never been directly partnered but had worked many a case together as a part of a team.

  Despite his annoying tendency to nickname people, Taylor respected him. She hadn’t talked to him in a long time.

  “I don’t have much time, so I’ll dive right in. I’m so damn sorry to hear about John. He was good people.” Her former co-worker’s voice was thick and sincere.

  Her eyes smarted and Taylor turned away from the curious detective’s dark stare. “Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate that.” She cleared her throat.

  “Listen, I heard something the other day that might help you out. I know you’re still working this. I know you’ll get the bastard that killed him.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m working my very own auto theft ring over here, and my CI ran into someone you know. Someone who had plans to hit a train for some high dollar cars. My guy helped him set it up.”

  Taylor’s heart sped up. “Carter Bennett?”

  “Yeah, that’s the guy. Anyway, my CI was in the wrong place, wrong time, or the right place, right time, depending on how you look at it. Bennett went from needing a secure large capacity fence to get rid of fancy rides, and was putting out feels for a hit. Said he had two guys to knock off and didn’t want to do it himself.”

  “Go on…”

  “I told my guy to agree to the hit, and as soon as money changed hands, we’d bring Bennett in. Well, Bennett musta been impatient. When my CI got to the place it was supposed to go down, all he found was two warm ones.”

  “Bennett killed them?” Taylor’s mind spun.

  No way.

  Out of all Joe Pompa’s guys, Carter Bennett was the mild-mannered one, according to John’s field reports. He was quiet and unassuming—even though John had said Pompa treated him like his right hand.

  John’s reports said Bennett was cunning and smart, but with a side of naivety, and no stomach for violence.

  Could John’s take on Bennett have been wrong?

  If so, how wrong?

  “That’s what we’re assuming as of now. Bennett’s not in town. My CI asked around, since he’d already agreed to help Bennett ship the cars out of the country.”

  “What happened to the shipment?”

  “Nothing. Bennett and his crew never hit the train. The Lamborghinis and Ferraris got where they were supposed to go.”

  “So they didn’t go through with it?”

  “Nope. The dead guys might have something to do with it. He was two men short.”

  “Wait. He wanted to kill his own guys?”

  “Yeah. My CI said Bennett was talking about being double-crossed.”

  Taylor sucked in air. “Were you able to ID the bodies?”

  “Richard Wilkins and Sean McKinley.”

  “No. Way. Pompa’s elite,” Taylor breathed, ignoring the sharp look from Detective Manning as he slid around to catch her eye.

  Or they had been.

  Until he’d killed the man she loved and fled. Obviously the gang—and their loyalties—had been split.

  That, Taylor had already figured, since the girl and the guy nicknamed Moose had been the only ones to accompany Pompa, according to their intel.

  Is there more to it than that?

  Could one of the guys who’d stayed with Bennett have been contacting Pompa? And why did it matter?

  She’d assumed half of the gang had stayed out west so they didn’t lose their hold on the area—or potential jobs.

  Pompa needed cash, even on the run.

  “You’re sure it’s them, Eddie?”

  “You bet. Positive IDs. It’s them. I’ll email you my initial report and photos.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So, besides Carter Bennett, there’s one missing.”

  “Rowdy—Eric Vargas. Not including Pompa, Willis and Gentile.”

  “Right. After my CI called, I contacted Dallas for your case file. I’ve reviewed it all.”

  Since his info was helping, and Eddie Vasquez had a keen eye, Taylor didn’t bother being annoyed that her boss had read her old co-worker in on her case. Having Eddie on the lookout in California wasn’t a bad thing.

  “I know Pompa was close to these guys. If my informant hadn’t run into Bennett seeking a hit, I’d say maybe Pompa came back to finish them?”

  “We don’t have anything to support any kind of falling out. Do you know something I don’t?”

  “Nah, just a theory. My CI didn’t ask questions about Bennett being double-crossed. Wish he would’ve.”

  “At any rate, I don’t think Pompa went west.” Taylor swallowed a sigh. Her gut told her Joe Pompa had headed to Texas.

  He’d been spotted about an hour from Antioch by a reliable source—according to the agent she’d got the info from.

  Taylor had been in New Mexico, searching one of Pompa’s suspected houses when she’d received the call and hightailed it back to Dallas. After she’d studied Antioch’s demographics and seen the wealth, she’d agreed to check out the small north Texas city.

  There was money and some nice cars, not to mention BMW, Mercedes, Cadillac and Hummer dealerships within twenty miles.

  Pompa had never been so obvious, but Taylor was going to sniff him out if he was here.

  Wouldn’t leave until she’d scoured the place.

  She would catch the bastard.

  “I tend to agree.” Eddie’s deep voice sucked her from her thoughts.

  What?

  Oh yeah, Pompa. Out west.

  “But I read John’s reports,” her former colleague continued, “and I don’t think this Bennett guy is who John thought he is.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Are you sure Pompa’s your mastermind?”

  “Yes.” Taylor bit the word, her gut roiling.

  He killed John.

  “Well, if you’re sure.”

  “I am.” She couldn’t help but notice Detective Manning’s frown.

  He was close enough to overhear the call. He wouldn’t move away, despite the fact she kept stepping back.

  Jared just came with her.

  She wanted to glare, but turned away again instead. It didn’t last.

  Taylor could feel the heat of his body at her back. He was definitely trying to listen in and not hiding it.

  “Well, my guy says Bennett—and Eric Vargas—if he’s alive and well, are going to be headed after Pompa and the others. Bennett didn’t confirm what for, but if he killed the other two, we can surmise it’s not for a hug and a high-five.”

  “What the hell am I missing?” Taylor’s question was more to herself than Eddie or the detective that was giving her the stare-down, but her old friend laughed.

  “Whatever it is, it won’t be l
ong ’til you figure it out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just be on the lookout for Bennett. I have eyes peeled over here, and I’ll give you a call if I hear anything new. My CI is pretty worldly. He knows most of the organized car theft gangs in the US. He’s made some calls. So, if I don’t hear something first, he will.”

  “What’s his take on Bennett?”

  Eddie laughed again. “He said, and I quote, ‘Carter’s one crazy motherfucker’.”

  Taylor frowned. “Great.” She ended the call and pocketed her cell, trying to ignore her temporary police detective partner.

  Was John wrong?

  Her fiancé had always had good instincts about his cases.

  This didn’t add up.

  “What was that about?” Manning asked. He stepped closer, his linebacker frame blocking her way to Lucas’ computer.

  Taylor wanted to sit down, send some emails and make some calls. “A colleague with some new info.”

  “Like what?” His dark gaze burned her and she bit back a scowl. There was something more to that look than curiosity about the case.

  What does Manning know?

  Stop. Now you’re being paranoid.

  “Where’s Lucas?” she asked.

  It was the detective’s turn to frown. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, but Taylor wasn’t intimidated by him. “You know, I’m sick of being treated like chopped liver. Cole is my partner. I don’t need his permission to be read into this case. We’re supposed to be working together. All. Three. Of. Us.”

  Pain washed over her.

  John had been Taylor’s partner—at work and home.

  “I just don’t want to repeat myself.” She cursed the fact her voice cracked, and she didn’t care for the way he appraised her.

  “Right. That’s it.”

  “I need to make some calls,” Taylor snapped.

  “No. You need to tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “When Lucas gets back, I will.”

  Jared glared at his FBI agent partner.

  This was only the hundredth argument he’d had with Special Agent Taylor Carrigan for the day—and it wasn’t even nine-thirty.

  She wouldn’t tell him shit.

  Her call had been work—case—related. Jared had heard Carter Bennett, and CI a dozen times. Not to mention the word bodies.