Lost and Found

by Allison Brennan

  It would be three months before Scarlet saw Krista again, but by that time, Scarlet had her P.I. license and had put the ambush behind her.

  At least for the time being. She had no leads. Gabe Stone had retired and moved out of state. There was no evidence at the scene to speak of, which told Scarlet it was a professional hit. But no one believed her.

  She’d gotten a call from a burner phone from someone who pretended to be Gabe. Asked her to do a favor. Check out a warehouse in Van Nuys and report if there was any sign of trouble.

  “Scar,” he said, using the nickname only he used for her, “can you check out an address for me?”

  “Sure, where?”

  “A warehouse. In Van Nuys. I just want to know what’s going on. If there’s people hanging around, sign of forced entry. For a friend of mine in Vice.”

  He’d given her the address; she wrote it down and said she’d call him back.

  And that was it. Simple.

  So she’d gone. She’d seen signs of entry, and that was when she should have walked away. She shouldn’t have gone in. She told Krista to call it in and stand guard, but Scarlet went inside to check it out. It wasn’t until later that she found out the communications system had gone out—though I.A. found no sign of tampering. It wasn’t until later that she realized she’d been lured inside, separated from her backup, intentionally shot. The elbow. The leg. In the back. Only her gut instincts born from twelve years as a cop and a lifetime living with cops had saved her life. She’d heard something and moved. She was able to find cover before they could kill her.

  But she’d fucked up. She should have waited for more backup. She should have realized there was something wrong with communications immediately. But in the back of her mind, she remembered Gabe saying just to check it out and report back. If he’d thought there was danger, he would have told her. Right?

  After an investigation that was over before Scarlet got out of the hospital, Internal Affairs had closed the case. Officer error.

  Officer error my ass.

  There was nothing Scarlet could do but quit. She couldn’t work with men and women she no longer trusted.

  When Scarlet joined Krista at Moreno & Hart Investigations three months after she’d quit the force, she’d insisted that she had her head on straight, that she was committed to making their business successful.

  “I’m fine,” she’d told Krista that first day in their new office. “I put the ambush behind me. I need to get on with my life.”

  It was a lie, but a lie Scarlet believed for a long time.

  She truly had put the ambush on the back burner, at least until she was hired by a cop friend to prove his innocence in killing his girlfriend. During that investigation four months ago, she’d uncovered evidence that let back to the ambush that nearly killed her and Krista. And ever since, she’d been obsessed with finding the truth.

  Nothing that happened then was what she’d thought. Things she’d believed true were lies and things she’d thought were lies were the truth. Only one thing was certain: she could trust no one.

  No one except Krista.

  LOST

  Laura Griffin

  Chapter One

  “There aren’t enough mojitos in the world to make this worthwhile.” Krista adjusted the cap on her head and glanced at her partner, who was dressed in all black, just as she was. “You said a trash hit. I pictured cans on a curb.”

  Scarlet glanced up and down the dark alley. “It’s practically the same thing.”

  “Dumpster diving is not the same thing.”

  “Hey, I did the last one. It’s your turn.” Scarlet gave her an encouraging pat on the back. “Don’t worry, I’ll stand guard.”

  She strode off, and Krista stared glumly at the rusty metal box. Nothing to do but get it done. She grabbed hold of the top, took a deep gulp of air, and hoisted herself up. Throwing her leg over the side, she gazed down at the stinking heap. Every time she did this, she lost her appetite for a week. She called it the Dumpster Diet, and it was pretty effective.

  She dropped onto the pile and shined her flashlight over the bags, zeroing in on the puffy black one on top. It was most likely the bag she’d seen heaved into the bin a few minutes ago by a woman named Rhonda Spalding, or as Krista’s client referred to her—”that home wrecking whore-bitch.” Krista pulled out her pocketknife, slashed into the bag, and nearly gagged.

  Kitchen trash, the most fragrant of all.

  Using her blade as a shovel, she dug through globs of pasta, juice containers, and rancid bits of meat. Discarded mail was always a gold mine, but Krista wasn’t greedy. She’d settle for any item on her client’s list of dead giveaways, which included Budweiser cans, beef jerky wrappers, and anything from Sonic.

  Score! An empty can of Skoal. Krista picked it up and shined her light on the label: Long Cut Winter Green—just what the client had told her to look for.

  “Got ya, you deadbeat son of a bitch.”

  She pulled out her phone and took a picture, then texted Scarlet. Their target was definitely living in this building and hiding out from his ex-wife, to whom he owed two years’ back child support. Now someone just had to stake out the fourplex tomorrow and wait for him to walk out. Luckily, that wasn’t Krista’s job. She’d been hired to locate the man, not drag him back to court.

  She combed through trash for further confirmation, but found only a half-eaten sandwich and some wadded tissues. Krista shuddered. It was a vile job—not exactly what she’d pictured when she’d founded Moreno & Hart Investigations.

  In theory, tracking down bail jumpers and deadbeat dads was noble work. In reality… not so much. And the dirty jobs didn’t even pay that much, which made it all the more ironic that Krista had jumped on this assignment. They were coming off a slow year, and their bank account was practically on life support. It didn’t help that Krista’s partner—who was an absolute workhorse—had spent the past six months focused on personal matters instead of the business, which meant Krista was frequently on her own, trying to attend to their ever-dwindling list of clients. Tonight’s trash hit was an exception because Krista and Scarlet were working together for a change. It was like the old days when they’d first started the business. Their first few months had been spent running down cheating spouses and conducting background checks for businesses. They’d even done a few missing pet investigations, which Krista considered the absolute low point of her career. Not that she didn’t like animals, but she’d never exactly aspired to be Ace Ventura.

  When she’d founded Moreno & Hart, Krista had hoped to make a living working criminal cases—locating elusive witnesses or digging up previously undiscovered evidence attorneys could use at trial. Scarlet, who definitely had the gumshoe gene, had been interested in the same sort of work. Together, they’d planned to be a critical part of the hulking machinery that was the Orange County criminal justice system. At the time, it had all seemed glamorous, interesting, and hopefully even lucrative.

  Sure, Krista had expected it to take time to build the business. She’d expected some mundane jobs. She understood that success didn’t just happen overnight. But in her wildest dreams, Krista never imagined that three years in she’d still be scuba diving through Dumpsters, looking for discarded mail and tobacco cans.

  Footsteps on the pavement had her glancing up. Scarlet? No—the steps sounded too heavy. It had to be a man. She crouched down amid the garbage.

  “I hate this,” she muttered as something cold and wet seeped into her shoe. No more Dumpster dives. This was it. Krista had officially hit her limit.

  Her phone vibrated with a text: Incoming!!

  She glanced up as a giant garbage bag sailed straight at her head.

  #

  Fifteen minutes later, Krista pulled up a stool beside Scarlet at Diego’s, a Newport Beach sports bar where Scarlet knew the owner and rented a room on the second floor. Krista took off her hat and shook out her hair. She didn’t even want to think about what might
have crawled in there.

  “You two been robbing houses again?” Diego asked from behind the counter.

  “Drinks are on me tonight,” Scarlet told him. “Krista needs a mojito. Top shelf. And I’ll have a cranberry juice.”

  Krista shot her a look.

  “What? I still have to get out my computer and work tonight,” Scarlet said. “And I haven’t packed yet.”

  “You’re really going?”

  “Of course.”

  Krista sighed. She hadn’t been able to talk Scarlet out of the trip to Arizona to visit her former partner. Gabe Stone had left L.A.P.D. not long after the shooting incident in which Scarlet nearly lost her life.

  Scarlet had been digging into the incident for three years, and she’d become obsessed. Her investigation had led her to the Vartarians, a powerful L.A. family that Scarlet believed was responsible for the attempt on her life. But Scarlet had no proof. The case was complicated, and unraveling it consumed almost all of Scarlet’s attention these days.

  It wasn’t that Krista didn’t care. She did. The shooting had almost killed Scarlet, and it had changed the course of Krista’s life, too. But Scarlet’s relentless quest for answers took up so much time and energy that the firm was suffering. Krista wasn’t sure how many more down quarters they could take and still remain afloat.

  Their drinks arrived and Krista took a big sip to wash away the sour taste in the back of her throat. The smell of garbage still clung to her.

  Scarlet plunked her glass down and checked her watch, obviously itching to leave. “So, you’re on the Riley Campbell thing while I’m gone, right?”

  “Right. Although, I have to be honest with you, I’m not optimistic. I’ve turned the file inside out, and I’m almost out of ideas.”

  Scarlet believed Riley Campbell was potentially a key witness in the case, one who’d been mostly overlooked until now. Her name had resurfaced recently, but they’d had no luck finding her.

  “We really need to talk to her, Krista. If you’re stuck, you could ask R.J. for help.”

  “No,” she said, maybe a bit too vehemently.

  Scarlet raised an eyebrow. “Uh-oh. What’s wrong now?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah.” She downed another gulp.

  “Good, because speak of the devil….”

  Krista turned around to see R.J. Flynn walking into the bar. His gaze locked on hers as he made his way through the crowd, and a warm tingle filled her stomach. She couldn’t help it. It happened whenever she saw him, whether she was ticked off at him or not.

  “Well, that’s my cue.” Scarlet slid off the stool. “I’d better go get packed. I’ve got an early start in the morning. Trying to get going by sunrise.”

  “Call me from the road,” Krista said.

  Scarlet walked off, intercepting R.J. on her way out. She whispered something to him, and he looked straight at Krista, then nodded.

  “Need a refill?”

  Krista turned to Diego. “No, I’m good.”

  R.J. slid his arm around Krista’s waist and kissed her cheek before taking Scarlet’s vacated stool.

  “Hey,” he said casually.

  “Hey.” She looked him over. “How was Hawaii?”

  “Fine.”

  “Get your work done?”

  “Yep.” Something flickered in his eyes and he looked away.

  Damn it, he was hiding something. She knew it. She’d known it the minute he’d called her the day before Christmas and told her he had to fly to Maui. For business.

  Who flew anywhere for business the day before Christmas?

  It wasn’t like she’d expected him to spend Christmas Day with her. They weren’t in the spend-holidays-together stage yet. They weren’t even in the spend-the-night-together stage yet. They’d only had a few dates and some unforgettable kisses. But they were on the cusp of something, and it felt like something good. At least, usually it did. When he lied to her, it felt miserable.

  “And… what client was this again?” she asked.

  He looked at her, and she could see he didn’t want to answer the question.

  “No one you know.” He glanced away.

  Diego delivered the usual Guinness and R.J. jumped on the distraction, taking a long sip. He set the glass on the bar and looked at her.

  “Scarlet says you need my help with something.”

  “I don’t.”

  He pinned her with those blue eyes. “You sure? Things are pretty slow this week. I could probably make time.”

  “It’s just a skip trace.”

  He arched his brows, waiting for more.

  That was the thing about R.J. He wasn’t just the super-hot guy she’d been infatuated with for the past six months. He was also a private eye, which meant they crossed paths constantly. Yet another reason Krista had reservations about getting emotionally involved. If and when things didn’t work out between them, there would be no avoiding him.

  Another reason? R.J. was a player. Over the years, Krista had frequently spotted him out and about with different women at his side. Some of them were young and beachy, others a little older and more sophisticated. All were beautiful. Women flocked to R.J., and it wasn’t just his looks.

  He was still watching her, waiting to hear more about her skip.

  “A key witness in our case seems to have disappeared,” she said, “and Scarlet really wants to talk to her.”

  “Disappeared as in… took off? Moved? Decided to take a swim with some concrete shoes?”

  “Nothing that sinister.” She hoped. “Scarlet ran across her name in the file. She sweet-talked a dispatcher into giving us some additional information.” She cleared her throat. She would have said bribed, but she honestly didn’t know how Scarlet had gotten the information and she didn’t really want to know. “You’re familiar with our case, right?”

  “More or less. Scarlet got shot in some incident at a warehouse when you two were cops, right?”

  She nodded, not wanting to rehash the details right now. “The first responding officer to the scene was parked nearby, conducting a traffic stop when she heard the gunshots and rushed over.”

  R.J.’s eyebrows tipped up. “And now she’s missing?”

  “Not the officer, the traffic stop. The whole thing happened just a block away, close enough that the driver might have seen something. Or so Scarlet thinks.”

  “What about you?”

  Krista shrugged. “Maybe she did, maybe she didn’t.”

  “But you won’t know until you ask her.”

  “Right.” Krista sipped her drink. “Thing is, I’ve been working this angle for a while, and I’ve come up with zip. This woman is nowhere, R.J. It’s like she fell off the face of the earth.”

  “Sounds like you need to bring in the big guns.” He smiled and leaned closer. “Good thing I’m available.”

  Krista’s chest tightened. He was flirting. Flirting, after lying to her face two minutes ago. Why did she always fall for men she couldn’t trust? It seemed to be her special talent.

  “What’s wrong, Krista?”

  “Nothing.”

  Those blue eyes stayed locked on hers. Now who was lying?

  Krista glanced away. Damn it. Did she want R.J.’s help with this? No. But the sooner she closed this case, the sooner she’d get her partner back.

  She needed Scarlet. Yeah, they were different and they didn’t always agree on everything. But their personalities complemented each other. When Scarlet was impatient, Krista was level-headed. When Krista was tentative, Scarlet was bold. They balanced each other’s strengths and weaknesses. That balance made their business work and also their friendship, and Krista needed Scarlet to get her head back in the game or this company they’d spent years building was going to crumble.

  “Skips are my specialty, babe. I’m the best in the business.” R.J. reached over and stroked her jaw with his thumb. “Why’d don’t you just admit you need me?”


  He gazed down at her, and her insides got all warm and melty. She’d missed him. Really missed him, and meanwhile he’d been off in Hawaii doing God only knew what.

  She cleared her throat. “Moreno and Hart would like to hire you.”

  “I’ll do it for free. Just send me the basics.”

  Krista took out her phone and brought up a screen shot of Riley Campbell’s driver’s license. “I can text you her DMV record.”

  He leaned closer to look at the screen, and Krista got a whiff of that wonderful R.J. scent that never failed to drive her crazy when she was close to him.

  “Damn, she’s pretty.”

  Pretty was an understatement. Riley had long, dark hair; electric blue eyes; and thick, dark lashes that made her look like a model or an actress, someone whose face should be on billboards. She could have been R.J.’s sister, actually.

  When Krista had first met R.J., she’d pegged him for an actor because of his leading-man looks and badass persona. But she’d soon learned it wasn’t a persona at all—R.J. was the real deal.

  “What’s your timeline?” he asked.

  “Soon.”

  “A rush job, huh?” The corner of his mouth curved up. “You’re going to owe me big, babe.”

  She did not want to owe him, and definitely not big.

  “I don’t want you to do it as a favor. I’ll hire you.”

  He gave her a smug look. “Trust me, you can’t afford me.”

  Trust. That was the whole problem here. Every time she started to trust him, he did something to rattle her.

  Like jetting off to Hawaii at a moment’s notice.

  “What’s your rate?” she asked crisply.

  He looked annoyed. “I told you, you can’t afford me.”

  “Try me.”

  “Four thousand a day, plus expenses.”

  “Seriously?” she choked.

  He leaned closer and brushed her hair off her shoulder. “But you and Scarlet get the friends and family discount. Two grand a day flat, pay at the end.”

  “Deal.” Her stomach clenched.

  He leaned in for a kiss, and she leaned back.