by Diane Kelly
A wail came from the hall, followed by Bonnie’s voice shrieking, “Where is he? Where’s my son? What’s happened?”
Nick let go of me and bolted to the door, yanking it open. He set one foot into the hall and gestured. “I’m in here, Mom. No need to panic.”
“I’ll be the judge of that!” Bonnie stormed into the room carrying a large quilted bag. She grabbed Nick in a tight hug and choked back a sob before taking a step back. “Oh, my God! You’ve got a black eye!”
He waved a hand. “I’m fine, Mom. I’ve suffered worse.”
“I know.” She gulped back a second sob. “Trust me, I remember.”
Nick gestured to the bag. “What’s in there?”
“All your favorites.” She glanced around for a place to set it down. “I figured you might be hungry.”
Nick put a hand to his belly. “You figured right.”
Nick and Ajay pushed my tray table and Christina’s together to form a larger space, and Bonnie unloaded the bag. Paper plates, napkins, forks, a large thermos containing more coffee, and several foil-wrapped homemade breakfast tacos.
“Wow, Mom,” Nick said. “You brought enough to feed an army.”
Good thing, because after being on the front lines last night we felt like soldiers.
I’d just taken a big bite of a breakfast taco when there was a knock on the door. I looked up to see my mother and father in the doorway. Unable to speak with my mouth full of tortilla, potato, and salsa, I waved them in with my taco.
“How’s everyone this morning?” Mom asked.
Like Bonnie before her, my mother carried an armful of homemade goodies. A coffee cake. Apple turnovers. Blueberry muffins. Obviously she’d been up all night baking, too worried and upset to sleep. I felt guilty to be the cause of her insomnia.
I swallowed my bite. “We’re all great.” I looked to Nick and Christina. “Aren’t we?”
The two of them forced smiles at my mother. Dad wore a stoic face, but I knew that he, too, was in emotional turmoil. Another reason for me to feel guilty.
Christina turned to Ajay. “Go see if you can find Alejandro. He risked his life to bring down the cartel.” True. If they’d discovered that one of their own had ratted them out, he would’ve been in for the worst kind of torture. “The least we can do is share this breakfast with him.”
Ajay nodded and went in search of the informant, while Dad rounded up a couple of extra chairs from Nick’s room. When Alejandro entered the room, I introduced him to my parents and Nick introduced him to Bonnie.
Dad shook his hand and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You’ve got some rather large huevos, son. I’ll give you that.”
Alejandro offered a small smile and a “Gracias.”
The eight of us sat around, stuffing our faces and trying our best to keep the conversation light.
At seven-thirty, a nurse arrived with our covered breakfast platters. She glanced around at the remains of our veritable buffet. “I suppose you won’t be needing these, then?” she asked, lifting a cover to expose a bowl of overcooked oatmeal and a fruit salad that was beginning to turn brown.
Christina and I exchanged glances. “We’ll pass,” she replied for both of us.
All of us patients were released at noon. We had little left to say, still processing the events of the night before and trying to come to terms with them.
Alejandro shook our hands one last time. He squeezed my hands so tightly between his I feared he’d snap my fingers in two. “I owe you my life.”
I shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
Christina gave me a hug then held me by the shoulders, looking me in the eye and giving me a look that said more than words ever could. That she was infinitely grateful my father and I had come along when we did. That our jobs had once again asked us to pay a very high price, but that we’d proven ourselves up to the task and sacrifice. That she understood how overwhelmed I must be feeling now. That we should go out for margaritas soon, maybe check out the new spring shoes at Neiman’s. Our silent exchange complete, she turned to my dad. “Thanks again, pops.”
My father gave her a nod. “Anytime.”
Ajay raised his hand to give my father a high five. “Next time you’re in town I’m buying you a steak.”
Dad nodded again. “It’s a date.”
Ajay wrapped his arm around Christina as they made their way out the automatic doors of the hospital to his car.
Alejandro was released into the custody of U.S. Marshals. Given his cooperation with law enforcement, he’d be issued a new identity under the Witness Protection Program and relocated somewhere the others in the cartel would be unlikely to find him. My money was on Pocatello, Idaho.
Bonnie boo-hooed all over Nick and got him even more gooey than I had before he’d gone out on this investigation. “I’m so glad this is over!”
She wasn’t the only one.
When his mother finally released him, Nick turned to me, stared into my eyes for a long moment, then grabbed me and held me so tight my ribs threatened to break. He put his lips to my ear and whispered in his sexiest voice, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that punishment I owe you.”
I put my mouth to his ear and whispered back. “I’ll be at your place the instant my parents leave.”
chapter thirty-six
My Own Little Ass Whooping
My parents dawdled around my house all Sunday afternoon. My father replaced the burned-out light bulb on my back patio, oiled a couple of squeaky door hinges, and topped off all the fluids in my car. My mother made chicken-fried steak, a tuna casserole, and a huge pot of butter beans, sticking them in the freezer for me and Alicia to eat during the coming week. Mom washed all the dishes, did my laundry, and even vacuumed and dusted, insisting that I stay in bed and rest all the while. Hey, who was I to argue with my mother? Besides, it gave me a chance to catch up on my television shows.
I walked them out to Dad’s truck early that evening, giving both of them a big hug. “Thanks for … everything.”
My father and I exchanged a glance. That “everything” entailed far more than it should have. No man should ever have to kill for his daughter.
“You keep an eye on those stitches,” my mother advised as my dad helped her into the truck. “If they get red or puffy or oozy, you call the doctor right away.”
“Ew,” I said, adding, “I will.”
I stood in the driveway, waving as they backed out and headed down the street. When they’d rounded the corner, I turned and hightailed it down the street to Nick’s.
He and Daffodil were standing on his porch waiting for me as I sprinted up. “I’ve been checking out the window all afternoon,” he said. “I thought your parents would never leave.” His lips parted in a sexy smile. “You ready for your punishment?”
I slid him a sexy smile right back. “Am I ever.”
Though Nick gave me one solid pat on my naked rump as we climbed into his bed, I’d be hard-pressed to call it a spanking. In fact, his ministrations and foreplay were far more slow and gentle than usual, as if he were savoring each and every second and sensation. After last night’s swift and severe brutality, neither of us was in the mood for a rushed, rambunctious bout of sex. Rather, slow and languid lovemaking better fit our mood. It also put less pressure on my still-sensitive tailbone.
Nick looked into my eyes as our bodies joined, and continued to gaze at me as he stilled himself inside me. “I missed the hell out of you, Tara.”
“Right back at ya.”
His voice was hoarse with emotion when he spoke again. “There were times when … when I didn’t think we’d make it out.”
I was quiet a moment, blinking back fresh tears. “I can’t imagine what I would have done if you hadn’t.” In fact, I refused to imagine it. I gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the lips.
He remained motionless for several moments, as did I. The lack of movement was as sensually exhilarating as it was frustrating.
When I co
uld take it no more, I ran my hands down Nick’s hard-muscled back, resting them in the warm curve of his spine for a moment before cupping his buttocks and applying some pressure. Still he didn’t move. “Um … what are you doing?”
He pulled his head back and looked at me, smiling softly. “I’m not doing anything.”
Smart-ass. “Let me rephrase, then. Why aren’t you moving?”
“I’m exercising.”
“Exercising what?”
He chuckled. “Restraint.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”
He ducked his head into the crook of my neck and exhaled a long breath that feathered over my skin. “I just want to be close to you.”
I slid my hands back up to his back and leaned my cheek against his dark hair. “That’s all I want, too.”
We remained interlocked and motionless for several more moments before he mumbled into my neck. “I think my restraint has gotten enough exercise, don’t you?”
Now it was my turn to chuckle. “Hell, yeah.”
Nick pulled his head back and gazed at me as he began to move.
“So,” I said, gazing back at him. “Fifty bucks on September, huh?”
He groaned. “Don’t talk about marriage. It’ll spoil the mood.”
“Oh! You did not just say that!” In an instant, I’d flipped him over onto his back, where he lay laughing so hard his chest heaved.
Daffodil raised her head from her bed on the floor and whimpered in concern.
“It’s okay, girl,” Nick assured her, reaching out to give her a pat on the head. “Daddy’ll love every minute of what Tara’s gonna do to him.”
And he did.
chapter thirty-seven
Uh-oh, SpaghettiOs
Lu called me into her office first thing Monday morning. “Take a seat,” she said.
I plunked down in one of her wing chairs.
“You did a great job helping Nick out on the cartel case,” she said. “The shooting was clearly justified, so there won’t be any problems there. Nevertheless, you know procedure. Lethal use of weapons means I’ve got to put you on paid administrative leave for two weeks.”
I cocked my head. “You don’t expect me to complain about an extra two weeks’ paid vacation, do you?”
“’Course not. I expect you to get some rest, go somewhere fun, and come back in two weeks ready to work your butt off.”
I gave her a salute. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go on now. Send me a postcard. Or maybe bring me one of those souvenir snow globes.”
“Will do.”
Nick took some vacation time, too, and we spent several days rolling around in his sheets—careful to avoid my fractured coccyx—and a couple more in his bass boat out on the area’s various lakes. Daffodil loved sunning herself on the boat’s deck and taking the occasional dip in the water, shaking herself all over us when she climbed back aboard. I kicked back with a brand-new copy of Rose N. Bloom’s Scottish romance novel and a glass of wine while Nick fished, catching only a swim mask with a broken strap for all his trouble. He didn’t mind, though. He seemed less interested in fishing for the take than in the meditational opportunities the quiet, serene activity provided.
As Lu had suggested we went somewhere fun, making a weekend trip down to Austin. I showed Nick all of the places where I used to hang out while in college and we even climbed to the top of Mount Bonnell, enjoying the view of the lake down below. I bought Lu a snow globe featuring the state capitol building and sent her a postcard with a photograph of the city’s skyline.
Dear Lu,
Following orders and having fun!
Your favorite special agent,
Tara
Thanks to information provided by Alejandro, further evidence gathered by Nick and Christina during their investigation, and the leads I’d given them, the DEA identified and arrested seventeen members of the cartel in the days following the shootout/shish-kabobbing. The roundup included several major players operating from the apartment complex I’d staked out near Town East Mall. My lead had not only netted the DEA a number of arrests but, according to Christina, had shortened the investigation by weeks if not months. Hooray for me.
While most of the men arrested refused to talk, one of the more minor cartel members agreed to hablar after a plea agreement was made, guaranteeing that prosecutors would not ask for the death penalty or return him to Mexico, where he’d surely be murdered in prison. His life now secured, he spilled the frijoles. Per his testimony, El Cuchillo had convinced his cronies—the men in the Avenger—to double-cross the cartel by stealing drugs and money. Their plan was to frame Vargas and Motley, the two men they’d shot. When Nick, Christina, and Alejandro got in their way, they’d decided to get rid of them.
They just hadn’t counted on Tara Holloway and her father showing up to save the day.
Neener-neener.
Nick resumed his position as captain of the Tax Maniacs and led the team to three successive victories, earning the MVP designation each game. Of course the MVP was required to buy beer for everyone after the game, but Nick was happy to do it. He even bought beers for the losers at the Food and Drug Administration, a majority-female team that, against the protests of their outnumbered male members, called themselves the Sausage Inspectors. We also made it to the Rangers’ season opener, double-dating with Christina and Ajay.
Chase Burkhalter was charged with multiple counts of fraud, released on $500,000 bail, expelled from college, and kicked out of his frat. Poor guy. Looked like he’d miss the massive zombie-themed party prior to dead week. At least the victims would likely get some of their money back. Chase had run through a good deal of the stolen funds, but his parents had liquidated some of their retirement funds to pay restitution on his behalf, hoping the gesture would encourage the judge who heard his case to give him a lighter sentence.
Norman Peele agreed to a plea deal involving a prolonged probation and a stiff criminal penalty for his part in helping the Kuykendahls evade their taxes. Quent and Kevin Kuykendahl were each sentenced to five years in prison. The sanctuary property was seized and turned over to a legitimate animal rescue organization that made immediate improvements. Simba was returned to Paradise Park, where he was given a much larger and better maintained habitat in which to live out the rest of his days.
My tax refund came in. Combined with my $25 in scratch-off winnings, I had enough now to buy a pair of designer sunglasses. I stopped by the Brighton store and treated myself to a new pair of shades. No more knockoffs or cheap sunglasses for me.
I spent a couple of nights with my parents back in my hometown of Nacogdoches. My father and I even stopped by the family church for some counseling with the pastor. He’d always been a pragmatic preacher, and, rather than offering us a bunch of meaningless platitudes, told us that the battle of good versus evil sometimes required those on the side of good to do some very difficult things.
He nodded to my father, then took my hand in his. “It’ll take some time,” he said, “but you’re Tara Holloway. You’ll work through this.”
He was right, of course. I’d always carry this with me, but I was nothing if not resilient. Besides, the American taxpayers needed me back on the job.
* * *
When I finally returned to work, a large vase of fresh red roses greeted me from my desk. There was a card attached, addressed To My Everything. I glanced into Nick’s office, and he smiled up at me from his desk.
“They’re gorgeous!” I called.
“So are you!” Nick called back.
“Get a room!” called the agent with the office next door.
Lu stepped into my doorway, blocking my view of Nick. “No time for hanky-panky.” She held up a thick file and proceeded to plop it down on my desk.
“A new case?” I asked, pulling the file toward me.
“You had no trouble taking down a drug cartel,” Lu said. “Facing the mafia should be easy
peasy.”
The mafia?
Holy cannoli!
Don’t miss the next Tara Holloway novel
Death, Taxes,
and a Chocolate Cannoli
Coming in October 2015 from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
… and be sure to sniff out Diane Kelly’s K-9 mysteries
Paw Enforcement
Paw And Order
Laying Down The Paw
*Available in August 2015
From St. Martin’s Paperbacks
About the Author
DIANE KELLY is a former assistant state attorney general and tax advisor, who had many brushes with white-collar criminals during her career. When she realized her experiences made excellent fodder for novels, her fingers hit the keyboard and thus began her Special Agent Tara Holloway romantic mystery series. Diane is also a proud graduate of her hometown’s Citizen Police Academy. Diane lives in Nashville, Tennessee with her own romantic hero and a houseful of spoiled-rotten cats and dogs.
For more information, visit her Web site at www.dianekelly.com. You can also find her on Facebook at www.facebook.com/dianekellybooks, or follow her on Twitter at www.twitter.com/dianekellybooks. Or sign up for email updates here.
ST. MARTIN’S PAPERBACKS TITLES
BY DIANE KELLY
Death, Taxes, and a French Manicure
Death, Taxes, and a Skinny No-Whip Latte
Death, Taxes, and Extra-Hold Hairspray
Death, Taxes, and a Sequined Clutch
(an e-original novella)
Death, Taxes, and Peach Sangria
Death, Taxes, and Hot Pink Leg Warmers
Death, Taxes, and Green Tea Ice Cream
Death, Taxes, and Mistletoe Mayhem
(an e-original novella)
Death, Taxes, and Silver Spurs