“I doubt it. Did GPS locators even exist in nineteen ninety-three?” She shook her head. “No, I’m sure it’s just your basic, no-frills Honda. It doesn’t even have power door locks. No way it came with anything as high tech as a GPS system, and I doubt any of the previous owners had one installed. Why?”
“Why?” Caleb asked into the phone, although he figured he pretty much knew. A suspicion that was confirmed by Tool’s next words.
“Because I just found one.”
CHAPTER NINE
“Holy shit!” Caleb knifed up, practically dumping Kylie off the couch. Simon and Ash steadied her. “God damn it, no wonder those motherfu—uh, guys were able to track her here. They bugged her damn car!”
“What?” Ash and Simon jumped up, looking like they were ready to kick ass. As soon as they figured out whose ass to kick. “Put it on speaker,” Ash demanded. “Say that again, Tool.”
There was an audible sigh. “You guys heard me the first time. It’s state of the art with a high-power transmitter. Whoever installed it meant business.”
“Well, that explains how they found her. Have you seen them again since yesterday?”
“Nope. Everybody in town is on the lookout, though. You’ll know the minute someone spots them.”
“Okay, Tool, thanks. I’ll be by first thing tomorrow morning to pick it up. Did you touch it?”
“You won’t find my fingerprints on it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tool said testily.
“Anything about it that might tell us who put it there?”
“Thought you might ask that. It wasn’t purchased at the nearest Radio Shack, that’s for damn sure. My guess? Government. My next guess? FBI”
“What?” Caleb exchanged a shocked look with his brothers. “The FBI is after Kylie? Are you sure? It couldn’t be the mob?”
“For all their money, I doubt even the mob could get their hands on one of these. Gotta be FBI. Nest to the military, they have the best toys.” Sam sounded almost envious.
“I don’t doubt you for a minute. I’ll see you in the morning. In the meantime, lock everything up real tight. I don’t want that thing suddenly disappearing on us.” He reached to end the call, then changed his mind. “On second thought, wait for me. I’m coming to pick it up right now.” He ended the call and looked from one of his brothers to the other.
“Go. Go,” Ash said while Simon waved his hands in a shooing motion. “We’ll just wait for you right here. But hurry. The sooner you leave the sooner you’ll be back and we can all get down to the fun and games.”
Caleb curled his fingers under Kylie’s chin and lifted her face. “Don’t worry, sugar, we’ll take care of you.” He kissed her thoroughly. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Maybe less.”
He punched in the alarm code and opened the door. As soon as he left, Simon re-activated the alarm system. Ash swung his legs up and stretched out along the back of the sofa. He reached up for Kylie. She swung her legs back up and lay down in front of him, snuggling her buttocks into his groin. The couch was deep enough for Simon to lie on his side along the front edge, facing her. He slid his long fingers through her chocolate-brown hair and palmed her cheek. “Don’t worry, darlin’. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“You’re safe here, baby,” Ash murmured, his mouth hovering above her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin. “Adam Sinclair designed our security system. Nothin’ can get past it.”
She bit her lip. “But Caleb’s not in here,” she pointed out. “He’s out there.”
Simon chuckled. “Caleb’s ex-SEAL. He can definitely take care of himself.”
“Don’t fret, baby,” Ash joined in Simon’s chuckle. “He’ll be back in no time. Then we can devote ourselves to makin’ you feel good.”
They just lay there, snuggling together, talking, stroking each other’s arms. And kissing. Soft, lingering, open-mouthed kisses that explored every inch of exposed skin. Between kisses and caresses, Simon and Ash shared funny stories about pranks they pulled on Caleb when they were kids and about their life growing up in suburban Chicago. She was surprised to learn their dads were twins. Their mother sounded like an amazing woman, a stay-at-home mom while her children were growing up, who had turned her love of baking into a mail-order gourmet cookie and toffee business. Their older sister, Maggie, was a helicopter pilot for Chicago PD. Kylie shared some stories about her adoptive family, the Goodmans and how wonderful they were. How they had loved her as if she were their own and how she had blossomed under that love. James Goodman had been incensed when the ballet school told Kylie she needed to have breast reduction surgery in order to expect a career in ballet. He was a CPA and when Kylie turned out to be a math whiz in junior college, he urged her to study accounting and go for her own certification. She was still thinking about it, but for now she was satisfied with just being a bookkeeper.
“Oh, wait, you guys, I almost forgot the best news. When Lean and Sarah found out I was a bookkeeper, Leah hired me to do her gallery’s books.”
“Baby, that’s great!” Ash tightened his arm around her abdomen and kissed her nape.
“Then Sarah said her husbands would definitely be interested in having me do their Club’s books. Then Leah said she would speak to Clay about having me do the books for the ranch.”
“Darlin’, that’s wonderful,” Simon exclaimed, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You’re quite the little entrepreneur, aren’t you? We’re so proud of you.”
“Yeah, I feel a lot better knowing I’ll be contributing.”
“You contribute everything we need by just bein’ you,” Ash whispered into her hair. Jesus, she smells so good! Like a garden full of fragrant flowers. And all that just from soap and shampoo! His cock, strangled by his jeans, was so hard, he feared it would break off. He knew Kylie had to feel it. Her plump little ass moved against it every time she turned her head back for his kiss, making it throb and jerk as if trying to escape its constraints and bury itself in her ass. He knew that Simon’s cock was just as hard and that his brother was sharing his dilemma. He hoped Caleb got home soon, otherwise he didn’t think they could wait for him much longer. Kylie Ferrell was just too tempting. His tongue came out to lick her neck. Mmm. And tasty, too.
The door opened. A grim-faced Caleb entered and looked over at the sofa. Kylie and Ash sat up, giving Simon enough room to twist around and straighten up himself. Caleb re-set the alarm and strode over to drop a kiss on Kylie’s mouth. He tossed a black electronic device on Ash’s lap. “It’s already been dusted for prints. There weren’t any.”
Ash picked it up and inspected it, turning it over and over before handing it across Kylie to Simon. “It looks exactly like the ones we used in Afghanistan to track tango vehicles.” He looked up at his brother. “Why would the government want to tag Kylie’s car?”
They all turned to look at her, but she just spread her hands and shrugged her shoulders. She was as mystified as they were. “I can’t imagine.”
“Could the police have done it while you were bein’ interrogated?”
She just shrugged. “I suppose they could have. But why? They knew where to find me.”
Caleb stretched and yawned. “Well, we’re not gonna solve this tonight. Let’s go upstairs and give our little sub lots of orgasms.”
Ash grinned. “I’m definitely onboard for that.”
“Count me in,” Simon added.
Kylie waved her hand madly, “Ooh, ooh, can I come too?”
Caleb gave her a roguish grin. “Sugar, you’re the guest of honor. And you’ll be comin’ more times than you can count.”
Simon and Ash stood and stepped aside while Caleb scooped her up and held her high against his chest. Their mouths frantically sought each other as if seeking sustenance. Caleb began walking around the sofa to carry Kylie upstairs when the lights blinked three times.
The men froze. In less than a split second, Caleb deposited Kylie back on the couch and the three brothers crouched and spun
toward the door, each holding a lethal black pistol in his hand.
Whoa! Wait just a doggone minute! Where did those come from?
A fist pounded loudly on the front door three times.
“Sheriff Rafferty!” a man’s voice called through the solid oak door while pounding three more times. “I’m Special Agent Thomas Dwyer, FBI. My partner here is Special Agent Roscoe Sweeney. It is urgent that we talk to you and Kylie Ferrell.”
Caleb exchanged a glance with his brothers. All three men straightened, but their guns were steady, pointing their way over to the front door. Caleb switched on the bright porch light. “Show me your IDs. Hold them up against the sidelights.”
Simon pulled aside the sheer curtain covering the tall, narrow window on the left. Ash did the same thing on the right. Kylie heard two clinks as the metal badges struck the beveled glass panes. Simon and Ash inspected the badges and nodded. “They look legit,” Ash said.
“Take off your side arms. Hold them at arm’s length, and drop them on the porch.”
There were two loud clunks as the weapons landed on the wooden floor.
“Now your back-up pieces.”
Two more clunks followed.
“Now back away from the door, put your hands behind your heads and stand where my brothers can see you.”
“Aw, c’mon, Rafferty, is all this really necessary?”
Caleb bristled, his jaw clenched so tight, he swore he heard his molars crack. “I’ll decide what’s necessary. Just fuckin’ do it.”
“But we’re the good guys,” Thomas Dwyer whined.
“Not from where I’m standin’,” Caleb said. He waited until Simon and Ash, peering through the sidelight curtains, nodded. Holding his gun in both hands, he gave Simon a nod. Simon jerked the door open. Caleb and Ash stepped into the open space, guns pointing straight at Special Agent Thomas Dwyer and Special Agent Roscoe Sweeney. “Keep your hands where they are,” Caleb warned as Ash and Simon stepped behind the two men and shoved them forward. “Hands against the side of the house,” Ash ordered. He and Simon held them in place with one hand while they shoved their guns into the waistbands of their jeans. “Legs spread. You know the drill.”
The two FBI agents exchanged exasperated looks, but complied with the order, grumbling beneath their breath.
Simon and Ash gave them a quick, efficient pat-down, then pulled the agents’ hands behind them, and handcuffed them. Placing their palms between the men’s shoulder blades, they gave them a shove and the FBI agents stumbled into the foyer. As soon as they spotted Kylie sitting on the sofa, they acknowledged her presence with nods of their heads.
One of them was a clean-cut man probably in his mid-thirties, with very short brown hair and brown eyes. The rimless glasses he wore made him look like a university professor. The other man was at least a decade older with graying black hair and a neat, salt-an-pepper mustache. They were both dressed in suits and ties. And shiny black shoes. They were definitely the same men she had seen leaving the garage at the office building, the men who had been at Sam Olsen’s garage asking about her whereabouts.
“Ms. Ferrell,” the younger man said, leaning toward her slightly as Simon held him by the chain linking his cuffs, “I am Special Agent Thomas Dwyer of the FBI. Please believe me, we mean you no harm. In fact, we’re here because we need your help.”
“Why should I believe you? You killed my boss! I saw you leaving the crime scene!” It took every bit of effort she could muster to remain seated, when all she really wanted to do was jump up off the sofa and run out of the room. “Why are you after me? What have I done?”
“Nothing,” Dwyer said, “Nothing. You got hired by the wrong boss, that’s all.” He started toward her, but was stopped by Simon’s tug on his cuffed hands. With a snarl, he jerked his head back over his shoulder and rattled the handcuffs. “For God’s sake, Rafferty, take these damn cuffs off! We’re on her side!”
Caleb thought for a minute, then nodded. Ash and Simon removed the handcuffs. “Thank you,” Roscoe Sweeney said, rubbing his wrists. “Just give us a few minutes of your time. Please. We can explain everything.” They hovered at the edge of the living room. “May we sit?”
“Go ahead,” Caleb said, bending down and pulling up his pants leg. He shoved his pistol into an ankle holster and straightened. Ash and Simon watched the two men until they were seated, then they stowed their own guns in similar fashion. Caleb sat on the sofa next to Kylie, Ash on her other side, Simon next to him, his cell phone in his hand. He was busy texting someone. All three men leaned forward, elbows on their knees, staring hard at the two men in the chairs. “Okay, Dwyer.” Caleb’s tone was clipped. “You have two minutes to say your piece. And it damn well better be good.”
Dwyer and Sweeney leaned forward, mimicking the brothers’ posture. “Ms Ferrell, we have been working undercover investigating the Righetti crime family.”
“As hit men,” Kylie accused.
He inclined his head, a faint smile curving his lips. “Not exactly. More like underpaid public servants working a case.”
“You’re part of the joint task force?”
He just stared at her. Then he tilted his head and made a face. “It’s kinda tricky.”
“Stop bullshitting, Dwyer,” Caleb snapped. “The clock is ticking.
“All right, yes, we’re on the task force. But our real mission is to investigate the task force. After months of sending us on wild goose chases and leads that went nowhere, Sweeney and I felt that the Philly PD wasn’t sharing all of the information that they had about the Righetti family’s illegal activities. They’re up to their necks in drugs, loan sharking, gun running, embezzlement, illegal gambling, prostitution, slave trafficking. It’s a list as long as my arm and they have a hand in all of it. Yet every lead the task force sent us to investigate led us nowhere. Sooooo.” Dwyer drew out the word. “We decided to do a little clandestine investigation of our own. Investigating the investigators, if you will. And we made some very interesting discoveries.”
“For instance?” Caleb prompted when it appeared Dwyer wasn’t going to continue.
“For instance, we uncovered information that made us suspect that Detective John Bullard, the leader of the task force, is actually Lorenzo Righetti’s inside man in the Philly PD. He and Lorenzo were best buds all through school, but we didn’t cotton onto that right away, because he had a different last name when he was in school. He had his step-father’s name, Catalano. We also learned that Bullard’s wife is Lorenzo’s fourth cousin on his mother’s side. A check of Bullard’s financials revealed that he is living way beyond a detective’s pay grade and we think he’s up to his ears in the Righetti family business.”
“So what does all that have to do with the murder of my boss?” Kylie asked.
Dwyer sighed again. “Moretti had been the Righetti’s accountant for years, laundering their money through their legitimate business fronts. And for years, he had been recording all their illegal transactions in a secret set of books. Names, dates, places, numbers, everything. He had also been stealing from them, skimming off the top. Not much. A little at a time. But enough over the years to make himself an extremely wealthy man. When he found out that the Righettis had discovered his Cayman Island bank accounts and had put out a hit on him, he contacted the Director of the FBI and struck a deal. His secret books in exchange for a new identity and safe passage out of the country.”
Dwyer heaved a weary sigh, took off his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “The Director called John Bullard. Unfortunately, we hadn’t yet told him what we’d discovered about the detective’s background and possible mob ties. So by the time Bullard sent Roscoe and me to pick up Moretti, along with his secret books, four hours had elapsed. Plenty of time for Bullard to kill Moretti and steal the books. Only we don’t think he found the secret books. We think the only books he found were yours. And we think that because when we decided to stop by and search Moretti’
s house before returning to Philly PD headquarters, Bullard and his partner, Tony Angelino, were just coming out of Moretti’s house. They said dispatch had gotten a call from a neighbor about suspicious activity and when they checked out the inside of the house, they had found it ransacked. But Moretti’s house was in a neighborhood of estate homes, all set way back off the street, with wide expanses of land separating one house from the next, so their story immediately raised our suspicions. And when we checked later, there had been no call about suspicious activity at the Moretti home. We think that, not finding the books in Moretti’s office, they then went and ransacked his house looking for them.”
Thomas Dwyer tilted his head and looked Kylie square in the eye. “So that leaves us with you, Ms. Ferrell. We know he didn’t trust computers and insisted that you do all your bookkeeping the old fashioned way, in ledger books, all data entered by hand. Did you ever see Moretti with a separate set of books from the ones you worked on? Would you have any idea where he might have kept them?”
“Don’t answer that, Kylie,” Caleb said. “We still can’t be sure these bozos are who they say they are.”
Kylie’s eyes widened, but otherwise she said nothing. Just gnawed on her lower lip until Ash scooted back and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her snugly against his side.
“Bullard accused me of murdering him,” she said.
“Well, of course he did,” Roscoe Sweeney said with a wry twist of his mouth. “If he could trump up a case against you, then that would shut down any further investigation into Moretti’s death. He threatened you with that to get you to reveal the whereabouts of those books. If you know, you’re a threat to him.”
“They kept hammering away at me, getting right in my face, asking about the books, what I was doing there at such a late hour, if I had seen anyone in the building. I forgot all about seeing you in the parking garage until after they released me. And by that time I wasn’t inclined to volunteer the information.”
Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) Page 18