Trouble With the Law

by Becky McGraw

  Dave’s cell phone rang. He stepped out into the hallway, and Trace looked back at Talmedge. “What’s it going to be?”

  The not-so-slick-looking campaign manager in the rumpled tuxedo swallowed hard. His eyes tracked from Trace to Ronnie and back then he said, “I’ll give you the combination, but they’ll be here any minute most likely. We should leave.”

  Ronnie snorted. “You think I’m stupid? We’re not leaving this room without that combination. You better hurry up and remember it, or we’ll be leaving without you.”

  Talmedge hesitated only a moment, before he gave Trace instructions to disable the booby-trapped satchel. Trace opened the satchel and removed the gel-filled pack. He left it and the GPS tracker Talmedge told him was sewn inside the lining on the table.

  Dave walked back into the room, and his face looked a little pale. “Jamie says two black vans just pulled up outside. We need to go now.”

  “I need to put some clothes on,” Lou Ellen said in a huff.

  “No time, ma’am. A war is about to break out downstairs, and unless we want to be caught in it, we need to leave.”

  Trace jerked Talmedge to his feet, and Ronnie and Allison gathered up the files. Dave led them down the long hallway to the back stairway of the hotel. They had ten flights of stairs to descend to reach freedom, and Trace hoped like hell they didn’t wind up in a gun battle inside the stairwell. Dave had an automatic weapon, but Trace only had a pistol. And Lou Ellen had her revolver, but in a gunfight, he didn’t suspect she’d be able to use it in close quarters.

  His relief grew with every floor they descended, but he knew they still has to make it across the parking lot. When that happened, he would relax a little. The fact that Dave’s men were standing guard out there gave him a measure of comfort though.

  When they finally reached the putty-gray emergency exit door on the bottom floor, Trace breathed again. Dave glanced out the window in the door, then shoved his hip against the silver bar to open it. “There’s a garbage truck parked back here by the dumpster. I want ya’ll to walk in between the truck and the wall, then make your way behind the dumpster. Caleb parked the van on the other side. I’ll cover you.”

  Lou Ellen went first in her pink bathrobe, followed by Talmedge Bartlett in his rumpled tuxedo, then Ronnie in her black party dress and finally his mother. Trace went last and eased along the wall backward, his gun ready in case Dave needed help. He figured out quickly he probably should have gone ahead of the others when Lou Ellen stepped around the front of the garbage truck, and a bullet ricocheted off of the dumpster.

  Lou Ellen ducked behind the dumpster, Bartlett squealed, and Ronnie jerked him back behind the truck. Trace stepped around them and took up a position at the front of the truck. Dave made a hand signal then returned fire. One round. Trace heard glass shatter, a few curses and quickly waved to the women. He ushered them behind the dumpster. One by one, Trace blocked them as they hopped into the open side door of the van. He followed them inside and Dave ran behind the dumpster and jumped in too. He slid the door shut, and shouted, “Go!”

  Caleb floored the van and the tires screeched. Bullets pinged off the back of the van, and one left a hole at the top of the door. Trace heard more gunfire and figured Dave’s men were giving them cover to get away. He leaned back against the side of the van and shut his eyes. Ronnie put her hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

  He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Yeah, you?”

  “I think I just heard my last nerve break. I’m ready for this to be over.” Her eyes watered and her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know how you did this for so many years.”

  Trace huffed out a breath. “Wasn’t easy. Would probably have been easier if I liked my job.”

  “You didn’t like being a cop?” She asked with surprise.

  “Hated it. I wanted a normal life,” he admitted. “I’m with you on hating the drama and never knowing what to expect.”

  “Why did you do it then?” she asked.

  “I did it because I wanted to prove to the world I was better than my father. A better person, a better man,” he said and held her eyes. “That didn’t work out so well.”

  Ronnie’s jaw tightened and she put her hand on his. Lacing her fingers through his she held his hand. Her brown eyes got soft and dewy. “You are a better man, and a better person. You don’t have to prove that. Everyone who has eyes can see that.”

  “That’s not true. I wish I was more like you. You’re the Shark Lady. Nerves of steel. You do your thing and don’t give a damn about what people think.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Trace,” she said, her voice low and intense.

  This softer side of Ronnie got his full attention. Not that she didn’t have it anyway. Ignoring her soft side when it appeared, and it was appearing more and more often these days, was nearly impossible for him.

  He stroked the side of her hand with his thumb. “How so?”

  “Just like you, I have been trying to prove something all my life. Prove to my father that I am a better lawyer and person. His approval and respect is all I’ve ever wanted,” she said with a humorless laugh, dragging her eyes from his.

  Trace had always wondered what motivated Ronnie Winters. What was behind her insane drive to win at any cost in her career. Even at the expense of people thinking she was just a bitch. Now, he knew. Her father. “How could he not approve? You are one of the most successful criminal attorneys in Texas, honey.”

  “But he’s better. And I’ve never been able to beat him.”

  “It’s not a competition,” Trace said with a glance to his mother who was curled up in the crook of Lou Ellen’s arm trembling on the other side of the van. The files she had clutched to her chest as they ran for the van were in her lap. The mysterious black satchel, the one that could decide whether he stayed in town or hit the road, sat beside Lou Ellen. “I don’t think it’s his respect you’re looking for. I think it’s his attention.”

  Ronnie’s wide eyes flew back to his and it looked to Trace like she was having an epiphany of some sort. Her mouth was soft and wide open. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Let her know she sure had his attention. So he did. A soft, gentle kiss intended to comfort her. To tell her how he felt about her without words. Her free hand cupped the side of his face and she lengthened the kiss. Warmth spread through him carrying something sweet with it to settle around his heart.

  Trace had never been in love with a woman. Had never even come close to it. He liked a lot of women, respected them, but when they got too close to getting attached, he cut them loose. With Ronnie Winters, against all odds, right now all he wanted to do was keep her close and protect her. She was the last woman on Earth he ever thought he would feel that way about, or who would need his protection. He was coming to see past her front. She was just as vulnerable as he was. Fighting the same demons, just from a different angle. And he wasn’t sure, but he thought what he was feeling for her might be love. He didn’t know if that was it, but he did know he was damned relieved he didn’t have to leave her yet.

  In that hotel room, Trace had known what she was about to say to him when he was leaving. She was about to tell him she loved him. Hearing that, opening that can of worms between them, would just have made his leaving harder on both of them. Now that he had a little hope they might actually pull this off, prove his innocence, Trace didn’t know what he would do if she tried to say it again. Maybe they could try a personal relationship and see where things went.

  Who the hell was he kidding? He had plans. If somehow he got out of this bind, he was going out as far in the country as he could get. Away from people. Away from stress. Away from the prying eyes of people who wanted to judge him against his father, or his past.

  He was going to raise cattle and grow shit. That was not a life he could see Ronnie Winters living. She was city slick and successful. Her career was everything to her. She thrived on it, got her whole identity from it. Trace was
not about to put his toe in those waters knowing even if she agreed to test the waters with him, she would get bored with him and his boring life and would leave. He had a feeling if Ronnie experienced the peace he always found in the country, she would have too much time to think. Without the stimulation and adrenaline of the courtroom drama, she would wither away.

  No, it was better if they just left things where they were.

  “Someone needs to get my car from the hotel,” Lou Ellen said suddenly. “The files from the lodge are in the trunk, remember?”

  “Jamie still had your keys from last night. He left in it before the shooting started, so he’ll probably be at the office when we get there,” Dave replied.

  “He better not wreck my car,” Lou Ellen said with a snort. “That boy drives like he got his license in a bubble gum machine.”

  “He’s taken so many offensive and defensive tactical driving classes, if he wrecks your car then you better get ready for the second coming.”

  “He better get ready for it, because if he wrecks my Caddie, he’s definitely going to meet the Good Lord,” Lou Ellen assured with a dry laugh. “And someone needs to get my damned suitcase from that hotel.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Dave said shortly.

  “Aunt Lou, I think that pink housecoat suits you,” Trace said with a chuckle. “You’ve never looked prettier.”

  “Save your horseshit for her,” Lou Ellen grumped nodding her chin at Ronnie. “I think she thinks it smells like a rose bed now.”

  Trace squeezed Ronnie’s hand. Lightening the mood couldn’t hurt. He could feel the tension in Ronnie’s arm. “Makes good fertilizer for sure.”

  He heard another chuckle beside him and smiled down at her. He pulled his hand from hers and dropped his arm around her shoulder to pull her closer into his side. Ronnie leaned her head against him and sighed. Yeah, Trace could definitely come to love the softer side of the Shark Lady.

  An hour later, the van stopped, and Dave got out. The side door of the van opened and Trace lifted his arm from Ronnie’s shoulders. He hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep, so he caught her when she almost fell across his lap when he moved.

  “Wake up sleepyhead,” he said with a laugh, gently tapping her cheek.

  She moaned sleepily and the sound shot through him, because it reminded him of the moans she made when he made love to her. Well, when he had sex with her. He hadn’t really made love to her yet. As hot as it had been, against the door, didn’t count. In the bathtub didn’t count, and neither did that time in the gathering room at the lodge when she had been trying to get information out of him.

  Trace made a decision right then that before he let Ronnie go, he was definitely going to make love to her. In a bed. She had shown him her softer side, he was going to show her his romantic side.

  She opened her beautiful brown eyes, and looked around disoriented. “We’re at Dave’s office. C’mon, baby, we’ve got work to do.” She rubbed her eyes, and Trace propped her against the back of the van and twisted to put his feet outside the door. Bright sunlight almost blinded him, and he shaded his eyes to look around. Dave’s office it seemed was more like a compound.

  There were several tan buildings scattered around a huge clearing in the middle of a copse of tall trees. Trace looked back and saw a six foot chain link fence topped with razor wire. A chill raced down his spine and his stomach rolled, because he almost felt like he was in prison again. Trace had to force himself to step outside the van. He looked at Dave. “You use the schematic from Alcatraz to build this place?” he asked Dave with a laugh. Ronnie got out of the van and stood beside him.

  “Nobody is gonna get in here unless I want them here,” Dave replied shortly. “Let’s get these files, and get inside.” Dave took the files from his mother’s arms, so she could get out of the van, then grabbed the black satchel from Lou Ellen. They got out, but Talmedge Bartlett didn’t follow. Trace walked back to the van door and leaned inside. “Get out.”

  Talmedge didn’t move. His head was lolled to the side on his shoulder, and Trace thought he must be in a dead sleep. He crawled back into the van and over to him. He shook his shoulder hard and the man’s head bobbed, but he didn’t open his eyes. Trace put his fingers to the man’s throat, and figured out why he didn’t wake up. Because he wasn’t in a dead sleep. He was dead!

  “Dave!” Trace shouted as he eased the man to lay on the floor of the van.

  Ronnie stuck her head inside the van. “What’s wrong?”

  “Get, Dave. I think he’s dead.”

  “No!” Ronnie shouted and scrambled inside to kneel beside him.

  “Go get Dave, Red,” Trace repeated loosening Talmedge’s collar and tie. “He’s not cold yet, maybe…” he said then tilted his neck back. His pupils were fixed and foam came out of his mouth. Trace realized there was no maybe about it. This man was dead, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do. They were right back where they had been before he showed up at the hotel. Trace was right back there again.

  “Don’t give up,” Ronnie said as if she read his mind. “Let’s look at those files again. We were half asleep when we went through them last night and this morning. And we need to see what’s in that satchel. We can still do this,” she said.

  “Ronnie, this is it. The end. Without his help decrypting the files, you know it’s useless. Without his testimony, the feds aren’t going to have a case.”

  “Bullshit,” she said harshly. “Leave him there, and let’s get to work. Leland Rooks is not going to win. I won’t let him win.”

  “Leland Rooks always wins,” Trace said with a defeated shake of his head. “We all might as well just give in.”

  “Not this time,” Ronnie said forcefully. “I’m not letting him win.”

  Trace knew it was hopeless, but Ronnie’s resurgence of optimism was contagious. What did he have to lose at this point? His mind maybe, but he was on the verge of losing that anyway. He might as well jump off that cliff with her holding his hand. He sighed. “Let’s go see what’s in that satchel.”

  They walked through the heavy wooden front door of the building where Trace had seen Dave take the others, and ran right into him on his way out.

  “I was coming to see what ya’ll were up to. We’ve got a lot to do,” Dave said impatiently.

  “Well, add finding somewhere to store Talmedge Bartlett’s body to your list,” Trace said with a dry laugh. “Looks like he had a heart attack or something from all the excitement.”

  “You sure he’s dead?” Dave asked making a motion to go around him.

  “Oh yeah. Very sure,” Trace replied and Ronnie nodded.

  “Well, hell,” Dave said shoving a hand through his thick dark hair. “I’ll take care of him, but you need to get in there, because I think Lou Ellen and your mother found something.”

  They walked down a long hall and Trace heard voices in a room to the right and went inside. Lou Ellen had thick yellow envelopes stacked beside the black satchel, and three five subject notebooks. She looked up at him and smiled widely. “It’s about damned time you two came. We were about to start the party without you,” she said smartly.

  “I don’t know how much we have to celebrate, Aunt Lou. Talmedge evidently had a heart attack on the way here. He’s dead,” Trace informed somberly.

  The gray box that was in his room at the lodge caught his eye. It was sitting beside the files from the lodge at the other end of the table. Someone must’ve picked it up thinking it was supposed to go with the files. It wasn’t. That was personal. Between him and his former partner. And he still wasn’t ready to open it. He walked down there and picked it up.

  “What’s that?” Ronnie asked curiously, as she sat down at the table.

  “It’s personal. A box that Sean left with his wife to give me in case something happened to him. I imagine it’s just memories.” His voice shook when he said it and sadness filled him.

  “We should see what’s in there. Remember the S.C. mys
tery. Maybe there’s an answer in there,” Ronnie said looking up at him.

  “And maybe it’s just stuff I can’t deal with right now on top of all this,” Trace countered.

  “You won’t know until you open it,” Ronnie said.

  “And I won’t open it until I’m ready,” Trace replied.

  “Fine,” Ronnie said brusquely. “What did you find, Lou Ellen?”

  “I think we’ve got him,” Lou Ellen informed in an excited tone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Who was the mysterious S.C. who had received payoffs from his father?

  The women talked, as they sorted through the evidence and worked out how it all fit together, but Trace didn’t hear a word. He was too busy pondering that question, and shifting the gray box in his hands, listening to the metallic slide, and long slow roll of whatever the box contained. Sean had been his best friend since grade school. He was a man that Trace knew better than anyone. He knew that Sean would never betray him like that. Even if he lost his house. Even if he lost his wife and kids. Even if he lost his life.

  They were brothers in every sense of the word.

  These women were trying to prove Trace’s innocence by tying the evidence from the trial files and the files they’d stolen from Leland together. Sean’s name was mentioned. If that wasn’t addressed, he knew Ronnie would speculate on who the mysterious S.C. was because they didn’t know for sure. Well, Trace was not letting his dead partner or his grieving family be dragged through the mud. It would send his son over the edge he was already teetering on. Trace was going to prove that Sean wasn’t the S.C. taking payoffs from Leland, before his name was even mentioned. It was the least he could do.

  “I can’t help here. I’m going to see Carrie Collins,” Trace said and got up. He picked up the gray box and the long slow roll, and metallic slide inside teased him.

  “Who is that?” Ronnie asked looking up from her notepad.