Crash and Burn

by Allison Brennan

  “Just got off the phone with McMillan. An armed intruder was arrested at Lilian Daniels’s home. The Miata was parked down the street.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t slip away.”

  She shrugged. “They sent a couple units over there, caught him up in the crawl space above the house. He wasn’t able to make a swift getaway. Any idea what he was doing up there?”

  Krista glanced at the detective she’d just spoken to, who now seemed to be filling in the sheriff. “I’m guessing video evidence from the night of Sheffield’s murder. A disk, a flash drive, maybe even the original cell phone used to get the footage.”

  Scarlet nodded. “Does Walker know?”

  “I just got off the phone with him. He’s headed over there personally to make sure none of the evidence gets lost in the shuffle.”

  “I bet he is.”

  “The K-9 team tracked one of Lily’s kidnappers to a vacant cabin up the road,” Krista said. “He was hiding in a tool shed, nursing his wounds.”

  “Someone shot him?”

  “Evidently. Rick Sykes is still at large.”

  Scarlet held her gaze. “They’ll find him.”

  “I know.” She was trying to be nonchalant, but Scarlet could see right through it. Sykes was a former cop and a security expert. He was out there and now he had a vendetta against Krista. Just another cheery bit of news to add to her growing list.

  “What about Lily?” Scarlet asked now.

  “I’m taking her in, soon as I finish up here. One of the deputies is giving us a ride.”

  “You sure?” Scarlet’s gaze drifted over Krista’s shoulder.

  Krista turned to see Lily Daniels sliding her shapely little butt into R.J.’s Porsche. She was wearing his jacket and her ankle was wrapped in an ACE bandage. R.J. tucked her injured foot into the car and carefully closed the door for her.

  Anger swelled in Krista’s chest and she stalked up to him. “Where do you think you’re going with my witness?”

  “Taking her in. Walker’s anxious to talk to her.” He turned and rounded the front of the car. “I’d love for you to come, but it’s a two-seater.”

  “Goddamn it, R.J.” She clenched her hands into fists.

  “Relax, Hart. You’ll get paid.” He smiled at her over the roof of the car. “I’ll be sure to tell him exactly how it all went down.”

  “Like hell you will.”

  He winked and slid behind the wheel. The Porsche started with a throaty growl. Krista stood there fuming as he made a tight U-turn and the sea of emergency workers parted so he could roll through.

  Scarlet came to stand beside her. “That’s the girl? She looks really young.”

  “I should shoot him,” Krista muttered.

  “Too many witnesses.”

  Chapter Eight

  Krista pulled her rental car into her driveway and cast an envious look at Mac’s Hyundai. She gathered her groceries from the front seat, then stopped at her mailbox and added a stack of bills to her load. She mounted the porch steps and unlocked her door.

  “No place like home! No place like home!” Spencer pecked at his cage.

  Krista dumped the bags on the counter. Her home looked like a bomb had gone off in it. She’d spent the past three days writing up reports, fending off reporters, and shuttling between the Orange County Sheriff’s Office and Newport Beach PD to tie up loose ends. She hadn’t sat down for a meal in days and she’d been wearing the same T-shirt for forty-eight hours.

  “Give us a kiss!”

  She popped open a can of cashews and fed them through the mesh. Her phone buzzed and she dug it from her purse.

  “Are you watching the news?” Scarlet demanded.

  “No, why?” She reached for the remote and switched on the television.

  “They arrested Sykes.”

  “Where?”

  “Up in Blaine, Washington, trying to slip across the border.”

  Krista found the channel. Drake Walker stood on the courthouse steps, surrounded by microphones.

  “—appalling miscarriage of justice. He has dishonored the badge, and cast a shadow over the reputations of the many fine men and women who put their lives at risk every day to protect and serve.”

  “To protect and to serve,” Krista yelled at the television. “He doesn’t even know the slogan.”

  “Kris, are you looking?”

  “—and our team will not rest until every last shred of truth in this case has been brought to light.”

  She scanned the row of people lined up behind Walker—his “team” presumably, all dressed to the nines for their TV appearance.

  Off to the side stood a pretty young reporter, conducting a one-on-one interview with a man in a leather jacket. He had his back to the camera, but Krista had no trouble recognizing the broad shoulders.

  “You see him?”

  “Yes.”

  “You just missed his statement,” Scarlet said. “Walker pulled him in front of the camera to publicly thank him for his, quote, ‘shrewd detective work in one of the most shocking cases Orange County has ever seen.’ His phone’s probably ringing off the hook by now.”

  “Unbelievable.”

  “I know.”

  But really, it wasn’t. Krista had known exactly what to expect from the moment R.J.’s name came up. A bitter lump formed in her throat.

  “Any word on that check?” Scarlet asked. “If he screws us over again, we’ll make his life a living hell.”

  “Not yet, but I’ll get back to you.”

  Krista ended the call and switched off the TV. She closed her eyes and counted to ten as Spencer flapped around his cage and her temper reached a boiling point.

  Her phone buzzed and she checked the screen. Perfect. She picked up but couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

  “Krista?”

  She was so angry she was speechless. This was a first. She started unpacking groceries: yogurt, Lean Cuisines, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s.

  “Hey, you there?”

  “You’re on the news.”

  “That was earlier,” R.J. said. “What are you doing now?”

  She plunked soup into a cabinet. “Why?”

  “I’m on my way over.”

  “I’m not home.”

  “Are you at work?”

  “No.”

  “You’re at home, aren’t you? Don’t go anywhere. I’ve got something for you, and you’re going to like it.”

  She snorted.

  “It’s a check with your name on it.”

  That got her attention. She leaned back against the counter, thinking. Four days straight, Walker had dodged her phone calls, clearly trying to stiff her. Why would he suddenly give her money to R.J.?

  “Don’t you want to know how much?” he asked.

  “How much?”

  “Twenty grand.”

  A can of soup slid from her fingers and thunked to the floor.

  “My entire fee. It’s all yours, on one condition.”

  “What?”

  “Go out with me.”

  Her pulse skittered. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  Krista’s heart pounded. A warm, tingly feeling spread through her veins and she got lightheaded. She told herself it was the prospect of a new car, making her loopy.

  “Come out with me and you’ll get your money at the end of the night.”

  She cleared her throat. “That sounds… kinky.”

  “It is.”

  She glanced around, panicked. Her groceries were melting on the counter. Her house was a wreck. She hadn’t washed her hair in two days. Her gaze darted to the door and she remembered the kiss from the other night.

  R.J. could kiss. If he cornered her alone again, she was a goner.

  “I’m not hearing an answer.” His voice was low, teasing now.

  “I’m thinking.”

  A faint rumble outside her door. Lights flashed through the mini-blinds as a car pulled into her driveway.
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  “Krista?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Better think fast.”

  Dear Reader,

  We hope you enjoyed the first adventures of Scarlet Moreno and Krista Hart! We really loved creating this new series together, and hope to have more stories in the near future.

  We also wanted to let you know about our other books. Laura's newest book in her award-winning Tracers series, EXPOSED, is available now. In EXPOSED, forensic photographer Maddie Callahan and FBI agent Brian Beckman form an uneasy partnership to find a vicious criminal. And in Allison's Lucy Kincaid series, Sean takes center stage in STOLEN when he goes undercover with his former college hackers to uncover a sinister plot.

  But that's not all! Laura’s new book FAR GONE hits stores April 15, 2014, and she has included an excerpt here. FAR GONE introduces homicide detective Andrea Finch, who goes to west Texas to rescue her younger brother from the influence of criminal mastermind and ends up becoming involved with the FBI agent investigating the case.

  The latest Lucy Kincaid adventure stars Lucy's brother Patrick in COLD SNAP as the Kincaid’s try to make it home for a Christmas family reunion but encounter murder along the way, out on October 29th. And just as exciting, Allison is launching a new series on April 8, 2014, starring investigative reporter Max Revere in NOTORIOUS. An exclusive, early excerpt is included in this e-book.

  Thank you again for reading CRASH & BURN. For more information about our books and events, please visit our websites: Allison Brennan www.allisonbrennan.comand Laura Griffin www.lauragriffin.com

  Warmly,

  Laura Griffin and Allison Brennan

  Excerpt from Laura Griffin's FAR GONE

  Andrea Finch had never been dumped at a barbecue joint, but there was a first time for everything.

  Her date looked out of place at the scarred wooden booth in his charcoal gray suit. He’d come straight from work, as she had. He’d ditched the tie but still seemed overly formal in a restaurant that had paper towel rolls on every table and classic country drifting from the jukebox.

  “So.” Nick Mays took a swig of beer. “How was your day?”

  Andrea smiled. He sounded like a tired husband and they’d only been dating a month.

  “Fine,” she said. “Yours?”

  “Fine.”

  For the dozenth time since she’d sat down, his gaze darted over her shoulder. When his blue eyes met hers again she felt a twinge of regret. He really was a nice-looking man. Good eyes, thick hair. A bit of a beer gut, but she didn’t mind, really. His main problem was his oversized ego. Andrea was used to men with big egos. She’d been surrounded by them since she’d entered the police academy, and they’d only multiplied once she earned her detective’s badge.

  “Listen, Andrea--” He glanced over her shoulder again and she braced for the speech. “--these last few weeks, they’ve really been great.”

  He was a terrible liar, which was too bad. As an assistant district attorney, he was going to need the skill if he planned to run for his boss’s job someday.

  He opened his mouth to continue just as a waitress stepped up and beamed a smile at him.

  “Y’all ready to order?”

  Nick looked pained. But to his credit he nodded in Andrea’s direction. “Andie?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  He glanced at the waitress. “Me too.”

  “So… y’all won’t be having dinner with us?” Her overly made-up eyes shifted to Andrea. She tucked a lock of blond hair behind her ear and looked impatient.

  “Just the drinks for now.” Nick gave her one of his smiles, which seemed to lessen her annoyance as she hustled off. The smile faded as he turned back to Andrea.

  “So I was saying. These past few weeks. It’s been a good time, Andie. You’re an interesting girl.”

  She gritted her teeth. If he insisted on using frat-boy speak, she was going to make this way harder for him. She folded her arms over her chest and cast her gaze around the restaurant, letting his comment dangle awkwardly.

  The cowbell on the door rattled as a family of four filed outside. Tonight’s crowd was thin, even for a Monday. Maybe the weather was keeping people away. Austin was set to get sleet tonight and her lieutenant had called in extra officers, expecting the roads to be a mess.

  “Andrea?”

  She looked at him.

  “I said, wouldn’t you agree with that?”

  The cowbell rattled again as a skinny young man stepped through the entrance. He wore a black trench coat and clunky boots. His too-big ears reminded Andrea of her brother.

  She looked at Nick. “Agree with what?”

  His mouth tightened. “I said it seems like neither of us is looking for something serious right now. So maybe we should cool things down a little.”

  She glanced across the room as the kid walked toward the double doors leading to the kitchen. She studied the line of his coat, frowning.

  “Andrea.”

  “What?” Her attention snapped to Nick.

  “Christ, you’re not even listening. Have you heard a word I said?”

  She glanced at the kitchen, where the clatter of pots and pans had suddenly gone silent.

  The back of her neck tingled. She slid from the booth.

  “Andie?”

  “Just a sec.”

  She strode across the restaurant, her gaze fixed on the double doors. Her heart thudded inexplicably while her mind catalogued info: six-one, one-fifty, blond, blue. She pictured his flushed cheeks and his lanky body in that big coat.

  A waiter whisked past her and pushed through the doors to the kitchen. Andrea followed, stumbling into him when he halted in his tracks.

  Three people stood motionless against a counter. Their eyes were round with shock and their mouths hung open.

  The kid in the overcoat stood a few yards away, pointing a pistol at them.

  His gaze jumped to Andrea and the waiter. “You! Over there!” He jerked his head at the petrified trio.

  The waiter made a strangled sound and scuttled out the door they’d just come through.

  Andrea didn’t move. Her chest tightened as she took in the scene: two waitresses and a cook, all cowering against a counter. Possibly more people in back. The kid was brandishing a Glock 17. It was pointed straight at the woman in the center--Andrea’s waitress. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen, and the gunman looked almost as young. Andrea noted his skinny neck, his freckles. His cheeks were pink--not from cold, as she’d first thought, but emotion.

  The look he sent the waitress was like a plea.

  “You did this, Haley!”

  The woman’s eyes widened. Her lips moved, but no words came out.

  “This is your fault.”

  Andrea eased her hand beneath her blazer. The kid’s arm swung toward her. “You! Get with them!”

  She went still.

  “Dillon, what are you—”

  “Shut up!” The gun swung back toward the waitress. Haley. The trio was just a few short yards away from the gun. Even with no skill whatsoever, anything he fired at that distance would likely be lethal. And who knew how many bullets he had in that thing?

  Andrea’s heart drummed inside her chest. The smoky smell of barbecue filled the air. The kitchen was warm and steamy and the walls seemed to be closing in on her as she focused on the gunman.

  His back was to a wall lined with coat hooks. She counted four jackets and two ball caps--probably all belonging to the staff. Was anyone else hiding in the back? Had someone called for help?

  “You did this!” the gunman shouted, and Haley flinched.

  Andrea licked her lips. For only the second time in her career, she eased her gun from its holster and prepared to aim it at a person. The weight in her hand felt familiar, almost comforting. But her mouth went dry as her finger slid around the trigger.

  Defuse.

  She thought of everything she’d ever learned about hostage negotiations. She thought of the waiter who’d
fled. She thought of Nick. Help had to be on the way by now. But the closest SWAT team was twenty minutes out and she knew, with sickening certainty, that whatever happened here was going to be over in a matter of moments.

  “I trusted you, Haley.” His voice broke on the last word, and Haley cringed back. “I trusted you, but you’re a lying bitch!”

  “Dillon, please—”

  “SHUT UP! Just shut up, okay?”

  Ambivalence. She heard it in his voice. She could get control of this.

  Andrea lifted her weapon. “Dillon, look at me.”

  To her relief, his gaze veered in her direction. He was crying now, tears streaming down his freckled cheeks, and again he reminded her of her brother. Andrea’s stomach clenched as she lined up her sights on his center body mass.

  Establish a command presence.

  “Put the gun down, Dillon. Let’s talk this through.”

  He swung his arm ninety degrees and Andrea was staring down the barrel of the Glock. All sound disappeared. Her entire world seemed to be sucked by gravity toward that little black hole.

  She lifted her gaze to the gunman’s face. Dillon. His name was Dillon. And he was eighteen, tops.

  Her heart beat crazily. Her mouth felt dry. Hundreds of times she’d trained to confront an armed assailant. It should have been a no-brainer, pure muscle memory. But she felt paralyzed. Every instinct was screaming for her to find another way.

  Dillon’s gaze slid to Haley, who seemed to be melting into the Formica counter. The others had inched away from her--a survival instinct that was going to be of little help if this kid let loose with a hail of bullets.

  Loud, repetitive commands.

  “Dillon, look at me.” She tried to make her voice firm, but even she could hear the desperation in it. “Put the gun down, Dillon. We’ll talk through this.”

  His gaze met hers again. He rubbed his nose on the shoulder of his coat. Tears and snot glistened on his face.

  “I’ll kill you, too,” he said softly. “Don’t think I won’t.”