by Shirl Henke
Scruggs was still dressed in the ridiculous white jewel-encrusted jumpsuit. Sam had to admit he was a dead ringer for the late “King.” “Your gut was right but we could’ve used you a little sooner.”
“Yeah, I might even have managed not to inconvenience my wife by getting shot again,” Matt said.
“Don’t move that arm and start it bleeding again or you’ll really inconvenience us both,” Sam said. When she’d seen him lying on the ground, her heart had nearly stopped beating.
“Aunt Claudia taught me never to inconvenience a lady. If you’re this…nice when I’m shot, maybe I’ll have to—”
“Don’t even think it, Granger,” she said with a shaky laugh, bending down to kiss him.
“Man might have a point. Never saw you go soft and feminine before,” Elvis interjected.
“You’d better see to Farley. Who knows what his father might do,” Sam said.
The other DEA agents’ voices carried from the dock in front as they discussed the feeding frenzy that had ended the lives of Reese Reicht and Tito’s companion. Ignoring them, Elvis replied, “I cuffed Winchester to the doorknob, but I’ll keep watch on Far till the paramedics get here. Take good care of your man.” He went whistling back into the house.
“You heard the agent,” Matt whispered, pulling her down for another kiss.
“You’re really dealing from the bottom of the deck, using Elvis as an excuse to give me orders,” she replied with a loopy grin.
But she kissed him anyway.
“Yes, Auntie, you know I will… Love you, too… Okay,” Matt said reluctantly, handing the phone to his wife with a martyred sigh. Sam, who sat on the corner of his hospital bed, took it and walked across the floor, listening as his great-aunt Claudia spoke. Matt didn’t like the startled grin that spread across her face as she agreed to something, then hung up.
They were in the Broward General Medical Center where the medevac flight had flown them last night. After stitching his injured arm, the doctor insisted he stay the night because of the blood loss he’d experienced, even though the wound wasn’t serious.
“While the doc was working on you, I called Aunt Claudia and told her everything,” she said, replacing the phone on the nightstand and resuming her seat beside him on the bed. “Oh, did she mention she’s chartering a plane from Boston?”
Matt groaned. “No, but thanks for warning me. What was the rest of your conversation about?”
Before she could reply, Bill Montoya wheeled Farley into the room, accompanied by his daughter Sara. Elvis Scruggs, who had changed into a conservative gray business suit, followed them. One small diamond earring winked discreetly from his right earlobe, a hint of his “alter ego.”
“They’re letting me go home,” Farley said, then glanced shyly at Sara.
Sam could see love in bloom and grinned at the cute kids. “I understand you’ll be living permanently with the Montoya clan,” she said, looking at the captain.
Bill smiled at her and placed a fatherly hand on Farley’s shoulder. “I just wanted to thank you, Sam, for getting the Mallorys to agree to terms.”
“Sam’s good at negotiations,” Matt said dryly.
Bill turned to his daughter. “Sara, why don’t we head downstairs and I’ll pull the car up to the front entry. I think these folks have business to discuss.”
“Thanks again, Sam, Matt. You saved my life. Real Spacefleet officers couldn’t have done better,” Farley said with a wink.
Sara giggled as Bill pushed his chair from the room. When they were out of earshot, Elvis asked Sam, “How the hell did you get the Mallory family to go along with your plan?”
“Tweety Bird feathers again,” Matt said, chuckling as she grinned.
“Farley’s only living uncle, Susan’s brother, Paul, is an investment banker who travels around the world and has a socialite wife who can’t stand kids. The grandparents are too old and frankly, don’t care one way or the other about Farley. It wasn’t hard to convince the lot of them to give up custody of a boy they’d never bothered to see since his mother’s funeral five years ago. But Paul did want Susan’s share of the family fortune back. I, er, convinced him that it might be better to place the funds in a trust until Farley turns twenty-five. And let the Montoyas adopt the boy.”
“And why would he agree to give up guardianship with all that lovely loot involved?” Scruggs asked, his cynical eyes narrowing on her.
“Paul and his wife are social climbers and the publicity about Upton is already in the headlines,” she said, giving Matt a nod since he’d dictated the story from the E.R. before he’d even let the staff attend to his arm. He had scooped even the broadcast media.
“The Mallorys didn’t want to be dragged into a court fight over guardianship. Already they have to deal with a brother-in-law who was involved with the mob and money laundering,” Matt interjected.
“And I pointed out that my hubby was the guy who wrote the story in the Herald and he happens to be very fond of Farley. If they ticked him off and tried to screw over the kid, Matt would keep Paul and Deidre in the headlines until they looked worse than the mob,” Sam said with a big grin.
“Wish I could handle my problems that way,” Scruggs said. “At least Kline and those two bozos you took out at the Beach turned on Rico Salazar. We’ll nail him, but the DEA’s fighting with the IRS to see who gets to indict Winchester first. I’ve had two meetings with Ida Kleb since last night.” He shuddered visibly.
“That why you’re looking so spiffy straight?” Sam asked.
“No way I could ever impress that broad. But she did agree to hold off on the tax scam charges until we nail Winchester for funneling drug money to the Caymans for Reicht and Salazar. When all the federal charges are filed against Winchester, Patowski’s going after him for conspiracy to commit murder. He asked Reicht to administer that OD to Susan and to arrange Kenny Brio’s ‘accidental’ death in Jacksonville.”
“That’ll put good old Upton up the creek for a couple of lifetimes,” Matt said.
Sam nodded. “Good. Farley will get his rightful estate and Bill Montoya and his family get to provide him with the love he never had before.”
“She’s leaving one thing out,” Matt interjected.
Sam glared at him now. “What, you still think we’re made of money? I earned every dime!”
“And I didn’t help?” he asked her rhetorically, then turned to Elvis with a big grin. “She wrung her full retrieval fee and expenses out of Paul Mallory, too.”
“Sam Ballanger, you are a caution.” Elvis started laughing, then stopped abruptly. He looked at Matt and Sam. “You two are quite a pair. Slicker ’n cow slobber,” he said, reverting to good ole boy vernacular. “How’d you like to partner with me in a little side venture? I’ve been wantin’ to open a booking agency for Elvis impersonators. All I need is a little capital.”
“And I should give you money!” Sam asked incredulously.
Matt laughed until his arm ached from the vibrations. “Sam doesn’t lend money—even to me.”
Scruggs glanced from Matt to Sam. “Hey, don’t look at me like that!” he said as Sam’s eyes narrowed dangerously on him. She slipped from the bed and advanced on the agent.
He threw up his hands and started backing through the open door. “All right. Okay. You win. Elvis is leaving the building!”
As they rode home the next day, Matt studied his wife uneasily. “My aunt will be waiting for us at the condo,” he said, wondering if she’d share whatever harebrained scheme the two of them had cooked up with him before Claudia lowered the boom on him. Uh-oh, that Tweety Bird smile again.
She reached over with one hand and placed it on his thigh, rubbing it suggestively as she drove. “As a matter of fact, I was about to bring up her proposition. Sorta give you a heads up.” She snickered at her pun, feeling his response to her caress.
“What proposition? No money to stay married to me,” he growled, feeling his ardor cool.
; Sam shook her head adamantly. “Of course not. Word of honor.” The hand remained in its strategic place.
“Then what did she ‘propose’?” he asked, still suspicious.
“Oh, just something that we would eventually consider anyway…if I don’t brain you for your bullheadedness first,” she replied sweetly.
Ignoring her threat, which she made frequently, he asked, “What, Sam?”
“Aunt Claudia, out of the goodness of her heart—and considering your propensity for placing your life in danger—feels that we should start a family. She’s offered me a million-buck college trust fund for our kid as soon as I get pregnant!”
ISBN: 978-1-4268-5933-5
SNEAK AND RESCUE
Copyright © 2006 by Shirl Henke
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*Samantha Ballanger adventures
*Samantha Ballanger adventures