The man was speaking again. “I was hired to deliver my message and be on my way. If she was with you in the camp, I’d have delivered it right then. But now, you’re unfortunately in the way. Too bad, cause you’re kinda hot.”
“Dubs, stall this guy. If he’s got a message for me, I want to talk to him.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s slow this down, boss. Don’t want anyone getting hurt. I was out for a walk, stumbled into your camp, you got all skittery and started shooting at me. I’m not an idiot. I ran. But now that we’re chatting, who is Holt Lasher? What’s the message? And why did you think you’d just happen to run into her out here?”
“None of your damn business.”
“None of my business? That’s insulting. I was enjoying a beautiful morning in the woods. Then you pulled your tiny little pistol outta your pants and started waving it around. That’s really not my thing.”
Lola could picture Dubs’s face and her “not impressed” expression. She hoped this guy didn’t shoot her for insulting his dick.
“Fucking bitch.”
“Hey, buddy, I’m talking about your gun. Little sensitive? Whatever you got going on, that’s not my thing either.”
“I’ve got no problems.”
“Of course not. Why don’t we keep everything all tucked in though, since there’s nothing for you to measure against anyway? Except your little pistol. I’d hate for you to shoot your dick off just to prove something to me. But there’s really no need to point it at me, either.”
“Dubs,” Max said, her voice holding a clear warning. “Stop baiting him into killing you.
“We’re becoming friends. I can tell. But I’m feeling a little exposed. Naked, even. How about partially naked, given that you’ve got your little pistol, but all I’m packin’ is my smile,” Dubs said.
“Jesus, Dubs, you sent them to me,” Max said. “I asked Isabelle to check my phone because I was busy with something.”
“You’ve got a weird way of making friends,” the man said.
“See, like I said, friends. So maybe we can keep all your equipment put away for now, since I’m clearly not the person you were looking for. Good boy. Isn’t it better without the gun waggling around in my face? You aren’t the first person to insult my social skills, but I’m not holding it against you. I’m also not going to hold it against you that you just threatened to kill me. I don’t think you meant it. We’re friends now, remember? You even told me about your pistol problems.”
“Do you ever stop talking?” the man asked.
“No,” Dubs said as Max, Isabelle, Holt, Jose, and Moose answered simultaneously over the comms.
“You’ve piqued my curiosity. Why do you want to talk to Holt Lasher?”
“That’s between me and her,” he said. “Sorry, but I’m done talking to you, and I think you were one of the ones who stormed my camp. Morning stroll, my ass. If I kill you, maybe Holt will get my message after all.”
“Oh, fuck it. I’m done playing nicely with you,” Dubs said.
Lola figured that was her cue to get her ass to Dubs because she was about to do something stupid. Good thing she was about thirty seconds away.
“Here’s the thing, Mason. I’m a bond enforcement agent and I work for Holt. You’re right. I targeted your camp. So if you want to talk to her, it’s my business. I also take it really fucking personal when someone shoots at me, and I happen to know that Holt’s on her way here. So is my good friend Lola, who is built like the expansion pack of Holt. But I’m reasonable, so I’ll give you a choice. I can tell her that you’re already disarmed and of no threat to me since you didn’t actually shoot me, or I can leave out that bit of information since you tried and you can get your ass kicked. It’s up to you. I really, really enjoy the shit-storm when someone threatens one of Holt’s pack, but you probably won’t.”
“Fuck you,” Mason said.
“I was really hoping you’d say that,” Dubs said.
Lola saw Dubs and Mason about twenty feet ahead of her in a small clearing. Mason had his gun six inches from Dubs’s chest. Lola’s vision tunneled in on the gun trained on someone she loved. She felt fury blossom from her chest and spark through every pore.
A branch cracked loudly when Lola stepped on it, and for a second, she thought Mason had fired. Dubs must have thought the same thing because she looked down at her chest and raised her hand, maybe looking for a wound or steadying a runaway heartbeat.
Lola crossed the distance to Mason in six strides. As she approached, he swung the gun toward her. She could see he was preparing to fire, but she didn’t care. She was just relieved to have the muzzle safely away from Dubs.
She lunged for his arm and flung it skyward, sending his shot blasting into the treetops behind them, showering the ground with leafy confetti. She hadn’t gotten a good grip on his arm when she deflected the shot, and he scampered away. She was sure he thought it was a safe distance to regroup and take aim. He clearly didn’t expect her to keep coming at him. As Holt always said, possessing a firearm gave a false sense of security and invincibility.
Mason backpedaled away from Lola at a good pace, but wasn’t looking where he was going. He smacked into a tree and dropped to one knee. When he stood again, he seemed to remember he had the gun and raised it. Lola saw his hands were shaking, though, making the gun wobble wildly. She kept moving forward, although more cautiously than she had been.
When it looked like Mason was about to fire again, she prepared her charge. She went for his gun hand again. As she slammed into his arm, again forcing his shot wild, Holt flew out of the shrubs nearby and executed a near perfect tackle. She drove her shoulders into his chest. They flew through the air and landed four feet away, Holt on top. The gun flew from his hand on impact and slid a few feet away and lay harmlessly in the dirt.
“Dude, I’ve been on the bottom of that pile. It’s not fun. I did try to warn you,” Dubs said.
She pulled a pair of handcuffs from Lola’s back pocket and handed them to Holt, who was explaining Mason’s rights and next steps. She had her knee planted firmly in his back.
Holt looked down at Mason. “I hear you want to talk to me? Who hired you? How did you know I’d be coming after you?”
“Get off me,” Mason said.
Holt let up the pressure on his back and pulled him into a sitting position.
“Talk.”
“I never show up for court. When I teamed up with the other two, everyone knew I’d get you on my ass. We all got the same message. Whoever got to you first got to deliver. It’s from Kevin Garvey.”
Lola heard a gasp through the comms.
“Never heard of him,” Holt said.
Holt didn’t react. Lola didn’t know if she was being “work Holt” or if she had turned off her earpiece. Lola was pretty sure the gasp was Isabelle and Holt never ignored Isabelle. She glanced at Dubs, who was staring at Holt speculatively.
“Uh, boss,” Lola said.
Holt continued to stay focused on Mason. “Not now.”
“Turn on your comm, boss,” Dubs said.
Clearly, Dubs had heard it too. Lola hadn’t thought Holt would have her comms off. Maybe her earpiece had gotten turned off or fallen out when she tackled Mason.
Holt flicked at her ear and activated her earpiece.
“He knows you,” Mason said. “And he wants to talk. He’s offering a lot of money to anyone who gets a message to you. If you don’t talk to him, he said he’s going to pay a visit to his relatives, starting with his daughters. Then he’ll move on to his grandkids.” He shrugged. “That’s it. He said you’d find a way to get in touch.”
“And why would I care ab—”
“Holt, baby. Kevin Garvey. That’s my father,” Isabelle said. “My father’s threatening our family.”
Falling in love with Isabelle had mellowed Holt, cooled her temper, but Lola knew it was always lurking. The Hulk was angry now.
Holt nodded toward Dubs and pointed to Mason
before she walked a short distance away. She looked like she was laser focused on a tree in front of her, but Lola knew her attention was back in Providence, with her family. She was radiating so much energy, Lola was surprised a few trees hadn’t come down around her. Dodging gunshots from Mason hadn’t provided the same adrenaline rush of watching Holt’s eruption of rage. It was like standing next to pure kinetic energy knowing you were about to get hit with the wave from the explosion. It would knock you on your ass, but it also meant something powerful had just happened. She wanted to be along for the ride.
“Isabelle, get George and go home. Call Ellen and have her and her family meet you at our house. Max, get Tuna and whoever else isn’t working a high priority case. Secure my house. There’s a nest of baby bunnies in the side yard. They don’t twitch a whisker without you knowing, understood?”
“Seems like overkill, love,” Isabelle said. “He wants to talk to you, right? I’m sure we’ll be fine until you get back. He’s a jerk, but I don’t think he’d really hurt us.” Isabelle didn’t sound all that confident.
“He raised his hand to you. He’s already hurt you, and he’s offered money to these assholes in order to get a message to us. That’s all I need to know. Humor me,” Holt said. She sounded a little desperate. “I’m twelve hundred miles away.”
“Okay,” Isabelle said. “Anything you need. But I’m not the scared teenager I was back then. He wouldn’t be able to knock me around anymore. And he would never lay a hand on George. All the same, get home soon.”
“Max, get us a route out of these woods. Jose, Moose, meet at the rally point. You’ll be taking possession of Mason, my guy back at their campsite, and Lola’s skip. Dubs, we’re going to need a way home. Think you can handle that?”
“Jesus, boss, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”
Lola moved closer to Holt. She’d learned everything she knew from Holt, they were as close as family, and right now it looked like she could use a friend. Holt looked less angry than frantic. Not being able to get to Isabelle was probably eating her up. Lola understood. They were both women of action who didn’t sit well in the quiet times, but when those busy times put loved ones in danger, the quiet started to look damn good. Whatever menace was coming at them now, she’d stand with Holt, and Heaven help anyone who threatened Holt’s pack.
Chapter Two
“I swear, H, if you don’t get your ass back across the street, we’re not going anywhere.”
“Dubs, just get me a fucking ride and point it toward Providence,” Holt said. She was trying to keep her temper under wraps, but Isabelle was in trouble and she was too far away. Whatever bullshit Dubs was playing at, Holt wasn’t in the mood.
“I will. As soon as you move back across the street.”
So far, Lola hadn’t said a word; she’d just stood watching Holt and Dubs spar. Now she came over and spoke quietly to Holt. “Whatever you’re about to threaten her with, you might want to reconsider. I know you’re scared. But even you haven’t been hit in the head too many times to see she’s trying to protect you.”
Holt considered. Most of her crew had worked with her for so long they were like a second skin. Anyone new she trained in a very specific way. Dubs had been a wildcard from the moment she walked onto the scene, and she was nowhere near trained yet.
“Will you get me the damn car if I threaten to fire you?” Holt asked.
“Not where you’re currently standing,” Dubs said.
“Threaten to fire Max?”
“She’d understand.”
“You’re protecting me?” Holt glanced at Lola and saw her grin.
“Finally, the truth trickled through that thick head of yours,” Dubs said. “Kindly move your ass out of sight of these cameras and we can be on our way.”
“Lola gets to stay for the fun?” Holt said, grumbling as she moved across the street. Dubs still surprised her, which was nice and a little unnerving.
“I’d only be in the way,” Lola said. “I’m coming with you.”
Stealing a car wasn’t Holt’s first choice, but they were in the middle of nowhere. It was after dark and long past closing time for anywhere that could’ve rented or sold them a car. This was the only dealership within a reasonable distance, and according to the handwritten sign taped to the window, the owner was out of town for a long weekend. Moose and Jose were driving to Detroit to process their prisoners, not quite trusting the size of the local police force here with such high value captures. So she was having Dubs commandeer them a ride.
They only had to wait a couple of minutes before Dubs pulled up next to them in a flashy sports car and pushed open the passenger door. Lola glared at Dubs before cramming herself into the backseat of the slick two-door coupe. Holt felt bad for Lola. She was over six feet tall, and it didn’t look like a comfortable ride in the back, but Holt wasn’t about to trade. She wasn’t much shorter. Being the boss had some perks. The only one who could comfortably fit was Dubs, and Holt knew prying her out of the driver’s seat right now would take an act of God.
“Subtle car.”
“It is. There was a Jaguar F-type back there. Do you know how hard it was for me to leave that beauty behind? But this car will blend in. Besides, I thought you wanted to get home fast. This is fast. Now, a few rules. I drive, obviously. I control the radio. Lola has the worst taste in music so she doesn’t even get veto power. Isabelle’s gonna need you in tip-top shape, so take a nap or something. You two should also probably do something about those cuts on your arms and face. Did you even look where you were running out there? If the Queen asks, Moose and Jose were in charge of keeping you looking pretty. I had nothing to do with it.”
Holt stifled a laugh. The thought of Isabelle hearing Dubs refer to her as “the Queen” was too much. She was her queen, but she didn’t know if Isabelle would appreciate the rest of the crew giving her a royal title. “Does Isabelle know you call her that?”
“Does it matter? It’s what she is, right?”
Holt couldn’t argue. She’d had this conversation with Isabelle. If her crew was forced to choose sides, she wasn’t sure she would have anyone standing in her corner anymore. It was something she was thankful for. It meant everyone who worked for her, her extended family, watched over Isabelle and their son, George, as if they were flesh and blood.
“Does that make me the king?” Holt asked.
“Nah,” Dubs said.
“Why not? I’m the boss, right? Isn’t the king the boss?” Holt asked. She thought she understood patriarchy.
“You’re so adorable, H,” Dubs said.
Dubs hit the highway onramp and accelerated rapidly. They were flying toward home. Holt felt calmer than she had since she’d confronted Mason and learned there was a threat to Isabelle.
“Aren’t you going to do anything to defend me?” Holt asked Lola. She could use a little backup.
“That last pothole shoved my kneecap into my eardrum,” Lola said. “I’ve got bigger problems than explaining to you exactly how fast your crew would drop your ass at one word from your lady.”
Holt nodded. Just as she suspected.
“And turn her down a crank or two,” Lola said. “Pretzel’s not a shape I can pull off.”
Holt looked at Dubs. She was always vibrating with energy, but it was pouring off her now. She remembered Max telling her how keyed up Dubs got after stealing cars back when they were working on their first case together, busting a massive car theft ring.
“You drive for now,” Holt said. “Put whatever you want on the radio. I’m going to check in with Max.” She keyed her earpiece and waited for Max to pick up. Before she did, Dubs paired her phone with the car stereo, and bass heavy pop music came through the speakers at such a volume that Holt felt her heartbeat synchronize to the bass line.
“That you, boss?” Max said in her ear.
Holt switched off the radio. Dubs protested loudly. “Yeah. We’re headed back. Half of Michigan is charting our progress via s
onic boom.”
“Look,” Max said. “She doesn’t get to steal cars anymore, but the high she gets from it hasn’t gone away. Unless you’re going to have sex with her—”
“I’m not.”
“Damn right,” Max said possessively, “you gotta let her burn it off with music or she’ll be breaking the sound barrier for real. It’s not louder than the gym. Everyone’s tucked in here. Isabelle and George are asleep. Everyone’s safe, H. I got you.”
“Thanks, Max. CB, thirty.”
Dubs looked at Holt when she hung up. “Can I turn my music back on? And is everyone all right?”
“I thought you drove extra carefully right after you stole a car,” Holt said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. “Right now you’re twenty miles over the speed limit.”
“And your music is terrible and loud enough to be heard from space,” Lola said.
“Please, I know you love crappy pop music, so don’t start. And we need to get home. It’s worth the risk. This car won’t be reported for a couple of days, if it gets reported at all. And I’m riding with Holt Lasher, Captain America, Superman, Captain Marvel, you know, disgusting levels of upstanding goodness. I’m safe. If we get pulled over, just show your decoder ring, or flex, or something.”
“And yet you wouldn’t let me be seen on camera stealing a car.”
“Well, I served my time. I’m mostly reformed. I’m practically a good guy now,” Dubs said.
“It’s the ‘practically’ that makes me nervous,” Holt said. She didn’t seem particularly nervous at all.
“You going to yap through my adrenaline rush and kill this for me, or let me wind down, H? I barely get this kind of rush anymore since you forced me into retirement.”
Holt shook her head and laughed. She didn’t quite remember forcing Dubs to give up stealing cars, but she wasn’t going to argue right now. She leaned over and turned the music back on.
Twenty-seven minutes later, Holt woke from her doze when the music went silent.
“Max will be calling, boss,” Dubs said as way of explanation.
Data Capture Page 2