Superior Collision

by C. A. Szarek

  Taylor jolted.

  Shannon shrugged when he threw her a glance, but his mouth twitched as if he was fighting a smile. He made no effort to correct his niece.

  She couldn’t, either. Her voice had disappeared.

  Girlfriend implied relationship, and that wasn’t what was going on between them.

  Right?

  It’s just sex. She had to tell herself that. Ignored the answer that was too-quick—it doesn’t feel like just sex.

  Shannon reached for her hand and tugged. He kissed her knuckles before enfolding her fingers in his. Keeping her warm… Safe.

  She sucked back a gasp. Needed to relax or she would never get through this. Jesus, what’s wrong with me? Taylor could force criminals—some really bad guys—to do whatever she needed them to. Cuff them. Arrest them. Manhandle them when necessary—even hold them at gunpoint—but she couldn’t handle a shopping trip with a thirteen-year-old girl?

  “Are you all right?” Shannon whispered after he reminded his niece to buckle up and shut the back door to his truck.

  Taylor forced a nod. She’d have to be.

  “Okay.” He paused, staring. “Then…”

  “What?”

  “Why are you standing here? By the driver’s side?”

  “Oh.” Heat burned her neck and she fought the urge to look down or jump fifty feet in the air. She scrambled to the other side of the Toyota and wrenched the door open.

  If he laughed at her, she’d kill him.

  Cailey chattered away as soon as Shannon started to back down the long driveway. She talked about everything and nothing, making her uncle laugh along the way.

  The more they interacted, the more discomfort clawed up from Taylor’s gut. She tried to relax, but her spine was straight and her shoulders ached from bunching up. She sat as far away from Shannon as the bench seat would allow.

  He slid a hand to her thigh and she jolted.

  When their eyes met at a red light, Taylor muttered an apology. She took a deep breath and told herself to chill out.

  “Taylor…”

  “I’m good,” she said quickly.

  Cailey had stopped talking.

  Taylor could feel the girl’s gaze glued to them. She tried not to twitch. The warmth of Shannon’s large hand seeped through her jeans. Her heart skipped, but his touch had the desired effect. She was able to calm. Breathe easier.

  “Hey, Cails, why don’t you regale Taylor with the tale of your epic save last season?” His amber eyes darted to the rearview mirror, then back to Taylor. He gave a half-smile that had her pulse stuttering again.

  She glanced at the kid in time to see the excitement in her eyes. Her face came to life even before she’d said one word. Taylor found herself smiling back, she couldn’t help it.

  “It was epic! I am awesome.”

  Shannon chuckled and shook his head. “She doesn’t have an ego, either.”

  “In the slightest,” Taylor said.

  Her lover grinned and squeezed her thigh like she’d made his day.

  As his niece talked, Taylor relaxed more and more. She listened to the eager young voice, and laughed at the innocent enthusiasm Cailey exuded. She was so sweet and bubbly, but witty, too, and smart for her age.

  She could see the girl’s appeal, and as she watched, Taylor teetered from feeling like an outsider to being fully involved in their conversations. It wasn’t like they tried to exclude her—quite the opposite—but from one moment to the next, alarm washed over her, as if she really was an unwelcome intruder.

  Watching them interact was too real.

  Their connection was too strong, more like father-to-daughter than uncle-to-niece. So normal. An ease of interaction and obvious affection that’d been absent in her own family.

  Her staid and stoic father would never have teased her like Shannon teased Cailey. Would never have hugged her or kissed her forehead.

  Never would’ve done a lot of things.

  This kid meant the world to her lover. He’d told her that, but seeing it was different. Seeing it was…everything.

  Shannon Crowley wasn’t a good man. He was a great one. One that sent her emotions into havoc, and no amount of repeating her father’s mantra helped. At. All.

  He held Taylor’s hand as they walked through the huge sporting goods store, and Cailey continued to prattle away, but, like her uncle, the girl wouldn’t allow Taylor to be an observer.

  Cailey asked her questions—and not just about softball. She wanted Taylor’s opinion on the equipment she needed, other clothes she wanted, and acted as if she wanted to get to know her.

  Taylor didn’t know how to take that. Or how she wanted to take it.

  “Be right back, gonna try these on.” Her voice was breathless as she held up two long-sleeved shirts, one pink and one blue, with a similar screen-print on the front.

  “You’re not getting both!” Shannon called after her but his niece only flashed a grin and disappeared into the fitting room. “Brat will probably get her way.”

  Taylor laughed. “There’s usually someone at fault when a child is spoiled.”

  “Hey, I don’t spoil her!” His protest came with a grin and his voice was too forced.

  She smirked. “Right.”

  “She’s not a bad kid.”

  “No, not at all. She’s…a delight.”

  He fell silent, and his grin faded into a soft smile that did her insides in. Would’ve made her legs mush, too, if Taylor had let it.

  Shannon was so handsome he took her breath. The word mine floated around in her head, but she banished it.

  “So…”

  “So what?” She tried to make it a snap, but failed.

  “Are you okay with all this?”

  What’s ‘all this’? was on the tip of her tongue, but she was afraid of the answer. “It’s been a good day,” Taylor whispered finally, nodding.

  Shannon grabbed her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles then squeezed her fingers. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”

  Taylor’s tummy wobbled and she swallowed hard, fighting the urge to sway. She couldn’t look away from Shannon’s whiskey gaze, and that scared her shitless.

  * * * *

  Rage boiled up from Carter’s gut, and he saw red. He seethed from the inside out, panting for air. He read the text again, but all it did was make his hands shake more. He let out a string of curses that would’ve made the foulest trucker proud, and he squeezed his cell in his palm in lieu of tossing it across his shitty hotel room. If it broke, he’d just have to go through the hassle of the next one set up. He had a bag full of new burner phones but was trying to make them last.

  He let out the yell he was holding back then he screamed until his throat was raw.

  Some of the anger dissipated, but he was still quaking from head to foot.

  “Who does that fucker think he is?” he hollered at the walls. “Fuck you, Kai March!”

  When he opened his eyes, the red receded slowly. He blinked to clear his vision and made himself breathe. Carter was done with that fucker and his crew. Rowdy’s money would have to be enough. He had most of Bubba’s thirty grand left, too. If he disappeared, his Californian friend would just have to forgive him. Or he could wire it back when he got somewhere safe.

  But first he had shit to handle that didn’t involve his ex-teammate or the big car fence.

  Kai and his assholes had insulted him for the last time, and he was going to take care of it. They thought they could throw him out of the train hit after all this time? After dealing with all their shit?

  No. Fucking. Way.

  He couldn’t look at the asshole’s text again, but it was burned into his memory.

  You’re out. We don’t need you after all. The deal’s off.

  Carter had been strung along. Meeting after meeting, where no one had given a flying fuck about his opinion. The last meeting, ten times worse than the first.

  He had barely sat through it without answering the i
tch in his trigger finger. Kai enjoyed ordering him around, having him at his beck and call. Screaming ‘jump’ only to have Carter be forced to ask ‘how high?’

  Now he’d been thrown out? With only a few days left, and no reason given?

  “Fuck that.”

  He yanked his jacket on and shoved his gun into his waistband.

  Carter got in the jalopy and slammed the car door. He dug around under the passenger seat and dragged out the box with ammo and extra mags for his H & K forty.

  The magazines were already loaded, but he needed visual—no, physical—confirmation. He palmed two of the four, making sure that they were ready to go, like the one already loaded into his weapon. He always kept a bullet in the chamber, too.

  The drive to the warehouse wasn’t hurried. He stopped at all red lights and stop signs, and followed the various speed limits, too.

  Carter couldn’t risk getting pulled over—the police were still on the no way list. He’d never killed a cop, but if he had police interaction, he’d have no choice.

  The farther he went, the more resolved he became to kill the whole crew. He’d root around their place, too. Take whatever money he could find. Hoped they’d all be home. Knowing Kai, there was probably another meeting, but this time Carter had been excluded.

  He didn’t bother being quiet about his arrival. He pounded on the side door he’d always entered the place through.

  It swung open, and Asshole Number One’s—or was it Two, he couldn’t keep them straight—eyes went wide. “What d’you—?”

  Carter raised his gun and fired, putting his first bullet right between the guy’s eyes. Blood spattered, and he blinked when it hit his face.

  The body crumpled and he stepped over it.

  The warehouse had soundproofing, according to Kai, so Carter pulled the door closed behind him. He’d contain this situation as much as he could.

  He’d made his way down a winding hallway before he encountered anyone else.

  The next two guys were in the living area, lying on the plush white area rug and playing a video game on the big screen like he hadn’t just roasted their buddy.

  It was a shooting game—fitting—but that might’ve been why they hadn’t paid attention to the shot at the door. There was no way they hadn’t heard it.

  “What the fuck?” Another set of eyes widened when they noticed him.

  Carter pulled the trigger and hit the guy on the right in the throat. Pretty apropos, since it was the bastard with the scary neck tat.

  His body seized and he gargled, rolling over on the carpet. The other guy scrambled for the handgun on the table behind them, but Carter pulled his trigger and hit him in the back of the head before he got there.

  The body collapsed, halfway on top of his buddy, his arm stretched out, only inches from the big Beretta.

  Carter looked around. Where were the rest of them? He was three for three, direct kill hits, but it was still three loud gunshots.

  A bullet whizzed by his head and he swore. Glass shattered from somewhere behind him.

  He darted behind the massive TV. His leg gave a protest, but he ignored it and crouched down. A sore leg was better than dead.

  So they know I’m here. Goodie.

  Carter avoided a few more shots behind the big console, but it wasn’t good cover. The TV had been hit, and shattered.

  He fired back, then stopped wasting his bullets and just listened. Needed to locate the rest of the crew and take care of business.

  If memory served, Kai had a safe in his office. He’d head there next.

  “Carter, I’m gonna kill your ass!” the crew leader yelled from somewhere to the left.

  Not likely.

  He didn’t bother yelling back.

  Someone darted in front of him on his way to cover.

  Carter fired and the guy dropped. It was the blond computer tech.

  Damn. He felt a half-twinge of regret. The guy had been the only one to not treat him like shit.

  He wasn’t dead. He started calling for help. For Kai to save him.

  Carter pushed off the floor and cursed at the pain in his leg. He shook it out and rounded the console, taking a shot to finish off Blondie.

  His head listed to the right and blood leaked from his mouth. It had already started to pool beneath his body, slowly creeping across the concrete on its way to the white carpet that was now a red sponge from the other two guys.

  “You piece of fucking shit!” Kai fired rounds as he crossed the distance between them.

  Carter dove and dodged, landing hard on his ass underneath the makeshift table they’d always had their meetings at. Chairs he bumped screeched backwards and one fell over.

  His hip and back throbbed, but he’d avoided getting shot. He grabbed the huge piece of wood and turned it upright in front of him.

  Computers and the tech equipment hit the concrete with various thuds and shattering noises. The stacked milk-crates toppled and the plans for the heist floated to the floor.

  Carter popped up and fired twice, but he didn’t wait to see if he’d hit Kai.

  The yell and clang of metal hitting the floor told him he had.

  “You. Fucker.” The over-pierced crew leader lay in a growing pool of his own blood, clutching his abdomen. He panted and couldn’t sit up when he tried.

  The blood was dark, almost black.

  Good, he’d hit him in the liver.

  Carter’s eyes darted to the gun, which had slid about five feet from them, and the black-leather-clad asshole wasn’t making an effort to retrieve it. Kai was too busy trying to keep his blood in his big body.

  “What’s the combination to your safe?”

  “Fuck. You.” Kai’s spittle was red, indicating that Carter had maybe nicked his lungs, too.

  “Pretty sure it’s a number, not a phrase.” He smiled and raised his H & K. “You can tell me, or I can get your sorry ass up and take you to your office with me.”

  Kai laughed and more red spittle and pink foam formed around his lips. “Do you think I’m afraid of you now?” he panted. His chest was heaving as he struggled for breath.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Carter gestured toward the office with his gun. “Just tell me what I need to know and I’ll leave you…to rest.”

  “Fuck you, Bennett.”

  Carter rolled his eyes. “All I wanted was some dough. Only a few more days, then I would’ve been out of your life. So, really, you can take the blame for this…turn of events.”

  The guy laughed again, and sputtered more blood. His head hit the ground and he rolled to his side, groaning. “Bubba…won’t…like this. We go…way back.”

  “I’ll apologize. The safe.”

  “It’s open, you fucker.” This was clearer than Kai’s previous gasp. His eyes threw daggers at Carter.

  “Thank you.” He raised the H & K and pulled the trigger.

  Kai’s body jerked. More crimson spatter hit Carter’s legs and shoes.

  Shit. It was going to take him hours to clean himself up.

  He shook his head and looked down into Kai’s unseeing eyes. “Now you can rest.”

  Carter made his way to the office. The safe was about five feet tall, and about as wide. Kai hadn’t lied—the heavy door was ajar.

  He pulled it open and took a double take at the neatly stacked bills. There were guns and ammo, too. The first things he grabbed were three boxes of forty caliber bullets. He shoved them, and all the money, into a red bag that’d been on the floor.

  More for his cause. Good. Like Rowdy’s money, he’d count it later.

  When he got back to that apartment and had a little talk with Camille Bonner.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Wyoming was balls-freezing cold, even though it was almost spring. Damn, he should’ve picked another state. The snow crunched under his brand new shitkickers as Rowdy made his way back to the little cabin he’d rented dirt cheap.

  The old woman who owned the place hadn’t batted an eye when
he’d paid for three months with cash, more than she’d asked, so he could be left alone. She’d even directed him to the store where he’d gotten enough supplies—including a cord of firewood—to lie low for most of that pre-paid time.

  Rowdy had needed the wood, too. The cabin was old school with a capital O, with a wood-burning stove to heat the place. The old woman had told him she’d always meant to get gas service installed, but the place was too remote and it was too expensive.

  Its only ‘luxury’ was indoor plumbing, but she’d cautioned him about pipes freezing. No gas, no hot water. She’d told him if he wanted a hot shower, he was welcome to come to her place, which was a few miles down the road.

  No thanks. He’d heat up water on the stove and make do.

  If he managed to keep all his tender parts in the time he’d be there, Rowdy might consider paying for the install himself. But so far, the wood stove was adequately heating the two room building, though cooking food was a bitch.

  The little general store even had burner phones, so he’d bought one and slapped some minutes on it. Luckily the phone worked at his new home, but he’d been warned by the old woman and the guy at the store that service could be spotty, especially when there was any kind of weather activity.

  So far so good on the calls he’d made, though there’d only been two. He’d called Cami and told her he was safe, but not where he was. She’d begged to know more, but at least she hadn’t sobbed. He’d even talked to Devon, and managed not to cry like a pussy when his nephew’s voice had wavered and the little guy had admitted missing him. Rowdy missed them both, too.

  He’d promised to check in at least once a week, and he’d stick to that. He didn’t have anything better to do, after all.

  Maybe he could take up hunting. God knew there were no cars for him to work on around here. Fixing and suping up cars—and stealing them—were about the only things he’d ever been good at, but he was done with all that. He’d told his sister the truth. The crap with Carter aside, he’d been wanting out for some time. He’d just never had the balls to broach the subject with Joe.

  Rowdy sucked in frigid Wyoming air and looked up at the bright sky. Snow had stopped falling, but more was due later that night.