The Steele Collection Books 1-3: Sarah Steele Legal Thrillers

by Aaron Patterson

  I did a circle around the cabin and saw Hotah sitting on a ragged couch in the living room with a bottle in his hand. He was alone. Maybe he would be drunk by now and kill himself with pain meds. I figured he would be in serious pain with how bad his burns were.

  I held my gun out in front of me and down, like Solomon showed me back when I first learned gun safety, took a deep breath, and opened the door. It creaked on its hinges. I jumped in the room and dodged to the left in case Hotah was armed.

  The couch was empty, and before I could react, I heard the unmistakable pop and electric crackle of a Taser. Something struck me in the shoulder. My body wrenched in pain and every muscle convulsed. I fell to the ground, shaking, my teeth chattering. Tears ran unbidden down my cheeks and I groaned.

  My mind shut off and everything was a blur. Funny thing about pain—it makes everything else seem not to matter. I just wanted it to stop.

  Hotah’s fuzzy form limped from the corner. I gasped for breath, but I couldn’t get my lungs to cooperate. My muscles didn’t respond, but my mind was alert and overloading all at the same time—I was helpless. He leaned down and jammed something into my neck. It stung and then his hand trailed down my chest. Screams rose in my throat, but I couldn’t get them out.

  “Your skin is so smooth.” He still smelled of charred flesh and his voice echoed like we were in a large bathroom. “It’s not going to be so smooth after I cut you again and again.”

  Think, Sarah. Focus on one thing. Try to relax.

  Hotah looked around and he came into view a little clearer now as the electricity began to fade away, but I felt weird, and unable to move like I should. “You meant to get me alone, didn’t you? You have the hots for me. I could see it in your eyes the first time we met. You want me—you all do. It’s not a stretch to believe that you white girls would want a little dark meat.” He grinned, and there was something in his eyes that scared me. There was a monster in there—I knew well what it looked like. “You didn’t have to burn me to get my attention, but maybe that’s your thing. Are you into the hard stuff? Like it rough, huh?”

  “Dirty . . . bastard,” I choked out.

  I had been so foolish to underestimate Hotah. My own pride and zest for the chase got in the way of my common sense. But it wasn’t over yet. I thought fast, sizing up the room and looking for an out. The place was filthy. The floor was covered in dirt clumps and dust. A little bed, without a frame, sat in a corner with a ratty quilt on it. There was another room, but I couldn’t tell if it was a bathroom or bedroom. A fireplace took up one wall and I spied a little shovel, broom, and poker that could be used as weapons. The shovel I had with me lay a few feet away—that was my best bet. I couldn’t find my gun I must have dropped it when I got Tasered.

  “I gave you something to calm your nerves, it is mild but should make you feel good, don’t you want to feel good?” He chuckled. “I’m gonna prepare a little place for you over here so you’ll be comfortable in the days to come.” He limped to a chair and set it in front of the fireplace, then attached four handcuffs—one on each leg.

  Hotah looked over his shoulder at me and winked. “You know this is where I killed my grandmother?” He laughed. “She didn’t fight me, but then, she didn’t really think I’d do it.”

  With all my might, I tried to move. I felt a bit of warmth in my fingers—was the feeling returning?

  He leaned over me, pressing his cheek against mine. And he bit my ear. Oh, God. Please, God. Let my feeling return. “Your blood tastes good.” He pulled the Taser darts out and scooped me up in his arms and moaned in agony when I my body brushed against his burned thighs. Heat swept up my body. This was it!

  I swung my fist, connecting with his chin. Hotah’s head snapped around. He dropped me. I rolled to my feet and lunged forward, but fell facefirst as my legs gave out. Crawling away from him, I managed to get my feet under me, and when I was up, he was on top of me. “You do like it rough. You’ll pay for that one kitten!” He thought this was a game? He was insane, and his speech seemed a little off kilter but maybe that was due to whatever he injected me with.

  I dodged his fist and hooked my ankle behind his and pushed him back. He fell, hard. He screamed a curse and writhed on the floor.

  Scrambling for the shovel I spotted my gun under the edge of the couch. I reached out and grabbed the gun holding it with two hands. “Hands up, Hotah! Not a move, not a single move. My hands are all shaky from that Taser, so I may shoot you by accident.”

  Hotah was on his back and blood seeped from his lip. Our eyes met and he spat at me.

  “You nasty whore.” Hotah wriggled, trying to get to his feet, and I steadied the gun and pointed it at his face. He froze and raised his hands.

  I pressed my hand against my ear to stem the bleeding. “Sit down in that chair.” I motioned to the wooden chair he’d prepared for me.

  “And if I don’t?” He should have been scared, but he seemed more annoyed than anything else.

  “If you don’t, I’ll kill you,” I stated in a flat tone.

  “You don’t have the guts. You’re just a girl.” He was on his rear with his knees up and his hands in the air, but as he talked, he was lowering them.

  I shot him in the kneecap. He yelped like a wounded dog and collapsed, clutching his bloody knee.

  “Next one is to your head.” My voice trembled. Not from fear or terror, but from pure rage. I was using every ounce of my self-control not to plug him in the face.

  “You crazy bitch.” Hotah dragged himself to the chair and pulled himself up into it, breathing hard. I smiled tightly.

  Hotah sneered at me, both hands over his bloody leg. Blood seeped through his fingers. I could smell it, its rich, vibrant scent.

  That switched something inside me. “You like killing women, don’t you, Hotah.”

  He laughed. “They deserved it, but that’s not all I like to do. Come closer ad I’ll show you.”

  Walking behind him, I was still a little woozy but able to snap the cuffs into place around his hands first and then his ankles. He moaned through gritted teeth and muttered a curse.

  “And Lina Sever—did she deserve it?”

  “She got off easy. She was a rat. I should have killed that stupid reporter, too.”

  I wanted to keep him talking. The more he talked, the stronger I felt. “You’re just a lapdog to Chaska. You’ve never had an original idea in your life.”

  Hotah rattled his restraints and cursed. “I’m no one’s lapdog. You think you have it all figured out, think you know what’s going on here? You know nothing. I tell you what I want you to know, and what are you? You’re nothing.” If he was drunk or high on something, the shot to his knee must have sobered him up.

  I winked at him. ”Wow, you really thought that would work? Let me guess. In your little childlike mind, I would get angry because you’re insinuating that I’m weak. Maybe I’d even slip up and give you a chance to get the upper hand? Come now, I thought you were smarter than that.”

  Hotah grinned. “Yeah, I guess I did. So what now—you gonna shoot me again?”

  His face wrinkled and he licked his lips, scanning my body up and down. “Now run away and go call your white cop buddies. Have them get the Justice Department to come and slap me on the wrist.” He laughed. “This isn’t your place—it’s my place. Now get the hell out!”

  He was right. I could send evidence to the Idaho State Police or to Solomon and ask him to pass it to the right people. I would send it to Timothy James and Yona—have them spread the news through the country. Everything might wrap up in a neat little package, but it wasn’t enough. Lina Sever, his grandmother, the two casino girls, and however countless other victims deserved more, and I couldn’t deny it. I needed more. I could feel the tension in my shoulders, the desire to give in to the need growing in me.

  “You’re right, Hotah. The only way to end this is to end you.” My back was to him. I spun around and squeezed the trigger and put a bullet into his
forehead. Blood sprayed the fireplace behind him, and his eyes rolled back in their sockets.

  Something in me released and I found that I was breathing hard. My skin tingled. And as much as I hate to admit it, I felt alive. Hotah’s head slumped backward and his body went limp. I should have been horrified, should be sickened by what I’d just done, but all I could feel was the surge of life that was flowing through me.

  “Why?” I said to the air. But it was not, Why did I just kill a man who was tied up and who I could have easily sent to jail. It was, why did I want to kill him? Why did I like killing him?

  That was the question my soul would have to answer. But not right now.

  I felt myself reshaping into something new. Something stronger. Something truer. For the first time in my life, I knew that this was a part of me I could no longer ignore. I couldn’t just hide the demons in the dark and pretend they weren’t there. Time to face them and live up to who I was.

  I LEFT HOTAH EXACTLY where he was, but I searched the ground where I had been Tasered for any signs of hair or lint I may have dropped. It was so dark, I couldn’t be sure. My DNA would be all over the cabin, so I grabbed the bottle of Vodka he was drinking and poured it all over him and around him on the floor. I removed the handcuffs and put them in the cabinet under the sink next to the scrub brushes. That should do it. They would find him shot and Tahatan missing and figured Tahatan shot him and left town. At least, that’s what I hoped they’d believe.

  I walked through the cabin one last time, put the shovel next to the door, and threw the Taser into the fireplace. I was about to leave when something stopped me. He was shot, and them believing that he was killed and the killer was missing was too far-fetched. It had to be an open-and-shut case.

  After a moment, I came to the only conclusion I could, and it would be poetic to boot. Suicide. I walked back outside and dug through Hotah’s truck. Come on, you have to have something I can use. I didn’t want the gun to come back to me, and there had to be a gun. My idea was that he was in pain and guilty, so he drank himself silly and shot himself. The bullet sparked the spilled Vodka and the cabin went up in flames. It wasn’t perfect, but it was darn good on short notice.

  There.

  Hotah had a small nail file on his key ring and they dangled in the ignition. It took some doing, but I managed to file the serial numbers off my weapon. I hoped that it would be burned enough to destroy any DNA. If not, I could say he stole it from me. I laughed in spite of myself for how dumb this all was. Yona was the new tribal police and this was a reservation. The chance of this even going to court or even getting back to me was slim.

  Tossing the keys on the kitchen counter, I lit a rolled-up newspaper and watched Hotah ignite. Somehow it was beautiful and horrible all at the same time. Leaving the cabin, I got back into my car and drove away with flames rising in my rearview mirror.

  ALL I WANTED WAS a shower and to go to bed and forget the whole thing. But I was a complete mess and still had to make sure things with Yona were okay. I’d left in a hurry and no one knew where I was. Mika would be the only link to the truth, and I didn’t think she would talk.

  Every muscle in my body was still sore from the Taser, and my ear throbbed. The bleeding had stopped, but there was going to be a scar. I picked up my cell and called Mika back.

  “Hey Mika, can I come over to your house? I need to talk to you.”

  “Sure. Are you okay?” She sounded concerned. “Yona was looking for you. We’re are all down at the casino, but you can use my place if you want. I’ll come let you in.”

  “Thanks, and don’t tell anyone anything, okay?”

  “Uh, okay, sure.”

  I hung up and drove to the address she texted me. Mika lived in a modest home that was still beautiful by today’s standards. Her car was parked in the driveway, and I pulled in next to hers and got out.

  “Sarah!” Mika bounded from the front of the house and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me. “Whoa, you look awful!”

  “I know. But you should see the other guy.”

  “Come inside. Let’s get you cleaned up. You can wear some of my clothes if you want.”

  “It’s okay—I have a fresh set in my trunk. Old habit from college days,” I said.

  The shower was glorious. And afterwards, I told Mika what happened, but left out the part about Tahatan and added in a few details such as Hotah attacked me, took my gun, and I shot him in self-defense. A fire broke out, and I ran and lost my gun. Every good lie was laced with truth, and this one was one I felt like I had to tell.

  “So I need you to cover for me if my name ever comes up in connection to Hotah’s death.”

  Mika hugged me and kissed my cheek. “You were never there, and all I told Yona was that he escaped. I’ll make sure this never comes back on you, Sarah. You saved us. I owe you this.”

  “Thanks, Mika.”

  After my hair was dry, we both drove into town but in our own cars. I put my bloody clothes in a bag in the trunk to deal with later and felt a huge sense of release. I knew that I’d never be free from what I’d done, but I needed to sever as many connections as I could.

  When I pulled into the valet parking drive of the Golden Nugget, Yona was there. She looked tense and worried—what was going on? Why was she out there, as if waiting for someone?

  I jumped out of the car. “What is it, Yona?”

  She set her jaw. “I’m glad you’re here, Sarah. I need to set things right with Watters, and after everything that’s happened, I can’t go on being quiet about the truth.”

  Then the world erupted in a volley of sirens, flashing lights, and yelling. Men dressed in riot gear, SWAT trucks, and men with FBI printed on the backs of their jackets swarmed the building. I grabbed Yona and we made for a corner to get out of the way.

  “FBI. Everybody down. This is the FBI. Put your hands up.” I could have picked Solomon out of any crowd and he led the charge with his Glock out, looking like a world-class stud.

  People were screaming and running around. A helicopter beat the air overhead. The FBI and SWAT team had the area locked down in a matter of minutes.

  Yona’s face was full of satisfaction.

  “You did the right thing,” I told her. “They’ll find all the drugs, guns, and girls in the basement and have this place cleared out.”

  “And closed down,” she said. Then she took a deep breath. “We’ll rise through other means.”

  I took her hand. “Nothing will keep you down.”

  Someone touched me on the shoulder. It was Timothy James and Solomon stood behind him, smiling at me.

  “You really know how to party,” Timothy said. He hugged me, and I was so glad to see him. “My editor says this is the best investigative article I’ve ever done. And I’m finishing up a huge personal interest article on Miss Yona Watters.” He gave her a side hug and she glowed with happiness.

  “Pulitzer Prize, here you come! Now, you two go find a quiet place somewhere.”

  Yona winked at me and they walked off, hand in hand.

  Solomon stood a few feet away with his hands at his sides. The chaos behind him made it seem like he was frozen in time. I walked to him, swinging my hips from side to side like I used to do when I was in high school.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi.”

  He looked so good. I wanted to be angry with him, but I just couldn’t. “You have to stop barging in on me. It’s totally indecent.”

  “But what if I like barging in on you?”

  “Hmm, I guess we could work something out. You got a white horse to take me away on?”

  Solomon took both my hands and pulled me in close. “No, you’re more of a black dragon sort of girl. Now kiss me.”

  I decided that this command I would obey, but only because I wanted to. Lucky him.

  SOLOMON HAD TO DO a ton of paperwork, but he was going to come over after he was done. I had promised him a backrub and a bottle of wine. I loved being with him, ev
en if he frustrated me at times.

  I was almost to Boise, driving my trusty car back home. Mandy made me swear to go to coffee in the morning with her and Joshua so we could plot our new company and go over everything that had happened in the last few days. I agreed.

  A white BMW was following me—at first I thought we were just part of the traffic heading from the casino to Boise, but when I pulled off at the exit, the BMW took the exit too. My alarm bells went off and I mentally ran through my options.

  After gassing up at a truck stop, I checked my voicemail and texts. My poor phone was flooded with texts from both Mandy and Solomon. They went from inquiring to annoyed to worried.

  One from Joshua simply said Call me.

  It wasn’t too late and I was still a good thirty minutes out, so I dialed him. After two rings, he answered.

  “Do I get extra pay for working after hours?” he asked.

  “Ha, no way. I’ve been on the job for days.”

  “Slave driver.”

  “Yeah, yeah. So, what do you have for me? Tell me some good news.”

  Joshua sighed. “Not sure it’s good news, but it is news. I did a search on the casinos, like you asked. Some of the first investors were hard to track down, but once I found out their real names, I got a good line on where to go from there.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “Seems your best buddy at Williams, Inc. had a vested interest in the groundbreaking.”

  My brain kicked into overdrive and I looked in the rearview mirror to make sure the BMW with the mystery man was still there. It was.

  “You sure?”

  “Yup, I’ll e-mail you all my research. But something else, Sarah. This thing is much bigger than I think you know. The underground smuggling system is not just this tribe, not just one reservation.”

  “I know. Something like this has to be bigger.”

  “Yeah, try nationwide, as in, 90% of them are all linked back to Williams, Inc. Think about it. They’re not under U.S. law, they run by their own rules—it’s the perfect pipeline for smuggling. Even if they get caught, no one can do anything about it.”