The Business of Strangers

by Kylie Brant

  “If I were, do you really think I’d tell you?”

  He seemed to ignore her question. “I haven’t heard of anything like that, and my sources are usually pretty good. So maybe you sought me out for your own purposes.”

  “I didn’t seek you out,” she felt driven to mention. “Unless you consider turning down your offer of dinner and getting attacked some sort of bizarre seduction device.”

  Immediately she wished she’d chosen different words. The amusement had vanished from his face, to be replaced with a single-minded intensity that reminded her all too clearly of last night.

  There had been something primitively sensual about being the focus of that powerful concentration. The rest of the world had slipped away, and for the first time in her memory, she’d indulged her senses ahead of her well-constructed defenses.

  An act that seemed destined to haunt her in ways she wouldn’t have dreamed possible.

  “It was just incredibly poor luck on my part.” She gave him a grim smile. “Fate hasn’t always been especially generous with me.”

  “I might have believed that, if I didn’t also know how you spent your afternoon.” Jake watched her as her expression showed surprise, then suspicion. Both emotions were replaced in the next moment by a carefully blank mask that she apparently donned at will. More than anything he wanted to smash his way through that shield and discover the answers he needed. “What brought you to Larry Jay Stanton?”

  The phone call he’d received from Larry had worsened an already bad day. And Ria Kingsley’s interest in the man was too coincidental to be overlooked. Jake didn’t believe in coincidences. He couldn’t afford to.

  Her beautiful green eyes narrowed in annoyance. “You had me followed?”

  “Larry let me know about his visitor. He and I have…an arrangement. He provides me with certain types of information, in exchange for regular donations to his favorite charity.”

  Meaning his personal bank account, of course. But as Enrico Alvarez’s former cellmate, Stanton had a high value to Jake. And he’d continue to be important until Jake was certain the man had divulged everything he knew about Alvarez’s plans upon his release. “What does a horse tattoo have to do with Enrico Alvarez?”

  “I would assume nothing, since I don’t know who Alvarez is.”

  Jake smiled grimly. “Try harder, baby. It’s a little pat that you came by my place last night, screwed my brains out, then happened to arrange a meeting with an inmate under my protection.”

  “Any diminished mental capacity on your part is probably genetic,” she answered coolly. “And your ‘protection’ doesn’t seem too dependable. From what Warden Udall said, the only thing that saved Stanton from death was a change in routine on the part of the guard. I think he’ll fare better dealing with me. I can convince the warden to continue his time in isolation indefinitely. Can you promise the same?”

  “You’d be surprised at what I can arrange.” His reach went beyond the prison walls, but even his power hadn’t been able to save Stanton from near death once Alvarez had found out the man had betrayed his confidences. The trouble with a place like Donaldson was there was a never-ending supply of offenders with nothing to lose. Guarding against all of them would be impossible, even in isolation.

  But her promise to Larry could work in his favor. Jake knew Udall’s patience was wearing thin. Ria’s influence might have more affect than the bribes he was paying the man. Jake wanted to keep Stanton alive, at least until Alvarez was released. Only when Larry was completely free of the man’s threat could Jake be certain he’d given him all the information he had. Convicts weren’t the most trustworthy of people.

  Neither were cops.

  He eyed Ria now, noting the steadiness of her gun hand. She was as cool, as emotionless as a professional hit man. There was nothing in her demeanor now that even hinted at the fire she’d displayed last night. A pool of heat formed in his belly at the memory. She’d been wary but not coy. Uninhibited but not unguarded. And she’d twisted him up in knots in a way no woman had ever been allowed to before.

  She would be dangerous for that reason alone.

  “Who’s Enrico Alvarez?” she asked.

  “A man who wants me dead.”

  “Given what I’ve learned of your activities, he can’t be the only one. What’s your interest in him?”

  For someone so guarded about giving out any information herself, she sure seemed to have a lot of questions, Jake noted. Because she could learn the answers to these easily enough, he saw no harm in responding. “Alvarez blames me for his current residence. He’ll be released soon and Stanton agreed to share what he knew of his plans for that time.”

  She regarded him steadily. “He must be the one Edwards was talking about. It was his operation you took over after his arrest?”

  Even after nearly ten years Jake still felt a fierce stab of satisfaction at the thought of the man in prison having lost everything he held dear. What money he hadn’t hidden was gone. His operation had been reorganized, parts of it dismantled. The control he’d once wielded in Columbus was largely forgotten. But given what he’d cost Jake, it hardly seemed punishment enough.

  No, he wasn’t nearly done with Enrico Alvarez. And from what he’d learned from Stanton, the man wasn’t done with him, either.

  “So you’re claiming this tattoo you asked Larry about has nothing to do with Alvarez?” He’d be a fool to trust her, regardless of her answer. But he found himself waiting for her response, nonetheless.

  “My investigation is a completely separate matter. Looks like Stanton is just a guy who gets around.”

  “He is that. I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything he tells you. The guy would sell his grandmother for enough cash.”

  “Since you’re the one paying him, I’d think you’d be wise to take your own advice,” she countered. “How do you know you can trust him to tell you the truth about this Alvarez?”

  “I don’t.” The admission didn’t bother him. He was too used to living this way to consider it. “But that doesn’t matter. I don’t trust anyone. Not even you.” He raked her form with his gaze, flickers of hunger igniting under his skin. He was determined to ignore them. “Especially you. If I find out you’ve been lying to me, I’ll be back.”

  She didn’t seem impressed with the threat-laced words. “I wouldn’t advise it. I’m not much for guests, especially uninvited ones. Next time I’ll be harder to convince not to shoot you.”

  He’d surely lived too much of his life in the shadows if he found her statement intriguing. Arousing. Jake had an acquired taste for females who could take care of themselves. That didn’t include women who could take on most of the men of his acquaintance and likely come out ahead. At least it never had before.

  He rose, noting her sudden readiness at his movement. And he wanted, more than was comfortable, to discover where those well-honed instincts of hers had come from. Before they met again, he was determined to find out.

  “Your hospitality leaves a lot to be desired.” Because there was nothing wrong with his instincts, he remained facing her as he backed out of the room. “At least when you were at my place I offered you ice. A warm bed.”

  “And I’m not about to reciprocate.” She kept her gun trained on him as she followed him out of the room and down the hall, so he didn’t lower his own. “Last night…” Was that a hesitation he heard in her voice? “…was a mistake. It won’t be repeated.”

  At the door, Jake felt behind him for the knob, pulled it open. “I’ve got to say, as mistakes go, it was about my favorite one yet. We’re not done with each other, Ria.” He watched her eyes widen slightly at the certainty in his words, before going guarded. Good. She’d be wise to be cautious. And so would he. He had every reason in the world to distrust her.

  So it was just his own incredibly poor taste that had him wanting her, with an unrelenting fire he’d never felt for another woman.

  “By the way, I wouldn’t worry about y
our alarm system being especially vulnerable. It was harder than most to jumper, and I’m not without a certain amount of skill in that area.” He paused for a moment to appreciate the storm gathering in her eyes, before slipping silently out the door and into the shadows.

  “This is bull.” Ria looked up from the sheaf of papers in her hand to glare at the Fenton County District Attorney. “Any of my men coming through that door with me last week will testify that no excessive force was used. That idiot pointed a gun at me.”

  Richmond Davis raised his hands, placating. “I’m sure they will, miss, er, Sheriff. Trouble is, his lawyer is threatening to take this public, and I don’t think the commissioners will take kindly to that kind of negative publicity. You did shoot the man.”

  He took the papers from her, flipped through them until he found the proper page, then cleared his throat to read aloud, “…did willingly and with malice fire a bullet into Mr. Coomb’s left shoulder, specifically the anterior deltoid, causing a life-threatening loss of blood and debilitating muscle damage.” He stopped, looked up at her with a worried look on his too handsome face. “Debilitating. That means real serious, miss…I mean Sheriff.”

  Ria clenched her jaw and mentally counted to ten. The act didn’t appreciably affect her rising temper. “Where did you get your law degree, out of a cereal box? The man was shot in the shoulder, for God sakes. A bullet is going to mess up the muscle there, but he got immediate medical attention. The hospital didn’t even keep him overnight.”

  “They’re listed on here, too.” Davis began shuffling through the pages again. “Where’s the name of that doctor….”

  A tension headache was rapping at the base of her skull. Rubbing the spot gingerly, Ria strove for patience. “It’s a nuisance suit, that’s all. We got them all the time when I was on the Denver Police Force. He and his lawyer are blowing smoke. Even if it makes it to court, you have nothing to worry about. That arrest was solid.”

  But the man’s face had gone white. “Go to court? Oh, no, mi—er, ma’am. I can’t take this to court. We’ll have to plead it out.”

  She came out of her chair with a speed that had the man shrinking back in his chair. “Under no circumstances will you offer a plea bargain.”

  Davis’s face took on a stubborn look. He straightened and brushed at invisible lint on his suit sleeve. “I’m the district attorney. I decide what cases to—”

  “You’re a young and untried attorney still building a rep.” It was a shot in the dark, but from the youth of the man’s features, she was guessing he hadn’t been practicing more than a year or two. “You don’t want to give the impression that you’re soft on crime.” She paused long enough to let the import of her words sink in. “Yours is an elected position, and from what Eldon Croat tells me, this county puts a lot of stock in strict law enforcement. A mistake like this so early in your career can come back to haunt you at election time.”

  Davis swallowed hard, obviously picturing the scenario she’d just drawn for him. “If I lose this in court that wouldn’t do my reputation any good, either.”

  She was starting to feel like the younger man’s cheerleader. “I don’t think it will come to that. But if that’s the worst that happens, wouldn’t you rather be able to run on the fact that you held firm against the threats of a known drug dealer, instead of caving in to them?”

  He frowned, and she got the feeling that he wasn’t totally convinced. “I guess.”

  “Let his attorney know that you’re calling his bluff. Lots of times they’ll let these cases progress right up to the time they’re about to choose a jury, and then drop them. In that case, you come out looking like a hero and you barely have to step foot in the courtroom.”

  Face brightening, he said, “You think?”

  “I’m sure of it.”

  He rose, clutching the copy of the complaint. “Maybe you’re right. I’ll have to mull this over a bit more before I make any decisions.”

  “You do that.” Ria showed him to the door, then closed it after him, heaving a sigh. Great. All she needed to make this day complete was a nuisance suit and a still-wet-behind-the-ears lawyer with qualms about courtroom work. She shook her head, winced when the action made it pound harder. If Davis needed further convincing, she could always set Eldon Croat on the man. Something told her the commissioner would be outraged at the thought of dismissing what was a clear-cut case against one of the drug dealers.

  She went to the filing cabinet and pulled open the top drawer. Withdrawing an oversize bottle of pain relievers, she removed the top and shook a couple out. Swallowing them dry, she replaced the bottle and shut the drawer. Stress-filled days followed by late nights were the likely cause of her tension headaches, and there didn’t seem to be an end in sight.

  A full moon always seemed to bring out the crazies, and from the looks of the cell occupants, Fenton County had more than its share of them. She and her deputies had had their hands full for the last several nights responding to calls ranging from domestic disturbances to armed robbery. Thinking of the brainiac who had tried to rob the Git N’ Go outside of town was a perfect example. After grabbing all the cash, he’d run outside to discover he’d locked his keys in the car.

  She smiled at the memory. Simpson had caught that call, and still swore up and down that it was the easiest arrest he’d ever made. He’d picked the man up on the highway, hitching a ride.

  Her evenings had been spent doing some surveillance work on yet another suspected meth manufacturer. This one was operating out of her trailer house, which also housed her three children. Ria wasn’t going to waste any time gathering the evidence they needed to move in on her, and getting the kids out of that situation.

  And what time she wasn’t working on official duties, she was reorganizing information from her file cabinets at home. She’d focused on the military as a possibility before, and Benny had long hacked into the National Personnel Records Center for serving in the various branches at the time she was shot. But the sheer volume of material had made the task impossible, without an individual’s name, base, or even a branch to concentrate on.

  Now she had a lead. Stanton thought he’d been operating in Columbus, Georgia at the time he’d done these tattoos, so she was concentrating on Army personnel. Fort Benning, home of a U.S. Army Ranger school, was less than ten miles from Columbus.

  Larry Stanton’s memory of the exact date he’d done the tattoos hadn’t been too certain. She hoped the rest of the details he’d given her proved to be more definite. She’d had to do a lot of talking to convince Warden Udall that the man’s continued protection was imperative to a case she was working.

  Online sites gave basic information on current and ex-military personnel. She’d decided to focus her attention on those reported dead around the time the two assassins had tracked her down, then cross-reference the names to the lists of Army personnel. It was painstaking work, but her excitement hadn’t dulled.

  Finally, she felt as if she was on the right track. And nothing—not time-wasting lawsuits, not dumber-than-life criminals—was going to distract her.

  A mental picture of Jake Tarrance formed in her mind, and she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, willed it away. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her house several nights ago, through the same door where he’d bypassed the alarm.

  The memory still rankled. Locks, alarms—even the “tells” she arranged around the perimeter—all just gave the illusion of security. There was no fail-proof way to ensure safety. She’d always known that, and guarded against becoming complacent. But finding Jake Tarrance ensconced in her easy chair, watching her TV, had made a mockery of her measures. She was prepared for the assassin who would lie in wait, prepared to kill her with minimal fuss. She hadn’t expected anyone to waltz in, with no attempt to hide his presence while he made himself at home.

  She hadn’t expected Jake.

  He crowded into her thoughts at odd times, when she least expected it. Could least affor
d it. He’d caught her off guard by showing up at her house, and she suspected that had been his intention.

  Because now she couldn’t prevent herself from checking her lane for a strange car. Couldn’t help but see him in her chair, an imported beer in his hand from a six-pack he’d left in her refrigerator. The house had been stamped with his presence, and try as she might, no amount of effort could erase that. A part of her was wondering when he’d show up again, and she was certain he’d be very pleased to know that. Perhaps that had even been his intention.

  With an air of determination, she forced him out of her mind and concentrated on using the next few hours for paperwork. Checking the clock, she made a mental promise to herself that she’d leave here by seven, at the latest. She got so engrossed in the work she had waiting at home that she rarely ate supper, not wanting to spend the time going to a store for groceries, or to a restaurant. Tonight, she promised herself, as she sat down and pulled out the duty roster, she’d swing by the local StopChop and pick up takeout. Her pants were getting loose, and she could ill-afford to lose any more weight.

  With Jake Tarrance firmly off her mind, or at least not at the forefront, she settled into the paperwork.

  But despite her best intentions, it would be closer to nine before she pulled into her lane. Eldon Croat had been in the StopChop when she got there, dining with Max Ewald, another commissioner. They’d waved her over and she’d had little choice but to sit down with them as they hashed over the reason for D.A. Richmond Davis’s visit to her office that day. She didn’t bother asking how they’d learned of it. The town seemed to have a very reliable grapevine, and it appeared in good working condition. She’d focused on her meal, saying as little as possible as the two men skewered Davis’s character, and that of at least three generations of his ancestors.

  “Richie Davis always was sissified,” Ewald had noted wisely, as he downed a helping of chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes swimming in glutinous looking gravy. It was impossible to tell where the food would be stored on his tall spare frame. “He was the worst quarterback Tripolo High ever had. Every time a tackle came at him, he’d get called for intentional grounding, rather than take the hit. Remember that, Eldon?”