by Rebecca Deel
“Guess your rap sheet wasn’t complete without adding peeping tom,” Micah said. “Didn’t your mother teach you better manners?”
Brent snorted. “What mother? Bet she dumped him as soon as he hatched, threw him back in the cesspool.”
Micah noted the flared nostrils and looked back at Wolfe. “No woman?”
The operative laughed and slapped the back of Garza’s head. The thug spat out ugly curses and earned himself a harder whack on the back of his head. “What woman would have him? He beats them until they do what he wants. A few weeks with Romeo and they’re in the wind. An unfortunate number stayed with him too long and disappeared.”
Micah’s lips curled. “So no one cares if he disappears.”
“I say we make that happen. World would be a better place with Romeo gone.” Brent pulled his black Ka-Bar and made a pretense of examining the blade for sharpness, the overhead light absorbed into the black blade, all the more menacing for its lack of reflection. “His owner will thank us for taking this loser off his hands. No body to dispose of. No fee to pay. Yeah, we’ll be a hero for disposing of this junkyard dog. Might charge his owner a burial fee, though.”
Micah tilted his head, as if lost in thought. “Play your cards right, you can take over his job.”
“Pass.” Brent sneered. “Not interested in working for anyone who hires low-rent talent. His boss couldn’t afford me.” He paused, a thoughtful look blossoming on his face. “Not on his salary, anyway. He got what he paid for with Romeo. Cheap pay for cheap talent.”
Garza’s glittering gaze returned to Micah. Contempt glowed in the black depths. “I ain’t talking to you clowns. Call the cops already.”
Sophie’s hands grabbed the back of his shirt in a death grip while shudders wracked her body. Micah had to lock his muscles to keep from crossing the few feet to the two-bit punk and pummeling his face. From her reaction there was no doubt in his mind this was the thug who hurt Sophie.
Brent caught the change in Micah’s body language and raised his eyebrow in question. A slight nod answered his silent query. His face hardened. “Two minutes. We’ll get what we want.”
Micah wished he could turn his friend loose on the thug who had hurt Sophie, but he needed this player off the street. If Brent or one of his team left a mark on this creep, he’d be on the streets before nightfall and the good guys would be behind bars and unavailable for the rest of this operation. Sophie still needed protection. The Kings knew about her, Abbott wanted to pin the jewelry theft on her, and Micah still didn’t know who hired this thug.
He shook his head and turned around to face Sophie. Her ashen face almost convinced him to change his mind. His body blocking Garza’s view, Micah cupped her face between his hands. “Go pack enough clothes to stay away for a few more days.”
Another shudder as she glanced toward her bedroom.
“Sophie, I need you to do this for me,” he whispered. “One of the team will go with you.” He waited while she battled for control and it was a battle. The last time she’d been in her bedroom at night Garza had attacked her. That kind of fear fought hard for control.
At her nod, Micah motioned to Brent. “Stay with her.” Unspoken message: keep her in the bedroom until he finished interrogating the thug. He thought he might have enough control to keep from rearranging Garza’s smug face. Maybe.
Brent stepped to Sophie’s side. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get some fresh air.” Arm around her shoulder, he placed his body between her and Garza.
Once the door to her bedroom closed, Micah turned his attention to their captive and the second thing he’d noticed about Garza’s statements. The guy had a rap sheet, was well known to law enforcement, yet he didn’t seem bothered by more time behind bars, a nice long stay if Micah had anything to do with it.
A few possibilities came to mind. Prison didn’t scare Garza as he’d already spent time there as a guest of the state. He was tough enough to intimidate most of the inmates. Or he wasn’t worried because he had connections in law enforcement to either get him a lighter sentence or turn him loose on a technicality.
The last two possibilities bothered Micah the most. Another potential connection to law enforcement. He needed a scent, a direction to point the dogs.
He grabbed a kitchen chair and sat, stretching his legs in front of him. Might as well be comfortable and take the strain off his leg. So much the better if Garza thought of Brent’s team as enforcers or thugs. Micah refused to keep Sophie out for the hours it would take to break this guy down. The longer she remained in her home, the more vulnerable she became.
They didn’t know who hired Garza, the name they needed to end the threat against her and Nathan. If he couldn’t learn the name in the next few minutes, he would get it from another direction. Maybe track the deposits or question his acquaintances. Somebody knew who hired this bozo. And he would find out, one way or another.
“Didn’t think you’d be so anxious to visit your buddies in prison. Miss their company?”
Another round of cursing brought a resounding whap from Wolfe. “Watch your mouth. There’s a lady in the house.”
“My lady,” Micah said, voice soft. “You put your hands on my woman, Garza.” He noted the scowls forming on every team member’s face. More than one hand shifted to weapons. Grim satisfaction swirled through his gut at the sweat beads on the thug’s forehead. Not so tough after all.
“If you want out of this house in one piece, talk. I want to know who hired you. Otherwise, I’ll take my woman and let my friends learn the information any way they can. They don’t have a problem using pain and I’m tempted to let them take you where no one will hear you scream.”
Garza snorted. “Cops don’t use waterboarding.”
Micah stilled. “You think we’re cops?”
His gaze darted to each face before returning to his. “They aren’t. You are. Federal badge.”
A cold knot formed in the pit of Micah’s stomach. Their leak was definitely law enforcement. The real question was did the person who hired Garza carry a badge? And if he did, was he a local cop?
Micah turned that over in his head and decided that was the most logical explanation. He’d stepped on his share of toes over the years as an agent with the FBI and Secret Service, but federal agents weren’t after Sophie. Brent would know if there was federal interest in her.
Great. Now he knew he couldn’t trust the local cop shop or Abbott. Somebody local had either been bought off or was part of the problems dogging Sophie. “Who hired you?”
Another whap on the back of Garza’s head stopped the vulgar response. “Not saying nothing to you clowns. Call the cops. We’re done here.”
Micah sighed. Yeah, they were finished. His gaze shifted to Wolfe. “Do it,” he said and stood. He walked to the hallway, paused and turned to face Garza. “If you come after her again, I will kill you.”
Garza snorted. “That supposed to be a threat? Cops can’t threaten people. Ain’t that against the Geneva Convention or something?”
A bark of laughter spilled from Wolfe. “You aren’t a prisoner of war, moron, so the Geneva Convention doesn’t apply.”
“That’s a promise, Garza,” Micah said. “I protect what’s mine. I know about evidence. No one would ever find your body.” With that parting shot, he turned on his heel and stalked down the hall to Sophie’s bedroom.
He paused in the doorway. Sophie had her back to him, folding more clothes into a small duffel bag. Brent sent a questioning look his way. Micah shook his head.
“Take Sophie and get out of here,” Brent said. “We’ll take care of everything. The less time she’s out in public and exposed to the leak, the better.”
No surprise his friend had worked out the local police connection. Members of black ops were smart. Had to be to survive behind enemy lines, cut off from command structure for weeks at a time.
“Ready, Sophie?”
She stuffed the last of her clothes inside the bag and z
ipped it closed. “Let’s go. I can’t handle another round with Abbott before I’ve had caffeine.”
He took the bag from her unresisting fingers and ushered her from the house. One more day, he decided. If he couldn’t find answers by the time Nelda Graham’s party ended, he’d put Sophie in the safe house. She might hate him, but Micah could live with that. At least she and Nathan would be alive.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains, waking Sophie from a restless nap after their return from her home. She decided on a shower first followed by coffee or maybe hot chocolate. Minutes later, pulling a brush through her damp hair, Sophie wondered if Micah had made progress on the identity of the person who hired Garza. Something had to break soon or she feared Micah would place her in a safe house.
After slipping on her shoes, she entered the kitchen in search of caffeine. Micah sat at the kitchen table with his laptop. He glanced up as she stepped into the room.
“Sleep well?”
She shrugged. She never slept well these days. “Any progress?”
“Adam called. He identified the woman in the last portrait and sent deep background on all three women.”
Sophie spotted the coffee pot, still half full. With a glance at Micah whose concentration had returned to his computer, she snatched a mug from the cabinet and poured the hot liquid. A careful sip and she sighed, satisfaction curling in her gut. The real deal, not the pointless decaf she’d been forcing herself to drink since she found out she was pregnant.
“It’s half and half.”
Micah’s amused drawl drew a smile. “Don’t care. I’ll take whatever I can get.”
“Whatever you can get by with, you mean. Your breakfast is in the microwave. Didn’t want to wake you.”
Almost as if on command, her stomach growled. Sophie frowned. If her body was any indication, Nathan would cost more money in food than his college tuition. She’d always heard boys ate a lot. This one appeared to be consuming a ton of calories before he was even born.
The microwave contained a plate of scrambled eggs and whole wheat toast. After warming the meal, Sophie carried her plate to the table and sat beside Micah. She shifted his laptop a little so she could see the screen while she ate. “Who is that?” The screen showed a picture of an attractive redhead with emerald eyes and a gorgeous smile.
“Meet Charlotte Donovan. Charlie to her friends. She’s the CEO of CD Fashion. Her husband, Vince, commissioned the portrait Sierra painted for their twentieth wedding anniversary. The jewels in the portrait are three square-cut emeralds, 2 carats each, surrounded by diamonds. Vince gave her the necklace on the birth of their daughter and a matching bracelet on the birth of their son.”
“Anything in their background I should know?”
“Vince never strayed from their bed. He adores his wife and kids, thinks he was the luckiest man alive to have snagged such a beautiful woman even before she started CD Fashion. According to him, they were so poor after they married, she made her clothes from closet rejects. Charlie didn’t start her company until after the kids were in school. She was a stay-at-home mother until then.”
The last bite of toast stuck in Sophie’s throat. Did Sierra steal Charlie’s jewelry? She hated to think her sister would steal the joy from this woman’s eyes. If the jewels had been taken by her sister, David hadn’t noticed the necklace in Sierra’s stash.
Chill bumps raced over Sophie’s body. Or they were killed before David could get the jewels to her and ask her to return them. Was this theft what cost them their lives? Good question to consider when they confronted the fashion designer. If Sierra had stolen the necklace and bracelet, where did she hide them? Sophie checked Sierra’s preferred hiding places when she cleaned out David and Sierra’s house and there was nothing like this in the safety deposit box.
What if she pitched all the jewels when she got rid of their belongings? No. Sierra never hid anything in furniture. Too easy to breach. Secret cubbyholes in the floor or wall were more her style. She’d been surprised David and Sierra had a safety deposit box. No one in their extensive family trusted banks to guard the goods. Why should they? Valeros were experts at breaking into anything. “When do we leave?”
“As soon as you pack for Mrs. Graham’s party and whatever else you need for the rest of the day.”
“We’re not coming back before the party?”
“Too much road time and a greater risk of compromising our location. We’ll change at Brent’s headquarters. He brought a tux for me to use.”
Sophie stood. “Ten minutes.”
Back in Micah’s SUV, he guided the vehicle down the rutted drive to the highway. A deep pothole had her gritting her teeth. A few more thumps like that and she might have to ask Micah to pull over and find her a tree. “Why doesn’t Mr. Cole pave this thing?”
“Extra security measure. His property has sensors all over for early warning, but no one can approach the house at full speed without risking major vehicle damage. Gives him and his wife that much more time to vacate the premises if hostiles encroach on their land.”
“Are you serious?”
“Why do you think this spot was my first choice of safe locations for you other than my cabin?” He scowled. “That turned out to be less secure than it should have been. And that’s something I’ll address soon. I don’t want you and Nathan caught in crossfire.”
“You’re not going to address it by yourself, I hope.” That was a prospect she didn’t want. Strong and capable as he was, Micah Winter wasn’t invincible as the bullet hole in his leg evidenced.
No answer. Great. “Been practicing your Superman role?”
“What?”
“Didn’t think so. Look, Micah, you have an entire gang and their affiliates or subunits vying for the bounty on your head. You can’t take them on by yourself. You don’t have eyes in the back of your head. At least promise to take Brent and his team with you.”
“I’ll think about it.”
She tugged down her sunglasses and eyed him. “I’ll remind you of this conversation at some point in the near future, Winter.”
“I have no doubts on that score, Valero.”
#
Micah turned into the parking lot of CD Fashion and parked in a visitor’s slot near the front door. At the receptionist’s desk, they were given visitors passes and directions to Charlotte Donovan’s office.
Donovan’s administrative assistant greeted them and looked at the covered portrait with curiosity. “Mrs. Donovan is expecting you.” She opened the walnut door to the inner office, announced them and closed the door behind her.
“Mr. Winter, Ms. Valero, make yourselves comfortable.” The woman sitting behind a large mahogany desk rose and circled the monstrosity to join them in a sitting area comprised of a couple armchairs and a large sofa, all covered in cream leather. Micah’s lips quirked in response to Sophie’s soft sigh over the deep, comfortable furniture impossible for her to extricate herself from on her own.
Charlotte Donovan’s portrait had done her justice. Sierra had indeed captured the woman’s beauty. “Thank you for seeing us on short notice, Mrs. Donovan.”
“I had a cancellation in my schedule. Besides, I’ve wondered what happened to the portrait.” She turned to Sophie. “I’m so sorry about your sister, Ms. Valero.”
“Thank you.” Sophie peeled the covering from the portrait and turned it face out. “What do you think?”
Charlotte’s gasp was the only sound in the office for long minutes. “It’s incredible,” she murmured. “Such talent your sister had.” She slid her hand into her pocket.
Micah tensed, ready to cover Sophie if necessary. He hadn’t spotted weapons on the woman in a cursory glance. He was trained to read body language, though, and Charlotte Donovan didn’t give off vibes that worried him.
Charlotte pulled paper from her pocket and handed it to Sophie. “Sierra and Vince agreed on $5,000 for the painting. When you called, I had a chec
k written out to you.” A smile curved her lips. “Looks as though you can use the money for baby expenses pretty soon.” Her gaze shifted to the portrait. “Sierra undervalued her own work. This is extraordinary.”
Sophie smiled. “I agree.”
So far so good. Now for the more volatile part of the morning visit. “Mrs. Donovan, when was the last time you wore these emeralds?”
Startled, her attention zeroed in on Micah again. “Charlotte, please. The last time I wore them was two months after sitting for this painting. I had a fundraiser for Happy Tails. My husband and I love animals.” A wry smile curved her mouth. “We’d better. Our children bring home strays more often than we like. If we didn’t find homes for them, our house would be a pet hotel without room for any human Donovans.”
“Did you notice anything different about the necklace or bracelet?”
“If you’re asking about whether or not they were real, I wouldn’t have the first clue. They were heirlooms from my husband’s great-grandmother.” She grinned. “We weren’t destitute when the babies were born, but pretty close. I didn’t have any place to wear them for years. We never went anywhere that required this kind of glitter until the last few years.”
“Would you let us examine them?”
One eyebrow rose. “You’re a jewelry expert too? I thought my assistant said you were in security?”
Micah smiled. “I am in security. Sophie is well versed in jewels, though. It’s a family business. We would like either you or your husband to stay in the room while she examines them.”
“I’d insist on that,” she replied, voice soft. “The necklace and bracelet mean a lot to me. Wait here. I’ll get them for you.” Charlotte stood.
“You have them here?” Why would she keep them on site? Why not in a vault at the bank?
She inclined her head. “They’re in a secure location. Another fundraiser in a couple days, this time on site. It’s a fashion show. The glitz goes with my dress for the event.”