Secured by the Lawman (Mountain Force Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Coby didn’t say another word.

  Steam remembered the text message from Lauren.

  Shit!

  He tore the phone from his pocket and read the message three times. She needed to speak to him. About something important. What the hell?

  ‘What happened, Lauren? Who did this to you? What did you need to speak to me about?”

  Chapter 2

  Steam stepped into the long-term care unit at the hospital, just as he’d done every night for the last month. After quitting the WPD because he decided he needed to be there for Lauren, he had all the free time in the world, so he spent his nights at her bedside. Her attack was ruled as a mugging, no evidence was found to suggest otherwise, and the doctors were keeping her sedated until she recovered enough.

  Coming at night meant he wouldn’t run into any of her other visitors.

  He’d made a pledge to God that if he saved her Steam would walk away, but he guessed that didn’t start until she was awake. Until then, the hospital walls could fall and he’d still come to be with her. The nurses probably knew by now that he was no longer her husband, but they didn’t say anything.

  The long-term wing of the hospital was quiet as he strolled toward the nurse’s station.

  “Hi, Joney.” He placed the coffee on the counter. He’d gotten to know the night staff on the floor, especially the single, thirty-something brunette who worked the late shift so she could take care of her toddler during the day. “Three creams and two sugars. Just the way you like it. How did the date with the doctor go?”

  “Boring,” she whined, twirling a piece of her wavy hair around her knuckle. “I was home by nine and asleep by ten. What a waste of babysitting money.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse. Nurses can be very boring dates,” she leaned in and whispered as if someone might overhear. “But doctors are the worst.” She smiled.

  “Maybe you should consider dating a cop. If the date gets boring you can at least talk about drug busts and homicide cases.” He missed the sweep of her eye down his body.

  “I might just have to give that a try.”

  His attention was on Lauren’s room. The blinds were shut on her bay window which was very unusual. They were usually kept open so the staff could see in. “How is she?”

  “It’s great, huh?”

  “Did something happen?”

  Her thin brows scrunched. “Did anybody call you? Shoot.” Joney got up and rounded the counter. “I just assumed someone did. The doctors took Lauren off sedation this morning after her testing and she’s been awake most of the day. Her chart reads that her vitals, her labs, all tests came back good. She even a ate a few bites of solids although it’ll take some time before she’s completely recovered because she’s been in that bed for a while.”

  “I was busy most of the night working a case,” he muttered, then jerked his phone from his pocket to look at the screen. He’d missed numerous calls from the hospital. He had a bad habit of getting so involved in his work that he didn’t check his phone like he should.

  “Her doctor said she could see visitors—”

  “No.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  “What’s wrong? I’m sure she’ll want to see you.”

  “Thank you, but I have to go.” He couldn’t defy the promise he’d made to God.

  Joney looked at him in confusion. “Would you like for me to give her a message?”

  “No.” He was already stepping into the elevator. As the doors closed, he gave the nurse a wave.

  Chapter 3

  Six months later.

  Standing outside the perimeter of the yellow evidence tape surrounding the entrance into the alley, Steam swiped a hand down three days’ worth of whiskers. He hadn’t slept more than five hours in two days, and he was running on caffeine and hope. He’d been on his way home when he’d received the anonymous tip that a man would be dead at this location. Since leaving his job as detective and accepting a job as an agent for the Mountain Force, a branch of the Wyoming DEA, a local task force that primarily handled drug and sex trafficking in the mountains, he didn’t handle calls like these. However, it wasn’t every day he got a call from someone asking for him and relaying information about a dead body.

  Uniforms were already on scene before Steam arrived with one monitoring bystanders and another standing near the male victim lying in a pool of blood. Lifting the tape, Steam ducked under and stepped inside the crime scene. The officer started to step forward but saw that it was Steam and waved him on.

  Carefully, without the risk of destroying any evidence, he stayed outside of the puddle of blood as he examined the area from a visual proximity, looking for anything that stuck out to him as odd or unusual.

  The man’s throat was slashed. Surprise attack. Sleeve tattoos of gang related symbols. Yet the slashing of throats wasn’t the local gang’s mode.

  Sweeping his gaze left and right, the area was littered with trash, but Steam had a feeling the attacker was clean in the act. It was definitely the work of someone strong—someone who had been following the victim and waited for the most opportune moment. Or maybe knew the daily activity of the victim.

  Kneeling on one knee outside of the puddle, Steam leaned in. Bingo. The notorious Blue Diamond tattoo was on the victim’s neck. The drug cartel branded all their members with the diamond. This told Steam this wasn’t a gang related homicide. No gang member, not even from a rival group, would take out a Diamond on the street for fear of retribution. The cartel had spread like a forest fire over the last ten years and their power had reached into the state, local, and even federal level.

  Steam knew the cartel like the back of his hand. He’d dedicated himself to wiping out the core kingpins, and especially Max King who’d eluded punishment. Steam wouldn’t rest until the bastard was behind bars. King had gotten away with killing his wife, but before it was all said and done, Steam would find retribution for Carol and her daughter, Jane, who was in the custody of her father.

  Looking down at the victim, Steam couldn’t say that he was disappointed that a member of Blue Diamond had met his maker, but he couldn’t find the connection why the informant thought Steam should be here. Was he missing something?

  “Well, well, if it isn’t my old pal. Did you come to say hello?”

  Steam smiled, then turned and met the gaze of Detective Coby. “My friend, how are you?” The men shook hands and gave each a buddy slap. Although they didn’t see each other as often as they did when Steam was a detective, they still stayed in touch, helping each other out on cases as needed.

  Coby scratched his balding head “What are you doing in the city, bro? I thought you had become a mountain man.”

  “Even a mountain man has to come up for air on occasion. I received an anonymous tip. The dead victim, he looks familiar.”

  Coby stuffed his hands into his front pockets and stared down at the victim with a shake of his head. “Yeah, I recognize him. Known as Fester on the street. He must have pissed someone off.” Then he targeted Steam with a narrowed gaze. “Any stabs on who did this?”

  “Obviously it wasn’t another Diamond or a rival gang member.”

  “Doesn’t make sense that it was random.”

  “His throat’s cut. The assailant caught him by surprise from behind. A strong son of a bitch considering the gash is almost to the back of the spine.”

  “A rage killing.”

  “Good point. Someone had been watching the victim, knew his ins and outs. Realized when he was most vulnerable…away from his crew.”

  “You don’t think he could have turned on the cartel and they took him out?”

  “No. Knives are child’s play to the Diamonds, you know that. They get their rocks off by torturing their victims. Care if I take a closer look?”

  There was a second’s hesitation and then Coby shrugged. “Be my guest as long as you fill me in on anything I need to know.”

  “Someone definitely was pissed,” St
eam said as he visually examined the body.

  “There could be a hundred people out there that wanted this motherfucker dead. He had blood on his hands.”

  “He has a gun, but he didn’t get to it in time.” Steam saw something sticking out of the victim’s pocket. “Coby? Can I borrow your pen?”

  “Sure. What did you find?”

  “Not sure yet.” Using the tip of the pen, he scooted the piece of paper out of the pocket, instantly realizing it was a newspaper clipping.

  “What the fuck?” Coby muttered.

  “Do you have a pair of gloves?” He stuck the pen in his pocket.

  Coby called out to one of the officers for a pair of gloves. “Here you go, Steam.”

  Tugging them on, he then carefully unfolded the clipping. His breath came out in a ragged hiss. Staring back at him in black and white was a picture of Lauren. It was the controversial article she’d written the day of her attack. The headline read, Mayor spends his vacation behind bars.

  “Holy shit.” Coby was wide-eyed.

  Steam stood. “I want this checked for prints.”

  Coby pulled out an evidence bag and held it open for Steam to place the clipping inside.

  “I guess now you know why you received an anonymous tip.”

  Feeling sick, Steam scanned the growing crowd looking for anyone suspicious. No one stood out but he had a feeling the killer was watching. The man would want to see Steam’s reaction at finding the clipping. “Tell me if you find anything on that clipping.” Steam ducked under the tape.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check on the past,” he mumbled and made his way to his motorcycle parked on the street, keeping a subtle eye on the bystanders crowding the sidewalk until he slid onto the seat, started the engine and did a U-turn.

  Why the hell did the killer leave the clipping of Lauren’s story in the dead man’s pocket? What was the connection?

  He felt a familiar ache in his chest, remembering her lying in the hospital bed hooked to machines. He’d been torn up, afraid she’d never wake up again. He swore if she did, he would remove himself so far from her life that he couldn’t hurt her again, that she could find happiness with someone deserving. Yet, he was about to break the promise he made to himself, to Lauren, and with God. Above anything else he wanted to keep her safe, and although there was little evidence that she was unsafe outside of finding the clipping and knowing how dangerous the Diamonds were, he couldn’t risk not doing anything.

  Steam had a lot of questions, but until he was sure Lauren was okay, he couldn’t think about anything, not even the case.

  *

  “Is that all you got? You hit like a girl.”

  Lauren held her gloves close to her body, peering around the bag at her trainer and friend, Ranger, and growled. “I hit like a girl, do I?” She drew her fist back and pounded the bag another three hard punches, just like he’d shown her how to hit. He was knocked back a few inches. “Is that better?”

  “Much better. You must always hit like you mean it and watch those shoulders. Keep them down.” He motioned for her to stop. “We’re done for the day.”

  She used her teeth to pull the tape off one glove and situated it between her arm and ribs to remove it, then worked on removing the second. Tossing them into a nearby basket, she reached for her water from the counter and chugged half of it. Ranger, a retired heavyweight boxer turned trainer had become her good friend since he’d saved her life. If he hadn’t found her where she’d been left for dead by her three attackers, she wouldn’t be alive today she was sure. After she’d gotten to know him better, she’d learned about his daughter, Moni, who had been involved in a local sex trafficking ring until she died from an overdose just days before her twenty-third birthday.

  “Shalene wanted me to invite you to dinner this weekend.”

  She caught the subtle quiver of his eyelid. “What are you not telling me?”

  He shrugged and darted his glance across the room. “I told her I’m not good at this cupid thing. She invited her brother and thought you two might hit it off.”

  “A blind date?” She moaned. “I’d rather be stuck inside of a tank with a thousand spiders. Tell her thanks, but no thanks.”

  “She’s making her famous chicken parmigiana.”

  “Tempting, but not happening.”

  Ranger leaned over the counter, his eyes burrowing into her. “Why don’t you come? I’m not saying I agree with her covert matchmaking scheme, but what would it hurt to meet some new people. Jonah likes to talk too much, but he’s a cool guy. He’s been single for almost three years now.”

  “My condolences to poor Johnny—”

  “Jonah.”

  “—on his relationship status, but if he met me, he’d want to be single for another three years.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. You two might have something in common.”

  “Oh, does your brother in law have a three-inch scar on his cheek too?” It wasn’t like her to pull the scar-card, but she’d do just about anything to get out of a blind date. Truth was, people did seem to focus on the wound going from the corner of her eye and downward on her cheek. She called the scar a hook because of its curved shape and it certainly was a conversation piece in social gatherings—all two of them she’d been cornered to attend for work in the last six months.

  “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?” One thick brow came up over dark, preceptive eyes. When she first started at the gym, she’d complained about how tough he was on her, but he’d ignored her whining and continued to motivate her. Now she was grateful that he’d pushed her so hard. So, she wasn’t surprised that he wouldn’t let her get by with feeling sorry for herself.

  Recapping her bottle, she pretended interest in an announcement on the board about the amateur boxing match coming up at the gym. “This looks interesting.” She pulled the paper down.

  “Don’t change the subject.” He scrubbed a towel across his smoothly shaven head to wipe up the sweat.

  “I’m not ready.”

  “It’s been six months since the attack,” he said calmly.

  “And I’m not ready.” She dropped the plastic bottle into the trashcan, grabbed her gloves out of the basket, then walked over to the wall of lockers and opened the door to hers. Since the accident, her life had changed. Fortunately, most of the external wounds had healed, but the scars on the inside were taking longer. Fear transformed a person, narrowed their scope of beliefs and ideas. It was difficult to believe that she was once the person who didn’t feel the need to lock her door at night.

  Even the bi-weekly visits to the therapist had been taken as baby steps into recovery, but that seemed like such a foreign word. Her innocence was taken, and she’d never get that back. She had to find a new way of living—a new way of coping. The therapist gave her the chance to vent her emotions, and although Lauren appreciated the opportunity, it wasn’t going anywhere. She found what was most therapeutic for her was the time she spent in the gym pounding the punching bag and learning skills in protecting herself. It gave her a power that the three attackers had taken away.

  “One day things will be better,” Ranger assured her. “You’re happier now than you were even a month ago.”

  “Because I can smile doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten.” Ranger and Shalene had been like family to her. When he’d come to visit her after she woke up in the hospital, they’d become fast friends, and once she realized what he did for a living, she asked him to teach her self-defense. He’d been more than happy to help her. “And just because you pretend you’re okay doesn’t mean that you are either. It’s okay to vent and feel sad over Moni’s death, pal. I know you’re trying your best to be strong for Shalene, but you need to let her be strong sometimes too.” They didn’t talk about Moni often, but because they’d become such great friends, she felt she could broach the subject.

  Suspicious moisture filled his eyes, but he blinked and his stoic expression was back i
nto place. “Hell, Lauren, I wish I could say the pain gets better.” He swiped his palms down his face, looking tired and beat. “I think Shalene blames me, but I was only doing what the counselor told me to do. Tough love meant not giving Moni money or a place to stay, to expect her to own up to her demons. We tried everything to get her to stay clean, but the drug was her life, became her oxygen and food.” He waved a hand as if he could dismiss the discussion. “You remind me so much of my daughter. Strong-willed and hell-bent, but you’re using that energy to overcome something that knocked you down.”

  “I think that sounds more like you.”

  “Just don’t allow those scars to become your chains. Live each day like there’s no tomorrow.” He gave her a small smile and patted her shoulder.

  “Selma tells me every day that I need to get out of the house more and not let my attackers ruin my life.” If she had a nickel for every time she heard that she needed to leave the past where it belonged and move forward, she’d be a rich woman.

  “I don’t want to lecture you, but you know it comes from a place of love. What about that lawman you were married to?”

  She blinked. “What about him?” There was that familiar feeling…the one that left her breathless and woozy. After he’d burst into the chapel, drunk and disorderly, she wanted to hate him. Wanted to never hear his name or think of him again, but as much as it pained her, he’d saved her from making a mistake by marrying Harry.

  “Have you thought about calling him? Asking for his help in finding the attackers?”

  “That rates up there with blind dates. Won’t happen.” She pulled her sweatshirt off the hook, dragged it over her head, then slammed the locker door.

  “You said he was damn good.”

  “He is. He can catch any criminal but asking him for a favor isn’t part of the divorce decree. Anyway, he’s no longer with the PD.”

  “I-I just wish they’d catch those men and put them behind bars. Just like Moni’s killers, the ones who fed her the drugs, I want to put them in a room and have them pay.. The slime is still out there living while my baby girl is buried.”