He ended the call and Lucy took a deep breath. Jack was right. Falling apart wouldn’t help Sean.
She had many friends, but most of them were cops. Asking any of them for help would put them between a rock and a hard place.
Except for one. Sean and Kane had saved DEA Agent Brad Donnelly’s life two years ago, and while they told Brad he owed them nothing, she knew that Brad felt indebted to the Rogan family.
Lucy needed help and she trusted Brad. She called his cell phone.
“Donnelly.”
“It’s Lucy. I would never ask if it wasn’t important, but something … it’s extremely … hell, it’s a mess, Brad, and I don’t have many people I trust. I trust you.”
“Anything.”
“Sean’s been arrested for murder and I need information. I don’t want to talk on the phone. Can you meet me at my house?”
“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Chapter Four
Lucy must know by now that he’d been arrested.
Sean hated that he couldn’t be the one to tell her. What had they done? Sent a couple cops to FBI headquarters? Called her down to the station? Were they questioning her? They would—just to get his alibi. She would have to answer, she was a sworn agent, right? Did they have spousal immunity? He didn’t know the rules on that, just vague information.
You’re innocent! Why are you thinking this way?
Because he’d been in the back of a police car for the last hour driving across Texas to be booked and charged with a crime he didn’t commit.
He was going to lose it before they arrived, and he had to keep it under control.
And this arrest was going to stop him from finding his brother.
Jack told him to stay put, that he’d call if he needed him, but Sean planned to be ready to leave on a moment’s notice. Kane was missing—Sean didn’t want to lose another brother. He’d planned to fly down to Hidalgo to be closer to Mexico if Jack needed his help.
Now, they were on their own. Of course, Jack, Kane, and their team were more than capable of handling the situation south of the border—they’d been mercenaries half of Sean’s life. But Kane wasn’t the young man he used to be, and Siobhan was also down there. The least he could do was help protect the convent and his sister-in-law.
Was Kane’s disappearance and his arrest connected? That seemed extraordinary, but Sean couldn’t rule anything out.
He closed his eyes, tried to slow his heart rate. He needed to think. Figure out what was going on and how to get out of this mess.
Lucy probably had a hundred questions, not the least of which was why he’d gone to Houston to see Mona Hill in the first place. He should have told her, because it affected her—it affected both of their families. But on Monday night, he was still figuring out what to do about the information Mona gave him. He’d told her what to do, she told him to go to hell, they’d argued, she’d seen the light, then he left.
He certainly hadn’t killed her over their disagreement. He needed her—as much as she needed him—and her death was more than an inconvenience.
But he couldn’t tell the cops any of this. If he omitted some things—not lying, because they’d catch him in a lie, but simply not giving them the background—they would be suspicious. His meeting with Mona Hill made no sense out of context.
He needed information, but the cops that were driving him wouldn’t talk—and if they did, they didn’t know anything important. This was a Houston case, and these were SAPD cops.
Dammit, Mona? What happened to you after I left Monday night?
Sean hadn’t wanted to talk to Mona Hill, and he certainly didn’t want to fly to Houston to talk to her in person. But she’d given him no real choice.
She’d called him Saturday morning. He ignored her. Jesse had a soccer game, then he and Lucy had a rare night alone because Jesse had spent the night with a friend. He ignored Mona on Sunday the multiple times she called. Then Monday morning she called again and Sean answered. Irritated.
“What do you want, Mona? Odette? Or whatever you’re calling yourself these days.”
“Don’t you dare turn your back on me, Sean Rogan. You are no saint, and if you don’t think I don’t have a few tricks up my sleeve, don’t test me.”
“Do not threaten me,” he said.
“I don’t want to. I don’t want anything to do with you. But you made this mess and I need you to fix it.”
“Explain.”
“I have to see you as soon as possible.”
There was fear in her voice, and her fear won his curiosity because Mona Hill wasn’t a woman who feared much.
“I need more.”
“Tobias.”
“He’s dead.”
“Someone from his operation is fucking with me, and I know exactly who it is … dammit, Rogan! Do you think I wanted to call you? Do you think I want to be in your debt? You’re a blue-eyed devil, but only a devil can stop these demons.”
* * *
He hadn’t wanted Mona to come to San Antonio, but she sounded scared and angry enough that she might try to. She told him that she would if he didn’t meet with her. Lucy was working late Monday, so he’d texted Jesse that he’d be late and to eat leftovers for dinner. Sean then flew his Cessna to Houston late Monday afternoon. When he landed, traffic from the small airstrip to her condo was miserable, but it was still light when he arrived.
Mona lived on the top floor of an upscale complex in a trendy downtown area. Prostitution clearly paid well.
Sean had kept tabs on Mona over the last two years. She was a survivor—and so was Sean. In San Antonio, Mona had run call girls and specialized in blackmail. She had several important people on her go-to list if she or her girls ever got into trouble. Mona wasn’t violent, she didn’t work underage girls or deal drugs, but she was certainly no saint. And when she made an alliance with a ruthless criminal, she ended up on the FBI’s radar.
She found herself on Sean’s radar when she threatened Lucy.
They had a truce: because Sean had looked the other way so Mona could disappear—and the FBI could apprehend a fugitive—she agreed never to return to San Antonio. He told her no more blackmail. Prostitution was illegal, but if she ran a clean operation, he’d keep his mouth shut.
She had some dirt on him. Nothing that would be easy to prove, but he didn’t need rumors circulating about what he may have done. And Lucy knew what happened. He’d told her without details, only the outcome.
Some things were better left unsaid.
So he and Mona had a truce, a quid pro quo relationship that was mutually beneficial, though they didn’t communicate much because they didn’t like each other.
Sean knocked on Mona’s door at six fifty Monday night.
She opened the door and stared at him. “Took you long enough.”
“You’re lucky I came at all.”
He walked in, she slammed the door behind him. He looked around. Nice place, new construction—not more than five years—clean and sparsely decorated. Mona looked good, too—wore jeans and a thin, shimmery short-sleeved dark tan sweater that matched her skin. Minimal makeup, hair expertly braided. She looked much better than she had when she’d run girls in San Antonio.
Maybe not dealing with the scum of the earth helped.
“You’re lucky I called you at all after you ignored me all weekend,” she snapped back.
“Tell me what’s going on, Mona. No games.”
“I saw that little bitch.”
He sighed. “Are we going to play twenty questions?”
“Elise! Elise Hansen! Or Hunt … or whatever the fuck name she goes by. First time was Friday night, I was making arrangements for a special party, walked back to my car and wham! she was right there, in my face. Looked right in my eyes, turned, and walked away. I was so stunned I didn’t say a word, thought I was wrong, then I went after her but she just vanished. It shook me, Sean. She is a piece of work—you don’t know the half of it. I thought
she was just this little skank, but she’s a psycho. I called you on Saturday morning, but then thought okay, it was nothing, I didn’t give a fuck you didn’t call me back. But Saturday night, there she was again. I was coming in late—took care of a girl who’d been roughed up, then took care of the bastard who bruised her—”
“I don’t want to hear.”
“I didn’t kill him. I cut him off, made sure everyone knew not to do business with him—he wants to get his jollies by hurting girls, he can fucking do it somewhere else. And she was here. In the lobby. Just sitting there as if she were waiting for someone. She saw me, smiled, and walked out. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and then I called you a hundred times on Sunday and you ignored me!”
“You’re sure it was her?”
“Yes.”
“And she didn’t say anything?”
“No.”
He narrowed his eyes. “No? You’re holding back, Mona. If you want me to help you, you need to tell me everything.”
“I wasn’t going to call you again, I was so angry that you fucking wouldn’t pick up your phone, then this morning I found a note.”
He was really getting ticked off by Mona making him ask for everything. “What note?”
“See for yourself. My desk.”
Mona walked into the kitchen. He watched her, made sure he could see her at all times, before crossing the room to her desk.
The desk was bare, except for a laptop computer. “What game are you playing?” he asked.
“Top drawer.” She poured herself a Scotch and downed it.
Sean opened the drawer. Paper, pens, pencils, bills, a couple of flash drives. He saw an envelope with a childish scrawl that might have said “Mona.”
He held up the envelope. “This?”
She nodded.
He took out a single piece of folded paper. In block letters, a short threat:
Mona:
You abandoned me two years ago. I don’t forget or forgive. You will be the first to die. Today? Tomorrow? Next month? You won’t know when, you won’t know where, and I’ll have so much fun making you squirm. You can’t hide here—you can’t hide anywhere.
Love,
Your Worst Nightmare
It sounded like Elise Hunt. Sean could almost hear the singsong laughter of her voice. Her brother Tobias was a vicious gun and drug runner who was killed nearly two years ago, thanks to Kane. Nicole Rollins was Tobias’s cousin, a corrupt cop taken out by SWAT at the same time. Elise was their psychopathic half sister. She’d landed in juvie for only two years, walked away three weeks ago when she turned eighteen, slate wiped clean.
At that time, Lucy had been informed of her release and told that Elise was relocating to Los Angeles, where she’d inherited property.
“You’re positive you saw Elise?”
“It was her.”
“Where did you find this?”
“On my desk. She got in here. In my fucking apartment, Rogan!”
Sean shouldn’t have touched the envelope, but he’d only touched the letter by the corners. He found another envelope in the back of the drawer and put Elise’s threat inside it. “You need to take this to the police—”
“Bull fucking shit. I’m not going to the police. You think they’ll protect me?”
“Don’t shout at me, we’re on the same side here.”
Shit. RCK should have been on top of this … they should have been monitoring Elise from the minute she was released. Clearly her trip to Los Angeles was short-lived. But she had a purpose. That little bitch did nothing without a purpose, as twisted as it might be.
Los Angeles … her father Jimmy Hunt had been extradited from Mexico to the U.S. and was in prison in Los Angeles, so that was the likely connection.
Had Elise and her father concocted a scheme for payback?
“She’s going to kill me,” Mona said. “You have to stop her.”
“You need to file a police report.”
“And say what? That I ran girls in San Antonio and was supposed to take her out of town when this asshole PI who’d already broke into my apartment and trashed my computer told me to leave or he’d hurt my sister and nephew?”
With every word her volume increased and he finally said, “Shut up!” He forced himself to calm down. He couldn’t lose his temper with her. “I never threatened anyone,” he said through clenched teeth.
She rolled her eyes. “Right.”
“I told you I would tell your sister where her trust came from, and it wasn’t from your fucking death. Don’t go and twist things around when you asked me to come here and help you. I have plenty on you that the cops would be interested in knowing, Ramona Jefferson.” He spat out her real name—a name that had a death certificate attached to it.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I’m just so freaked out. She scares the living hell out of me.”
That he believed. “First, you need protection.”
“That’s why I called you.”
“I can’t stay here and protect you.” If Elise was in Texas, he needed to protect his family, first and foremost. “Call the police. They will follow up on this threat. Elise is dangerous—”
“Then why the fuck did they let her out of prison?”
“You have money. Last time I saw you, you had a bunch of bodyguards.”
“I have a couple guys I hire, they don’t live with me! But—Elise isn’t like normal people, you know? She has a screw loose.”
That Sean knew.
“I’ll track her. Find out where she is and what she’s doing and maybe I can get someone to put the fear of God into her.” He couldn’t do it, not knowing where she might show up next, but he could hire a PI to follow her, make sure she wasn’t doing something illegal. Encourage her to get out of Texas, he hoped.
First he had to locate her.
But Elise Hunt … shit. She was as unpredictable as she was insane.
Not insane. Sociopathic, violent, remorseless, but not legally crazy.
“You think she’ll listen? That girl is a fucking mess. You don’t know the half of it, Rogan.”
Elise Hunt was planning something. Once she took out Mona, she probably had a list of people to go after, not the least of which was Sean and Lucy. Lucy had testified against her, Sean had stolen her family’s drug money and turned it over to the feds. Elise might not even be planning on killing Mona. She might just be playing with her, scaring her, which she’d clearly already done.
Sean looked at his watch. He had to get going, Lucy would be home by eleven, and he needed more information before he told her what was going on.
“I’m going to give you a list of things to do. This is important, Mona.”
She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of American beer, put it on the counter.
“I don’t want a drink.”
“Fine, be that way. Just tell me what to do.” She took out her phone and opened up the note app.
Sean rubbed his eyes. Okay, she was scared. He got that. Hell, Elise was only eighteen but she scared the shit out of Sean because she was unpredictable. And Mona had helped him and Lucy when they needed it. She was a criminal, but she wasn’t all bad. No one was all bad.
Except anyone with the last name of Hunt.
He picked up the beer and twisted off the cap. Took a long swallow. “I’m going to find out where Elise is and what she’s doing, but you need to protect yourself. I still think you need to take that note to the police, but I get it. You don’t want to go to the police. So, first thing, get a full-time bodyguard…”
* * *
If Mona was killed Monday night, chances were the police found his prints at her place. On the desk, the door, the kitchen, the beer bottle. But they should also have her phone, and would know that she had called him once Saturday, four times on Sunday, which he’d ignored, then Monday late morning, which he had answered and spoke to her for about three minutes.
He could say that she had hired him, except that she
hadn’t. She hadn’t given him money or signed a contract. She’d essentially blackmailed him. Well—that was harsh. They had an understanding, and mutually assured destruction usually worked well. But he had more to lose than she did, because he was married to a cop.
You should have told Lucy about Elise from the beginning.
Should haves weren’t going to do him any good now. Lucy would be angry because he was trying to protect her, but he hadn’t wanted her to worry about Elise until he had more information. His home security was solid, he knew Lucy was covered at work, and he went over advanced security with Jesse.
Sean had begun tracking Elise Hunt. She had no digital footprint, but he’d found the property she’d inherited in Los Angeles and hired a PI to sit on it. Most of the Hunt property had been seized under asset forfeiture laws but her lawyer had managed to get her a chunk that had been owned by her mother prior to her birth. That alone was worth more than a million for the land only.
Elise had flown to Los Angeles after being released from juvenile detention. She was out, free and clear, no probation. She likely had numerous fake IDs, she could have a car, but there was no record of her—under her name—returning to Texas.
Nico, his PI, had eyes on her Tuesday afternoon, but that was only a few hours after Sean put Nico onto the case. No change in her status since, and Sean didn’t know what good it would do sitting on her property, though he’d asked Nico to keep tabs on her for a week.
That’s where he was in his investigation when he was arrested this morning. Today he had a scheduled meeting with the warden of the facility Elise had been housed in, a longtime decorated corrections officer named Kathy Pine, but that wouldn’t happen now.
Dammit!
You should have told Lucy.
He told himself to shut up. Of course he should have. If Elise Hunt was behind this, Lucy had to be doubly careful.
He wished he could get a message to Lucy to keep the meeting with the warden. She might have information they needed, and now he’d be a no-show.
Cold as Ice Page 3