“I got in as an intern, unpaid of course. But Ed saw something he liked and hired me as a full time employee. He carries a lot of clout there.”
“You’re headed back there tomorrow?”
Luanne nodded. “I would’ve driven tonight but Jon was worried it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Jon was worried. Melanie frowned.
“Well, I’m sure he’s right. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be up for another hour or so.”
Melanie watched as Luanne headed for the guest bedroom, wondering if she should start worrying.
Chapter 18
Los Angeles
“You ever kill anyone?” Luanne asked.
Jon was sitting on the lanai of Luanne’s studio apartment, a matchbox space, cramped and messy. It reminded him of his place back in New York. He took a sip of his Budweiser.
“Well, have you?” she pushed.
“I try not to talk about it.”
“Sounds healthy.”
Silence.
She continued. “It’s the worst feeling ever. Even when it’s in self-defense. Taking someone else’s life, their future. The guy who attacked me will never have a chance to mend his ways.”
“Maybe he never would have. Maybe he would have spent the rest of his days terrorizing people.”
Luanne looked away. “Well, now we’ll never know.”
“Listen Lu. I know all about guilt tripping. It’s not worth the ride.”
“I don’t think it's guilt I’m feeling. More like regret. Had I not gone out there . . .”
“The guy was seeking you out. It wouldn’t have mattered where you were. Thankfully, in this case you were armed.”
She thought about that for a moment. “I guess that’s true. And I wouldn’t want to face that guy unarmed.”
“Exactly.”
“Thanks, Jon. There’s more to you than meets the eye.”
He winked. “And don’t forget the silver lining.”
She raised her brow questioningly.
“We now know we’re onto something. You said the guy mentioned Ed. He was targeted. By a man who knew his medical condition.”
“All that’s true, but so far the guy’s a dead end. By the time I left San Francisco he was still a John Doe. The police said they’ll keep me posted.”
“I spoke with the homicide detective. He was pretty forthcoming.” He handed her a two-page printout. “Read this. While you were in transit I went to the local FBI office, requested the San Francisco FBI office update the database with the perp’s prints and the DNA the M.E. gathered. It’ll be quicker and more comprehensive than going through the PD.”
Luanne started perusing the pages. A mug shot was included in the file. She didn’t look at it. “He had a rap sheet a mile long but nothing that ties him to any of the companies.”
“But now we have a name. Carlos Chavez. Born in Mexico City thirty-six years ago. Crossed the border with his brother at fourteen. Never left. His brother had ties to MS-13, one of the worst gangs in the world. Notorious for torturing their opposition.”
Luanne thought of how he waited for her to run, like a rabbit he could stalk and hunt down. She shuddered.
“So, what now?” she asked.
“We need to get his bank statements. See if he was paid for the hits on you and Ed and by whom.”
“I guess they taught you something in FBI school.”
“A thing or two. But most of this is my own brilliance.”
She gave him a playful pinch on the cheek.
“Ow,” Jon said, feigning pain.
“Sorry.” She leaned over and kissed the spot. “All better,” she said, then went back to reading.
Jon touched his cheek. It was on fire. Temptation was pulling at him to upgrade the playful kiss to a real one. While he was deliberating, Luanne’s phone rang.
Luanne said, “Hey, Caroline. How are you holding up?” She put the call on speaker.
“Day by day. Thanks for asking. Just wanted to see if you were up for taking a drive.”
“Oh, sorry. I’m back in LA.”
“I may be down there in a few weeks. For the time being, I’d prefer to remain in seclusion while the paparazzi is still fixated on the story.”
“Understood.”
“I’m also calling because with all the time on my hands now, I’ve been watching a lot of C-SPAN. It's the one channel I don’t have to worry about seeing footage of me and Harold. I just watched Congressman Taylor’s press conference. “Did you see it?”
“No. What happened?” Luanne decided not to mention her attack in the Sonoma mountains. No point in further upsetting the woman.
“He stepped down. Pulled out of the gubernatorial race.”
Jon met Luanne’s gaze, raised a brow.
Luanne said, “That’s unexpected. It looked like he would ace the primary.”
“It was really strange.”
“How so?”
“It’s probably better if you watch it yourself without my biasing your opinion. See if you hear what I did.”
“Wait a second, I’m turning on the television.”
Every news channel was covering it. The anchorman was recapping, saying the congressman was stepping down in the eleventh hour after discovering he had early onset Alzheimer’s.
Luanne channel surfed till she found a replay of Taylor’s speech. She watched the Texas congressman approach the microphone. And listened.
Luanne told Caroline she would call her right back and ended the call. To Jon, she said, “It has to be connected. Someone out there derailed the prince’s wedding and the congressman’s gubernatorial bid.”
Jon knew they’d reached the point of a true conspiracy. “I think you’re right. The question now is, who’s next?”
Chapter 19
San Antonio, Texas
Jon slid in beside Luanne who was seated behind the wheel of a black Dodge Durango. Luanne had arrived an hour before him and used the time to rent the truck. The layoffs story had taken on a life of its own. Now that the would-be wedding date was behind them, The Times newsroom was finally beginning to slow down to its normal frenzied state. New divorce rumors were leaking out of Hollywood for an A–list couple and attentions would soon turn there. Luanne’s editor told her she could go back to whatever she’d been working on before. Little did he know she had never stopped. The time was ripe to investigate the shocking upset in the gubernatorial race.
“Welcome to the Lone Star State,” she said in an affected drawl.
“Thanks, Lu. I lived in Dallas for several years. Feels like coming home.”
Luanne handed him two tickets.
He looked at them. “A rodeo?”
“Didn’t you tell me you’re supposed to have fun?”
“Yeah. But . . .”
“But what? We’re in cowboy country. What could be more fun than Texas barbecue and rodeo?”
Jon laughed. “I see your point. But you do realize that’s not why we’re here.”
Luanne rolled her eyes. “Oh, really? I thought this was a vacation. You’re only meeting with the congressman in the morning. Why waste the day?”
***
An hour later, Luanne walked through the door connecting their hotel rooms. She was dressed like a cowgirl in a sequined and tasseled mid-thigh dress, her flaming locks incongruous with the look. She twirled.
“I dug this out of the back of my closet before leaving LA. Wore it two years ago for Halloween.”
“Sexy. You’ve been planning this.”
“As soon as I learned we were coming out here,” she said.
“You’re something else.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.
“You should. That’s how I meant it.” Jon felt the heat rise in the room.
Luanne didn’t seem perturbed by the blatant flirting but didn’t take it any further. She said, “If we don’t leave now, we won’t make it in time.”
Jon said, “I’m in no rush.�
�
“No way. We have to go.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him to the door. “C’mon cowboy. We can enjoy some horseplay later.”
***
Bulverde, Texas
Jon and Luanne walked under the wooden ranch gate, a giant icon of a cowboy, arm flailing in the air as he struggled to hang on to the bucking bronco, hung above their heads. The smell of barbecue wafted through the cool air. Country music emanated from a shelter with a sign that read, “Hootenanny Sundays.”
After finger-licking ribs and local brew, an older man with a long gray ponytail and braided leather bolo tie, took to the stage. He began playing his guitar, fast, belting “Mama Don’t Allow.”
Men in Stetsons, boasting belts with elaborate metal buckles, escorted their denim-clad and fringed ladies onto the dance floor. Children mimicked the adults. Jon felt at home. He extended a hand to Luanne, inviting her to dance. The moment they got onto the dance floor, the musician announced a square dance. Rather than leap off the dance floor, Luanne appeared to jump for joy. She was an anomaly.
They laughed like kids in their attempts to follow the leader’s calls for “do-si-do” and “swing your partner.” It didn’t matter neither of them knew what they were doing. They were having a blast.
***
Salt Lake City
When Franklin saw who was calling, he turned on his humidifier. The monstrosity was ridiculously loud, but he’d quickly learned it served a dual purpose in masking his voice, in case his mother was eavesdropping. She never showed any interest in his dealings. Probably thought he was playing video games all day. But he couldn’t risk it. The walls were paper thin.
“Got an update?” he asked.
“I’m on them.” The man’s pitch bordered on the feminine. He didn’t sound like the type of guy Franklin knew him to be. Dangerous.
“Them?”
“Steadman’s with that reporter. The weird chick. The one whose picture you sent me.”
“Luanne Parker. She’s like a weed. Keeps popping up.” He didn’t mention she was responsible for getting rid of his last hired help. “Where are they?”
“At a rodeo, forty-five minutes outside San Antonio.”
“What? What are they doing there?”
“Right now they’re square dancing.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Well, that beats him poking his nose into my business. But if they’re near San Antonio, they’re headed for the congressman.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Give them a scare. And keep me posted if they head to Taylor. I’ll need you to prevent their arrival.”
“Define prevent.”
“Broad definition. I’ll leave it to your judgement.”
“Fine by me, boss.”
Franklin hung up, smiling at his new title.
***
When the dance ended, Jon and Luanne took their plates of pecan pie to the grandstand and found their seats. Kids dressed as miniature cowboys and cowgirls hung on to the corral bars waving American flags, staring agape as a rodeo clown with spurs on his boots, frolicked inside the arena taunting an angry steer.
The crowd was hollering and laughing, having a good, old-fashioned Texas time.
They watched in fascination as performers wrestled bulls, and competed in team roping, bronco riding and barrel racing. Jon realized for the first time in a long while that he was having fun. Once again, his shrink was right.
When the show was over, Luanne said, “Did you bring a change of clothes like I told you?”
“Yep.”
“Let’s go change out of these costumes. We’ve got one more activity on today’s agenda.”
This time Jon didn’t question it. “Bring it on!”
Chapter 20
Bulverde, Texas
Jon mounted the ATV, straddling the seat. Luanne got on behind him.
“Sure you don’t want to drive?” Jon asked.
“Yeah, I’ve done this before. Go for it.” Luanne’s nose and mouth were covered with a black bandana, muffling her voice. Both donned helmets and goggles protecting them from the upcoming onslaught of flying dust.
Luanne couldn’t help but laugh. Jon was certainly multi-faceted. She sensed he was more in his element here than sitting in his New York FBI office. He was smart, complex, quick on his feet. Also, sexy and a bit of a jerk. But she liked him.
Jon revved the engine and she took the cue, wrapping her arms around his waist. He drove toward the off-road circuit. They had the ATV for the next hour and could go wherever they wanted as long as they brought the vehicle back on time. Luanne could already tell Jon was going to take it to the max. Boys will be boys. Well, she could play just as hard. Always had. A tomboy throughout her early childhood, she grew up literally climbing the walls. In her house, on the playground. “Fearless Lu” is what they’d called her. Regretfully, she’d lost some of that wildness.
Jon took the first hill getting his bearings. At the top they had a view of the rugged expanse, the ground dry and rocky. Luanne could see several dirt bikes in the distance, their wide threaded tires jumping and swerving, like Evel Knievel of the seventies, the stuntman her dad had once told her about. The noise was near-deafening and she wondered why they weren’t given ear protection like at a shooting range.
Within five minutes, Jon had the hang of it and was speeding along, the dry grass shivering in their wake, stirring up clouds of dust.
Luanne shouted, “Having fun?”
Jon turned his head a bit and yelled back. “This is amazing!”
She felt a jolt of joy that she was the one to introduce him to what could become a favorite pastime. Get a grip. Her last relationship had spanned a two-year period. Leading nowhere. Mostly because he had no drive. Her thoughts were broken by the powerful sounds of a dirt bike descending the hill ahead of them. The rider wore a black helmet, the visor making it impossible to see his face. It took a moment for her to realize he was heading straight for them.
“Jon!” she shouted, bracing herself for a head on collision.
“Hold on!” Jon shouted.
In an instant, Jon shoved the handlebars, careening to the left, swerving out of the biker’s path, missing the collision by a hair. They had come so close Luanne could have reached out and touched the fringes on the biker’s jacket. She turned to see the guy brake hard, his booted leg hitting the ground . . . and rev up again.
“He’s coming back!”
Dead ahead was a hill, its steep rise preventing her from seeing what lie on the other side. Instead of slowing, Jon sped up. She had a vise grip on his waist as they went airborne, landing on the back wheels, then coming down hard, their bodies bouncing forward. It felt like her spine had compressed like an accordion. Miraculously, they were both still in the saddle. The maneuver had allowed Jon to make a U-turn, face his adversary. He wasted no time. Luanne sensed his strategy. It was the only thing that made sense—try to take the guy down while he was airborne.
Jon slowed as if timing his attack. The moment the biker crested the hill, Jon went for him, cutting off his descent. The biker’s instinct to turn his handlebars was futile without ground beneath his wheels. At the last moment, Jon sped out of the way. Luanne watched in horror as in mid-air, the bike—its wheels still spinning fast—went one way—the man another, his body rolling to a stop at the bottom of the hill. He wasn’t moving.
Jon braked abruptly. “Stay here!”
Luanne watched him pull out a pistol from a holster under his jacket. He held it outward as he approached the motionless biker. He shouted, “FBI! Don’t move, asshole!”
Jon took a step at a time, finally hovering over the man, remaining out of reach of the man’s splayed arm, ready to shoot if need be. No movement. He kicked the guy’s leg, hard. Still nothing. “You can come here, Lu. Hold the gun on him.”
She did as he asked and watched as Jon kneeled beside their pursuer and lifted the man’s visor. His eyes were closed. She felt the bile rise,
pushed it down. “Is he dead?”
Jon lifted the man’s sleeve, took his pulse. “He’s alive. Call 911. He look familiar to you?”
“No, I’ve never seen him before.”
Luanne got her phone out of her pocket and dialed.
***
Jon and Luanne spent the rest of the day dealing with the local authorities, updating Matthews and identifying the guy—a thug for hire with a rap sheet a mile long. They had yet to determine who he worked for.
Back at the hotel, Luanne collapsed on the bed. Her back was killing her. A medic at the scene had checked her, and despite his coaxing, she declined going to the hospital. He said she would be sore for a few days, but it was likely nothing was broken.
“Someone’s dead set on stopping our investigation,” she said to Jon who was now lying beside her. He looked the same as she felt. Sore, drained.
“Sorry you had to go through that, Lu.”
She had a hard time keeping her eyes open. “So much for a fun time, huh?” she mumbled.
He turned his body toward her. “Until that nut came after us, it was an amazing time. That hasn’t changed. I appreciate the effort. I totally understand if you want to go home. Just say the word.”
“No chance. I’ve got a huge story. I’m staying with this.”
He kissed her on the nose. “All right. Get some rest, cowgirl.”
If Jon had said anything more, she didn’t hear it. She was already asleep.
***
The next morning, Luanne agreed that Jon should speak to the congressman alone. He probably wouldn’t want a reporter tagging along and she needed to rest her back for a few hours. Maybe find a place to buy some weed. Texas was known as one of the most restrictive states even for medicinal cannabis. She’d go to the closest college campus. She’d find some there.
Chapter 21
San Antonio, Texas
Vengeance: An Action-Adventure Novel (A Jon Steadman Thriller Book 3) Page 10