Pay Dirt (Bennett Dynasty Book 2)

by Kate Allenton

  PAY DIRT

  BENNETT DYNASTY

  BOOK 2

  Kate Allenton

  Copyright © 2019 Kate Allenton

  All rights reserved.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or use fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Coastal Escape Publishing

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  Chapter 1

  Twenty subpoenas served.

  Ten bail jumpers found.

  Five death threats.

  And a partridge in a pear tree.

  My stats from last month sounded like a bad Christmas carol.

  The restaurant was one that herded people in and out during lunch hour like cattle. I’d skipped the hustle, bypassing tables of the business-suit-wearing people whose idea of conversation was spreading water cooler gossip. I’d headed straight for the U-shaped bar, not to get sloppy drunk but to wait for my client.

  There were two guys at the bar. The one closest to me made for magnificent scenery. His mussed dark hair suggested he’d been running his fingers through the dark strands. The stubble on his face only emphasized his crystal blue eyes, deep dimples, and a menacing scowl. The poor guy looked like he was having a bad day, even though just looking at him had made mine better.

  The other patron sitting across from me was much more interesting. Not in an attractive way but a way that would pay out benefits. Some women might consider his award-winning smile, styled hair, and spray tan appealing. I wasn’t one of them. He’d been nursing a beer until a plate with a hamburger and fries was placed in front of him.

  I didn’t like sitting at the bar alone. It felt awkward, made me fidgety, and implied I had no friends. I let only a handful of people into my world if you didn’t count my plethora of sisters. It was easier to keep my family secrets contained that way.

  An unfounded unease fluttered in my stomach, a feeling I couldn’t quite place. A loud staccato beat rose above the normal restaurant noise as I tapped my foot on the barstool and rechecked my watch. He was late.

  My gaze crossed the busy room and landed on the door. People walked in as others walked out. None of them the man I was waiting on. Rubbing my temples, I let out a long sigh.

  Sometimes clients talked themselves out of believing in my ability to find things. Sometimes they didn’t want to know the answers. I couldn’t make them believe no matter how hard I tried, but this client was a repeat customer.

  My regular clients called or met at my house, but this one was different. Unusual. Difficult. Challenging. This case was one I liked because it lacked the boring elements such as missing keys or jewelry. It was the weird ones that would consume me, engulf me, almost to where I’d forget my sister’s obsession with believing our baby sister, Talia, wasn’t dead.

  Picking this restaurant had been strategic, easy, convenient, and it provided me the ability to deal with two problems at once.

  Twenty minutes turned in to forty-five. The afternoon lunch crowd started to wind down. The guy sitting across from me had just discarded his napkin next to his plate and pushed them toward the bartender.

  I pulled ten dollars out of my oversized purse and slid it across the scarred bar with one more appreciative glance at the sexy man who’d been sitting next to me, wishing he might meet my gaze. Not even a nibble as he nursed his soda. I decided it was now or never to get my other job done.

  I rose and rounded the barstool, pulling out an envelope and my cell phone as I went. I smiled at the fake-tan man on the other side of the bar as I approached. His hamburger was half eaten, his French fries gone, only a goop of ketchup left in their place. He’d put his used napkin on the bar and had a single sip of beer remaining in his tall glass.

  “Aren’t you Bill Tanner?” I asked, as if I were a weather groupie fan girl from watching him on the six o’clock news. I could have predicted the weather with a better success rate just by flipping a coin.

  A smile slid onto the man’s face. His glazed eyes told me enough. He’d had a few more alcoholic beverages before I even arrived. His hungry gaze, previously pointed at the food remaining on his plate, had settled on the swells of my D-sized breasts.

  I could work with the unwanted looks, even if it meant I’d need a shower when I got home. I batted my long eyelashes and tried for a sexy smile. The mirror above the bar showed that I was failing. My sexy smile looked like my old high school picture when I had been forced to say cheese before the flash blinded me.

  “Yep. Are you a fan?” he answered and rested his unwanted palm on my hip. He licked his lips, never meeting my gaze, only my chest. “You want my autograph, sweetheart, or something more… filling.”

  Not likely, douchebag. Although he wore several rings, his wedding ring was absent. A conspicuous tan line stood out like a beacon, and I was familiar with his story. I wasn’t a first-timer.

  “How about we take this somewhere more private?” he asked, but paused as if he thought better of the offer. “You aren’t a reporter, are you?”

  “I’m not a reporter or a hooker, Mr. Tanner.”

  “Great, so what’s it going to take?”

  “Mr. Tanner, I’d love to take a picture with you. Maybe then you can give me your number. My sisters will be so jealous I got to meet you.”

  “Sure, sugar.” He chuckled.

  I turned in his arms, holding out my phone camera as he groped my booty. I lifted the envelope to get it in the picture before I turned back. Pressing the envelope against his chest, I leaned in to whisper, “You’ve been served.”

  His mouth gaped open before he snapped his lips together in a thin line. His laser-focused anger was pointed directly at me, and his bronze face turned blotchy red.

  “Tell that bitch I’ll kill her before she ever receives a dime,” he growled as he rose from his seat. Snatching my shoulder, he spun me around. My dress strap ripping was loud in my ear.

  My heartbeat pounded, and my body tensed. “Expect my testimony about the death threats in your divorce hearing. Your wife will get full custody of little Matt and Joey.”

  “You bitch.
” His fingers dug deeper into my shoulder, and his strike came quick and fast as he backhanded me across the cheek, making my cheekbones feel like they’d exploded. His rings cut my lip, and everyone in the restaurant paused, unmoving, as if not believing what they were witnessing. No one came to my aid.

  “I guess your temper is why she’s divorcing you?” I said, spitting blood from my lip. “Touch me again, and your wife won’t have to worry about divorcing you. She’ll get everything when you’re dead. You understand?” I leaned into him and lifted my knee hard and fast into his family jewels, inflicting some deserved pain.

  He dropped to his knees, cupping his crotch as I grabbed a napkin from the bar and blotted the blood pooling on my face while glancing around the ceiling. I grinned as I turned back to Tanner as he was trying to stand. “You’re over.” Before I could gesture to the cameras, Tanner pulled a gun and had his finger on the trigger.

  I lifted my hands in the air. “You don’t want to shoot. You’ll do hard time for murder.”

  A snarl registered on his face as his eyes narrowed. He’d cocked the trigger when a mountain of muscles flashed by, pushing me out of the way as he tackled Tanner to the ground.

  We all landed in a hot mess on the ground. My dress officially was ruined from the sticky goo on the floor.

  Muscles met my gaze. The soda drinker pulled Tanner’s hands behind his back. “FBI, and you’re under arrest.”

  “FBI?” I questioned as he put the metal bracelets on Tanner. Had they had this guy under surveillance for more dirt?

  “FBI?” Tanner asked. “Why the hell are you guys involved in a civil dispute? I haven’t done anything.”

  Several men rushed into the restaurant. Most wearing bulletproof vests with FBI inscribed across the chests. A tall guy with balding hair had his hand resting on his gun. “What the hell did you do?”

  “I served attorney papers,” I answered.

  “Not you,” he growled and jabbed his finger toward a barstool.

  Another officer guided me to the stool to sit.

  “He hit her, Campbell,” the mountain of muscles answered, passing the weatherman off to another agent.

  Tanner’s arrest would make the evening news. Too bad he wouldn’t be wouldn’t be following up with the weather forecast.

  “And she fought back,” Campbell answered. “Murray, you should have just broken it up and escorted him out. But no… you just had to break your cover and be a savior.”

  “Uh… I didn’t need a savior, but thanks for trying, Murray, is it?” I said from the barstool.

  They both glared at me. I had that effect on some people.

  “You most likely scared Miss. Bennett’s accomplice away.”

  “Wait, what?” I asked as I hopped off the barstool. How had I turned into the criminal and part of an FBI sting?

  Campbell pointed to the seat I’d vacated. “You sit. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

  I was in the twilight zone. I fired off a text to my sister Gwen. The FBI is about to arrest me. Can you do your thing?

  I started to sing my revised Christmas jingle again.

  Twenty-one subpoenas served.

  Ten bail jumpers found.

  Six death threats.

  And one… ruined FBI sting…

  I dunked my scratchy napkin in a tall glass of water and dabbed at my bloody lip. The abrasive scratches on my arm stung. My favorite dress was torn at the shoulder strap.

  Campbell stepped around my sexy-soda-drinking-linebacker and grabbed my phone before dangling a pair of handcuffs in front of me.

  I held out my wrists and smiled. “You should think twice about this.”

  “Yeah, and why is that?” Campbell asked.

  “Because I’m the victim here, and you’ll get some bad press.”

  “I’m not worried about bad press,” he said while he tightened the cuffs on my wrist.

  “You might not be worried about the press, but you should be concerned that I had time to text my sister.” I grinned even brighter as he yanked me off the barstool and escorted me out with Agent Murray following behind.

  Chapter 2

  I sat idly in an interrogation room. The sheriff’s department knew me well. Not that I got in trouble a lot, but sometimes trouble found me when I was working on my cases. They knew what I was capable of, especially the sheriff. Finding Mrs. Sheriff’s diamond ring had kept me in the man’s good graces.

  FBI Special Agent Campbell passed me off to one of the local detectives that I’d known for years.

  Detective Jimbo Jones was a big man and intimidating on the outside but nothing but a teddy bear, all squishy and filled with fluff on the inside. He had a heart of gold and a demeanor that could scare sharks. I felt safe and untouchable.

  Jimbo had led me into an interrogation room and had now returned with a first aid kit and latex gloves on his hands.

  “What did you do?” he whispered as he dabbed rubbing alcohol on my face, making me wince.

  “I served the News Channel 6 weather guy with divorce papers and got attacked in the process.”

  “He’s got a rap sheet of domestic abuse a mile long, but his wife always drops the charges.” Jimbo sighed. “Why did the feds bring you in, if it was an assault case?”

  “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  He glanced back at the two-way mirror before leaning in and putting a bandage on my cut cheek, making me hiss through clenched teeth.

  His voice was low and gravelly. “They haven’t told us anything yet, but the sheriff knows you’re here.”

  “Thanks, Jimbo.” I rested my hand on his. “I texted Gwen before they took my phone away.”

  His eyes widened. Hearing my sister’s name had that effect. She was like a category 5 hurricane when provoked, pissed and destroying everything in her way. “Gwen is coming here?”

  “Yeah, sorry about that, but the feds think I have an accomplice to a crime I didn’t commit.”

  The door opened again. Sheriff Tom Harrington walked in, his assessing gaze held mine as he cataloged the bruises and marks on my body. When it landed on my ripped dress, his jaw clenched. “You okay, Cassie?”

  I nodded. “I was just serving divorce papers, Sheriff.”

  “Did the news reporter rough you up?”

  “She was handling herself just fine,” Agent Campbell said as he entered behind Sheriff Harrington.

  “So, you saw it?” Harrington asked.

  “We were watching the whole thing on the closed-circuit surveillance cameras.”

  Harrington turned his full gaze on Campbell, pegging him with his scrutiny. Feds might outrank local jurisdiction, but Harrington had a way of putting men in their place. Especially ones he didn’t like. We had that in common. “Someone assaulted an innocent woman and almost shot her and you didn’t do a damn thing?”

  “Actually,” I interjected, “the other FBI guy hurtled over the bar and tackled Bill Tanner before he could kill me.”

  Frowning, Harrington turned back to me. “It’s not like you to miss something as important as a weapon.”

  “I know, right?” I said with widened eyes.

  “Sheriff, do you mind?” Campbell asked.

  “Right,” he said. “Cassie Bennett, these men are from the FBI. Special Agents Ron Campbell and Nathan Murray. They need to ask you some questions.”

  I rubbed at my wrist. “Does the FBI put all of their witnesses in handcuffs?”

  “Only the ones involved in our case.”

  “Cassie Bennett is a skip tracer, among other things. We’ve contracted out to her to help in investigations, so whatever you believe she did, there’s probably more to the story than you realize.”

  Nathan Murray was a man to be reckoned with. He towered over me. Both men watched me as they sat down. But Murray’s gaze had a way of caressing me, making my heart race in a guilty way.

  He nodded in that official way that told me changing my clothes was still a long time coming before he sat
down.

  The sheriff stepped back and was about to close the door when I called out, “Tom, I’m sorry.”

  “For what, Cassie?” he asked.

  “I texted Gwen.”

  Sheriff Harrington let out a heavy sigh. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  The door shut behind him. His voice was muffled as he barked orders.

  “So, would anyone care to tell me why the Feds were watching me?” I asked.

  “We’ll be the ones asking the questions; you’ll be the one giving answers,” Campbell said.

  I sat back and winked at whoever was watching behind the two-way glass. If I didn’t know better, my sister was probably already back there, along with her boyfriend, the attorney.

  “Aren’t you going to read me my rights?” I asked.

  “You aren’t under arrest,” Murray answered, earning a glare from his compadre.

  “Okay, so what am I doing here, and why did you haul me into the station in handcuffs?”

  “Who were you meeting at the restaurant?”

  “A client,” I answered.

  “What services are you providing him?” Campbell asked.

  “Nothing illegal,” I answered honestly.

  “Who were you meeting, and what was the job?”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shook my head. “I’m a tracker, a skip tracer, but I find more than just people. I locate things.”

  “Like drugs for criminals?”

  I clicked my tongue. “I won’t do anything illegal. My clients know that up front. I do my homework, gentlemen, and even if one were to dupe me into finding something for them that was illegal, I’d turn the contraband into the police. I’ve already proved that before.”

  Campbell flipped open a file and read from it.

  “Says here you’re like a mind reader or psychic. How exactly does that work when people want you to find things?”

  “It will be easier just to show you than explain. Give me your ring.” I held out my hand toward Campbell.

  “I’d rather you explain,” he answered as he twisted the ring in question on his finger.