The Lonesome Lawmen Trilogy

by Pauline Baird Jones

  She was through with running, through with looking back, with retreating or anything like unto it. There was only forward, no matter who she had to walk over with her spiked heels to do it.

  She left all the manifestations of biker babe in the dressing room to be dealt with by the snotty clerk. She had better things to do, like finding and adding a Marilyn Monroe wig to her ensemble. Then she would need to start on her new plot and finding a place to implement it.

  Matt Kirby’s face rose in her head, maybe because she was dressed to take on an alpha male of his caliber. He had his own agenda, just like Richard, just like Dark Lord. They all wanted something they thought she could give them. Well, they could take their separate agendas, and stick them up their collective butts.

  Tough talk, her alter ego sneered, for someone who only knows what she doesn’t want. Just how do you plan to get from point a to point z?

  It just shows what you know, she sneered right back. Have you forgotten my ex-spy, Spook? If anyone would know how to beat the Feds and baddies it was a former spy. It wouldn’t be easy. The Feds probably had his name on their handy-dandy list of people she had talked to online. A problem if Dani didn’t have an online handle they had missed tucked up her bright red cap sleeve. “Delphi” could email Spook right under all their sniffing noses and only she and Spook would know who she really was. He’d thought it a hoot when she’d asked him to help her create her first alter-identity, had helped her set it up.

  It was perfect. Once she got her hands on yet another laptop with a modem and arranged a meeting.

  * * * *

  “So, he failed again.” Bates hung up the telephone and turned to face the two men waiting for orders on the other side of his mahogany desk. He smoothed back dark hair which reflected what the cut had cost. His Italian silk suit was custom tailored for a body just starting to thicken at the waist, his silk shirt underneath a discreet pinstripe, the tie an original. His face was narrow and neat, his eyes so dark they absorbed the light without reflecting it back.

  He was a wise guy who started out on the streets, stealing stereos and tires, moved into dealing drugs, then clawed his way up the ranks on the heels of fellow punk, Paul Orsini, who had put him in charge of all their Midwest operations. Denver was out of the criminal mainstream of either coast, but Bates didn’t mind. His wife liked living near mountains and it was a better place to raise kids.

  Hayes was out there, but there was no unease on Bates’ face. He hadn’t gotten where he was giving up his thoughts or feelings to underlings. That didn’t mean he wasn’t worried. Hayes had played an important part in Bates’ success, partly by eliminating the competition, partly by making Bates look good when he so efficiently took out the competition. In his business, success meant enemies, but he hadn’t cared. They had been partly held in check by their fear of the whacked out hit man’s reputation. A reputation that was in a nose dive now.

  What Hayes had done for Bates was now irrelevant. He had failed. Bates regretted the necessity. Hayes had been the perfect weapon when he was pointed at Bates’ enemies. Now he must be eliminated before his failure came back in Bates’ face like spit in the wind. Before his enemies scented weakness or failure and came at him. Before Orsini got any doubts about how effective he was at managing his interests.

  “Hayes is gonna bolt. Stop him permanently. Understand?”

  The two men, his best muscle, exchanged looks, their nearly identical faces mirroring a mutual unease.

  “We’re working it. Not even the acid heads are eager to roll over on a bopper like Hayes,” said the muscle on the right, known locally as Bad Trip because crossing him was worse than a bad acid trip.

  “But we gotta snitch we can apply some muscle to,” finished Bum Trip, so named because an encounter with him was as unpleasant as one with his twin.

  “The sooner the better,” Bates said. “He’s a loose cannon. We don’t take care of him, Orsini’ll be after us.” He wanted them to be properly motivated to complete the task. In his business, motivation was everything.

  They exchanged glances that told him they’d got it.

  “We’ll get him,” Bad Trip assured him.

  “Get going. And send David in on your way out.”

  They left as silently as they had arrived, leaving Bates frowning until David appeared.

  Donald David was a large man with a deceptively vacant face. He looked like a thug, but had the brains of a think tank. He was useful and dangerous for both those reasons. Behind David’s vacant gaze lurked the same ambition that had driven Bates up the wise guy ranks.

  “What’s the word on Richard Hastings?” Bates leaned back in his leather chair, careful when he clasped his hands behind his head not to disarrange his hair.

  “The Feds are closing the gap fast, may already have closed it.” David dropped his bulk into a period chair. It gave a small squeak of protest.

  Did he know how much it irritated him, Bates wondered, that he always chose the smallest chair to inflict his magnitude upon? Somehow he was sure David did. “I thought our man inside the Bureau was being paid to keep the lid on Hastings?”

  “He’s gone mute on me. I figure he’s been smoked by the Feds and turned. If I’m right, Hastings will roll over next.”

  “You sure?” If David was right, it was all coming apart. This was Orsini’s baby, entrusted to his care. It wouldn’t matter who had messed it up, only that it was.

  “Hastings is arrogant,” David shrugged, “or he wouldn’t have toasted his on-the-side broad in the first place. Should have taken him out then, I guess.”

  “If he’d just kept his head, he’d have walked. Or got probation. No priors. Only one witness who might have a grudge against him. Why Orsini chose to save—” Bates bit back his ire with an effort. Reported the right way, his words could be turned against him. He was getting sick of it all.

  “Yeah, well, we both know Hastings will try to save himself at our expense. Thinks he can beat the whole world. In the end he’ll squeal, long and loud.”

  What neither of them said, but they both knew, was that if they went down, Orsini wouldn’t wait to see if they’d keep their mouths shut. Bates could admit to himself he might talk, with the right incentive. Who wanted to go to prison when you could be set up in witness protection somewhere with the money from his Swiss bank account to make up what the Feds didn’t pay? Orsini would take them out to stop the domino cascade before it knocked him down. Who talked, who lived, was all a matter of timing. Best case was not to have to worry about any of it, just continue on their present course.

  “That’s what we get for working with an amateur. No ethics.” Bates picked up his coffee cup and sipped the rapidly cooling brew.

  David shoved his hands in the pockets of his tailor-made slacks, stretched his legs out. “If the laundering deal had worked, it would’ve been a sweet deal for Orsini.”

  “Yeah, well, the only sweet deal he’ll be interested in now is damage control.” Bates was quiet, thinking. Finally he said, “If Hastings would do his time, we’d make sure he doesn’t lose by it?”

  “Not a chance of that. Guy’s a pansy. Thinks he can play dirty and still keep his lily white rep. Prescott’s barely holding him together.”

  “We can’t afford to wait for him to roll. Let’s move on him now.” Bates set his cup down and stood up.

  “Shouldn’t you clear it with Mr. Orsini?”

  Bates felt a flash of anger, fought it back before it showed on his face. “I’m calling Orsini right now.” Bates dropped the “mister” to remind David that he and Orsini had a past together. A flicker of David’s light lashes told him he got it.

  “Who you want on it?”

  Bates cussed silently. “This would’ve been a perfect job for Hayes. How did he let a romance writer get the drop on him?”

  David half grinned, shrugged. “There’s Copeland. He’s in New York, but I could have him here by tonight.”

  Copeland was almost as good as Ha
yes had been. He hated Hayes for being better. “Get him. And tell him who the mark is. Maybe he’ll get here faster.”

  David nodded. “Thought Hayes was too whacked out to be a real pro. Only as good as your hold on him.”

  Bates shrugged. “A fanatic kills just as well as a capitalist and sometimes he’ll take more risks. He was useful, but not anymore. Let’s end it quickly.”

  “Right.” David turned to go, then stopped. “What about the romance writer? I’ve got Dent on call, if she’s spotted.”

  Bates hesitated. Dent was a messy killer, couldn’t spell finesse, let alone define it. Her threat was to Hastings, not him. His wife did like her books, but how would it look if he backed off a contract? “Make it official. The hit is his. And put some pressure on our snitch at the DPD. I want to know what the cops know before they know it.”

  David nodded. “Just wish we knew what the Feds know. McBride’s being kept so far out of the Marshal’s loop he’s no help. We’re flying blind there.”

  Bates shrugged. “He’ll have to be taken care of, too, when the dust settles.”

  “When the dust settles he might be useful again,” David pointed out.

  Bates shook his head. “He’s tainted. I wouldn’t trust him, why should they?” He looked hard at David. “We gotta get clean here, David, or Orsini takes us both out. We stay together or we die together. Clear?”

  David nodded, comprehension of the implied threat in his placid gaze. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of it all.”

  He eased out of the room, leaving Bates convinced he had better watch his back. This was just the kind of situation he had used to rise another notch in the organization.

  ELEVEN

  The sign outside the bookstore was big enough to catch the eyes and attention of even the most preoccupied person, but it wasn’t size that stopped Dani. It was what the sign proclaimed so enthusiastically.

  BOOK SIGNING TODAY! Romance novelist Kelly Kerwin signs her newest release Love and Lust.

  Kelly? How—the flyer about the writers conference she saw when she was assessing Matt Kirby’s tush outside Boomer’s office came to mind. Dani smiled. She’d only had to go through blood, fire, and excessive altitude to make wild child Kelly look like a better prospect than an ex-spook with a crush.

  Her plot was taking a macabre turn, she decided, with a distant fatalism that could be the bi-product of her pissed off vantage point. Inside the sense of the fictional was further enhanced by Kelly, who was seated at a table stacked with books, positively awash in organza ruffles and lace, with a Scarlet O’Hara floppy-brimmed hat on her golden locks, languidly signing her books with a feather pen.

  It seemed Dani wasn’t the only one loaded for bear this fine summer day. She lifted a book from a stack and set it down in front of “Scarlet.”

  “You want this personalized or generic, sugar?” Kelly’s voice was weighted with a sultry, Southern drawl.

  “Oh, Miss Kerwin, most definitely personalized,” Dani gushed, “to Louise?”

  Kelly stiffened, lifting her flawlessly sculpted chin up until she could see out from under the floppy brim. With no trace of Southern and a boat load of skeptical, she said, “Louise?”

  “Yeah. Wanna see my ID?” Dani sat on the edge of the table, the action hiking the already dangerous hem line higher on her silk-covered thighs. She leaned close enough to confide, “I made it myself.”

  Kelly gave two men who’d stopped to stare at Dani’s legs a severe look that sent them on their way, before asking, “What you doing here? I thought you were in solitary confinement or something?”

  “I was. I’m out now. You have a break any time soon? I need to talk to you.”

  “If I didn’t deserve a break soon, I’d take one anyway.” Her limpid blue gaze narrowed in scrutiny of Dani, what she could see of her hair under the brim of the smart hat, her red dress. All she said was, “Why don’t you plant it here and sign with me for a bit?”

  “Louise isn’t an author.”

  “Oh. Right. Well, plant it anyway.” Kelly patted the chair next to her. Dani took it with a wriggle that stopped another male customer in his tracks. She ignored him and waited for Kelly to sign a book, then asked, “What’s with the Scarlet ensemble?”

  Kelly shrugged elegantly. “I had an interview before this signing. Some idiot at the local paper who was obviously expecting Scarlet. So I gave her to him. But good.” She smiled wickedly, then did a quick switch to charming when a woman approached. When they were alone again, she said, “Red is your color, but the blonde locks are definitely plagiarism. Do tell, who pissed you off?”

  Dani laughed, leaning back and crossing her legs at the ankle. “Just about everyone. How could you tell?”

  “Because that dress could fry men’s brains and turn their parts to stone. Not exactly your normal style.”

  Dani smoothed the skirt a millimeter closer to her knees. “Maybe I’m tired of my normal style.”

  “Well, well. Better tell Miss Scarlet all about it so I can exploit it shamelessly. I’d hate to see a long overdue bad mood go to waste.”

  Dani’s eyes narrowed, her mouth curving in a dangerous smile. “Don’t worry. It won’t.”

  Later, in a quiet little bistro deep in the mall, Dani told Kelly all about it. Kelly being Kelly, took notes and offered a stringent critique. Still feeling removed from the crap and yet strangely normal in a very surreal but comforting way, Dani studied her friend over the top of her drink cup. “I thought you were holed up finishing your book?”

  “That was last month. This month I’m here for the conference.”

  “This is what, Tuesday?” It was getting harder to keep track. “I thought the convention didn’t start until Thursday?”

  “It doesn’t. But our publicist thought it would be a hoot if I did some signings and an interview or two.”

  “Ooh.” Dani grimaced wryly. “I guess there are some benefits to being hunted like a dog.”

  “Yeah, no one’s gonna be asking you at seven a.m. tomorrow morning how you research the sex scenes in your book.” Kelly sighed and fluttered her false lashes wistfully. “So where you staying? Or aren’t I supposed to ask?”

  “I was hoping I could stay with you. I’ll clear out in the morning. And before you say yes, be aware you’ll have my Fed on your butt if they figure out you’re helping me.”

  “Really? Your own Fed. Cool.” Kelly leaned back in her chair, her pose sultry. “Is he cute?”

  Cute? Matt was too easily conjured up and replayed feature by feature, right down to the jeans and boots. “Oh, yeah.” She smiled. “Dang annoying, completely opinionated, definitely cute.”

  “So why you running from him? You know better than to mess with the basic plot.”

  Dani gave her a Look. “This isn’t a romance.”

  “Everything is a romance. Don’t you read our PR?”

  “All I been reading lately are bumper stickers,” Dani shot back. “According to them, life’s a bitch.”

  Kelly grinned. “And here I thought I was the bitch.”

  Dani grinned back. “No comment. I’m not obliged to incriminate myself.”

  “Smart girl. So, now that you’re out and about, you gonna do the conference? Lots of our friends around. Not to mention the tax benefits.”

  “Have you forgotten my Fed isn’t the only one after me?”

  “No, but you’ve already wailed on him. If he’s got half a brain, he won’t be back.”

  “Richard can’t be too happy he missed again,” Dani said. It was the main reason she felt comfortable seeking temporary asylum with Kelly. It would take them some time to regroup. What would he do with that time? That was the question. Would he try to find someone else? Could he? How many hit men could he know?

  Kelly straightened, “You need a place to stay with someone who isn’t known to know you.” Kelly’s mind tended to run along plot lines, too.

  “Well, that would be nice, but the problem is, peopl
e who don’t know me, don’t know me enough to give me aid and shelter.”

  “Yeah, but if they know me—”

  Dani didn’t take advantage of that big opening. It was too easy. No challenge. Kelly gave her a suspicious look that Dani met with one of innocence. It left her friend nowhere to go but on with her thought. “My ex-mother-in-law is from here. We’re still friends because she thinks her son is a jerk, too. And, even better, she has this little guest house on her property.”

  “Really?” It would have a telephone. Guest houses did. Kelly would have a laptop—she loved expensive toys—so Dani could make contact with Spook without seriously depleting her money supply. And Matt the Marshal hunter? Oh yeah. She had some things to say to him, too.

  “Yeah, and Dobermans,” Kelly said, still following her own line of thought.

  “Really?” Dobermans would discourage any killers Richard hired, wouldn’t they? “My mother-in-law was a Doberman.”

  Kelly grinned. “No kidding. I’ll call her. Mine, not yours. If no one’s visiting, I’ll bet we could move in tonight.” She shoved her chair back. “Let’s get out of here. Suddenly I’m suffering from Southern Belle overdose. I gotta get changed before I’m forced to slay someone with my eyes.” She slid her arm through Dani’s. “Dang, I’m glad you showed up. Was wishing I had someone to go out with me tonight.”

  “Out?” Dani asked, not in protest, but because it was their routine.

  “That’s right. Out. Time you kicked up your heels, girl. Did the wild child thing.”

  “Every time we do the wild child thing…”

  “…we have a great time.”

  Too true. Dani smiled. “I can’t afford to get arrested this time, Kel.”

  “Trust me.” Kelly crossed her heart. “There is absolutely nothing that can go wrong in my tender care.”

  Famous last words, Dani thought in a detached way. They usually are uttered just prior to brown stuff hitting the fan. Only the fan had already received a boat load of the stuff. How much more could there be out there? “I need to buy a toothbrush.”