by Kat Martin
“Harding’s staying in an apartment out in Bellmead. I got the address.”
Jase made a mental note of the street and number the guy rattled off.
“He’s living with a woman and two other guys,” Shifty said. “They’re hard cases, kicked out of the military for dealing dope. Which is what they’re mostly doing now, but they’ve managed to jack a few high-end cars and a couple of newer pickups. Always a good market for those.”
Jase took a swallow of beer. “Got names?”
“Pike and Folsom. Pike’s big and dark. Folsom’s got a bad scar on his cheek. Cops are getting fed up. I don’t think Harding will be sticking around much longer. Things are getting too hot.”
“You think Harding will be there tonight?” Jase asked.
The guy shifted nervously and glanced around. Maybe that was how he got his name. “I don’t know. Haven’t heard of anything going down tonight, so he should be. Can’t say for sure.”
Jase took another long swallow of beer. “Anything else?”
“That’s all I got.”
Reaching into the pocket of his black T-shirt, Jase pulled out a folded hundred and slid it across the table. Shifty pocketed the money, stood up and hurriedly walked away.
Jase and Ryker both finished their beers. The Yukon was parked down the block. Jase plugged Harding’s address into the nav system and drove the five-mile trip to Bellmead.
As their destination neared, the area grew more and more run-down, seedy motels and apartments, the occasional liquor store.
“Up ahead on the left,” Ryker said.
Jase slowed a little, not much. They rolled past a pair of two-story brick apartment buildings facing each other across an open area. Stairs accessed the second floor from the center of each structure, which was surrounded by patches of green too sparse to actually be called grass.
He drove around the block, checking out the dirt parking lot in the rear that served both dwellings.
“Number 18’s in building A on the second floor,” Ryker said. “That’s the end closest to the parking lot.”
“Close to his ride if he needs to run.” Jase kept driving. A few blocks away, he pulled into a vacant lot. Access in and out from three directions, nobody around, just a few cars passing on the street.
It was a dark and humid night, flat-bottom clouds drifting past a thin sliver of moon. They got out, dropped the tailgate and started putting on their gear.
Jase strapped on his duty belt, which holstered his .40 cal. A nine-inch, push-button, telescoping baton hung from the belt, next to a can of Saber Red pepper spray, a Taser X26, a set of handcuffs and a high-powered flashlight. With the possibility of facing three armed assailants, they planned to go in hot, but using deadly force was always a last resort.
His pulled on his tactical vest. Extra magazines in the pocket and a spare set of cuffs—because two was one, and one was zero to a guy heading into danger.
Ryker wore black jeans. Jase wore black cargo pants. Both of them wore high-top black lace-up boots and black T-shirts. Their lightweight jackets read BAIL BOND RECOVERY, printed in bold white letters on the back.
They headed toward the apartment building, staying in the shadows but covering ground as fast as they could.
Once they reached their destination, they separated to do more recon. Better to be prepared. Since they had no idea who was inside, they were going in balls-to-the-wall, surprise being their best asset.
It was late, most of the apartments dark, only one unit with lights on downstairs. Unit 18 had a dim light on in the bedroom, but from down below Jase couldn’t tell what was going on inside.
Ryker came around the building and moved silently up beside him. “Didn’t see anyone. Found another set of stairs leading up from the parking lot.”
Jase nodded. “You take the back, I’ll take the front.” They moved off in different directions, making a sweep of the area, planning to converge on the second floor.
When Jase topped the landing, he reached up and unscrewed the bulb in the light fixture, the only one working on that side of the corridor, and kept moving. Ryker came up the stairs at the end of the passage next to unit 18, pulled his SIG P320 and took up a position.
Jase moved closer, pulled his Kimber and knocked on the door. He heard a man’s voice, then a woman’s, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching. Jase stayed away from the peephole just in case, but with the light out, it was too dark to see.
“That you, Handley?”
Jase grunted, pretended to slur his words. “Come on...open the door.”
The knob turned. The door cracked open enough for Jase to get a glimpse of Harding in a pair of jeans, barefoot, no shirt, a big semiauto in his hand.
“Bail recovery!” Jase shouted. Harding tried to slam the door, but Jase kicked it open, sending the man crashing against the wall. His gun hand flew up, and the big semiauto fired into the ceiling, raining plaster down on their heads. Harding lunged, got in a punch before Jase shoved him back and pressed the barrel of the Kimber into the side of his neck.
Gun held two-handed, Ryker moved to clear the rest of the apartment. Only a few feet more to the bedroom when the door flew open.
“Gun!” Jase shouted. Ryker dove out of the way as shots exploded, and Jase dragged Harding down on the floor behind a chair.
Ryker pulled off two rounds, and Jase fired toward the men in the bedroom. When Harding tried to break free, Jase whacked him across the back of the head with the barrel of the Kimber, knocking him down, then turned and fired two more shots into the room, hitting one of the men.
The second man, scarred face, tall, broad and naked, stepped into the doorway and fired. Ryker took him out with a double tap to the chest.
Jase moved and so did Ryker. Jase went to the first man, the one still breathing. He was dark and burly, wearing only a pair of dirty white cotton briefs. He was alive and groaning, a bullet lodged in his right shoulder, his hairy chest covered in blood. Jase kicked his gun away, grabbed a pillow and pulled off the case, folded it into a square and pressed it against the bullet hole.
“Hold this. Keep pressure on it so you don’t bleed to death.” Not that he really gave a damn.
The guy groaned and pressed down on the square of cotton.
Jase felt a trickle of wetness on his face, reached up and wiped the blood off his cheek with the back of his hand. Somewhere in the fray, Harding had managed to land a punch. Jase wished he’d had time to throw a few punches of his own.
“We need to call the cops,” he said to Jax. “Tell them we have Randall Harding in custody, along with two of his closest chums.”
A shaky voice came from the bathroom doorway. “I have already called them.” Rosa Diaz held up the cell phone she had managed to get her hands on. She was pretty, small and slender, with long, straight black hair nearly to her waist. She had bruises on her face and neck. Jase figured there were more under her ratty blue robe.
She walked into the living room, over to where Randy sat on the floor, his back propped against the chair, hands cuffed behind him.
Rosa leaned down and spit in his face. “You are scum,” she said with a thick Spanish accent. “I hope they kill you!”
Harding growled low in his throat and leaped for her, but Jase stepped in and shoved him back down a little harder than necessary.
“Fucking whore!” Harding shouted.
“Leave her alone,” Jase warned. “She’s done with you.”
Rosa got right in Randy’s face. “You filthy pig. I should kill you myself!”
“Get her away from me, or I swear to fuck—”
Jase grabbed him by the throat. “You won’t do jack shit, Harding. At the very least, you’ll be spending the rest of your life in jail. You’ll be lucky if they don’t fry your sorry ass.”
Harding fell silent. Sir
ens in the distance grew louder. Jase pulled out his cell and called 911, identified himself and told dispatch he and Jaxon Ryker were bounty hunters, legally armed. He told them about the firefight, who they had in custody, that one man was dead, the other wounded, explained the men had been holding a woman prisoner but that she was now safe.
Jase ended the call and looked over at Ryker, who casually held a gun on the men. “Good work,” Jase said. “Thanks for the help.”
“Nice when a plan comes together.”
Jase almost smiled. It felt good to do good work, help someone, make people safer. He didn’t like ending a job with casualties, but they had acted in self-defense. Still, the questions would be endless, the paperwork over the top. His plan to get home in time to go to Kate’s sister’s funeral looked like a bust.
When the first patrol car rolled up in front of the apartment building, Jase dropped the mag, emptied the weapon, and set it on the floor out of reach. With a last glance at Ryker, he pulled open the door, raised his hands in the air and walked out of the apartment.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The day was drab, the sky sullen and dark, a damp drizzle clouding the air outside Kate’s apartment windows. The weather matched her mood on the dismal day she would bury her sister.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored elevator wall, puffy eyes, her face too pale. She’d chosen a black skirt-suit, white cotton blouse and black pumps, her hair wound into a tight knot at the back of her head. The stark colors and severe hairstyle made her look even grimmer.
Though the outfit, like the weather, seemed fitting.
The elevator door dinged open and she stepped into the lobby to find her friend, Lani Renton, waiting. She was as tall as Kate, with short black hair and a slender build. She pulled Kate in for a hug.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Lani said. “Your sister’s at peace now. When this is over, you will be, too.”
Kate took a shaky breath and slowly released it. “It won’t be over until I find whoever killed her. I won’t stop until I do.”
Lani reached down and caught her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. “One day at a time. Come, on. Let’s get going.”
Kate spotted Cece behind the wheel of her Mazda compact SUV outside the front door. Lani opened the front passenger door, urged Kate into the seat, then got into the backseat behind her. They all clicked on their belts.
“How you holding up?” Cece asked as she put the car in gear and pulled into morning traffic.
“I’m okay...considering.”
“You’ll feel better once this is over,” Cece said.
“I know,” Kate agreed, though she wasn’t really sure it was true.
“I can’t even imagine what you’ve been through these past two years,” Lani said. “Always worrying about your sister, wondering where she was, if she was safe.”
“I wish she had come to me for help. She was right here in Dallas, and I didn’t even know it.” Kate explained how Chrissy had come to the city a few weeks before she was killed. How she was trying to get free of drugs and make a new life for herself.
She told her friends about the rehab center and how she hoped she could contribute in some way and help the women who lived there.
By the time they had reached the halfway point of the trip, Kate was starting to feel better. Talking to her friends really helped, she realized. The conversation turned to men, and she listened as her friends worked to cheer her up with their dating antics.
“So this guy, Jerry, finally convinces me to go to dinner with him,” Cece said. “He was kind of cute, and I thought it might be fun. Then, when he comes to pick me up, he says he’s got a surprise for me—he’s going to cook me dinner at his house instead!”
Lani whooped. “You didn’t fall for that old line. Tell me you didn’t go.”
“Stupidly, I went. We hadn’t been there ten minutes when Jerry heads outside. He’s got this hot tub, you see. The guy starts stripping off his clothes right in front of me. He’s totally naked. I barely know him—and he doesn’t even look that good! He climbs into the tub and says, ‘Aren’t you coming in with me?’”
“Is this guy still breathing?” Kate asked.
Cece rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately. I turned around and walked back into the house, grabbed my purse, ordered an Uber and left him sitting in the hot tub.”
Everyone laughed. It felt really good. Kate knew the laughter would only last a little while longer, but she allowed herself to enjoy it.
“Okay,” Cece said. “Your turn, Kate. You’ve got to tell us all about your hot alpha male. Give us a little vicarious thrill.”
“No way.” Kate closed her eyes, trying to block images of her and Jason in bed but not really succeeding.
“Come on, you’ve got to give us something,” Lani pleaded. “Cece showed me his photo. The guy is totally juicy. He’s got to be amazing. Just give us a hint.”
“Come on,” Cece whined.
Kate sighed in defeat. “Fine. I’ll give you one word. That’s it. Then we’re done.”
Cece bounced in the seat with excitement. “Okay, okay, one word,” she conceded.
Kate couldn’t stop a grin. “One word? Okay. Stallion.”
The car swerved then righted. “Oh, my God!” Cece fanned her face, and Lani whooped with laughter.
“Stallion,” Lani repeated, and they all started laughing again.
It wasn’t until Cece turned off Highway 79 and headed for Oaklawn that the cheerful atmosphere faded. Cece drove through the tall brick pillars into the cemetery, and followed the narrow lane through the rows of headstones toward the green canopy set up in front of a fresh mound of dirt. The cemetery had been there since the 1930s so the trees were tall, the shrubbery dense.
It was the second time her friends had been to the old, historical cemetery. Lani and Cece had been with her the day she’d buried her mother. Now they were back for her baby sister.
Her throat closed up as the Mazda pulled in behind several cars that had arrived ahead of them. The engine went silent and Kate climbed out, her legs suddenly shaky.
Across the lawn, rows of white chairs sat beneath a dark green canopy. More flowers than she had hoped for sat in front of the grave: a wreath of pink carnations and pale pink roses, a spray of yellow and white chrysanthemums, a vase of lavender cremones and daisies. A blanket of baby white roses draped the casket.
Kate blinked to hold back tears, walked over and read some of the cards. Friends. A distant cousin. The gang at the office had sent the wreath of pink carnations and roses. Knowing it was her favorite color touched her. They had wanted to come, but she had asked them to stay in Dallas and take care of her business instead.
The funeral director, Mrs. Conroy, was there, speaking to the minister, Reverend Wilcox. Kate paused to talk to them briefly, thanked them for all they had done, then joined Cece and Lani to find seats in the row up front.
A tall slender man stepped into her path. Her father looked older, the lines in his face more pronounced. He wore a dark suit that set off the fine threads of silver in his hair.
“Katie...” The gentle way he said her name thickened the lump in her throat.
“Dad... I wasn’t sure you’d come.” He drew her close and hugged her, held her a few seconds longer than she expected. They hadn’t been close since he and her mother had divorced.
“Of course I would be here,” he said. “Christina was my daughter.”
She just nodded. She asked him about his wife and family, and he asked her about her job. She felt little connection. But he was still her dad and it was good to see him.
Then it was time for the service to begin. They took their seats, Kate next to Cece and Lani on one side, her dad on the other. She recognized a few of Chrissy’s old friends in the chairs behind them, not many since Chrissy had been so much younger.
Kate settled back in the folding chair. It was time for the service to begin. Reverend Wilcox stood in front of the rose-draped coffin, a Bible open in his hand.
“We have gathered here today to praise God and to celebrate the life of Christina Gallagher, a young woman who died in the most blossoming years of her life. May God grant that in pain we find comfort, in sorrow, hope, in death, resurrection.”
The rest of the service passed in a blur of words and prayers, the minister trying to bring comfort to family and friends. Distantly, Kate thought her only real comfort would come from finding justice for her sister.
The service finally came to a close, and all of them stood up. People walked over to pay their respects, then wandered back to their cars.
Kate was staring at her sister’s grave when Cece gently nudged her. “Look who’s here.”
She followed Cece’s gaze to see Jason striding toward her. Her heart squeezed. He was wearing a black blazer, black jeans and black cowboy boots. There was a night’s growth of beard along his hard jaw. He looked tired and worried and amazing.
When he reached her, he simply opened his arms, and Kate stepped into them. All the tears she’d been holding back burst free as she turned her face into his thick neck and his hold tightened around her.
“It’s all right, honey. I’ve got you.”
In that moment, she realized he did. That he’d been there for her from the very beginning. That he had always looked out for her, always been there when she needed him. A soft pulse beat inside her, warning her that if she wasn’t very careful, she would also find him there in her heart.
* * *
Jase held Kate while she cried, his brave Kate who never backed down from a challenge. Her tears didn’t last long. She was strong and tough and determined. She took a shaky breath and eased away.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.” She wiped tears from her cheeks. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I tried to get here sooner. It’s a long story.”
