A Forever Kind of Hero

by Marie Ferrarella

  He turned to Warren. “Would you mind if we put a tap on your telephone—in case she does try to contact you?”

  Looking lost, bewildered, the couple held hands and glanced at Megan for guidance. Neither saw the slight frown that rose to Wichita’s lips.

  But Megan did. Apparently the man didn’t care for being in the back seat.

  Megan thought quickly. She was about to suggest the same thing, only using the agency’s equipment. She would have preferred it that way. But if she told the Teasdales to refuse Wichita, clearing the way for her tap, that would run her absolutely afoul of the man. And she couldn’t afford that She wanted to stay on his good side. If the DEA agent was looking for Velasquez, and Kathy was somehow involved, chances were good that she could locate the girl if she kept Wichita in her sight.

  He wouldn’t cooperate if she stepped on his toes.

  “It might be a good idea,” Megan counseled the couple. They exchanged looks, still uncertain. “That way, if the DEA can get a lock on the call, we can use that to pinpoint Kathy’s location. I can be there,” she promised them firmly, “wherever it is, as fast as a car or plane can take me.”

  “All right.” Warren nodded. “Do whatever you have to do.” But his words seemed directed to Megan.

  Garrett found it very irritating, having to operate through a go-between, especially someone who wasn’t one of his operatives. But he banked down the feeling. He didn’t have time to deal with unproductive emotions.

  This far along in the operation, he didn’t need or have the time for any emotions at all. He needed to remain sharp and alert.

  And to stay alive.

  “Fine, then we’ll—”

  “Where was Velasquez last seen?” Megan interrupted again.

  Though Garrett gave no indication, she was quickly getting on his nerves.

  “According to our records, it was the Beacon Hill region in San Francisco.” What was she up to? he wondered. Not for a minute was he being taken in by the innocent expression on her face.

  “May I see the photograph again?”

  He took it out and handed it to her.

  He’d brought this, Megan figured, to convince the Teasdales that he was on the level, in case they had their doubts. He had no way of knowing that the Teasdales were completely open, completely ready to believe anything they were told, as long as it meant that their daughter would be coming home to them.

  Taking the photograph, she studied it. There was no mistaking what was in the background. Gambling was illegal in San Francisco. She raised her eyes to Garrett’s. “Those are slot machines.”

  He had half a mind to ignore her, but it was through her that he remained on the Teasdales’ good side. He had to keep all the options open until one of the DEA’s informants came through with a positive location for Velasquez’s next exchange. That was when the net was finally going to drop on the dealer.

  But right now, the target was out there somewhere, and he had to find him.

  Garrett inclined his head. “The surveillance tape was from a Vegas casino.”

  Judith didn’t understand. She laid a thin hand on Garrett’s arm. “Is Kathy in Las Vegas?”

  “She might be,” Garrett allowed guardedly.

  Although by now chances of the girl still being there were slim to none. Velasquez moved around a great deal. Again Garrett felt the blonde looking at him. Looking at him as if she knew what he’d just said wasn’t true.

  Garrett relented a little. “The tape is five days old.”

  Ten minutes later, he rose to his feet. There was nothing more for him here, for the time being. He now had a list of Kathy’s friends, and permission to put in a tap. The Teasdales appeared to be honest, open people. The blonde’s point was well taken. If they’d heard from their daughter, then they wouldn’t have a private investigator in their living room, guarding their feelings like a junkyard dog.

  A hell of an attractive junkyard dog, he allowed as his eyes critically swept over her again, but one he didn’t particularly want to tangle with. There wasn’t time for that.

  Garrett made a mental note to find out what he could about Megan Andreini. He didn’t like unknown elements posing a threat to his operation. He had been tracking down and hacking off Velasquez’s tentacles, one by one, for a long time now. Soon he might have a chance to strike at the man himself. If his luck held.

  All he wanted was the chance to bring Velasquez down. Permanently.

  Opening his jacket, he took out a card. He held it out to Judith.

  “This is my cell phone number, Mrs. Teasdale.” Garrett looked from one of Kathy’s parents to the other. They were nice people—two more lives that Velasquez had inadvertently touched and poisoned. “If you need me, call.”

  Judith accepted the card, just as Megan held out her hand to him. Puzzled, Garrett looked at her and raised a brow.

  “I’d like one, too,” Megan told him. “In case I need you.”

  Oh yeah, she was trouble all right. What really worried him was that he didn’t know what kind. As for needing him—that was a crock. He had a strong hunch that she thought she could find her own way around easily enough.

  Playing along, Garrett took out another card and handed it to her.

  Megan glanced down at the white card, with its small, black lettering. The cell phone had an area code that wasn’t local. For a second, she couldn’t place it. And then it came to her. Texas.

  Megan tucked the card into her breast pocket. “Where are you staying?”

  He followed the movement of her hand, then realized that he was staring, and that she knew it Garrett raised his eyes to her face.

  “At the Random Hotel. I’ll be gone by morning,” he added.

  He had other leads to work on, although right now, this was the strongest one. From the small amount he’d seen on the videotape, it looked as if Kathy had somehow landed, however unwittingly, in Velasquez’s organization. She was just the kind of young, naive and easily manipulated teenager that the man had a penchant for using, and she had all the right qualifications.

  She was underage and disposable.

  Megan nodded in response to the hotel name, folding her fingers around the card. She was acquainted with the hotel. It was one of several that had sprouted up along MacArthur Boulevard, less than a stone’s throw from John Wayne Airport.

  Obviously, Wichita didn’t like to waste time. She could admire that.

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him.

  He wondered what she had up her sleeve, besides a rather well-toned arm. The condition of her arm indicated that she was serious about keeping in shape—and succeeding. That took discipline. He’d always admired discipline in people. Maybe it was because he knew how hard it was to maintain.

  As a rule, he’d always found private investigators to be a royal pain, and he had a strong gut feeling that this one was no exception. But there was a possibility that there might be one interesting night in this for them. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed the company of a woman, beautiful or otherwise, and this one, no matter how long a nose she was poking into his business, was certainly beautiful. The more he looked at her, the more he realized that.

  The thought of spending the night with her was not without its appeal.

  Time to go, he told himself. His thoughts were taking far too personal a bent.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he told the Teasdales before turning on his heel.

  “Should we be expecting someone?” Warren asked Garrett as he led the way to his front door. Like a wan shadow, Judith trailed behind them. “To see to the telephone,” he added, when Garrett made no response.

  “No, we can handle everything on our end,” Garrett assured him. An external tap would prove simpler in this case. “I just wanted your permission.”

  The admission impressed Megan. Maybe Wichita wasn’t such a bad guy, after all, she decided. For a government agent.

  She knew that he could easily have just gone ahea
d with the tap without informing the Teasdales. It was one of those flexible, gray areas that didn’t have to come up in court if an arrest actually materialized out of all this.

  And the fact that Wichita hadn’t contradicted her earlier explanation to the Teasdales told her that the man had some principles beyond his dedication to his job. That could prove useful to her down the line if she was actually forced to work with him.

  “Thank you for your time,” Garrett was saying to the couple at the front door.

  Giving Megan a marginal nod, he turned away and walked to his car. He wanted to be away from the sadness hovering here. He’d already had his fill of sadness—enough to last two lifetimes.

  It was one of the reasons—no, he amended, the main reason he was after scum like Velasquez. Because of the sadness.

  And because of Andy.

  Behind him, Megan was taking her leave of the Teasdales as well. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Reaching his car, Garrett turned around just as she said it. He couldn’t shake the feeling that somehow she was also putting him on notice as well.

  He wondered if he was going to regret telling her of his whereabouts in the long run. But he shrugged the thought away as he got into his car. She was only a local private investigator, and he’d be gone by morning. How much of a problem could she be?

  The petite blonde was almost out of his thoughts by the time he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

  Almost.

  Hot, tired and disgusted, one hand holding the telephone receiver to his ear, Garrett loosened his tie, then yanked it off entirely. He discarded the offending appendage as he sank down on the hotel bed. It had been one of those endless, fruitless days when he felt like a dog chasing his own tail. After a while, you almost forget why you’re doing it, he thought.

  Looking back, he realized that talking to the Teasdales had been the definite high point of his day.

  He scrubbed one hand over his face as he listened to his partner’s voice on the other end of the line. Garrett didn’t like what he was hearing about how the operation was proceeding in Texas, where Velasquez’s main base of operation had begun.

  Sighing, he began unbuttoning his shirt. “Give that to me again, Oscar.”

  “How many ways do you want me to tell you?” Frustration laced Oscar Juarez’s voice. “It’s been no picnic around here, you know. At least you’re out there in California, away from the cold.” The man on the other end paused before continuing. “We found an unidentified girl in an alley not too far away from Velasquez’s last known base of operation. There were track marks on both arms. Coroner said she’s been dead for over a week. The last snowstorm we’re just digging out of must have slowed down the decomposition.” His voice became muffled.

  “Are you eating?”

  “Hey, I’ve been going since six a.m. on those breakfast things. You know the ones I’m talking about. Two to a package. Wouldn’t satisfy a squirrel. Wife’s got me on a diet,” he grumbled.

  But Garrett wasn’t interested in Oscar’s diet, or what he was consuming at the moment. His mind had focused on the dead girl. He didn’t like where this conversation was going.

  “Coroner sure about the time of death?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  Garrett thought of Kathy’s parents. “It’s not the girl in the surveillance tape, is it? The runaway I found on the internet yesterday?” He’d shown the copy to his partner before coming out here.

  “No way. Yours is a blonde, this one’s a definite brunette. Or was. Looks older, too. Closer to eighteen. Hard to tell, really,” he confessed. “Seems a damn shame. Why don’t these kids stay at home?”

  Garrett closed his eyes for a minute. Home had meant something to him—once. When there was still someone there for him. But after his parents and Andy had died, it became just another four-letter word littering his life.

  “A hundred different reasons, Oscar. None of them amounting to a hill of beans when you weigh it against the alternative that girl in the alley met up with. I’m checking out in the morning. I’ll call you if there’s anything new to report.”

  He hung up as Oscar was mumbling a muffled “Goodbye” in his ear.

  Replacing the receiver, Garrett sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the telephone. At least the Teasdales wouldn’t be getting a phone call to come down and identify their daughter’s body.

  But eventually, another set of parents would.

  The thought rankled him. By all rights, the net should have closed around Velasquez months ago. How many days was that when counted in lost lives? Velasquez’s runners were expendable, and there seemed to be an endless supply of them.

  Just as there was an endless supply of his clients. Unsuspecting, bored rich teenagers looking for a “buzz,” a shortcut to boundless happiness and thrills that didn’t involve work, effort or any sort of disappointment. Or so they thought. They were all destined to be nameless, faceless statistics in some report.

  And an ache in someone’s heart.

  Garrett laced his hands behind his head and stared grimly at the ceiling. Maybe he’d been at this too long. Maybe he’d lost his edge. Maybe someone fresher, newer would do a better job.

  Annoyance washed over him. Maybe he’d better stop feeling, and start thinking again.

  “I’ll get you, you scum,” he swore quietly under his breath. “There isn’t a rock large enough for you to crawl under and hide. No lawyer clever enough to keep saving your worthless skin. Someday, some way, I’ll get the goods on you, Velasquez, and then you’ll rot,” he promised himself.

  And Andy.

  The phone rang, and his body tensed immediately.

  Had Oscar forgotten to tell him something? Garrett wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to hear anything else tonight. Maybe he was too tired, but part of him just wanted to forget for a little while. Lately he’d been feeling as if he were running on empty.

  Garrett reached for the receiver and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

  “Wichita?” The sexy, low voice immediately filled his ear and stirred him. It was a striking contrast to Oscar’s muffled tenor. “This is Megan Andreini. I’m in the lobby.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Holding up his wrist, Garrett looked at his watch. She was earlier than he thought she’d be. Sitting up, he began rebuttoning his shirt. His exhaustion drained miraculously away.

  Chapter 3

  The first thing that occurred to Garrett when he walked out of the elevator and into the lobby was that he must have been blind earlier. Only a blind man could have actually thought that Megan Andreini looked like anybody’s kid sister. The blonde in the form-fitting turquoise dress standing near the front desk might have been someone’s sister, all right, but she was also definitely all woman.

  By the look in the desk clerk’s eyes, the man thought the same. The package might be small, Garrett mused, approaching, but it was sexy as hell.

  What she had on was a far cry from the simple jeans and loose pullover sweater she’d had on earlier. The lady was dressed to kill. Garrett had more than a strong hunch he knew just who the prey was.

  Knowing didn’t stop him from entering the game.

  He lengthened his stride, crossing to Megan before someone else had an opportunity to engage her in conversation. The look he gave her as he greeted her was long on appreciation. Garrett figured she deserved her due.

  “You clean up rather nicely.”

  From the corner of her eye, Megan had watched him get off the elevator and cross to her. She turned toward him now, knowing what she was doing was obvious and hoping to trap him in his own overconfidence. She’d learned that most people relax when they think they’ve sized you up.

  She wanted him relaxed. It was a lot easier getting information that way.

  Wichita looked tired, she thought. The slightly rumpled appearance just added to the appeal she suspected he was well aware of possessing. There was nothing bland or carbon-copy-like about
this government agent He stood out on his own—the kind of man who made women’s heads turn, and men envious.

  Megan smiled at Garrett as he joined her. “I had no idea I was that messy earlier.”

  So it was going to be like that, was it? Garrett thought. They were going to banter. Why not? He could use some mental diversion right about now. His mind was crowded with too many grim facts, too many daunting statistics. A little recreation was long overdue. As long as he didn’t slip and forget himself in her company.

  He couldn’t help wondering how many men had already been guilty of that.

  “Not messy, just a lot younger looking You looked as if you were sixteen before.” With a shrug, he dismissed his error. “Must have been the light.”

  The light, he observed, was just fine now, and incredibly friendly to her. She had flawless skin, highlighted by a minimum of makeup. Rather than appear fresh scrubbed, however, she looked quite capable of making a man swallow his own tongue in heated anticipation.

  Megan casually lifted a shoulder, then let it drop, aware that he was watching her every movement. Out to captivate him, she was still flattered by the look in his eyes.

  He made her feel warm. The man, she decided, was nothing short of smooth

  “People see what they expect to see. You were expecting Kathy’s family. I fell into the category of sister.” Her smile widened a little as she tilted her head up to his. “Besides, people tell me I have a deceptively young face.”

  Her face might be deceptively young, he thought, but her body certainly wasn’t. From the way the clingy fabric was making love to it with every breath she took, he could see that her body was hard and firm and curved in places that made a man’s mouth water and his imagination take flight.

  Even a supposedly tired man.

  Garrett smiled to himself. “You do, actually.”

  Megan found the smile that curved his mouth sexy and tinged with amusement. And—if she gave it any thought—arousing.

  His smile widened. “’Fraid I wasn’t looking at your face just now.”

  “I noticed.” For a second, held fast by the look in his eyes, Megan had to remind herself who was the predator and who was the prey.