Declan absently placed one hand at the small of her back. To Chasyn, it felt like branding, but she managed to keep her expression bland.
“Don’t let his boyish good looks fool you. Gavin is ex-Special Forces. He can kill you with an eyelash.”
Chasyn dropped her hand and when she did, Gavin offered up a playful wink.
A smaller man with shoulder-length blond hair pulled into a man-bun came over and offered his hand. “This is Chuck. He’s my resident expert on finding people and things.”
“Ma’am.”
Chasyn smiled.
“This,” Declan said as a third man stepped forward, “is Adam. He’s my right-hand guy and basically keeps this place running smoothly.”
Adam was deeply tanned and looked more like a surfer than a business associate. “Nice to meet you, Chasyn.”
“And last but not least,” Declan said. “This is Ziggy. She’s the resident geek and the best hacker in the business.”
The thin brunette grinned but didn’t offer her hand. She seemed socially awkward so Chasyn didn’t press it. Instead she just said, “Nice to meet all of you.”
Declan moved past her and leaned on the edge of one of the desks. “So, where are we?”
“Tom took pictures at the apartment, then picked up Chasyn’s car. He should be here in about forty minutes,” Adam said. “Any idea what Lansing would want from your apartment?” he asked, his eyes focused on her.
She shook her head, much like she shook off the memory of Decan’s hand on her back. “I don’t have anything of any real value.”
“Maybe the photos will tell us what he was looking for,” Declan suggested. “What about Mary’s ex? I really want to talk to him.”
Ziggy spoke up. “He’s on duty until six and I found the address to the house he rents off-base.”
Declan stroked his chin. “Anything hinky with his financials?”
“Actually, yes,” Ziggy said, jogging back to the computer area and returning with a small stack of pages. “Two days after Mary’s death, he invested five grand in cash in his mutual fund.”
“Can you trace the cash?”
Ziggy shook her head, causing a few strands of her dark hair to come free from a hastily created updo. “No. And nothing strange since then. Just direct deposits from the Marine Corps into his checking account.”
“Go back to before Mary’s death,” Declan said. “See if Mr. Jolsten has supplemented his income in the past.”
Declan glanced over at Gavin. “Anything on the weapons used?”
“Other than the fact that most killers don’t change MOs with every attempt?”
Declan nodded. “That bothers me, too.”
“But,” Chasyn interjected, “couldn’t it just be that he didn’t kill me in the drive-by so he switched to a different tactic?”
Declan shrugged his broad shoulders. “Possible. But I’m thinking Lansing killed Mary himself and now he’s hired someone to clean up his mess.”
Adam agreed. “That would explain the different weapons.”
“However,” Ziggy countered, “I’ve crawled all up into his finances and I can’t find any method of payment.”
“Maybe payment on completion?” Adam suggested.
Chasyn shivered. “That’s a cheery thought.”
“Or,” Declan said. “He’s got some source of cash flow we haven’t found yet. Ziggy, keep digging. I’m going to take Chasyn to the range. Let me know when Tom gets back with her car.” He stood to his full, impressive height. “Leave your bag here,” he told her.
Chasyn followed him back through the garage. He went to a black Hummer and opened the back. Inside there was a long metal box with a combination lock. Declan dialed in the code, then lifted the top.
“Jesus,” Chasyn said on an expelled breath when she saw the mini-arsenal stored in the case. “You could start a war with all that stuff.”
“Just a few handguns and a couple of rifles.” He selected a gun that looked very much like the one he’d given her last night. Only this time he didn’t remove the clip or clear the chamber. “Let’s go see what you’ve got.”
“Go where?” she asked.
“There’s a range out back.”
“Your neighbors must love you.”
“We’re sitting on five acres. No neighbors to complain.”
They took a side door outside and Chasyn blinked against the mid-morning sunlight. There was a decent breeze and just a hint of pine in the air. She followed him into an area petitioned by a fence with a thatched overhang. Wooden pedestals were lined up in a row of four. Beyond the pedestals, there was a rope and pulley system strung between the overhang and some targets that seemed very far in the distance. Beyond the targets was a huge mound of dirt.
“Ready?” he asked.
She almost put her hands behind her back. “No.”
“Buck up. There’s nothing to it.”
“Says the man who wasn’t shot in the head.” With a sigh, Chasyn stepped up, spread her feet shoulder-width apart and gingerly took the gun from Declan, being careful to keep it pointed away from him and her own feet. “It’s heavier with bullets.”
“First,” he said as he came up behind her. “Take it off safety.”
Chasyn was struggling to stay focused. Not only could she feel him pressed against her, his breath was warm against her bared shoulders and threatening to send a shiver the full length of her spine. She clicked the lever to its new position. “Okay, safety off.”
“Site the target.”
She closed one eye and brought the outline into focus. “Got it.”
“Pull the trigger.”
She did and instantly slammed back against his solid form. If he hadn’t been standing there, she would have fallen on her ass. “You didn’t warn me about that.”
“Sorry. On the next one, adjust to for the recoil.”
Again she sighted the target, then adjusted her stance before pulling the trigger. This time she was ready and managed to hold her ground. “I hit it!” she practically squealed.
“You hit the white part,” Declan remarked with amusement. “Let’s see if you can hit the actual outline.”
It took her a dozen more tries before she winged the outline in the shoulder. She was no Annie Oakley but she was getting the hang of it. “This is a lot harder than I thought it would be.”
“It’s a skill,” he said. “Keep practicing and you’ll get better.” He reached around and cautiously took the gun from her. Once he put it back on safety, he shoved it into the back of his waistband. “Tom should be back by now,” he said, leading her back to the gate.
Declan was correct. Tom was back and so was her pale, metallic blue Prius. It looked small and out of place parked among the SUVs, sedans, and the rolling arsenal Hummer. Tom turned out to be a young man she thought was about her age, with a full beard and dark, curly hair. They shared introductions.
“What do you want first?” Tom asked. “The apartment or the car?”
“Something happened to my car?” Chasyn demanded as she took a quick look at the vehicle.
Tom pulled his phone out of his front pocket and pulled up a photograph. It appeared to be the front wheel well of her car but there was a small black box with a tiny antenna and a red light on the box.
“High end,” Declan remarked.
“High end what?” Chasyn asked.
“GPS tracker,” Declan explained.
“I got the serial number off it in case Ziggy can do anything with it,” Tom said.
“Where is it now?” Chasyn asked.
Tom grinned. “Attached to a seat on one of the trolleys that goes back and forth through West Palm.”
“How long will that deter him?” Chasyn asked.
“Not long,” Declan said. “But it’s a good sign.”
“Of what?”
“That he doesn’t know where you are.”
Chasyn let out a breath. “Yet.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
And my
apartment?” Chasyn asked.
Declan was impressed by how well she was keeping it together. He could just imagine how difficult this must be on someone used to a boring, orderly life. But, he thought as he looked her up and down, there was nothing bland about the woman herself. No, she was nothing if not intriguing and he couldn’t quite understand why he was so curious about a woman who was the exact opposite of what normally piqued his interest. For one, she was a petite woman. He’d always gone for women closer to five-eight or taller. With her spine straight, Chasyn barely hit the five-four mark, nearly a foot shorter in stature than himself. That alone should have turned him off, but it didn’t. On the contrary, he was nearly consumed by a visceral need to protect her. And not for the money. Just because he couldn’t stand the look of fear clouding those incredible blue-green eyes. The fact that she had a killer body didn’t hurt either.
Tom swiped through a series of photographs. Basically, they showed her ransacked apartment. Drawers were dumped, cushions tossed. A general mess. Declan asked, “How did he get in?”
“There were tool marks on the doorknob and the deadbolt.” Tom turned his attention on Chasyn. “One of your neighbors noticed the door ajar this morning and called the cops.”
“Who probably want to talk to me. Again.”
She was rubbing her arms again, a ‘tell’ he now recognized when she was attempting to tamp down her anxiety. “They’ll have to get through Jack,” Declan reminded her. “And he’ll keep them off our asses, no problem. Any idea what he was looking for in your apartment?”
She scanned the photos a second time. “Most of the chaos is in the kitchen. I don’t know; maybe he wanted my grandmother’s meatloaf recipe.”
Declan smiled as he flipped back to the picture of the kitchen floor. Items strewn about included batteries, rubber bands, a small flashlight, chip clips, note pads and one of those rubber things used to coax open a jar lid. “Junk drawer?” he asked.
She nodded. “Odds and ends.”
A cold chill ran through him. “No address book?”
She shook her head. “I keep mine on my phone and sync it to my laptop.”
“There’s no laptop in any of these photos.”
Chasyn pointed to her car. “It’s locked in my trunk.”
Declan relaxed. “That’s good. No way you want this guy getting a hold of your personal information.”
Her face registered concern. “What about my parents?” she asked on a quick breath.
“That was probably the first place he looked.”
Again, she was rubbing her arms. “Are they in danger?”
“A pro isn’t going to risk that kind of collateral damage. It’s not good for business.” Declan reached out and placed his hand over one of hers. The rubbing immediately stopped when he made contact with her warm, smooth skin. Normally he wasn’t a touchy-feely guy but he already knew that his touch distracted her, and right now he wanted to divert her attention away from her fears.
As expected, Chasyn seemed to switch her focus from victim to activist. “So how do I stay one step ahead of this lunatic?”
“That’s my job,” Declan assured her as he reluctantly let his hand fall away. He had an almost overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms and kiss away her unease. Who was he kidding? He wanted her in his arms, period.
* * *
Her car and her apartment had been violated by some unknown dirtbag with orders to kill her and all Chasyn could think was how much she missed the feel of Declan’s touch. Clearly she was going crazy. But acknowledging that didn’t stop her from ogling him when he wasn’t looking. He was so unlike the young professionals she normally dated. The kinds of men with 9-to-5 corporate jobs and upward mobility. Men like her. Boring men. Where did that come from? She wondered as she silently admired Declan’s dark good looks, which were accentuated by his black T-shirt and black jeans. That outfit, stretched across corded muscle, made him seem large and invincible. And sexy as hell. And I am going to burn in hell for my impure thoughts.
Quelling the urge to reach up and brush a lock of his ebony hair from his forehead, Chasyn clasped her hands together and stood as casually as possible among Declan and his team. Well, his team minus one, but that was quickly rectified. Ziggy came rushing out from the office area waving a sheet of paper in the air.
“Who is the Queen of All Knowledge?” she asked with a wide grin on her otherwise unremarkable face. Her hair was pulled back into a hasty ponytail now and a pencil protruded from where the elastic secured her hair.
“Share with the group,” Declan said.
Excitedly, she said, “I traced the serial number on the GPS tracker.”
“Is that a new record for you?” Declan asked with a smile that Chasyn felt in the pit of her stomach.
“Maybe,” Ziggy sighed dramatically. “Purchased at Spy Zone in Palm Beach Gardens five days ago. And, I’ve already spoken to the store manager and even though it was a cash transaction, they have video of the sale. I told him you’d be there in twenty minutes.”
Declan took the sheet of paper from Ziggy with the address, then placed his hand at the center of Chasyn’s back and guided her to the Hummer. Her mind was spinning. A real lead was an exciting development but it seemed to pale badly in comparison to the sensation of Declan’s hand splayed at her back. She could feel the heat from his touch through the thin fabric of her top. She quickened her step to try to put some distance between them. She needed to regain her footing; stop fixating on the impressive physicality of the man just behind her. This was an extreme and temporary situation. She didn’t do extreme and she certainly didn’t do temporary. Too many complications.
As she climbed into the Hummer, Declan replaced the gun in the locker in the back of the car. Ziggy appeared at her door, holding out her tote. “You forgot this,” she said. Then she handed Chasyn a nondescript black cellphone “This is a burner phone. I pre-programmed it with all our numbers.”
“I have a cellphone,” she said. “Or rather Declan confiscated it.”
Ziggy shrugged her boney shoulders. “This one is untraceable. No way for our guy to track you via your phone.”
“But I have password protection on my phone.”
“With your parents, your job and several friends on speed dial.”
“How do you know that?”
“I hacked your phone. Anything that connects you to the Internet connects you to hackers and my guess is the guy who’s after you has some skills.” Ziggy told her as casually as if she was explaining the best way to grow basil on a windowsill.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” she grumbled as Declan slipped behind the wheel.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Why are we switching cars?” she asked as she tucked the phone into her tote.
“It’s safer for you.”
“Wait,” Chasyn said. “Can I get my sunglasses and my laptop out of my car?”
“I’ll get them,” Declan got out and went over to her lonely little Prius. He was back in seconds with her things and in no time, they were heading out of the compound.
The air was thick with the subtle scent of his cologne. Chasyn kept sneaking glances at his profile. It was impressive. Though his face was sharp and angled, he had a rugged quality about him that seemed to soften the edges. Sunlight glistened off his thick, ebony hair. Chasyn was tempted to reach out and run her fingers through it but thought better of it. Focus! She chided herself. “I know this spy shop,” she said. “When I was doing matrimonial work, we often referred clients there. They have lots of easily hidden cameras for sale.”
“To catch cheating husbands in the act?”
“Or cheating wives. Compromising photographs make for quick settlements.”
“Did you like doing divorces?” he asked as he steered the car back onto the main road.
“Nope. Too many people who hate each other more than they love their children.”
“Marriage can do that to you,”
he opined.
“Not marriage material?” She immediately wanted to take back the question.
“Probably not,” he answered. His voice held a tinge of derision.
She wondered if that was from a bad experience or just a general feeling. But she didn’t want to pry any further. No good reason to confuse the professional with the personal. Though she was at a clear disadvantage. He knew everything about her, and that didn’t seem fair.
As promised, they reached Palm Beach Gardens and the Spy Shop in just under twenty-five minutes. It was a small shop in the center of a strip mall on Alternate A-1-A. Chasyn stepped down from the Hummer and immediately felt a surge of fear since she was out in the open. She practically ran to the door of the store, yanking it open and nearly tripping inside.
It was a rectangular space with a variety of glass cabinets lining each wall. Down the center were sales racks with a variety of items on hooks and pegs. It smelled faintly of coffee and cherry air freshener. She pushed her glasses high on her head and waited for her pulse to return to normal.
Declan stepped in front of her, introduced himself to the clerk, and then asked, “May we see the manager? He’s expecting us.”
The male clerk, who was tall, young, thin and a redhead crooked his head in the direction of a door at the back of the store marked PRIVATE. Passing a collection of binoculars and night vision goggles, they reached the door and Declan knocked.
A man she guessed was about sixty opened the door and smiled at Declan. The action caused the nub of a cigar clamped in the corner of his mouth to shift position. What hair he had left was graying and the top of his head mirrored the bright light overhead.
He ushered them inside a storeroom, through to a small office. The scent of cherry deodorizer was stronger in the back. So was the smell of stale coffee. “How long has it been, Declan?”
“A while,” he answered. “Mickey, this is Chasyn.”
Mickey turned and looked at her, then nodded. “Right, the chick on the news who walked away from a bullet to the brain.”
“I’ll have to remember to add that to my résumé,” she returned with a forced smile.
“Yeah, well, sorry about the other chick.”
Trapped Page 6
