by Luke Murphy
WILD CARD
A Calvin Watters Mystery
Luke Murphy
WILD CARD
A Calvin Watters Mystery #2
Copyright © 2018 by Luke Murphy. All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. And any resemblance to actual persons, living, dead (or in any other form), business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
www.authorlukemurphy.com
SECOND EDITION ebook
ANM Books
July 14, 2018
ISBN: 978-1-7753759-5-1
Cover designed by Ryan Doan: www.ryandoan.com
& Casey Snyder Design: www.caseysnyderdesign.com
Table of Contents
WILD CARD
Copyright
Praise for Wild Card
Acknowledgements
Prologue
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 26
Epilogue
Message from the Author
About the Author
Praise for Wild Card
“This one contains all the danger, treachery, and action a thriller reader could wish for. Luke Murphy has the touch.”
—Steve Berry, New York Times bestselling author of The Lost Order
“Wild Card by Luke Murphy is an engaging suspense read with escalating action and pace. Even lethal jungle creatures wield their brand of justice. Hold on for a wild ride that doesn’t end until the last page.”
—Jordan Dane, bestselling author of the Sweet Justice series
“Murder, sex, hackers, leg-breakers, shady Russians, flawed heroes, and a ruthless killer in an elaborate criminal chess game: Luke Murphy delivers.”
—Bryan Gruley, author of the Starvation Lake trilogy
“A wild ride! Exciting characters. An adventurous read. Loved it!”
—Jonas Saul, author of the Sarah Roberts Series
“Luke Murphy’s Wild Card is a fast-paced, twisty international thriller laced with refreshing bouts of humor. Reformed debt-collector Calvin Watters and cop buddy Dale Dayton have clear-eyed courage when battling drug cartels and rogue snipers, even as they try to keep it together on the homefront. In a rapid-fire plot with bullets flying, Murphy’s characters never lose their depth or likability. A highly addictive read.”
—Nadine Doolittle, author of Iced Under
“From the glitter and grunge of the Vegas strip to the steamy depths of the Amazon rainforest, Wild Card takes the reader on an unforgettable trip. From the first page, it grabs you like an anaconda and refuses to let go. Murphy is a relentless writer—and his latest offering, Wild Card, is like a raging river that can’t be tamed.”
—Jeff Buick, author of Bloodline
For Mom – I hope I make you more proud every day. I love and miss you.
Acknowledgements
The most important people in my life: my family – Mélanie, Addison, Nève and Molly.
I’m the first to admit that this novel was not a solo effort. I’ve relied on many generous and intelligent people to turn this book into a reality. I’d like to thank the following people who had a hand in making this novel what it is today. I’m indebted to you all.
(The Conception) I need to thank the creative and very brilliant:
Mrs. Joan Conrod
Ms. Lisa Murphy
(The Research) For their professional expertise, knowledge in their fields and valuable information, thanks to:
Ms. Joanna Pozzulo (Institute of Criminology and Criminal Justice)
Keith MacLellan M.D.
Officer Laura Meltzer (Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department)
Darron Barr – CTE Solutions
MCpl (retired) Trevor K. Smith CD
(The End Result) For the final look and read, a special thanks to:
Imajin Books
Any procedural, geographical, or other errors pertaining to this story are of no fault to the names mentioned above, but entirely my own, as at times I took many creative liberties.
And last but not least, I’d like to thank you, the reader. You make it all worthwhile.
Prologue
Calvin Watters laid his head back on the pillow, stretched out his long, muscular, dark-skinned body, then rested his hands behind his head. He released a sigh of pure pleasure, a sound he hadn’t made in a long time. Calvin felt more relaxed than he had in years. Grabbing the remote, he flipped to ESPN just in time to see an exclusive interview with his former USC teammate, Toby Jenkins.
Rachel climbed into bed beside him wearing a sexy, black Victoria Secret lace and satin slip he’d never seen before, and nuzzled her head on his bare chest. The new, dark lingerie contrasted perfectly with her smooth, pale skin.
She snuggled him tightly, giving him light, butterfly kisses on his arms and rock-hard abdomen. Calvin could feel her warm breath on his skin and it stirred him deep within.
Calvin smiled. “You’re in a good mood tonight.”
She continued to kiss his body, moving upwards towards his neck before planting a deep, passionate, wet kiss on his lips. She gently bit his bottom lip and tugged on it playfully. She pulled away and smiled.
“Wow, what brought that on?” he asked.
“I’m just really happy. And it’s all because of you.”
“I can see that. What did I do?”
“Everything we’ve planned, dreamed about, is coming true.”
Calvin nodded. “It’s not a fairy tale, but even I couldn’t have predicted things would be this good. Did you think a former leg-breaker and ex-hooker would make the perfect couple, the perfect team?”
“Never doubted it for a second.”
Calvin gently touched her chin, tilting Rachel’s head up so that he could look into her electric-blue eyes. The admiration in her gaze was all he needed to know how she felt about him. He loved the way it made him feel.
“You are my knight in shining armor,” she joked, nestling in tight.
Calvin liked the way that felt, too. It hadn’t taken them long to become completely comfortable with each other since that first night. They’d been through so much together in such a short time. An improbable match made in heaven. They’d both ended up on the streets of Vegas, running away from a troubled past and looking for brighter lights.
Rachel, alone on the streets with no friends or prospects, had turned to prostitution, leaving home and an abusive stepfather. Calvin believed that had she remained there, without his help, she’d have ended up another statistic. No happy endings, no Cinderella stories on the streets of Vegas. “Pretty Woman” was complete fiction.
Calvin’s downward spiral had started with his career-ending injury at USC. The torn ACL had taken several surgeries just to allow him to walk. He’d lost his full scholarship and fell into a pool of self-denial and self-loathing. He never thou
ght he’d ever get out of that rut.
Their chance meeting turned both their lives around. They’d encouraged each other, and made sure they’d succeed.
Rachel rested her head on Calvin’s chest and released a soft, muffled sigh of complete and intense pleasure. “What’s on?”
“Just an interview with my former college teammate. They’re doing a documentary on Jenkins, how he became a great NFL running back.” Calvin tried not to sound bitter, but how could he not? Even though he’d gotten over it, turned his life around and moved on, there was still a sour taste in his mouth from how it had gone down.
“Wasn’t he your backup at USC?” She watched Jenkins sprinting down the football field on TV.
“Yep. I was the starter, and he sat on the bench watching me break records. Now he makes eight million a season for the Chargers. If I hadn’t been so selfish, and had done what was best for the team, that would be me.”
“Please, let’s not get into this again.” Rachel turned her head and looked at Calvin. She smiled and winked, running the back of her fingers down the middle of his chest and underneath the blankets. “You’re much sexier.”
“I’m over it.”
He wrapped his arms around her and rolled over, pressing his lips firmly against hers. Their bodies melted into each other.
He gently kissed her neck and slid the black satin strap off Rachel’s shoulder, kissing a spray of collarbone freckles, moving his tongue lightly down to her breast, and gently sucking on an erect nipple. He pulled himself back as much as he could, trying to take things slowly, but he had the urge to rip the slip completely off and take Rachel immediately.
A sharp warning buzz from the TV startled him. “We interrupt this regularly scheduled program for a special, emergency news bulletin.”
Calvin ignored the report and returned his attention to his hotter-than-hell girlfriend, ready and waiting. Rachel’s trust and loyalty was all he needed. But in the back of his mind, he had the temporary satisfaction of knowing that Toby Jenkins’ interview was being interrupted. Okay, maybe he wasn’t completely over it.
“This just in—Derek Baxter, a former United States Marine, escaped military confinement and is now on the run.”
The name jolted his bones. Calvin turned and Rachel sat up. He grabbed the remote and raised the volume.
A newscaster appeared on the screen. “Baxter was wanted in connection to the shooting death of a Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department officer last year. After a week-long man hunt, he was brought into custody by the United States Military, because of an outstanding, special, high-priority warrant against him.”
Rachel let out a low screech. She grabbed Calvin’s arm. “What’s going on?”
Calvin raised his hand to quiet her, so he could hear the report.
“Baxter had been a highly-decorated officer who received two purple-hearts during two military tours. At one time, Derek Baxter was considered the military’s top sniper, elite class, before a dishonorable discharged in 2005.”
A picture of Baxter flashed on screen. The pale face and dead eyes brought up a storm of emotion. Calvin’s heartbeat quickened.
Rachel put her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. That’s the guy who tried to kill us.”
Calvin’s jaw muscles tensed. He swallowed hard. A lump formed in his stomach as pain flared in his chest. Baxter’s picture brought back vivid memories. No matter how much mental weeding Calvin tried to do, that bastard had left a lasting impression.
“Baxter was last seen at an airport in Fallbrook. Local authorities say the ex-marine could be headed anywhere, is armed and considered extremely dangerous. Anyone with information should contact…”
Calvin shut off the TV.
“Fallbrook is in California. Is Baxter coming back for us?” Rachael asked.
Calvin shook his head. “I don’t think so. He wouldn’t do anything that stupid.” But he knew he didn’t sound convincing, because he wasn’t sure. He knew Derek Baxter, had a deep connection with the man, and the professional assassin was capable of anything. He probably still held a grudge over what Calvin had done to him.
Rachel shook. “We shut down our lives because of that guy. We spent four days locked up, hiding from both the police and that psycho.”
“I know.”
“I can’t do it again.” Tears moistened her eyes.
Calvin reached for her narrow shoulders and pulled her in close. She buried her head into his chest. He could smell the Jasmine shampoo she used in her sandy-blond hair as her warm tears traced over his skin.
“You don’t have to, Rachel. Baxter isn’t coming back. He’d be crazy to. The whole country is searching for him. He’ll probably disappear and never be heard from again.” But Calvin knew first-hand just how crazy Derek Baxter really was—and he was that crazy.
Rachel pulled away. “Are you sure?”
He looked into her tear-soaked eyes, trying to remain composed. He felt queasy, his palms sweaty and his breathing labored.
“I’m gonna call Dale.”
He tried not to look or sound worried, but that’s all he felt.
♣
Detective Dale Dayton, of the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department, sat at his desk in the Robbery/Homicide division office of the new LVMPD Headquarters on four hundred South Martin L. King Boulevard.
He tapped his pen unproductively on the desk, where a ubiquitous stack of papers awaited. His jacket was off, sleeves rolled up. Dale stared at the cold case files wondering how his life had come unglued. An empty tin of Skoal remained on the desk in front of him, reminding Dale of the last piece of chewing tobacco he ever had. It hadn’t been an easy habit to quit, but he was taking it one day at a time. Wasn’t that the cliché that every addict used when they were failing?
He looked around the empty office, the only glow coming from his desktop lamp. He was alone. His long-time partner, Detective Jimmy Mason, had long ago surrendered to the friendly surroundings of his home, wife and children.
The annual overtime budget had already been maxed out, so Dale worked on his own time.
The newly built, four-hundred thousand square-foot headquarters, which opened in 2011, seemed almost haunting in its emptiness. The building consolidated twenty-seven bureaus, including his Robbery/Homicide division, previously located in various buildings around Las Vegas. It also housed the Southern Nevada Counter Terrorism Center, Police Records, and a Fingerprint Bureau annex.
But tonight, silence reigned, almost a peaceful isolation from the everyday hustle and bustle of a police station in full-running mode.
Every other detective on Dale’s force was either at home with family or out on the strip with friends—Vegas’ temptations. He checked the time. Jimmy would be in bed with his wife, exactly where Dale wished he could be with Betty. But for him, it was either go to an empty apartment, or stay and work. Easy decision.
His caseload was never-ending. With each one he closed, four more opened up. The spate of murders in Vegas over the last year had almost doubled. He was currently working on three separate investigations.
The first, a probable suicide by a convicted level-three sex-offender who’d recently been released on parole. The victim was found naked in his garage. From the autopsy, ballistics and gun residue, it looked legit. No one would miss that trash.
His second case consisted of a number of prostitutes who’d been robbed by the same perp. Dale’s crew had been able to construct a physical description of the man from the hyper-active-tongued victims, but results from the street investigation gave practically nothing on a suspect. Dale wanted to find the guy before the pimps did, otherwise it could get really ugly.
And the third case was a possible hit-and-run that left two young children motherless. Swabs, prints and paint samples taken on the woman’s red Mini-Cooper told them the suspect drove a black vehicle, the second most popular car color in America. That’s all they had so far. No witnesses, no videos, no make or model of the suspect�
��s vehicle. They hadn’t ruled out vehicular homicide.
His phone rang. He unclipped it from his waist and answered, “Detective Dayton.”
“Detective, this is Colonel John Hughes of the United States Marine Corps.”
Dale’s skin prickled and his heart caught in his throat. A chill ran through his body from hearing a voice he’d never forget.
It had been over a year since the city’s debacle that had brought Hughes to Vegas, stirring the colonel from the cozy confines of his military base. Dale had hoped he’d never hear from the man again. What a fiasco that had been. But a call from the colonel could only mean one thing, Dale’s priority case-list just shifted.
Baxter, said a shaky voice inside Dale.
A man as cold-blooded as killers came. It was a national pastime for him. Baxter had been an instrumental part in one of the most vicious crime-sprees in the city’s history.
“We need to talk,” Hughes said.
Book One: Russian Roulette
