by CJ Lyons
The other Reapers parted, clearing a path for Caruso and Poppy, their expressions filled with respect and macho deference. A few cut their eyes her way, eyebrows raised in anticipation, as if they expected Caruso to call down lightning to strike her dead for her blasphemy.
No wonder they called their club meetings Church.
Caitlyn took the initiative. “Good morning,” she called out in a chipper tone. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
Poppy’s glare darkened. Caruso chuckled. “Yes, yes it is. A great day for a ride.” Guy even sounded like a bank manager.
They reached the circle of bikes surrounding her and her vehicle. Poppy gave a curt nod to the others and they quickly sped away, leaving just the two of them, Caitlyn holding her gun on the painted nude, and the Giant shuffling from one foot to the other, torn between protecting his bike and obeying his leaders.
Again, Caitlyn took action before they could request or demand anything. Keeping the upper hand was imperative in these kinds of confrontation, but she also didn’t want to do anything to push their anger to the point where they’d be forced to act to protect their status.
With a flourish she bent on one knee to slam the ASP against the Subaru’s front tire, collapsing the baton. Then she nodded to the Giant and holstered her weapon. He rushed to his bike, rubbed his palm over the nude, checking for the most minute scratches in the paint.
“Go,” Poppy said. The Giant gave Caitlyn a death stare that said she’d better never meet him in any dark alleys then revved his bike and pulled away to join the other Reapers gathered in front of the house.
Now it was just the three of them. Oh, and there was Goose, her hunky shadow. All this party needed was Weasel. The hairs on the back of her neck rose at the image of him out there wrecking havoc—and she thought of Paul. She’d left him parked in a front booth at the casino’s café, in full sight of anyone on the gaming floor or helping themselves to the buffet. Hopefully he had the good sense to stay there out of harm’s way. Knowing him, he was so lost in his research he probably had no clue where he was or what was going on around him. Just like when he stared at videos of angiograms, following the trail of dye through arteries, veins, and capillaries one frame at a time.
“Do you know who I am?” Caitlyn asked.
“The bitch who won’t keep her nose out of our business?” Poppy said.
Goose closed the distance between them, staying within earshot in case he was needed. She kept her hands on her weapons, her weapons at her side, and favored him with a quick glance of acknowledgment. He nodded, keeping his hands where she could see them. Showing a little respect. About time.
“Besides that,” she said.
Poppy blew out an exasperated breath. Gestured to Caruso then Caitlyn. “Meet FBI Special Agent Tierney.”
“Supervisory Special Agent,” she corrected. “Sorry to interrupt.” She kept her voice contrite, realizing Poppy needed to save face in front of the national president. “I just have a question or two for Mr. Parker.”
Caruso stared at her long and hard before nodding. “Make it quick, we’ve our own business to attend to.”
He turned on his heel and walked back into the house. Caitlyn arched an eyebrow at Goose, but instead of leaving he sidled closer to Poppy and crossed his arms over his chest, settling his weight like he was the Rock of freaking Gibraltar. Fine. Whatever.
Poppy rocked on his heels, appraising her. “You’re the spitting image of your old man. He was a pest, too.”
Caitlyn decided to take that as a compliment. “Thanks. How about if you tell me about Lena Hale? Make life easier for us both.”
“I wish I knew anything. I really do.” He sounded almost sincere. Except for the flat gaze that never wavered. Usually Caitlyn’s habit of staring made others look away, but this time she was the one fighting the urge to break eye contact. “If you find her, let me know. I have my guys searching—figure last thing we need is blame for some missing law student lost in the mountains.”
“Seems funny the last place she was seen was your clubhouse.”
“Told you. She asked for directions and left.” They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds. This time Poppy was the one to break. “You calling me a liar?”
She was silent, assessing any potential chinks in his armor. Caruso appeared on the porch steps, beckoning to Poppy.
“Let me know if you find that girl. It’d surely ease my worries.” He walked away, Goose falling in step behind him.
Frustrated, Caitlyn hopped into the Impreza and drove off before any of the Reapers—especially DeeDee’s owner—got the bright idea of stopping her. If she hurried, she’d make it to the VistaView in time for brunch.
* * *
Lena sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. She almost wished she was back in her tiny closet. Things were so much easier there. Just her and God working a plan. Who knew escape would lead to more danger and confusion than ever before?
“You thought some bikers wanted to kill me and that’s why you kidnapped me?” She was glad she had the gun. Maybe Bernie wasn’t the nice guy he appeared to be. But, despite doing all the wrong things—oh, so very wrong—he genuinely seemed to be doing them for the right reasons.
“Yes. I couldn’t let them hurt you.” His voice was pleading for her to understand and trust him. Could she?
“But you don’t know why they wanted to kill me?”
He frowned, his eyebrows coming together in one scraggy ridge that shadowed his eyes. “Poppy told Weasel they couldn’t take any more chances that you wouldn’t find out. That’s all I heard.” His face cleared and he met her gaze. “Does it help?”
“Wouldn’t find out what?”
He shrugged, winced with pain. His face was flushed, and she wondered if he was getting a fever. Who knew what kind of germs leopards carried?
“Why do you have leopards and chimps here in the middle of the mountains?”
“I saved them.” His grin made him look like a little boy on Christmas morning. “The Reapers were going to let them loose, have hunters pay to shoot them. So I took them. Just like I took you. Gave them a new home.” His smile faded. “Only the leopard worries me. Won’t eat. And the chimps got away the first night—they’ve been running around, teasing me ever since.”
His concern for the helpless animals—well, not as helpless as Bernie thought, obviously—made her want to like him. And stealing them from a biker gang? He’d risked a lot to save them. Just as he’d risked everything to save her. “Aren’t you worried about the leopard being loose? What if it goes after someone else?”
“No one else up this far on the mountain. It’d have to go through the woods around to the other side to reach the trout farm and below that the Tierney house and of course your dad’s old place.” He stirred in his chair. “I read that they’re nocturnal, so I’m hoping it goes back for the meat I left in the lodge. I left the front door open. Maybe I can trap it again before it gets hurt.”
“Leopards don’t eat chimpanzees, do they?” she asked, worried she hadn’t seen Smokey since last night. She pushed to her feet and ran to the window. Nothing moved outside except for wind pushing snow across the lawn in swirls of white.
Bernie struggled to stand and joined her. “No. I don’t think so.”
He didn’t sound very certain. She looked at him once more. He seemed different from the guys she usually hung out with. Not dumb. Just … simple. Innocent. Childlike.
Then she noticed the sweat rolling off his forehead. She touched his cheek with the back of her hand. Hot. Too hot. He turned his face away, his blush deepening—or was it the fever?
“I’m sorry I ever got you mixed up in this,” he mumbled, sagging into her arms. She barely made it to the bed, gently laid him across it. “Should have known I’d screw up.” His eyes fluttered shut.
“Bernie. Wake up. Bernie!”
No response. It was up to her. No idea what was going on, where to find help—or who she
could trust.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
When Caitlyn got back to the VistaView, Paul was right where she’d left him, undisturbed, nose deep into her laptop at the restaurant on the main floor. “Turns out this freedmen thing is a big deal,” he said when she slid into the booth beside him. “We’re talking a lot of money if they become full tribal members, especially if you added it up retroactively.”
“Worth killing for?”
“I guess so.”
“But what would the Reapers have to gain by getting rid of Lena? The Reapers have no claim with the tribe.”
“Maybe someone with the tribe is paying them to protect their interests?”
She frowned. Sounded desperate. Especially as the court rulings on the Oklahoma case were mostly in favor of the Cherokee Nation. Why go to such extremes? “No. There has to be more going on.”
“Well, Lena’s research was correct. Her family and twenty-one others were included on the tribal rolls of 1883. The other families have all moved away, generations ago. Even the Hales haven’t lived on the reservation since the only surviving Hale son returned home from World War One.” He shook his head. “All that history, lost.”
“Not entirely. There must be something left that Lena found. Enough to get her father killed.” And maybe Lena as well, she didn’t add.
Paul shut the laptop and stood. “We’re late.”
“Aren’t we meeting down here?”
“No. Your uncle is having brunch served up in his penthouse.” He grinned. “I can’t wait to see the view from up there. He gave me the code to his private elevator. C’mon.”
She groaned but stood and followed him out. “So no leads for me to follow up on?”
“I found a name. A librarian at the tribal archives.” He wove his way through the crowds around the slots like an old pro and led her to a secluded elevator.
“Good. Who is it?”
He shook his head and punched in the code. The doors opened immediately. “Oh no. I give you the name and you’ll rush off to ruin some poor librarian’s weekend and leave me holding the bag with your mother and uncle. Not going to happen.”
“Paul—” Her ears popped as the elevator whisked them to the penthouse suite on the eleventh floor. Altitude or the effort of swallowing her frustration with him, she wasn’t sure. “Just give me the name.”
“I’ll text it to you. After we eat.” The doors opened onto a panoramic view of the Smoky Mountains. “Better yet. I’m coming with you.”
Before she could protest, Uncle Jimmy and her mother rushed into the foyer to greet them.
“Caitlyn,” her mom said, taking her arm. Today Jessalyn wore a simple navy sheath dress with a gold-and-navy brocade jacket. “You’re late. What have you been doing?” She brushed her fingers over Caitlyn’s coat. “There’s mud all over you.”
Being surrounded by bikes in a field could do that to you. “I took a drive, sorry if we’re late.”
“No matter. We’re all here now. Isn’t this lovely?” Jessalyn gestured at the skyline and the sumptuous feast waiting on a chrome-and-glass table covered in linen and silver-gilded china. Caitlyn looked down at her muddy jeans and boots. Brunch. Wasn’t that supposed to be scrambled eggs and waffles? Maybe throw in a fruit plate?
This looked like the final supper on the Titanic. Platters of salmon and roast beef, eggs Benedict, broiled tomatoes and ham, shrimp bigger than her thumb arranged in a circle around a martini glass filled with cocktail sauce … and those were only the dishes she could identify. Two waiters flanked the doors to the kitchen, ready to spring into action. If Jimmy was trying to impress, he’d succeeded.
Jessalyn appeared to be right at home, walking directly to her seat at the far end of the table to Jimmy’s right, waiting for Jimmy to pull her chair out for her. Paul hurried to do the same for Caitlyn, but too late, she’d already taken care of it herself. Jessalyn threw a disapproving glance her way. Caitlyn ignored it, realizing her stomach was ready to rebel if she didn’t give it something to digest.
She reached for the eggs. Jessalyn shook her head. Jimmy cleared his throat and raised a champagne glass filled with a pomegranate mimosa. “It’s not often that I get the chance to entertain such lovely company.” He nodded to Paul and Caitlyn. “I’d like to propose a toast. To family.”
Paul and Jessalyn chimed glasses as Caitlyn grabbed hers and did the same. “To family.”
She took a sip, the bubbles tickling her nose, then set the glass down and reached for the real food once more. That’s when her phone rang.
“Sorry,” she said, glancing at the number and seeing it was a Quantico extension. “I really need to take this.” She looked longingly at the spread, grabbed a strawberry, and, ignoring her family’s irritated expressions, headed out to the foyer. “Tierney.”
“You picked the worst day ever to skip work. I hope you’re lying in a hospital bed somewhere with a doctor’s excuse.”
“Gee, nice to talk to you, too, LaSovage. What’s the problem?”
“The assistant director came to observe the evaluations yesterday. That’s the problem.”
By taking a leave day, she’d left him a man short. “I’m sure you found someone to fill in as a bad guy.”
“You don’t get it, Caitlyn. It’s not my problem. It wasn’t me he wanted to observe.”
A waiter walked past, asked if she needed anything. She shook her head and mouthed, “I’m fine.” Then LaSovage’s words penetrated. “Yates was there to see me?”
“Bingo. He heard about what happened Thursday.”
“Thursday?” So much had happened since then she had to rack her brain to remember what he was talking about. “You mean with those new agents in training?” One of whom she’d made cry.
“Guess someone told him. Welcome to the new FBI, guaranteed no more tears.”
“But I didn’t do anything wrong—”
“Caitlyn, Caitlyn.” He sighed. “You don’t get it, do you? They want you out. You don’t have to do anything wrong, you just have to not do everything right.”
“Nothing I can do about it now.”
“Actually, there is. That’s why I’m calling. Yates left a message that he wants you back here. Today.”
“Is he coming to supervise the training—wait, it’s Saturday, there is no training scheduled.”
“There wasn’t any. But I’m putting together a little extracurricular project.” His voice brightened. “I think you’d have fun with it, actually. We’re expanding off your impromptu scenario from the other day.”
Jessalyn appeared, looking angry. Uh-oh. “That’s nice, but I’m tied up with my mom and uncle. I can’t make it back today.”
“What should I tell Yates if he asks?”
Caitlyn hesitated, torn. Family or job? Choosing either would mean abandoning Lena. And Caitlyn was the closest thing to family Lena had left.
“Tell him family comes first.” She hung up even as Jessalyn reached out a hand, ready to snatch the phone from her like she was a nine-year-old again.
“Come here, we need to talk,” her mother said with that she-who-must-be-obeyed tone Caitlyn loved to rebel against.
“But Jimmy and Paul—”
“Can wait.” Jessalyn led Caitlyn into a large study with a wall of windows, velvet curtains, chrome-and-glass tables surrounding two large black leather couches. She whirled on Caitlyn. “You need to quit this foolishness. Right now.”
“You mean looking for Lena?”
“I mean the FBI.” Jessalyn blew out her breath, her lips pursing to reveal wrinkles Caitlyn had never noticed before. “All I’ve ever wanted is what’s best for our family. What’s best for you. I’ve sacrificed everything for that.”
“How is my quitting my job what’s best for me or the family?”
Jessalyn’s gaze focused on the scar running up Caitlyn’s sternum toward her throat. Her souvenir from a psychopath. “The FBI has almost gotten you killed twice now. Sweetheart, do you have any
idea what that does to a mother? Especially after your father—”
She looked away, blinking hard. Jessalyn never could talk about how Sean Tierney died; in twenty-six years this was the closest she’d ever come. At least with Caitlyn.
“Mom, it’s okay.” Caitlyn’s anger drifted out of reach as she comforted her mother with a hug. Arguments with Jessalyn always ended this way. “Nothing’s going to happen to me.”
“You don’t know that.” Tears brimmed in Jessalyn’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “You can’t know that. After everything I’ve been through I don’t think it’s too much to ask. If you like detective work, Jimmy can put you on at the casino. Sneaking around undercover, catching card cheats. At least it wouldn’t be dangerous. And I could finally sleep at night without worrying that I’m going to get another call—”
She broke down, collapsing onto the couch without even smoothing her dress to prevent it from wrinkling. That’s when Caitlyn realized this wasn’t one of their usual melodramatic arguments about trivial matters blown out of proportion. Jessalyn was truly worried, scared even.
Caitlyn heaved out a breath as she sat beside her mother, one arm around Jessalyn’s shoulders. Her mom never showed this much emotion—drama, yes, but never true tears. She never let her guard down far enough to expose her heart. It was something she and Caitlyn had in common.
“Mom, I can’t quit. It’s my job, my life. I’ve fought so hard to get where I am—”
“Your life? You mean your death. Caitlyn, if you don’t quit, that job is going to kill you.” The tears splashed from her eyelashes down onto her cheeks, streaking her impeccable makeup. “Please. I’ve never asked anything from you, but I’m asking you now. Caitlyn, you need to quit. I’m begging you.”
Her mother was right: Jessalyn had never asked her for anything. Although she’d made it perfectly clear that she’d given up everything when she left Evergreen to give Caitlyn a better life. Away from all the turmoil surrounding her father’s death. All her mother had ever expected in return was for Caitlyn to love her and be a good daughter. Caitlyn was the first to admit that maybe she’d done the first but failed at the second. Could she refuse her mother’s one request now?
