Divorced, Desperate and Deceived

by Christie Craig

  Kathy moved where he’d told her. She knelt, head turned to the side, nose wrinkled as if the smell was getting to her, and held the dog. Luke poured the water over the puppy, which immediately started trying to drink. “Hold tight,” he insisted.

  “Poor thing’s thirsty,” she pointed out, and caught some water in her hand. The dog drank.

  “Just hold him,” Luke ordered. He poured all but the last inch of water onto the animal, recapped the bottle for her to give to the thirsty pup later, then squeezed a tube of hotel shampoo on the damn dog. He rubbed the soap vigorously into the squirming dog’s fur, cursing the stink, unable to believe he was doing this.

  The dog whimpered. “Not so hard,” Kathy said, and then spoke softly to the mutt. “We’ll have you smelling clean in no time.”

  The animal looked up at her with bug eyes. Damn thing was already in love with her. Not that Luke blamed the puppy; he was halfway there himself. Which explained why he was at this moment shampooing the damn thing and getting dog shit all under his fingernails.

  “You’re such a good doggie,” she cooed.

  Luke tuned out Kathy and listened for cars. If Lorenzo’s men caught up with them, if saving this damn dog cost them their lives…

  “Thank you.” Kathy shot him the first real smile since everything went down. Her green eyes were soft with emotion, and Luke’s chest swelled. “I knew you couldn’t leave him.”

  I could have, Luke thought, but he didn’t tell her that. His time working undercover had trained him to see life differently. Trained him to focus on his objective. Focus on staying alive. Not to let people in, not to care. Or maybe it was his ex-wife who’d taught him that. How could she have aborted their child? Hadn’t losing his entire family in a matter of two years been enough?

  But he was damn tired of being that person. There was a period in his life when that puppy would have mattered.

  “Let’s just get it done.” Grabbing the dog by his feet, he wiped away most of the suds with a T-shirt, snatched up another garment, wrapped it around the puppy, picked the beast up and handed the bundle to Kathy. Then he handed her the water bottle. “Give it to him in the car.”

  Kathy pulled the wet animal to her chest. “It’s gonna be fine now,” she said.

  God, Luke hoped everything would be fine. Deep down he knew what they were up against. It was him, a stubborn woman, and now a damn dog against men who killed for a living. The odds weren’t in their favor.

  Again he chewed on the fact that Calvin hadn’t answered his call. If his link with Calvin was severed, he’d have to get with someone else. But who? The main reason the DA wanted him in protective custody and then WitSec was because they didn’t know who they could trust. Having only been working on the task force two months before the undercover job became available, Luke couldn’t say he trusted anyone.

  Luke thought of all the friends he’d walked away from while trying to deal with the grief of his past, and it hit him that going undercover hadn’t been his first attempt to hide from his problems. He’d started hiding long before that.

  “I know you’re hurting, but you can’t just push everyone away!” His ex’s voice vibrated through his head.

  What the hell had she expected him to do? Invite everyone to his pity party? Men didn’t do that. He didn’t do that. All he’d needed was a little time. A little space to work through everything. The last thing he’d needed was for Sandy to give up on him and abort his baby without even giving him a choice. She’d been wrong. Damn wrong.

  But that hadn’t made him right, had it?

  The thought took him to a place he’d never been on the issue, a place where one took some responsibility for past mistakes. He didn’t want to go to that place. Not because he couldn’t own up to his faults, but because he knew it didn’t mean crap. That was the past. He needed to focus on the present.

  He grabbed the box where Kathy had spotted some men’s clothes and yanked out a light blue button-down oxford. Slipping his arms into it, he found it a little short, but this wasn’t the big and tall shop. He snagged a jacket, draped it over his shoulder and glanced at Kathy, wondering whether they should try to find her something else to wear as well.

  She had a silly grin on her face as she cooed at the snout of the semiclean puppy now wrapped in some old lady’s pink worn-out robe. He found himself staring. The image showed all the reasons he liked her—the reasons he needed to make damn sure she got out of this mess alive. Tommy needed her. Hell, Luke needed her. He needed to find a phone and get Calvin on the line.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he grunted.

  “Wait.” She ran back to the cage. “I think I saw a bag with a…Got it.” She pulled out a leash and smiled again.

  As Luke took a step to leave, he heard a car pull off the road and come to a gravel-crunching stop beside the trailer. That damn puppy might be the death of them yet.

  Chapter Ten

  Joey pulled up in front of a roach coach, a kitchen on wheels with big flowers and birds painted all over the front. Two Harleys were parked beside the truck, and two Harley drivers sat at a plastic table in foldout chairs eating off paper plates.

  “They’re not here,” he said, and relief washed over him, but he didn’t remove his hand from his gun tucked inside its shoulder holster.

  “The van’s not here,” Donald corrected. His words almost sounded slurred. He had been dozing off and on during the drive. “Doesn’t mean they aren’t.”

  Joey looked back at the trailer, which had steam coming out over the open counter. He didn’t think Hunter and the redhead would be hiding in there.

  The phone call Donald received hadn’t been about the blonde; it had been Lorenzo’s contact, giving them the new location of Hunter’s phone. On the rush over, Joey had envisioned the pictures of the mother and son hanging on the trailer wall, and he’d tried to prepare himself. If he had to kill Donald to protect that family, he’d do it. It wasn’t as if anyone would miss the bastard. The world would be a better place.

  Donald opened the car door. The smell of grilled onions and meat wafted inside the car. Joey’s stomach rumbled. The three sausage and biscuits he’d eaten that morning had long since worn off.

  Donald wavered when he turned to put his feet on the ground, and Joey wondered if the smell was turning the man’s stomach. Donald had made him pull over a few miles back so he could throw up on the side of the road. Joey had watched the whole time, afraid his roadside request had simply been a ruse to kill him. But, no, Donald really puked.

  “Maybe you should just let me check it out,” Joey offered, more from hope of avoiding a showdown than worry about Donald. Hey, the man had threatened to kill him, so Joey was finished worrying about him.

  “And let you fuck it up again?” Donald said, and pulled himself upright.

  Joey stepped out of the car, ignoring the throbbing in his toe. He took in his surroundings, assessing all that might go wrong. Then again, maybe nothing would. Maybe Donald would see that Hunter and the girl weren’t here and they could move on down the road. Joey always hoped for the best. Sadly, he was disappointed a lot.

  The two motorcyclists were putting on their helmets, getting ready to take off.

  “You two leaving?” Donald asked. He reached inside his jacket, and Joey reached for his own gun. He didn’t want to shoot anyone. But if he had to, it would be Donald.

  Luke heard the car door open and shut. Jumping in front of Kathy, he reached inside his partially buttoned shirt to pull the gun from the waist of his jeans. He stopped just as a uniformed police officer appeared around the corner of the open trailer.

  The man nodded. “Hello.”

  From the corner of his eye, Luke saw Kathy’s gaze shift to the officer. The thought running through her mind couldn’t have been clearer if it had flashed in neon letters across her forehead: We should tell him what happened at your place. He shook his head and hoped like hell she listened. Being taken into custody would only make them a co
uple of sitting ducks waiting for Lorenzo’s men. One of the other witnesses had been killed while at the police department trying to report a break-in. Another had been killed while in police custody. Until he spoke with Calvin to make sure who he could and couldn’t trust, Luke wasn’t trusting anyone.

  Hoping to reassure Kathy, he pulled her against him and held her around the waist. “Trust me,” he whispered. Then he said to the officer, “Just dropped off some old clothes. Cleaning out a few closets.”

  “Really?” The cop’s gaze shot to Kathy, as if he’d read something in her mood. Luke felt her try to wiggle away. “I thought that was your van I glimpsed parked behind there.”

  “Uh…” Kathy muttered.

  Kathy and the officer knew each other. Luke immediately started reassessing the situation.

  “What the hell is that smell?” The officer took a step back.

  From the cop’s demeanor, Luke surmised that there wasn’t a BOLO out on Kathy’s van yet, or Kathy. The adrenaline tightening his muscles lessened a bit. Then he saw the cop studying the dog in Kathy’s arms—or was he studying Kathy’s cleavage?—and his muscles tightened again, but for different reasons.

  “Someone actually left a puppy in a cage here!” Kathy answered, holding the trembling animal.

  “You’re kidding,” the cop said. Again, he shot Luke a curious look. A look that lingered on his face. “You get into a fight?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Kathy said. “This is…Stan Bradley. Stan, this is Cary Jenkins. Cary is a friend of Jason Dodd and Chase Kelly, my friends’ husbands.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” the cop said, and looked back at Luke.

  Damned about what? Luke wondered. Reaching up, he touched his black eye. “A couple asshole plumbers arguing about a job. Happened out there by Lacy Kelly’s.”

  Kathy shot Luke another look, as if saying they should trust her cop friend. Luke ever so slightly shook his head no.

  “I…I didn’t know you were dating anyone.” Officer Jenkins said, his gaze and smile now glued on Kathy.

  Luke saw her start to open her mouth, and he interrupted, “Lucky me, huh?” He tucked her a bit closer to his side.

  “Yeah, lucky you.” The cop chuckled, but he didn’t stop looking at Kathy. “So I guess the club has been officially disbanded?”

  “What club?” Kathy verbalized the question running through Luke’s head—but clearly the cop’s question annoyed her. Funny, how annoying questions usually led to interesting information.

  “You know what club,” the officer said, not picking up on her tone.

  But while Cary the Cop missed her tone, probably because of all the attention he was giving to her breasts, Luke was the third wheel in this conversation and knew it. He didn’t like being third, especially when it involved Kathy Callahan and another man. Add the fact that the cop was still eyeing Kathy like a piece of birthday cake, and Luke found himself grinding his teeth.

  Not that he was the only unhappy person present. Kathy was giving Officer Jenkins one of those feminine stares that usually had men covering the family jewels—and if the man would quit looking at her chest, he might see.

  Finally the cop’s gaze shot up, and the womanizing smile slipped from his face. “Er, I—”

  “So Jason and Chase told the whole police force, huh?” Kathy’s tone could chill a six-pack of beer. “How sweet. I’ll make sure to give thanks for sharing that personal information the next time I see them.”

  The officer had the good manners to look embarrassed. “Well…they just…I mean, maybe they mentioned it in passing. It’s not like they…really told me anything.”

  “What club?” Luke repeated, feeling sorry for the cop. Well, almost.

  The officer shuffled his feet and redirected the conversation. “You’re going to take the puppy? I’ll bet Tommy will like that. How is he, by the way?”

  “He’s fine, thank you,” Kathy said in friendlier tone.

  So the cop had met Tommy? Luke remembered the day the freckle-faced kid had helped him work on the plumbing. Luke had never passed the chance to spend some time with the boy. And it wasn’t just because of Kathy. Well, maybe it was in the beginning, but that had changed.

  “Tell him I said hello,” the cop suggested.

  How close was this man to Kathy and her son? Good old-fashioned jealousy shot through Luke’s veins. For some reason he hadn’t even considered there might be other men.

  Kathy looked at Luke and then back at Cary. “Can you excuse me for just a second?” she said to the cop. Then she leaned close to Luke’s ear. “We can trust this guy. We really need to tell him about what happened at your place and—”

  “No!” he said as firmly as he could without alarming the officer standing a few feet away. Feeling the man watching, Luke laughed, leaned in, and planted a kiss on her cheek—all to offset any negative vibes. It also might have been his way of saying hands-off. Leaning closer, Luke whispered, “You have to trust me.”

  “How about you trust me on this one?”

  She pulled back and faced Officer Jenkins, and Luke’s stomach muscles clenched. She was going to tell, and he had to decide what the hell he was going to do about it.

  He sized up Officer Jenkins. They were approximately the same age, height, and weight. And they had the same taste in women, going by the cop’s continual perusal of Kathy’s breasts. Needless to say, he wouldn’t be easy to take down. But damn it, Luke had to try.

  Joey watched Donald just stand there, frozen, his hand inside his coat as if to grab his gun. But he didn’t move. Was he getting sick again? About to puke?

  The two bikers gave Donald an odd glance and then shifted their gaze to Joey, who nodded and tried to smile. With only Donald’s back in his line of vision, Joey couldn’t see Donald’s expression, but the bikers didn’t seem too worried. Damn it, he wished they would just take off, leaving two fewer people Joey would have to worry about.

  One of the guy’s bikes roared to life. Joey, hand on his gun, waited to see if Donald planned to let them ride off. He felt his heart thudding against his rib cage with the sound of the engine, but Donald didn’t make any sudden moves. Joey’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a silent sigh. Someone inside the roach coach moved, and Joey heard a woman’s voice, but the roaring sound of the bikes drowned out her words.

  “We should go,” Joey called.

  Donald still didn’t move, which Joey was finding really odd. The two bikers pulled away and onto the road, the sweet sound of their Harleys rising in the spring wind.

  A feminine, heavily Spanish-accented voice came from the roach coach. “You want to eat?”

  Joey looked over to see a woman in her early thirties with her hair pulled back in a net. A few strands had slipped free and two, no three, black curls rested against her cheeks. Her brown eyes—large, almond-shaped eyes, slanted ever so slightly at the corners—gave her an exotic appearance.

  Her forehead pinched in concern as she focused on Donald. “Your friend? He okay?” she asked, her English unsure.

  Joey didn’t have a freaking clue if Donald was okay, but he nodded. Then, staring at those beautiful eyes, he wanted more than ever to get away from the woman before Donald did anything stupid. “Yes, he’s…fine.” He moved between Donald and the truck. Keeping his hand inside his shirt, his fingers still wrapped around the Glock, he whispered, “Let’s just get out of here, Donald.”

  The man didn’t answer, and Joey noticed the strange look on his face, like Donald was sleepwalking. Joey took a step closer…and Donald dropped.

  “Damn!” Joey swore, and tried to catch him. By the time he got to the man’s side, however, Donald had landed face-first in the dirt. A puff of dust billowed all around his big frame.

  “Ah, Dios!” the woman screeched. “You want me call 911?”

  “No,” Joey said. But even as he spoke, he saw the woman pick up her cell phone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Luke tightened his hand on Kathy�
��s waist and said, “We should be going.” He shot her another pleading glance before looking at the armed police officer standing a few feet away.

  She shook her head. “Cary—”

  The radio in the cop’s cruiser blared. The officer held up his hand and spoke into the walkie-talkie pinned to his shirt, then said, “Sorry, Kathy, I have to go.”

  “But—” she exclaimed as the officer shot off. “Cary!” She started to jump down.

  Luke caught her. “No!” He could hear the address being spilled out of the radio. It was his.

  The sound of the cop car spitting gravel was a welcome relief. Luke didn’t waste a second. “We’ve got to get out of here.” He jumped down and reached back to help her.

  Puppy clutched in one arm, Kathy accepted his help with her free hand. “I told you, he’s friends with Chase and Jason. They like him. He’s not a dirty cop.”

  “And I told you that doesn’t matter.” Luke put a palm on her back and rushed her forward. “If someone in the department is working with Lorenzo, word will get out and we’ll be sitting ducks just waiting for them to finish us off. Which is all the more reason we need to find a new ride that doesn’t have your name plastered all over it and isn’t sporting bullet holes. If Jenkins was working for Lorenzo, we’d be dead right now. If he’d gotten a good look at your van, we’d be on our way to being dead!”

  The puppy whined, and Kathy clutched the animal closer. “I just find it hard to believe that—”

  “Get in!” he cut her off.

  The moment she climbed into the van, Luke slammed her door and ran around the vehicle. Chances were that his name—and very likely Kathy’s—would be played across the police radio at any moment, and Officer Jenkins would turn around.

  “As I was saying…” she continued as he pulled himself up into the driver’s seat. “I find it hard to believe that someone could hurt us if we’re in police custody.”

  “Tell that to Beth Salzmann and Jim Leigh.” He started the engine. It roared to life but stalled out.