Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8)

by Kaylie Hunter

  “Damn.” I looked back at the knife. “Should I pull the file on the guy wrongfully incarcerated?”

  Mickey’s face turned hard again. “The guy raped two teenage girls.”

  “Well, in that case, I hope he’s having a miserable time.”

  “All clear, Boss,” Mickey’s guy said as the pair of thugs returned from the back room.

  I looked at Mickey and gestured toward the door. He followed me outside. “I have a question for you. Off the record,” I said.

  “What’s the question?”

  “Jameson crew in New Jersey gets their product from someone with a large pipeline. I’m trying to identify that pipeline. They might be the ones who hired someone to take out my neighbor.”

  “Drugs are a dangerous business. People who buy them, sell them, and transport them, all seem to face either death or imprisonment. Why would you think I’d know anything?”

  “I have reason to believe their network has already reached Miami. And we both know you keep a tight grip on all things criminal in southern Florida.”

  He was about to answer when something over my shoulder caught his attention. The next thing I knew, Mickey threw me to the ground, his arms wrapped around me like a straightjacket, as he rolled us toward his town car. Gunfire. Glass shattering. A car’s tires squealing away.

  With my shoulder bag under our bodies and my arms still pinned by Mickey, I couldn’t reach to pull my weapon. “Get off me!” I yelled in Mickey’s face.

  He glanced down at me, his nose less than an inch from mine. “You could at least thank me,” he said without moving.

  “Thank you? Are you kidding me? I’m a cop! If you hadn’t pinned me to the ground, maybe I could’ve caught the bad guys!”

  A slow grin formed. “You’re sexy when you’re pissed. And with your face bright red, the bruises aren’t as noticeable.”

  “Get. Off. Me!”

  He chuckled as he rolled to the side and sat upright. I grabbed my bag, swinging it in front of me as I shifted into a sitting position.

  Bones ran from the building, along with Mickey’s other goon. Spence ran over from the direction of our car. The goons pulled Mickey up from the ground. Once standing, Mickey stepped behind me and lifted me up as well.

  I knocked his hands away and looked around. The front of the barbershop was shredded. Both our cars had broken windows and bullet holes.

  I looked over at Bones and Spence. “Clear out. I’ll stay here and deal with the cops.”

  “You sure?” Bones asked.

  “No reason for all of us to get dragged into this mess.”

  Bones jogged back inside, returning seconds later with the knife and cutting board. Taking both with him, Bones and Spence took off jogging down the sidewalk.

  I turned around and watched Mickey slide into the back seat of his town car. The door closed, before pulling away from the curb and speeding down the street.

  I stood alone, surrounded by shattered glass and bullets, as the first squad car barreled down the street toward me. “Well, this is going to be fun explaining,” I said to myself.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  CHARLIE

  Tuesday, 6:05 p.m.

  After wasting an hour repeating over and over to internal affairs that I couldn’t possibly be the shooter, I was finally cleared to leave. When questioned about the message written in lipstick on the barbershop mirror, I told them I’d found the door unlocked and I couldn’t find a piece of paper to write on. They didn’t believe me, but since there was no law against leaving someone a message in lipstick, their hands were tied.

  As I watched my car, hitched to a tow truck, disappear down the street, Wild Card pulled up to the curb in my Mustang. The top was down.

  From behind the wheel, Wild Card wore dark sunglasses but he flashed me his playful smile. “I heard you might need a lift. Hop in. We have a meeting to get to.”

  I stepped over the door into the bucket seat before dropping my legs out from under me to flop into a sitting position. Opening the glovebox, I pulled out a pair of sunglasses and slid them on as I settled into the soft leather. “Please tell me we’re going someplace where they sell booze.”

  “We are, actually,” he said, chuckling, as he pulled away from the curb. “But first, Kelsey wants us to drive past the dentist office so you know what you’re walking into tonight.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I closed my eyes behind the sunglasses, enjoying the feel of the sun on my face as Wild Card drove. The sound of traffic faded. Details of the Benny, Mickey, and homicide cases faded, too. And the next thing I knew, Wild Card was shaking my arm. I opened my eyes. I’d fallen asleep. I lifted my head from the headrest to look around.

  “The dentist office is the tan two-story at the end of the block,” Wild Card said, lifting one finger from the steering wheel to point. “I’ll drive by as slow as I can, but you’ll only get one pass to check it out. I don’t dare make another trip around the block. Your car stands out in this neighborhood.”

  As Wild Card drove toward the building I turned to face him, leaning closer and placing a hand on his shoulder. I twirled his hair with my fingers, pretending to be a couple, as I studied the building. The main entrance was on the side closest to us. A few construction workers were packing up their tools in the parking lot. The building had a flat-top roof and two windows on each floor on the front and side. The sidewalk adjacent to the building was extra wide. As we drove past the building, I could see on the other side an alley barely wide enough for the wheeled dumpster which was likely rolled to the parking lot on trash pickup day. The alley side also had two large windows on each floor.

  The next building over seemed abandoned, but the broken windows made it a likely location for the homeless to hunker down after daylight. I lowered my hand and straightened in my seat.

  “You good?” Wild Card asked.

  “Yup. Any information on the alarm system?”

  “Sounded like Trigger took care of the alarm. He rigged one of the window sensors. Second floor on the alley side.”

  I laughed. “I like Trigger. He’s my kind of crazy.”

  “He’s got style,” Wild Card said as he pulled onto the expressway. “What I can’t figure out,” he shouted over the wind noise, “is why Kelsey hired him. He lacks discipline.”

  “If you knew the old Kelsey, it would make more sense. Between the two of us, she’s always been the serious one. But she also has this crazy-fun side. I think Trigger reminds her of herself, back before…”

  “Before Nicholas was taken,” Wild Card said, finishing my sentence. “Like the food fight earlier. And the pranks she used to play on me when we were married, putting manure in my bed.”

  “Exactly. She used to spend as much time and energy enjoying life as she spent tracking down bad guys. She had a good balance. She was the same way when we were younger. She’d take me to the playground or to the lake and we’d goof around all afternoon. Then when we returned home, serious Kelsey would reappear.”

  “So… Hiring Trigger reminds her of how she used to be?”

  “Yes, but I think it’s more than that. I think she’s trying to find that balance in her life again. It’s why she can’t sit still. I think it’s also why she couldn’t commit to Grady, even before he turned out to be an ass.”

  “Grady’s good for her. I don’t like to admit it, but they love each other,” Wild Card said, looking away. “They’ll get back together. She just needs time to forgive him.”

  “I hope not.”

  Wild Card glanced over at me, frowning. “You don’t like Grady?”

  “I adore Grady. And I’ll always be grateful to him for helping Kelsey face our childhood shit and for helping us find Nicholas.”

  “But?” he shouted over the wind noise.

  “But I miss the old Kelsey,” I shouted back as he exited the expressway. I waited until he stopped at the next intersection to continue. “I miss the woman who challenged me to a hot dog
eating contest. I miss the woman who rented a bounce house for my twenty-first birthday, which was an absolute hoot until we puked vodka all over the inside. I miss the woman who dressed up for every Halloween even if it meant cutting up boxes and grocery bags to make our own costumes.”

  Wild Card smiled a sad smile. “She’s in there. I’ve seen her. But she’s been through a lot. She might not be able to make it back to the person you remember.”

  “That’s just it. I adore Grady, but if she stays with him she’ll never find her way back. He’s too serious. Too much like this newer version of herself.”

  Wild Card turned into the club’s parking garage, pulling the ticket from the machine, and waited for the gate to rise. “Why are you telling me all this?”

  I was quiet as he drove to the second level and parked. He shut off the car, but we both sat there.

  “Don’t give up on her, Cooper. She’s different when she’s around you. Better.”

  He didn’t face me. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel as he stared at the concrete wall. “After Nola kidnapped her… When she came home, back to Texas I mean… I tried to be there for her. Tried to help her. But it was Grady who got through to her,” he said, shaking his head. “Not me, but Grady.”

  “Grady pulled her out of a very dark place, yes. But you’re forgetting that when she escaped Nola, the only place she wanted to be was in Texas. She felt safe at your house. She picked being near you. And you were the one she trusted to watch over her son while she healed.”

  Wild Card shook his head. “That makes me the protective friend.”

  “Maybe. But it also makes Grady her shrink, not her soulmate.”

  “Last I knew, shrinks didn’t sleep with their patients.”

  “I’ve had three shrinks,” I said, opening the car door. “I slept with two of them. Very therapeutic.”

  He got out and walked with me toward the elevator. “And the third?”

  “Female. She’s cute, but not cute enough to sway me to the other side.”

  Wild Card chuckled as we stepped into the elevator. “You’re one of a kind, Kid.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “You’re going to be late,” Baker’s voice boomed over the elevator’s speaker.

  I looked up at the security globe. “You need to chill. It’s not even half past six yet.”

  “Marilyn Monroe is one of our biggest clients. You can’t meet her dressed like that.”

  “Marilyn Monroe died several decades ago,” Wild Card said to the camera. “I think she’ll look worse.”

  I laughed. “Buzz us up to the fifth floor. I’ll shower and change before the meeting.”

  The button for level five lit, and the elevator started upward.

  “And Baker?” I asked, looking up.

  “Yes?” his voice replied.

  “Should I be concerned that one of our biggest clients is an expert on sexual asphyxiation?”

  “No. You should be concerned that the state laws are changing again. We might need to close the fourth and fifth floors.”

  “Not everything is about money, Baker.”

  “Remember that when you’re reviewing the first quarter financial statements next year.”

  The elevator’s doors opened and we exited into the hallway.

  Garth stood waiting for us. “Mr. Baker is in a mood today.”

  “Baker’s always in a mood.” I walked down the hall with Garth flanking me and Wild Card following us. “I need a favor. I need a discreet car for a job tonight. Something reliable, but disposable.”

  “What time?” Garth asked.

  “Around midnight.” I dug through my bag for my wallet and pulled my keycard.

  “I’ll have something parked next to your convertible. Keys will be above the visor.”

  “You’re the best, Garth,” I said as I swiped my card in the reader and opened my office door.

  Wild Card followed me inside and Garth disappeared down the hall.

  I turned to my closet. “Now, let’s see. What does one wear to a meeting with a sadist?”

  “Black,” Wild Card answered, pulling out a one-piece black pantsuit. The suit had an open back and a halter front, which exposed the wearer’s skin from the neck to the navel.

  “Works for me.” I took the outfit, stopped at the dresser for clean underwear, and then carried both into the bathroom with me.

  ~*~*~

  Obnoxious banging on the door from the hallway side alerted me I’d run out of time. Dropping my lipstick onto the dressing table, I turned toward the door. Wild Card opened it, letting me pass in front of him. Baker stood in the hall, eyeing me from the top of my head to my toes. His eyes were all business. He must’ve approved of my appearance because he turned and led us to the elevators.

  “That private investigator, Spencer something—” Baker started to say.

  “Russell Spencer. He goes by Spence, though,” I said.

  “I don’t care what his name is,” Baker snapped, looking at me. “He’s in The Parlor. He informed Garth that you told him to meet you here.”

  “Yes. He’s helping me with Evie’s case.”

  “You trust him?”

  “Sure.”

  “That’s not a very confident answer. This is Evie’s life you’re playing with.”

  “Geesh. Relax, Baker. I trust him. He’s one of the good guys.”

  Baker scowled at me as we stepped into the elevator. When his phone chirped, he read the text and said, “Marilyn just parked in the garage.”

  “See? I wasn’t late after all.”

  Baker scowled again.

  The elevator doors opened. I was pleasantly surprised to find the room occupied with familiar faces. Bridget and Bones were in a corner booth, both dressed for an evening out. Bridget raised her wine glass to me before taking a drink. Dressed in dark suits, Spence and Trigger sat at the bar sipping from crystal glasses. Jackson, Ryan, Maggie, and Evie were also dressed up and dining at a center table. As Baker escorted me past their food-covered table, my stomach rumbled.

  Baker stepped aside to let me slide into the booth. “I’ll ask chef Edwin to prepare you something to eat.” He didn’t wait for a reply before recrossing the room.

  Joey, a weekday bartender, delivered a glass of wine. I looked around for Wild Card, but didn’t see where he’d ventured off to.

  “Strange crowd tonight,” Joey said, glancing around the room.

  “Maybe, but I’m guessing they’ll prove to be good tippers,” I said, flashing him a smile.

  Joey blushed and tried to hide his own smile. “Mr. Baker ordered the wine. But is there anything else you’d like while you wait for your guest?”

  “Not right now, Joey. Thank you.”

  The elevator doors opened and a tall, dark haired beauty emerged. She paused to speak to Baker, then glanced over to me. She waved off whatever Baker said to her and strutted across the room, sliding fluidly into the booth.

  “Good evening,” I said, dipping my head in a respectful nod. “Should I call you Marilyn?”

  She laughed a full-body laugh before placing her elbows on the table. “Heavens, no.” She rolled her eyes. “Baker and his privacy rules. The man is insufferable. Call me, Jackie. It’s my name.” She held out a hand.

  I returned the handshake. “Charlie. Thanks for meeting with me.”

  “No sweat. Do you mind if I order, though? I’m starving. I’ve been running around all day and haven’t had a chance to eat.”

  She didn’t wait for me to answer. She yelled across the room for Joey to grab menus. He was already halfway to the table with her wine and seemed unsure as to which direction to turn. Wild Card, appearing out of nowhere in a white button-down dress shirt and black slacks, took the wine glass from Joey and carried it, along with menus, to our table.

  “Ladies,” Wild Card said, bowing slightly as he set the items down.

  “Can you recommend something to eat?” Jackie asked as she glanced at the menu. �
�Something I can pronounce?” she asked, frowning at the one-page selection of items.

  “Maybe I can help with that,” I said, pulling my phone. I called the kitchen and asked to speak to Edwin, the chef.

  “Mr. Baker rang me to tell me you were here. I just started to prepare your dinner.”

  “Can you make two—”

  Wild Card cleared his throat.

  “Make that three, dinners? I have a guest tonight, and I’ll take the third serving home for lunch tomorrow.”

  “I’ll make enough for you to feast for a week. How’s that?”

  “Splendid. Thanks, Edwin.” I disconnected the phone, dropping it into my purse.

  “Well? What are we eating?” Jackie asked.

  “No idea,” I answered truthfully, picking up the menus and handing them to Wild Card. “But I know it will be sensational.” I handed my wine glass to Wild Card as well. “Can you bring me something else? Anything else?”

  “Me too,” Jackie said, handing him her wine glass.

  With the menus under his arm, Wild Card carried both wine glasses toward the bar. Since I was the one facing the bar, Jackie didn’t see Wild Card drink from my glass. Nor did she see his face pucker as a result.

  Turning my attention back to Jackie, I realized she was smiling at me in a way that had me moving my hand closer to my purse and the gun I had tucked inside.

  “Baker tells me you needed information about choking orgasms. Are you considering trying sexual asphyxiation?”

  I threw my head back in surprise. “Wow. You get right to the point, don’t you?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Luckily, she was grinning ear to ear.

  “Given my preferences toward violent playtime, assertiveness works in my favor.”

  “I can only imagine. And no, I’m not looking to experiment. I’m working a case. I’m a cop, but this conversation will be completely off the record.”

  “A cop? Hmm.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. I’m just surprised Baker would arrange for me to speak to a cop.”

  “I have a business relationship with Baker which has nothing to do with my badge.”

  “I see. And you think I can help you somehow? With a case?”