Predator Patrol (Mars Cannon Novel #2)

by Nicolette Pierce

  "No. I'm staying with her overnight . . . She's fine . . . She knows you're pulling strings . . . . Of course she's pissed . . . No, I don't think she's figured that out yet."

  Brett.

  I closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. It's not my phone call, not my Brett, not my business.

  Chapter 17

  My eyes popped open to a dark bedroom. I heard something. It sounded like a thump or maybe a clunk.

  "Stand up, asshole!" T shouted.

  I clenched my covers, willing them to become a shield.

  "Damn it! Why did you hit me?" Evan barked.

  Uh-oh! I scurried from the covers and ran down stairs. T flipped the light on as I flew into the living room.

  T gazed down at Evan who was sprawled on the ground near the open front door.

  "Sorry man, I thought you were someone else."

  "I entered with a key, not through the window," Evan groaned as he tried to stand then resigned to remain on the floor.

  "Evan, are you okay?" I knelt beside him.

  "I will be in a minute."

  "What did you hit him with?" I glared at T.

  "My fist." He shrugged. "Everyone knows where you keep your key. Just because it’s in a rock or a frog, doesn't mean it's hidden. I heard footsteps on the porch and my reflexes took over."

  "I'll get rid of the frog," I muttered.

  This time I woke to a better sound. Evan had his arm around me; his tickling breath next to my ear. I snuggled in closer, savoring the sensation.

  I tried to fall back to sleep, but my mind wandered. First about the man sleeping next to me then about Aaron. I hope he’s safe. Somehow I figured he'd contact me if he wasn't.

  My brain sped on turbo when I remembered tonight’s event. Yes, I realize it’s only a wet t-shirt contest and not a wedding or gala. It didn't matter.

  Help was secured, but there were still details to work out. Time was running out. This event has to be a success. I flipped back the covers and slipped from Evan's arms. He snuggled into the pillow.

  I showered, changed, and bounded downstairs to flip open my laptop. I hunkered in the chair, waiting for the internet to open. T, dripping with sweat, opened the front door and let himself in.

  "You're up early," he said, mopping his head with a hand towel.

  "I could say the same about you."

  "The day feels better after my morning exercise. It's like recharging my batteries."

  "I'll recharge later. I have tons of details to nail down before tonight." My only problem is money. I don't need anything expensive; just a few necessities. Prizes can be bar gift cards which wouldn't cost anything except for printing. I doubt Hank has gift cards printed and having the boys make gift cards with card stock and markers would be embarrassing.

  I also need super soakers. Maybe just one. We don't have a large area in the bar for a row of girls and their soakers to stand. One at a time would be perfect. I bet Mrs. Janowski has one I can borrow.

  A stack of mail fell on the table. I eyed the spilling pile.

  "I was heading in when the mailwoman stopped me. She told me the mailbox was full; she was going to haul it back to the post office if I didn't bring it inside. I had to endure a speech about being thankful for her leniency. Most mail carriers wouldn't have let it go so long. And, in the future, mail should be collected every day . . . except Sundays, of course." He sat in the opposite chair. "While I don't mind bringing in the mail, I don't like being lectured like a child who stole grandpa's dentures for my sock puppet. What's going on?"

  "You made sock puppets?"

  He eyed me. "Mars, stop avoiding and start dealing."

  "It's very simple. I don't have money to pay these bills. So, instead of reading angry collection notices, I'm pleasantly ignoring them."

  "Like an ostrich. Just stick your head in the sand and hope it blows over."

  "Something like that. I figured once I have a paycheck I can pay what I owe and start salvaging."

  "Maybe there's something important you missed."

  "I never receive anything in the mail except bills." I filed through the mail. "See, nothing . . ." I stumbled upon a plain envelope. Nothing special except for the handwritten address. No return address; stamped by the Houston post office. My heart stumbled and tripped.

  "Yep, nothing in there," T mumbled. "I'm taking a shower. Don't leave and don't answer the door."

  I nodded mutely as he made his way upstairs. I pushed the envelope away. Whatever it contained had no value for me. It didn't mean anything.

  No matter how much I tried, I couldn't tear my eyes from it. Disgusted with my wandering mind, I buried the envelope in the pile.

  I noticed the pile wasn't overwhelming. If I tossed the junk mail and ads, the pile would be small. I quickly set to the task of removing junk from the pile, carefully avoiding the handwritten envelope. When all was done, the pile was slim. Too slim.

  "That can’t be right," I muttered, confused.

  I leafed through to find a collection notice or some thing that didn't look like normal bills. Nothing. With a small tremor that shook my hands, I opened the first bill. Paid in full. I ripped open the next. Paid in full. I tore through each bill until I was left with one envelope. They were all paid in full.

  I eyed the remaining envelope. There might be an explanation in it. But I didn't need one. I knew it was Brett. It's always Brett. A cloud of emotions hovered over me. Damn mail!

  "Dude!"

  "Holy sh . . . !"

  I looked at the ceiling as if I could see through to the bathroom. A door slammed. Footsteps bounded down the stairs.

  "How long is T staying?" Evan demanded, his face unusually white.

  "I don't know. What happened?"

  "I thought you were in the shower. I thought I'd join you, but . . ." he trailed off.

  What started as a snicker, bloomed into a full belly laugh that left me gasping. The thought of unsuspecting Evan jumping in the shower with T had me rolling. I only wished I was there to witness it. By the time I was collecting myself, wiping the tears away, T made his way downstairs. Eyes averted, both men gave a nod. I peeled with laughter again. My abs and cheeks burned.

  "Oh, it hurts!" I gurgled through the laugh. Both men watched with a mixture of amusement and embarrassment.

  As I finally subsided into an occasional hiccup, I said, "Thank you for the laugh. I needed it." Hiccup. "Don't make me laugh so hard next time."

  "There won't be a next time," T said firmly. I saw him glance at the table. His assessing eyes focused on the unopened letter.

  I sobered instantly. "Tell him I'll pay him back." Hiccup.

  "Pay who back?" Evan asked.

  "Tell him yourself," T tossed back as he headed to the refrigerator. He peeked in and shut it. "It's not even turned on."

  "Tell who?" Evan asked.

  Do I tell him the truth and risk hurting him? I know he's sensitive about my past relationship with Brett. . . if you could call it that. The truth is always better, I decided.

  "I just found out Brett has been paying my bills without my knowledge." I waited for a reaction. When it seemed none was forthcoming, I said, "As you heard, I'm going to pay him back."

  Evan edged near the table and flipped through a couple bills. "I'll help you. I'll skip next semester and take on extra work. We'll have this paid in no time."

  I shook my head. "No. I can pay this on my own. I just need a little time. I'll ask Renee if I can start working once tonight's event is over. I don't want you to quit school."

  Evan searched my eyes. "I want us to start clean with no involvement from Brett."

  "There won't be. I'll make sure of it." I eyed T who was hovering near the door as if planning his escape. "Think of it as paying off a loan."

  Evan kissed the top of my head. "We'll figure this out later. I have a study group before work."

  "I thought your study group was last night."

  "It was. We ran late and still have more
material to cover. Finals start on Monday."

  "Good luck. I hope you’re able to cover everything before work."

  "I think we can. Amber has mapped out our study topics. A little OCD; but nothing gets missed."

  "How many are in your study group?" I asked.

  "Five, why?"

  "How many are girls?"

  "Four . . . why?"

  "You're the only guy in the group and there just happens to be late and extra study sessions."

  He shrugged. "Just getting ready for the exam."

  A part of me knew a little jealousy was brewing. There was another part wondering if he even suspected these study sessions might not be the only reason the girls formed the group. Sometimes men are the last to know.

  "Tell me, is there a lot of hair flipping, giggling at nothing, and wafting perfume?"

  "Jealous? I think I like seeing you a little jealous. It suits me well." He winked. "They all pale in comparison to you."

  "As long as you know it, and they know it," I returned with a smirk.

  "Mars, as much as I love listening to Evan and you, my empty stomach can't handle it,” T said. “Let's grab a bite to eat."

  "I'll see you later, sugar. I have to dress." A quick kiss and he was up the stairs.

  "I need to run some errands too," I said to T.

  "Anything. Just get a move on before I die."

  "I don't think you'll die." I closed my laptop.

  "Someone will die if I don't eat."

  "A hungry T is a surly T. You should carry a protein or granola bar with you."

  "Move! Move! Move!" He hollered like a drill sergeant.

  I scurried out the door, snatching my purse at the last moment.

  I eyed him in the car. "Want some gum?"

  "No. I want food. Do you see this muscle?" He pointed to his bulging arm. "It requires calories; not gum."

  "I wish my calories looked like that after I ate them. If cheesecake turned into muscle, I'd be stronger than you."

  He pulled into a parking lot and parked. "No need for cheesecake. Let’s grab some breakfast."

  "I don't have money."

  A scowl wrinkled and pinched his features. "It's covered. Now haul your ass in there."

  "Fine. But after you've had your first bite, we're talking about Brett and his interference."

  He looked to the sky before barreling into the restaurant. He plucked the menu out of the hostess' hand and seated himself in a corner booth. I gave her an apologetic shrug before scooting in.

  "You better be nice to the server or they'll spit in your food."

  "At this point, I don't care." He waved for service.

  A server nodded and sped over. T placed a hearty order, rambling menu items as she scribbled them down.

  "And how about you, sweetie?" The server asked.

  "Just a mushroom and cheese omelet."

  "Hash browns or American fries?" She asked.

  "Hash browns."

  T shifted in his seat.

  "What kind of toast?"

  "What kind do you have?"

  T drummed his fingers on the table.

  "We have white, whole wheat, rye, and pumpernickel. For an additional charge you can have English muffin, pancakes . . . "

  "She'll have wheat toast!" T barked, neck muscles twitching making his tarantula tattoo dance.

  The wide eyed server stopped.

  "I'll have the English muffin. He's paying." I smiled and settled back. "Can you bring a couple crackers for Timmy? He doesn't do well on an empty tummy."

  "Looks that way," she replied, snapping the menu from his hand. With a final look, she sauntered off.

  T crossed his arms.

  "If you're so hungry, you should have gone to a fast food restaurant."

  His lip curled. "I need food not some hockey puck."

  "Even if you're starving?"

  His scowl turned lethal. "Barbecuing you might be better."

  "You lost the capacity to scare me months ago."

  "I knew I should've never helped Brett. I've gone downhill ever since. I'm giving free lessons at the senior center. That would’ve never happened before."

  "I consider it an improvement."

  "Maybe not enough of an improvement." He glanced at his clasped hands. Ripping them apart, he resumed drumming on the table.

  "You just thought of Emmy, didn't you?"

  He glared, sending poisoned darts at their target.

  "And you complain about my issues with Brett," I said. "You know she's going to be at the bar tonight, right? McCain Events is in a lull and Emmy is free to help."

  "Damn it, Mars!" He snarled. "Life was so much easier before you."

  It stung, but I knew he was hungry and I had the feeling he was in love with Emmy. He probably let her go so he wouldn't hurt her. He protects everyone whether they need it or not. It seems like his good intentions backfired.

  The food arrived. T gave me one last glare before shoveling food in.

  On my fourth bite of omelet, T leaned back with a contented sigh. His plate was all but licked clean.

  "I don't think it's healthy to eat so fast."

  "Neither is being paired with you."

  "Come on. You ate; be happy."

  His fingers mindlessly toyed with his unused spoon. "Does she know I'm going to be there?"

  A smile tugged at my lips. Big scary T thwarted by a girl the size of a pixie.

  "She knows."

  "She's okay with it?"

  I shrugged innocently. "I try not to get involved."

  Chapter 18

  I'm running out of time, I thought as I searched for a drink recipe I could promote for the evening. T begrudgingly chauffeured me around town all morning on errands while keeping an eye out for Aaron. He was now alternating between flipping through four television stations and pacing the living room. It took three lumbering paces before he had to turn around and repeat.

  Who's the big guy?

  I blinked at the screen. Aaron? I wondered. The screen name belonged to Aaron, but I couldn't trust it. Grub could have logged onto Aaron's account.

  His name is T. Is this Aaron?

  Yes

  Not quite a deciding answer.

  R u safe?

  Yes

  Where r u?

  Not safe 2 say. I'm close. Have 2 leave soon.

  I want to help. Tell me how. Don't leave!

  "T!" I shouted. "Come here. It's Aaron."

  I have to leave. Don't trust ANYONE!

  U don't have to leave. T is here. He can protect u. U can stay here with us.

  I'd deal with the authorities later. Right now, I just wanted Aaron under my roof and safe.

  No one can protect me. Bye, Mars.

  Stop! Don't go!

  Nothing. No answer.

  “No!” My hands curled together as I stood abruptly, slamming the chair to the floor. T, who had been reading the messages behind me, jumped out of the way.

  "Hold up!" T said, bracing me in place with both arms.

  "We have to find him! I knew I should’ve been looking this whole time. The stupid event could’ve waited.”

  "Don’t do that. You know we stopped searching so he’d come to you. And he did. He said he was close. Let’s take a look outside. I'll call Drier."

  I flew out the door and down the steps to the sidewalk. The street was empty except for a cat romping in the grass a few doors down.

  T joined me at the curb. "I left a message for Drier. Do you see anything unusual?"

  "No. It's not like he popped up a tent in my yard."

  "There still might be clues. He asked who I was and said he was close which means he had a visual of the house."

  I turned in my spot carefully scanning the area. No candy wrappers. No crushed flowers or bushes. No footprints. Wait!

  "The car!" I hurried over to my car window.

  T followed behind and looked in with a muttered curse. "He's been sleeping in your car and using your wifi." />
  "Mrs. J. was watching the house. How could he slip by her?"

  "Sounds like she was focused on your activities instead of the house."

  Dread surged. "Grub will keep following him, won't he? We have to call Reed. He'll have resources, right?"

  "Why don't you call Reed and I'll call in a favor to a friend. If Aaron's been using your wifi, maybe we can find out what computer or device he was using. We might be able to use the ID to track him."

  "Is that possible?"

  T shrugged. "I don't know anything about computers. If there's a way, my friend can do it."

  T handed me Reed's card. I dialed with shaking hands.

  "Reed here."

  "Reed, it's Mars Cannon. We figured out where Aaron was hiding, but he's left again."

  "Where was he?"

  "He was sleeping in my car. I had no idea until just now. He said he's leaving. Is there anything you can do?"

  "Let me call around. I'm sure I can. Do you have a bus stop near you?"

  "Yes. There's one a few blo . . . " Oh! I ran full force down the road. How could I have missed something so obvious? I skidded around the corner to see a bus pulling from the curb. I bolted into the road, halting the bus in its tracks. The driver beeped and cussed.

  I rounded to the door and pounded on it. "Open up!"

  He flipped me off, accelerating the bus to pass.

  I ran after it, trying to find any clue Aaron was onboard. As the bus picked up speed, I lost sight of the people inside. He had to be on the bus. The next stop was five blocks away. Between traffic and lights, I could make it there in time. I ran hard; my lungs in flames.

  I kept my eye on the bus as I flew past pedestrians and cars. I saw it pull to the curb just a block ahead. My legs cramped as I ran as hard as I could. Passengers stepped off and more hopped on. I'm going to miss it!

  "Stop!" I hollered using the little air I had.

  The bus doors began to close. I dashed the remaining few feet, wedging my arm in; the doors popped open.

  The bus driver’s eyes widened. "You're crazy, you know that?"

  I stepped in so he couldn't close the doors.

  "I just need to find someone," I rasped, clutching my chest.