“What can I do for you?”
It was better to get right to the point—we were both busy men. “I’ve held back from calling you on this for almost a year now.”
“A year?”
“Yeah, well, I know you have more important things to care about than a few letters.”
“Letters?”
“They’re coming from inside your prison. From one specific prisoner.”
He groaned. “I don’t have to ask which prisoner it is, do I?”
“Probably not.”
“What’s he saying?” I could tell I had his full attention by that point.
“Namely that he’s up for parole and can’t wait for us to get together soon. That was where the first letter started, around a year ago. Since then he’s been sending one every other month or so, asking me if I’m getting exciting about us both being on the same side of the prison wall.”
“Shit.”
“So it’s true?” I had hoped against hope for almost a year that it wasn’t true. I had tried to push the thoughts of Jonathon Smythe out of my head. Every time I managed to go a day or two without thinking about him, another letter would show up out of the blue. Like he knew how he was stringing me along and was playing with me.
“That he’s up for parole? I don’t know off the top of my head, but I can check with the Board. I’ll tell ya, they’re way behind. The backlog is a freaking joke. For all I know, the sicko might still be a year away.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” I muttered. Anything to keep him behind bars for as long as possible.
“Yeah, but still, from what I’ve heard about him—and this is all incidental stuff, keep in mind—he’s a model prisoner. Wouldn’t say boo to a ghost.”
“Which is exactly what he wants the parole board to think. It’s exactly what he wants everyone to think. That’s the only way he could ever get out before they carry him out in a body bag.” I wasn’t used to feeling hopeless. One thing I was always first to do was take charge, so sitting there on my ass with no way to stop the parole was killing me. And that was what he wanted.
“I’ll look into it and get back to you as soon as I can,” he offered. “I don’t want to see that sick fuck back on the streets any more than you do.”
“Is it even legal, what he’s doing? He’s obviously trying to threaten me.”
“Unless he came straight out and told you he plans to kill you or somebody else when he gets out? No. I don’t think it could be construed as illegal.”
“Not that I thought it was, but I figured it was worth a shot.” We hung up after Chuck promised to give me a call with whatever he heard about the state of Smythe’s parole. That left just me and a bunch of letters which I had to get rid of.
A few minutes later, Crista found me out behind the building. “It’s a little warm outside for a fire, isn’t it?”
I didn’t turn around. “Paper burns just as well in the summer as during the winter.”
“What are you burning?” She walked over to the cardboard box in which I’d set the letters on fire and stood next to me. “Oh.” She was the only one at the agency who knew about the letters—I hadn’t set out with the intention of telling her about them, but by the time the fourth one showed up I had been just about ready to explode.
“I don’t want them around anymore,” I muttered. “I don’t want him around.”
“I’ve been telling you for months to get rid of them. Remember? It’s almost ghoulish to keep them in your desk where you can see them anytime. This is for the best.” Her hand on my arm was gentle, tentative, and it cut through some of the haze in my head. But just a little. It stirred a memory, too, of another hand. Another voice, telling me to let go of things because I was being a ghoul, obsessed. I hadn’t listened to that voice before. I reminded myself of what happened back then.
“You’re right. It’s for the best.” Only it didn’t wipe out the man himself. Just the words he’d written. I still had to live with knowing he might be out, on the streets, at any time. And I’d have to be ready for him, whether Christa or anybody else liked it or not.
“Come on inside. It’s too hot out here.” She pulled on my arm once the fire went out. I stomped the ashes to be sure they weren’t still smoldering before turning and going back inside with her. No matter what was going on, I had an agency to run. I wasn’t a cop anymore, trying to track down a brutal kidnapper. There was no young girl in jeopardy because of him. Not anymore. I took care of that and put him behind bars. And I could do it again if I had to. I only wished I wouldn’t have to.
Christa knew the story, too, so she understood what it meant to me that he stay away forever. How entirely fucked up that case had left me, practically a rookie at the time. How I had quit the force after the strain had just about worn me down—and left me divorced. How I had joined the SEALs so I could still fight the bad guys.
What she didn’t know was how I still saw the face of Jonathon Smythe in front of me even when I was halfway around the world. The way he had smirked at me in the courtroom—he knew me, of course. He’d made it a point to know the business of the men who were after him. And every time I pulled the trigger, every single time, I’d thought of him when my focus needed to be strongest. Wishing I were pumping lead into him.
He had already taken up too much of my life. I had to find a way to keep the rest of it out of his grasp.
When I reached my office, the phone was ringing. Not many people would call my direct line at that time of the day. “This isn’t a social call, is it?”
Ricardo snickered. “Why the hell would I call you? I could call one of my friends if that was all I cared about.”
“Like you have friends.”
“Stop. You’re hurting my feelings.”
I chuckled. “All right. You’re in a helluva mood for a Wednesday morning. What’s happening?”
“I have a pretty unusual guest here at the station, somebody I thought you might want to meet.”
“Let me guess. They saw a hit taking place and need protection. No, they’re on the run from an abusive spouse. No, they’re—”
“You can guess from now until lunchtime and I guarantee you won’t get it right,” he replied in a cool voice. “Trust me.”
“Okay. I give up. Who is it?”
“Why don’t you come down and see for yourself? Don’t bring anybody with you—I want you to see this for yourself. We can decide what to do once you’re here.”
“Wow. I’m intrigued.”
“You should be. Now get down here.”
Who could refuse an invitation like that?
BOOK 3 DYLAN
Chapter One –Dylan
The funny thing about vacation was no matter how much I looked forward to them beforehand, I always ended up wanting to go home after a few days—and when I got home, I wanted to go back on vacation. Especially when Pax called me only a few hours after I fell asleep.
I rolled over and fumbled around on the bedside table with my eyes closed. “Yeah?” I mumbled when I managed to answer and put the phone to my ear.
“Is that how you answer your boss’s call?”
I winced. “Sorry, Pax. I just got in a few hours ago. I’m still on California time.”
“Oh. Sorry. I forgot you were still technically on vacation until tomorrow.”
I rolled onto my back and scrubbed a hand over my face. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m at the station with Ricardo and there’s something here you need to see.”
Of course there was. Why not? I was only jet lagged to hell and back and had slept maybe three hours. The man was never very good with timing. “Does it have to be just this minute, all due respect? I’m sort of a mess right now.” I hadn’t even changed out of my clothes before falling into bed. Stupid me, thinking it would be a good move to fly in overnight and have the whole day to myself before going back to work on Thursday. I should’ve spent the night and gotten a flight in the morning.
He paused for a be
at. “Get in the shower, get some coffee and get your ass down here.” Then he hung up. Vacation was over.
I swung my legs out of bed and forced myself up before the urge to pull the sheets over my head was too strong to fight. Pax always had a way of getting his point across—usually I wouldn’t have thought twice about doing what he ordered, but I was still technically on vacation and probably jet lagged into not thinking straight. I tried not to imagine the look he’d give me at the station as I showered, then made the fifteen-minute drive to the station. Sometimes I thought Pax should’ve taken out office space there instead of our Brooklyn location, since we ended up spending so much time there anyway when we were on a case. Plus, it would cut out the hassle of waiting to see Ricardo and the other detectives when something came up.
It was a hot day, hotter than it had been out in San Francisco. It was the humidity, not the heat—something New Yorkers were fond of saying. It was also the truth. The dry heat of California and the deserts of Iraq were nothing compared to a hot, sticky day in the city when sweat beaded up on your skin the second you stepped outdoors. I blasted the air in my Jeep to cool me off, not to mention using it to stay alert. A stop-off for coffee was in order.
When I walked into the station, iced coffee in hand, I saw nods of recognition from most of the cops I passed on my way to the bullpen. “Hey, Schaffer! Looking tan!”
I grinned and waved at the desk sergeant. “Been out on the West coast,” I winked.
“Lucky bastard.” He turned back to his work with a shake of his head. Yeah, a really lucky bastard. A few weeks a year, I got to visit my friends out in California and make sure the cemetery plot where my parents were buried was taking care of.
I jogged up the stairs to the third floor and steeled myself for Pax’s sarcasm. It had been twenty-five minutes since he’d called, which in Pax time was more like two hours. He’d probably be pacing around or tapping his fingers on something to make sure I got the message that he was irritated with me.
Only Ricardo’s little glass-walled office was empty. I looked up and down the hall and caught sight of one of the team members we worked with all the time. “Yo, Jim. Where’s my boss? I thought he’d be here.”
The slow, knowing smile that spread over his face surprised me. “He’s here, all right. Down in the last interrogation room.” What the hell was the big deal about him being there? I knew the way, so I walked down the hall to where Jim had directed me. At the end, the door was open. They were waiting for me, I guessed. Pax stepped out just as I got there.
“Took you long enough,” he muttered. I let the comment slide, not that I had much of a choice. He was in a mood, too. I wondered what had happened when I was gone. Then, he shot me a grin. “You’re gonna love what I have for you.”
“Excuse me? For me?” I couldn’t see into the room. “What’s in there, anyway? Everybody’s acting like it’s Christmas morning around here.”
“Come on in.” He stepped aside. And there, at the table, surrounded by seven or eight guys, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
“Who the hell is that?” I asked. My eyes were glued to her. It was like she was a magnet and I was powerless to look away. Her hair was the perfect shade of honey blonde, and it seemed to glow with warmth even in fluorescent lighting. She had deep blue eyes, a creamy complexion, and lips that were full and glossy enough to spark a million fantasies. I could just imagine the way they’d feel against my mouth…among other parts of my body.
“That,” Pax replied, “is Vienna Worth, though I’m sure that’s not her real name. It’s the only name she’ll give Ricardo.”
“And why is she here? Did somebody try to hurt her? A stalker or something?” I could see somebody being obsessed with her. She was probably a rich girl, too. She held herself like one. The black dress she wore was tailored to her slim body. A diamond pendant rested on her chest, suspended by a chain I’d bet was platinum. Her nails were perfectly manicured. She held herself with a sort of easy grace, the way a dancer normally did. Maybe that was what she did for a living—it made sense, the straight posture, the long, lean neck and arms, even the bun at the back of her head. She had a way of looking at a man when she talked to him—like he was the only man in the world, and the most fascinating thing she had ever met.
“No, none of those things,” Pax murmured.
I glanced at him. “So? What’s her story?”
Ricardo noticed me and elbowed his way through the crowd. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said with a shake of his head. “This is getting out of hand.”
“What the hell is going on around here?” I had to keep my eyes off her. I focused on him, instead.
“This is something we’ve never dealt with before, and these jerks are all in here pretending they’ll be working the case. If anything, they’re the last guys I would assign after conducting themselves this way—like a bunch of high school jocks fighting for the head cheerleader’s attention.”
Pax snorted. “Sounds like the sort of thing you used to do in high school.”
Ricardo shot him a look. “Anyway, now that you’re here, we can get down to the reason I called Pax. I’m going to need you to keep a close eye on this one. Very, very close.”
He wasn’t kidding. I stopped thinking the whole thing was a joke. “What’s so special about her? Did she see something she shouldn’t have? Is she connected to the mob or something?” We had just had a case like that, maybe a year earlier.
“No. She’s the criminal—one of them, anyway. And I have to make sure she doesn’t jump bail.”
A criminal? Her? She looked like a blue blood, all the way. Like she knew which fork to use during each dinner course. “What did she do?”
“She’s a cat burglar,” he replied with a rueful smile. “And she’s turning herself in.”
Chapter Two – Vienna
None of them knew what to do with me. People rarely did.
I worked the room in my usual way. A smile, a look from beneath my lashes. Moistening my bottom lip with my tongue—not obviously. Never obviously. Just enough to be noticeable. And men, straight men, always noticed. Just like the goons sitting around the table, on the table, standing nearby. They were all jockeying for a position in the palm of my hand. It wasn’t even a challenge.
But I was starting to get bored. I wondered how long they’d keep me sitting there, waiting to leave. Posting bail was no sweat. I looked over at the lead detective, the one with the bedroom eyes who told me I had to hang around until some friends of his got there. “Do you have any idea when I can go home?” I asked with a smile.
I noticed the two men standing with him. Military, without a doubt. I could make out the shape of dog tags under their t-shirts. I usually went for men in suits, polished and professional, but there was something about a man who carried himself with that kind of discipline and confidence that made my panties melt a little.
The detective looked around the room. “Don’t you all have work to do?” That was all he needed to say. Another guy who knew how to take charge. The room emptied in the blink of an eye—not entirely, though. The two vets were still there.
“Miss Worth.” The detective emphasized my name. I knew he knew it was fake. He knew I knew he knew. It was a game we played. “Let me introduce you to Paxton Lewis and Dylan Schaffer.”
“Good morning,” I said with a smile as I leaned back in the incredibly uncomfortable chair. I guessed they didn’t furnish the place for comfort. “I’m glad to meet you both.”
The younger one looked a little dumbstruck, which was the effect I was going for. Cute guy, too, which made it easier to flirt with him—tanned, muscular, with a little ink peeking out from under both short sleeves. His eyes were a shade of blue-green that reminded me of the ocean, set off by dark, close-cropped hair.
The detective sat across from me. “Here’s the deal, Miss Worth. You seem like a very intelligent person, so I’ll be frank with you.”
I nodded. “Thank you. I
f there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s mansplaining.”
He tried hard to fight back a smile. “You’re a challenging case,” he admitted. “It’s not every day that a self-described cat burglar turns herself in with no questions asked.”
“I like to keep people guessing.”
“You’re good at it, too. Unfortunately, I don’t have unlimited time or unlimited resources.”
Baldy cleared his throat. “Can I ask, Miss Worth, why you would turn yourself in like this? Don’t you know what this could mean for you?”
Sure, I did. I was smart, the way the detective described me. I also knew I had no intention of sticking around until it was time for a trial. My fake license, passport and several different currencies were waiting at my apartment, in the hiding place beneath the floor boards. I only had to get to them.
“Yes, I do,” I admitted. It was time to put on an apologetic act. The corners of my mouth sank as I frowned. “It’s just that I know I would end up here with you anyway. I felt it was in my best interest to speed things up and come in on my own.”
“What did you steal?” The youngest of the three guys was staring at me with those ocean eyes of his.
I folded my hands on the surface of the table. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say that the piece I collected for my client is far too well-known to be missed.”
“I don’t get it.” From the looks on their faces, none of them did. I was used to that, too. A girl like me didn’t have a lot of friends because I couldn’t exactly let the world in on what I did for a living.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you more than that,” I shrugged. “I pride myself on my discretion, and if my clients were to ever find out I gave away another client’s secrets, they wouldn’t trust me anymore.”
“So, wait.” The detective laughed a little, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You think you’re going to ruin your reputation around town and lose future business? Are you seriously sitting here, telling me you plan to keep doing this work?”
Lewis Security Page 31
