by Kallie Lane
"Stop being such a wienie." He shot her a grin, the soot smudging his face making his teeth stand out like pearls in the night. "Go over there and talk to those firefighters. Use your feminine wiles and see what you can drag out of them. The fire inspector won't release his findings for at least a week. I want to know how the fire started tonight."
"Blue!" The muffled sound of Rena's voice through the oxygen mask caused them all to turn in her direction. "Get me off this gurney. I need to check on the mule."
"Fool woman almost died saving the stupid thing," he mumbled, giving Rena the thumbs up sign. "Keep sucking in that oxygen, sweet cheeks. No need to worry, Mr. Wilder's neighbor took charge of the mule."
"Is she okay?" Natasha heard concern in Skip's voice, not that it surprised her. Rena looked like a beaten up street person, complete with knuckle tatts, piercings, and her flaming red bangs.
"She'll be fine." Blue placed a hand on Skip's shoulder, speaking in a low tone. "Call the field office. I want a guard put on Wilder twenty-four/seven. Whoever missed killing him tonight might try again."
"Excuse me." One of the paramedics approached them. "We're transporting your friend to the hospital. We want to keep her under observation for the night. We don't think there's anything seriously wrong, but we want to be sure."
Blue eyeballed the man's nametag with a cold stare. "Thanks, Steve, but that won't be necessary. She's coming with us."
"I don't think you underst—"
"Is this what she wants?" Natasha cut in; knowing Rena had no intention of being hospitalized. Heck, she could see her shaking her head from where she lay on the gurney.
"Not exactly, but—"
"Then thanks for your concern." Blue hovered over the shorter man like a bad smell. "We'll take good care of her."
"Come on, it'll be fun." Natasha swished through multicolored leaves covering the flagstone entrance to the library. She loved the vibrancy of a sunny fall day. It almost made up for the long months of winter that were just around the corner. "All you have to do is ask Mary-Jane for a library card and flirt with her a little. Get her to tell us who she talked to about Mr. Wilder planning to meet with Blue last night."
"I don't know about this." Skip peered through the tempered glass windows to the front desk. "She looks like she’s about seventy years old. I don't think flirting will work."
"You're acting like a chicken shit." Natasha stuffed her hands under her armpits and flapped her arms like chicken wings. "Bok, bok, bok, bok, bok!"
"Cluck, cluck. That's me." He grabbed the lapels of her suede jacket and tugged her close, kissing her on the lips. "Better lead the way before I change my mind."
"Got'cha." Slipping her arm through his, they passed through the double entry doors. Natasha looked over at the elderly lady checking in returned books and DVDs. She wore a no-nonsense navy shirtwaist dress with a white lace collar. Wire-rimmed glasses hung from a chain around her neck. Her hair coiled around her head in a tight grey braid, and pearl clip-ons, a slash of red lipstick, and a dusting of face powder completed her ensemble. Hmm, Skip might be right. She didn't exactly look like the flirting type. Still, Natasha patted him on his well shaped behind and sent him on his way. "Go take one for the team, slugger."
Skip sidled up to the front desk and smiled. Nothing. He leaned on the counter, did everything but stand on his head to get the woman to notice him. No dice. She kept working the library stamp, then sliding book jackets and DVDs under the electronic scanner. Stamp. Scan. Stamp. Scan. God forbid the stack of returns wait while she served a live customer. Shoot, Natasha wondered what secret weapon Blue had used to have Mary-Jane tripping over herself to help him yesterday. Whatever it was, Skip obviously didn't have the knack. What a terrible blow to his ego. Shaking his head and clearly frustrated, he tapped the service bell on the counter a few times.
"Oh, my!" A perky, big-busted woman in a tight red pencil skirt and white silk blouse displaying a lot of cleavage hustled out of the back office and straight up to Skip. Natasha couldn't be sure at this distance, but she suspected the woman's breasts hung over the counter enough to touch his arm. Her short hair was puffed up and frizzed out in shades of autumn; yellow, red and burnt orange. Stage quality makeup lined, rouged, and highlighted every inch of her somewhat attractive face. Natasha guessed her age was somewhere between twenty and fifty. It was hard to tell, given her flair for cosmetics. "My name is Mary-Jane. How may I help you?"
An easy-peasy cakewalk, Skip was off to the races with Mary-Jane hanging from his arm by her manicured fingernails. She swept him along on her four-inch spike heels, away from the watchful gaze of the lady in charge of the library stamp. Took him on a complete tour of the facilities, and even offered to show him the women's bathroom and janitorial closet.
Of course, Natasha shadowed them every step of the way, choking on the woman's perfume. She couldn't leave Skip on his own. The lady was a vamp who would devour a lesser man in the blink of an eye—it might take her two or three minutes to devour Skip. Blue forgot to mention that little detail.
After much giggling and flirting on Mary-Jane's part, Skip's tour ended when he declined a visit to the furnace room. With nothing more to see, he was back at the front desk accepting a packet of pamphlets from his tour guide. Oops, she forgot to give him some important telephone numbers with the pamphlets. There you go, her home and cell numbers, in case he had a library emergency. Oops again, she forgot to add her email addy.
Mary-Jane's cheek bussing and silicone breasts plastered against his chest came last, then Skip was on his way out the door.
"I struck out," he murmured. "So much for my irresistible charm. When I mentioned Blue, she changed the subject."
"Well, that's disappointing." Natasha sailed along after him, thinking she'd buy him a coffee to cheer him up. And came face-to-face with Deuce. Crap! She doubted he was there to broaden his literary horizons, and assumed Mary-Jane was his big draw. Puzzle solved. Now they knew how he'd found out about Gordo Wilder's meeting with her CO.
"What the fuck?" Kingman's gaze swept the pamphlets in Skip's hands with Mary-Jane's personal information plastered all over them. "What the hell are you up to?"
Natasha froze in her tracks, scrambling to come up with an explanation that would satisfy him. Otherwise, he would fire her at Trailblazer's. Blow her chances of finding Zach.
"The Kama Sutra," Skip said without missing a beat. A smarmy smile on his face, he looked like a snake oil salesman. "I came in looking for a copy. Didn't find it on the shelves. Next thing I knew, this helpful librarian had me on a tour and was handing me pamphlets."
"You're kidding me. The Kama Sutra?" Deuce's gaze traveled Natasha's body as if he had x-ray vision. Eesh! She could feel a blush spread from her toes clear to the roots of her hair. He threw back his head and laughed. "This here's a small town library. Try the sex shop. And have a fun day off."
"That's the plan." Skip tossed the pamphlets into the nearest garbage bin, grabbed her hand, and grinned at Deuce. "Where do we find the sex shop?"
Skip turned the pickup into the graveled driveway on Canyon Creek Road, pulling alongside an SUV close to the cedar-shingled cottage. Spruce trees guarded the house like sentinels; migrating birds fighting over suet feeders hanging from the boughs. Hedges were trimmed and the wide expanse of lawn was neatly kept.
Blue helped Natasha out of the jump seat in back, and they made their way to the crime scene tape edging the burn marks on the ground. The barn was little more than a pile of smoking ash now. Luckily, the wind had shifted away from the house. The smell wasn't as strong as the night before. Natasha shook her head as she surveyed the damage; no doubt remembering how they all could have lost their lives.
He squeezed her arm, glancing at Blue. "You think Rena is okay on her own for a few hours?"
"Put it this way," Blue said, turning toward the house and the front porch. "Tigz is back, and I left him curled up with her while she slept. I also closed her window, so he isn't going anywhere."
"No worries then." Skip hauled out his cell phone to check for messages. He scrolled through the list. Nothing that couldn't wait until later. "I have a hunch the cat would rip someone's head off if they tried to hurt her."
"Tell me about it." Blue absently rubbed an arm beneath his sweater where Tigz had caught him with his claws.
Natasha rapped on Wilder's screen door and they waited. Garth Brooks sang about friends in low places from inside the house. Skip smelled bacon frying and coffee perking in the kitchen. His stomach grumbled. It had been a long time since he and Natasha had eaten toast at the diner this morning.
A barrel chested man sporting a sidearm appeared in the doorway, nodded at Blue, and invited them inside. He introduced himself as Max Tyler, the bodyguard they had arranged for with the field office. Max jacked down the stereo and headed to the kitchen as they filed into a living space crammed with camping gear and prospector tools. Skip figured it was a bachelor crib with no Mrs. Wilder in residence. Instead of doilies on the overstuffed furniture or china figurines cluttering up a china cabinet, rock specimens and geology books prevailed on every available surface. Land surveyor maps hung on the walls, and a layer of dust coated the entire room.
"Mr. Falcone?" A man sat on the couch with his feet up. "I'm Gordo Wilder."
Other than a bandage at his temple, he appeared to be in good shape. About sixty years old, five-eleven and two hundred pounds of muscle and sinew, Skip wondered how he had carted this guy from the barn last night with so little effort. Then again, adrenaline had a way of doubling or tripling a person's strength.
Wilder invited them to sit down. Blue made the introductions and lost no time getting down to business. "Do you remember what happened before the fire?"
"All I remember is I went to the barn to feed Rutherford...my mule. Next thing I knew, someone bashed me over the head." He touched the bandage at his temple. "I woke up in the hospital with one hell of a goose egg."
Max came out of the kitchen with a heaping platter of grilled cheese and bacon sandwiches. "I like to cook when things get quiet. Hope you're hungry."
Skip nodded his appreciation and locked eyes with Natasha, realizing he was hungry for a lot more than food. She drove him crazy on every level. Judging by her expression, she felt the same way about him. Did they love each other? It might be too soon to tell, but yeah, he had a strong feeling they did. And one thing was clear as crystal. Sharing living space with Blue and Rena didn't work for either of them. Jesus, much more of this and he'd be crippled with arthritis from taking freezing cold showers to reduce the swelling in his balls.
Max returned to the kitchen for a pot of coffee, and Wilder leaned forward to grab Blue's shoulder. "I want to thank you and your friends for saving me and Rutherford last night. We owe you our lives."
"Actually, I think I'm responsible for causing the fire," Blue said, his gaze level with the other man's. "If I hadn't asked you to talk to me, this might not have happened."
"Bullcrap! Things were coming to a head with or without you." Wilder reached for a bottle of whiskey on an end table and poured some in his coffee. "Kingman saw me in the canyon the last time he hauled ass out of there. He was in the Hummer, the black one with the chrome detailing."
"What happened?" Natasha edged forward in her seat, setting her mug down on the coffee table.
"It was the middle of the night. Rutherford and I sometimes camp under the stars when it's not too cold." Wilder shook his head. "The damn Hummer came barreling out of the canyon and straight through my campsite. Hell, I barely rolled out of the way in time. The prick caught me in his headlights, clear as day."
"You have any idea what he was doing out there?" Natasha asked.
"Nope, but whatever it was, he was up to no good. Why else would he be there at that hour?"
"I don't know," Blue said. "But we're going to find out."
Skip stopped by the kitchen to say goodbye to Max. "Thanks for lunch. Really appreciate it."
"No problem." Max bent and slid homemade lasagna in the oven. "Just try to get me a little more action the next time you need me to babysit. If anything pops on this case, be sure to call."
"Sure."
They left by the kitchen door and walked around the side of the house. Skip could see a family of raccoons heading for the garbage bins. Maybe Max was in for some action after all.
"What do you think?" Skip asked Blue as they climbed in the pickup and shut the doors. He keyed the engine, pulled out of the drive, and floored it for the highway.
"It's too soon to tell. Let's check out the map Mary-Jane provided and see if Kingman Coal Mining operated a shaft somewhere in Canyon Creek."
"Yes!" A grin tipped the corners of Natasha's mouth in the rearview mirror. "You think we've found another way into Trailblazer's!"
"I didn't say that, but it's worth looking into."
Chapter Seven
Natasha packed extra ammo, a flashlight, and her Glock into the knapsack on the bed in her hotel room. Finally, they had a solid lead. One that could take them to her brother—or his dead body. Pray for the best-case scenario and plan for the worst. Right? Wasn't that what the job was about? She knew her desperation to find Zach alive wouldn't change the reality, because life could be a mean bitch.
"Come here and check this out, Tas." The men poured over the old Kingman Coal Mining map spread out on the desk. Skip wrapped an arm around her waist when she joined them, and tapped the map with a finger. "Look, there was a shaft in Canyon Creek when the mine was operational."
Blue leaned back in his chair and tossed a pencil on the desk, the red X evident where he had marked the map. "It shouldn't be too difficult to locate, especially since Gordo Wilder knows where Deuce came out of the canyon. It could be the back door to Deuce's operation, depending on what we find underground."
"You mean if there's a tunnel connecting Canyon Creek to the bar?" Natasha took a steadying breath to ease the ache in her chest. She willed her stomach to settle, and her hands to stop shaking. "When do we go in?"
"Tonight, if we can find the entrance." Blue leveled his gaze at her. "I can bring in another agent to replace you if you want to sit this one out because of your brother. No one would blame you."
"Not on your life." She shook her head. "I'm good to go. I really need this, guys."
"Fine, but you ride with me." Skip waited her out until she nodded in agreement. There was no argument there. "Why don't we head over to the field office and requisition our wish list?"
"Good idea." Blue leaned back in his chair with a smile. "We'll need the usual items, and see if they have any new toys we can try out."
"Will do." Natasha felt better now, more in control. Whatever happened, Skip would watch her back, and she had his. She knew she would be solid when the time came. She cared about him too much to fall apart and risk his life. "What about Rena? Should we stash her here until this is over?"
"We can't." Blue poured himself a coffee from the 2-cup machine sitting on the bathroom counter. "We need eyes and ears on Deuce and his thugs when we make our move. I can't send anyone else in when Trailblazer's is closed for repairs."
"I don't like it, Blue." Natasha felt awful for involving Rena in the first place. She hadn't given the woman a way out. "You really think this is a good idea?"
"No, I think it sucks." Blue walked to the window, staring through a gap in the curtains. A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Nevertheless, she is a paid informant. She knew the risks going in, and she's the only one in place to do the job."
"Tas, we'll be linked to her by satellite feed. Try not to worry."
Sure, Skip. Like you really believe chatting with us on the phone will keep her safe.
Two hours later, they were loaded for big game and ready to roll. Skip stashed their supplies in the box of the pickup while Natasha scribbled her signature across the requisition forms. Their next stop was Gordo Wilder's house, about an hour's drive away. Blue would meet them there after giving Rena the satellite phone a
nd explaining what he needed her to do. Natasha secretly hoped Rena refused to help, and headed for the open road instead.
Skip didn't say much on the drive, which suited her fine. She needed the quiet to focus and prepare for the night ahead. Mostly she prayed everyone would get through this op in one piece. She knew she wasn't responsible for Zach. Or his actions leading up to his disappearance, but she would carry the guilt if anything went wrong and people got hurt.
"Knock it off, bluebird." Skip grabbed her hand and smoothed it against his thigh. She felt his leg muscles work the brake and gas pedals through the material of his cargo pants. "If there's one thing I hate, it's a woman wearing a hair shirt. It makes for really lousy sex."
She laughed at that. "First off, we're taking down the bad guys tonight, not having sex. And secondly, there is no guilt involved here."
"Don't hand me that shitola." Skip kept his eyes on the road, shaking his head. "Stop blaming yourself. You haven’t been responsible for Zach's choices since his first trip to juvie."
"Well that's just bullshit, plain and simple." Who the hell did he think he was dropping that bomb on her? "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Like hell I don't. I read your brother's jacket, Tas. His juvenile record was sealed, but I read the rest." Skip sped up to pass a bus and then moved back into the lane. "The more Zach screwed up, the more you defended him. Your statements are in his file. I'm curious; why do you keep bailing him out?"
"You sure you want to know the truth?" She sighed. More like he would never talk to her again. Still, it might feel good to get it off her chest.
"Honey, I sure don't want you to lie." Skip's gaze searched hers for a heartbeat before turning back to the road. "Let's hear it."
"Zach covered for me on his first brush with the law on a B & E. I helped him break into a house. When the cops showed up and caught him in the act, he didn't tell them about me."
"How old were you?"
"I was eight."
"And how old was your brother?"
"Fifteen."
