Hell Or High Water (Lost and Found, Inc.)

by Jerrie Alexander

  “Believing somebody killed her might be your way of easing this unreasonable guilt you’re feeling.”

  “Think what you want. I’m not convinced it’s a suicide.” Kay exhaled a shuddering breath. “Leann outsmarted the bastards who kidnapped her, raped her and sold her to be a sex slave. She wanted to live. Something’s not right, and I need to figure it out.”

  “Then maybe you should slow down. I’ve never fancied myself in a pileup on Interstate 75.”

  Kay lowered her speed. Holly, with her eclectic looks and humor usually lightened a somber mood. Not today. She simply didn’t get it. Regardless of how Leann died, Kay was at fault.

  “You worry me,” Holly announced.

  “Why? Because I care?”

  “No. Because you get too close.” Holly emitted an audible sigh. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

  “You can help by dropping me off at the morgue’s side door. Run by work and bring me Leann’s file. I’ll call you when I’m ready to leave.” Kay laughed at Holly’s raised eyebrow. “Sheesh, we’re talking ten blocks. You’ll be back before I’m ready to leave.”

  ****

  Kay signed in and made her way down the stark white halls of the medical examiner’s building. She paused for one last breath before pushing her way through the double doors to where the air was frigid, dank and produced a sweetish scent.

  Her grandfather sat at a small, weathered metal desk. A bronze name plate that read Doctor Wendell Taylor had been shoved to the side. His half-glasses were perched on the end of his nose, and he was staring at a computer screen as if any second it would speak. His disheveled silver hair and a pocket protector full of odd items, which caused down one side of his white smock to sag, gave him an absentminded professor appearance. He spoke with the assurance of a man who’d been medical examiner for thirty-plus years. If anyone had doubts about his qualifications, their questions quickly vanished. The morgue was his domain.

  The urge to run into his arms for comfort gripped her heart and squeezed. She’d made her mother promise not to mention the kidnapping to him. No need to worry him. She cleared her throat to avoid startling him.

  He swiveled his chair in her direction. A smile lit his face. “Kaycie.”

  “Hey, Papa.” Hearing her full name had her reaching for the small medallion hanging around her neck. Papa, her seventy-two-year-old grandfather, and Nathan Wolfe, the ass who’d broken her heart, were the only men who’d always called her by her given name. She jerked her hand away from the reminder of Nate and pushed him from her thoughts.

  “It’s been awhile since you dropped by.” His grin broadened and deepened the wrinkles around his warm, brown eyes. He rose to his feet and dragged her in for a hug.

  “Sorry. I’ll do better.” She kissed his forehead before pulling a roll-around stool over to sit next to him.

  “Not to worry. I know you’re busy.” He shoved his glasses to the top of his head, forming a makeshift headband. The move left his hair standing on end. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for information on Leann Vaughn. She probably came in last night or this morning.”

  “She’s here.” He waved a hand in the general direction of the back of the building. “Not one I’m scheduled to work.” His gaze zeroed in on Kay. “Is she one of your cases?”

  “Yes, sir. Will you personally do the autopsy? Please. I’m not slamming the other MEs. This girl needs your expertise, deserves your knowledge. I don’t believe she killed herself.” Kay counted on him believing in her instincts.

  “She’s important to you?”

  “Very.” Kay trusted him beyond questioning. If the truth would help Holly, he’d find it.

  His bushy, silver eyebrows rose high on his forehead. “And if I rule suicide?”

  “I will never question one of your decisions.” And she wouldn’t. When others his age were parked in their La-z- Boy rockers watching TV or out playing golf, Papa had stayed on the job. His mind was sharper than most of his younger peers’.

  “Then I’ll move her to the top of the waiting list. Do the autopsy myself.” He lowered his glasses, one-fingered them in place, and then turned to his computer. His thin fingers raced across the keys, pulling up what Kay assumed to be Leann’s preliminary information.

  Kay didn’t speak. He’d slipped into his world of analysis. She gave him a minute then asked, “When can I ...”

  A frown deepened the wrinkles on his forehead, ending her question. “I’ll call in a few markers and get the tox results moved along. You’ll hear as soon as I know something.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “For a while longer.” His words fell hard and sharp, a direct result of forced retirement at the end of the year. He’d yet to complain to her, but his tone spoke volumes.

  “I’ll bet when the word gets around you’re available for consultation, you’ll be busier than you are now.” Kay stood and returned the stool to where it belonged before he reminded her everything in his morgue had a place. “I hate to beg and run. I’m a phone call away.”

  She’d removed her cell from its holder and had made it to the double doors when his booming voice delivered the message she’d dreaded since entering his domain.

  “Stop by and say hello to your folks.”

  “Sure thing. Love you.” Getting more than a hello from her father would require a miracle, but Papa never gave up hope. She stopped and called Holly. “I’ll meet you at the door.”

  “See you in ten.” Holly’s summery lilt made Kay wonder if she ever really got angry.

  Kay started pacing at fifteen minutes. At twenty, she hit redial and got Holly’s voice mail. After thirty minutes, Kay was getting uneasy.

  Had Holly misunderstood? Was she waiting outside in the heat? Kay walked to the side exit, opened the door, and cautiously stepped outside. An hour ago, the side parking had been jammed full. Now the place looked like a barren oasis. Friday afternoon in Dallas meant almost everybody was at happy hour.

  She looked both ways and then stepped a few feet down the drive.

  A man wearing a ski mask came out of nowhere. He grabbed her just as a white van drove up and stopped. Kay twisted out of his grip and ran back to the door. Her heart dropped to her feet. It had locked behind her. The man in the vehicle had jumped out and was bearing down on her.

  Adrenaline spiked, and her mind scrambled. She screamed long and loud while banging on the door. Strong hands gripped her arms, shoving her knees onto the hot pavement. She twisted free, and sprang to her feet, ready to defend herself, but the largest one blocked her punch while the other grabbed her, dragging her as if she weighed nothing.

  “Hurry up.” A voice came from inside the van. “Somebody’s coming.”

  Thank God. Somebody responded to her cry for help. She turned her head toward the sound of an engine. Kay’s eyes almost popped out. A motorcycle barreled straight at her. This maniac was going to kill them all.

  Even at the high rate of speed, the rider expertly laid the bike down on its side. He stepped off with precise timing, never losing his footing. Sparks shot through the air as the out-of-control hunk of metal slid across the pavement. Dressed in black, wearing a black helmet with darkened visor shielding his face, he sprinted toward the van.

  The stranger’s arrival turned her attacker’s attention away from her. Air gushed from Kay’s lungs as the tension on her arms relaxed.

  “Run,” the motorcyclist growled, shoving her out of his way. She stumbled forward almost falling facedown onto the pavement again.

  His right foot lashed out and connected with one of her attackers’ kneecaps. The snap of breaking bone echoed like a shotgun blast. Fists, feet, and elbows moved at mesmerizing speeds. Ski Mask Jerk number one hit the cement, moaning. Holy shit, a ninja had dropped out of the sky to rescue her. Kay’s jaw dropped at the display of raw power.

  “Run, Goddamn it.” Her rescuer’s growl had turned into a roar.

  His atten
tion had been on her attackers—how did he know she hadn’t run? Didn’t matter. He was right. Kay bolted toward the front of the building. Heaving, gasping for air, she ran into the lobby. The girl at the front desk called out that she had 911 on the phone.

  “The operator says cops are on the way.”

  Kay knew the drill. She should stay put until the squad car showed up. But how could she leave the stranger behind? What if her attackers overpowered him? If he’d been killed, she’d be responsible for another death.

  The sounds of sirens in the distance were enough to give her the confidence to run back outside to check on her savior.

  Gone? How could that be? The men, the van, and the ninja were gone.

  She had nothing to validate her story except her skinned knees and the scars on the pavement where the motorcycle had dug grooves during its slide.

  Through all that had happened, one thing stayed at the top of her mind. Holly was missing.

  Chapter 3

  Nate Wolfe leaned against a cement pillar, his gaze never straying from Kaycie and the cops taking down her information. The third floor of the garage across from the morgue offered a clear view and allowed Nate to stay out of sight.

  His mind raced over the events in the parking lot. Christ, what if he’d arrived five minutes later?

  The sight of the two assholes dragging Kaycie toward the van had sent him straight to combat mode. Damn, he’d wanted to kill both of those bastards.

  He spit the iron taste of blood from his mouth. One of the first lessons he’d learned in hand-to-hand combat was to eliminate the threat, never allow the dickheads to escape. Glancing away to ensure Kaycie had run as he’d instructed had allowed one of the assholes to clock him from behind. Stupid new recruit mistake. Distractions could get him killed.

  A gust of wind ruffled Kaycie’s disheveled, chocolate-brown hair. Whatever hairdo she’d set out with was long gone, which was understandable since she’d been knocked to the ground and then dragged a few feet. He watched as she no doubt described the attempted abduction to the law. That she couldn’t talk without making elaborate gestures brought a smile to his face and a stirring down deep he refused to recognize.

  He twisted the Saint Jude medallion hanging under his shirt then jerked his hand back as if burned. He should’ve taken it off years ago. The small charm, which never left his person, warmed against his skin, reminding him of an earlier time. An innocent time when youth, love and sex were plentiful.

  From what he could see, the pretty twenty-two-year-old criminal justice student had matured into a beautiful woman in the last decade.

  She’d made her opinion of him and his choices perfectly clear when they’d parted company. Still, the sun reflecting off her hair brought back images of long, silky, chocolate-colored waves spread across a white pillowcase, and her cinnamon-flecked brown eyes darkening to black when she climaxed.

  He needed his head examined for agreeing to get this near her. Now he was in it for real. No fucking way would he step back and let harm come to her. Even if she hated him. Which in all likelihood, she did.

  Nate whirled at the sound of footsteps.

  “A mite jumpy, aren’t you, Bro?” Tyrell Castillo stroked a small patch of whiskers on his chin as he sauntered a circle around the banged-up Harley. He made a tsking noise and then plopped himself down on the ledge, effectively blocking Nate’s view.

  “Paying attention has kept me alive.” Nate moved to the other side of the cement pillar where he could keep Kaycie in his line of view.

  “No shit.” Tyrell nodded slightly. Having spent a few years in Iraq and Afghanistan, he would understand the importance of staying alert. “What’s the emergency?”

  “How’d you know Kaycie needed protection?”

  “Somebody snatched her Monday. She got away, but until the cops figure this shit out, I felt she needed a bodyguard.”

  “You should’ve told me that when you called.” Nate ground out the words. Had he known about the previous attempt, he’d have glued himself to her ass and not watched from afar.

  “I only had a second or I would have. Why?”

  Nate watched Tyrell’s expression change when his gaze shifted and caught a glimpse of Kaycie in the parking lot across the street with the cops.

  “What happened?”

  “You want my help? Answer my questions first.”

  “I’m telling you straight. She’s been working this case, supposed to be done with it, but they found the girl dead Monday. Kay was the last person to see the kid alive. Maybe an hour later Kay got snatched.”

  “Who told you all this?””

  “She did.”

  Tyrell pointed at a small blonde who’d parked, and then launched herself like a rocket and ran toward Kaycie.

  “Holly Hoffman.” Tyrell ran a hand over his smooth head. “What’s going on down there?”

  “Finish your story.”

  “Holly called me from the hospital, said Kay had been hurt. I stopped by, and she told me what happened.”

  “Then you called me.”

  “Right.” Tyrell stroked the small patch of hair under his bottom lip, craning his neck toward the cops talking with Kaycie. “I had a commitment and couldn’t tail her.”

  “Go on.” Nate cocked his head. Waiting.

  “Kay’s an investigator for Dallas Child Protective Services. Worked with DPD on this case—a seventeen-year-old girl who’d been kidnapped and raped. The kid had been sold and was in Virginia when she outsmarted the truck driver and escaped. No telling where he was taking her. She picked out the pervert who’d violated her from a photo array. Tagged the son of a prominent businessman.”

  Nate’s stomach rolled over. “What’s the correlation between the dead girl and Kaycie being snatched?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And the news keeps getting better.”

  “Now that you’re back and have a PI license, you can have the job of protecting her.” Tyrell glanced down at the parking lot. “Kay’s the only one who knows the facts. What if the asshole doesn’t go to prison? Maybe she needs you.”

  “That’s a big maybe.” Nate’s blood flash-heated to boiling. Had Kaycie gotten herself ass-deep in human trafficking and murder? If so, Tyrell was right. She could be in a world of shit. “So the girl was killed to shut her up?”

  “Word is she slashed a wrist.”

  “None of this makes any sense.” Nate paused. “One thing’s for sure, Kaycie has pissed off somebody bad enough to try to kidnap her twice.”

  Tyrell blasted off the ledge. “Somebody tried to snatch her again?”

  Tyrell had always claimed he was faster than a speeding bullet. Might be some truth to that since he’d made it through Iraq and Afghanistan without a scratch.

  “Yeah. If I hadn’t been here, who knows where she’d be right now.”

  “She all right?” Tyrell leaned further over the ledge trying to get a better look.

  “She’s fine. The two bastards who put their hands on her have a couple of broken bones, but she’s okay. If I’d used my head, I could’ve hung onto them for the cops.” Nate rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to recognize the nagging headache.

  Tyrell’s eyes went wide. “How’d you let them get away? Never mind.” He grinned, flashing white teeth and shrugging his shoulders. “She get a look at you?”

  “Hell no. Been a lot easier to fight without the helmet, but I kept it on. You haven’t talked to her?”

  Nate’s skin chilled even though the temperature had easily reached the century mark. He’d planned on inserting himself into her life at some point. This trouble pushed the schedule ahead.

  “Gonna have to soon. Kay’s leaving me phone messages. Shit, man.” Tyrell’s eyebrows pinched. “How’d these bastards know she’d be at the morgue?”

  “Good question. You understand protecting her just became a twenty-four-seven assignment.”

  “Yeah.” Tyrell removed his buzzing cell and checked
the caller ID. “It’s her, again.”

  Nate moved closer to the ledge. She and the short blonde had headed for the car. Unprotected.

  “Remember our agreement. She’ll learn I’m involved when I’m ready.”

  Tyrell tilted his head forward and answered the call. The hair on the back of Nate’s neck tingled when Tyrell answered, calling Kaycie “Little Mama.”

  Nate rolled the two words around on his tongue. A knot formed and wedged in the bottom of his gut. Tyrell and Kaycie? Together?

  Nate balled his fists, choking back the urge to pounce on his old friend. Somewhere in the recesses of his brain, he overheard Tyrell say he’d meet her at the police station.

  “Call me when you need me to take over.” Nate stalked to his Harley and threw a leg over. He coiled his hands around the handlebar controls. His fingers itched and bad things went down when that happened.

  “Hold up a minute.” Tyrell’s hands formed the timeout sign. “Let’s discuss this. You’ve been back in Dallas six months. Grow some balls, you got to face her sooner or later.”

  “I’ll take later.” Nate brushed aside that idea. No way would Kaycie welcome a reunion with him. “Get out of here. Without you, she’s vulnerable, unprotected.”

  “She’s following the patrol car to the station. I’ll meet her there after she fills out her statement.”

  Nate dug around in the saddlebags until he found something to write on and a pen. He had Tyrell give him the name and a brief background on the bastard who Kaycie believed killed the young girl.

  Nate needed to think. To sort through everything he’d just heard. While he was at it, he’d rein in his out-of-control libido. He hadn’t expected such a strong physical reaction to her after all these years.

  “Why don’t you let me set up a place for us to meet? Be good to have us back together again. All we need is Marcus and Jake.”

  Tyrell’s voice trailed off at the mention of Jake Donovan, the fifth member of Wolfe’s Pack as Kaycie had dubbed them. The fact Jake had died in a fire while deployed in Afghanistan wasn’t a topic to discuss.