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

by Jerrie Alexander

“This is your doing.” She pointed the tines of her fork directly at Tyrell. “You asked Nate to keep me under surveillance without discussing it with me?”

  “After the episode at the morgue, it was warranted.” Tyrell nodded and then shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. “Couldn’t do it by myself.”

  “Definitely warranted,” Marcus said around a bite of food.

  Nate let them ramble on, arguing back and forth, exactly like when they were students at UT. Kaycie had adopted Tyrell Castillo, Marcus Ricci, and Jake Donovan. The exception was Nate. She’d never mothered him. Hell, they’d been too busy screwing like monkeys.

  He paid attention when she described her visit with the chief of police. The FBI had been called on the missing girls. They wouldn’t react well if they learned somebody was nosing around. Nate would get the scoop on their plans and make sure he didn’t piss anybody off.

  “Did Chief Compton mention who at the bureau he spoke with?” Nate asked.

  Kaycie turned and faced him. Her icy gaze said she hadn’t forgotten he was in the room.

  “He didn’t mention any names.”

  She turned her back and resumed the argument over her protection.

  “Enough.” Nate grew tired of the loud debate. “You were followed by a black Mercedes today. It picked you up here, tailed you to the church and then to the cemetery. I have the license number and will check it out tomorrow.” Kaycie opened her mouth, but he continued, “Until we determine if your kidnappers and the girl’s death are related, one of us will either be at your side or close by.”

  “I’ll agree to this if we dig into the human-trafficking angle.” Kaycie’s jaw was set. Nate remembered that look.

  Nate didn’t hesitate. “You got it.” He smiled at her surprise.

  “I can put out some feelers.” Tyrell took a long draw from the beer can. “Don’t know that we’ll hear anything. These rings are hard to pin down. I read an article in the newspaper right before the Super Bowl. Some of these bastards are transient. They pick up and move to the next big venue at the first sign of trouble. But in this case, I’m leaning toward thinking this is a hometown syndicate.”

  “It’s one of the fastest-growing, most lucrative crimes around. I need help, and Lord knows I appreciate you believing my theory.”

  “Marcus says he has time to spare, and so do I,” Nate addressed her. “Tyrell will help when he’s not on bodyguard assignment, which he has tonight. I’ll take the first watch. Marcus, can relieve me in the morn—”

  “Excuse me.” Kaycie’s forehead wrinkled with a full-blown frown. “I understand I’m in danger. Somebody wants to get their hands on me, and I can use your help. I’m moved and grateful you guys are willing to step up after all these years, but...”

  Nate waited for a protest. She proved his premonition when she pointed a long slender finger at him.

  “You are not staying inside my apartment.”

  Chapter 8

  Kay rolled onto her back and lay there in the dark on her cool sheets. She turned on the bedside light for the fourth time and cursed that she couldn’t get Nate out of her head.

  The medallion hung around her neck as a reminder to protect her heart at all costs. Tonight it weighed heavily on her chest, bringing back memories best left in the past.

  Marcus had free time? She’d heard he refused the money from his wife’s life insurance, sending it instead to her family. What had he been doing with his life before Nate put him on the payroll?

  The thought of being indebted to Nate pushed her blood pressure through the roof. He wasn’t the prince on a white stallion, riding in to save her. He was a heartbreak waiting to happen. He’d blow through like a whirlwind and be gone just as fast. She’d read that romance book. It had a happy ending. She didn’t.

  Tyrell, Marcus, and Nate had stayed for hours, laughing at her when she’d called them Wolfe’s Pack for the first time in ten years. The four of them had discussed different schedules and ways to keep her safe. Surprise of all surprises, when she said who she suspected was behind the kidnapping attempt, they’d believed her.

  She’d almost asked if any of them still had their Saint Jude medal. The protector of lost causes. She’d given each of them one at graduation, hoping it would help keep them safe. Oh, they’d made fun of her, but each left for their tour of duty wearing one around their necks. Her heart clutched. Nothing had protected sweet Jake.

  She’d dated Nate exclusively, and the other three men made sure nobody else looked at her. Of course, her tutoring skills kept them eligible for football and helped hone their protective instincts. Good men, all of them.

  No. The one who kept her awake was far from good. He slept outside her apartment in his pickup, sweating out the night during the hottest summer Texas had experienced in more than twenty years. The old Nate, the one full of confidence and bravado would have wormed his way inside under the air conditioner. The new Nate had shrugged his shoulders, accepted her edict, and then strolled out the door.

  Crap. People died in this kind of heat. That’s why she couldn’t sleep. Not because her heart did back flips every time his gaze locked on hers. And certainly not because her skin heated when those deep-blue eyes drank her in as if he were dying.

  Double crap. Sighing at her weakness, she slid on a pair of jeans under her sleep shirt. Pistol in hand, she rested the grip against her thigh and plodded through the dark hall to the front door.

  “Going somewhere?”

  She whirled and aimed her Glock in the direction of the voice. Her end-table lamp came on, chasing away the shadows.

  Stretched out on her couch, Nate awarded her with that sexy Cheshire cat smile.

  “Damn it, Nate. I could’ve shot you.”

  “After being on the receiving end of that punch you threw at the cemetery, I’m not surprised you’re a quick draw.” He rubbed his jaw and swung his bare feet to the floor. “Mind pointing that thing somewhere else?”

  Kay lowered her gun. Damn him and his blasé attitude.

  “Stop breaking into my apartment.” She glanced at the security chain. He should’ve had to break it to get inside, but there it was, securely in place. How’d he do that? Anger licked through her blood. “I double-checked to make sure the apartment was secured.”

  “I’m sure you did. Obviously, me on your couch is proof positive you need a bodyguard. Sleeping with your gun is a good tactic. You a good shot?”

  “Don’t tempt me to show you.”

  Nate got to his feet, stretching muscled arms over his head. His T-shirt rode up, revealing ripped abs and one thin line of hair trailing down past the button on his jeans. She dragged her gaze up to the partially exposed tattoo on the inside of his left bicep. She couldn’t interpret the letters. According to Tyrell, Nate had been in a number of different countries. No telling what the darn thing meant in English.

  “What’s the tattoo mean?” Why she’d asked was a mystery, and when she saw the glint in Nate’s eyes, she regretted posing the question.

  “This one?”He slid a finger under his shirtsleeve. “It’s nothing.”

  “Fine. Don’t tell me.” If he wanted to play guessing games, she was out. Kay stomped to the kitchen for a bottle of water, anything to put an end to her wandering thoughts. “I don’t really care.”

  “Since you’re up.” He sauntered down the hall.

  Seconds later, the bathroom door closed and the shower was running. Well, damn. She wasn’t budging until he returned. Getting her financial questions answered served as a good reason to wait. She’d go to bed after she laid out the ground rules. To be sure he didn’t sneak up on her again, she curled up in her favorite chair and faced the hallway.

  He prowled down the hall as if he belonged in her apartment and in her life. Nate moved with a combination of grace and power. Strong movements, bold and sure, sex and swagger.

  He scrubbed a towel over his thick, damp hair. Thank God, he’d dressed and covered his incredible body. Still, the tigh
t T-shirt did nothing to hide his firm abs.

  He returned to his previous spot on the couch, stretched out, and made himself comfortable. Irritation sizzled on her skin’s surface. His gaze caught hers and held for a moment.

  “Kaycie, I could hear you tossing and turning. I’m here, you can rest now.”

  “It’s Kay and did something happen to your brain while you were gone?”

  “A lot.” He turned on his side, propped his head on his hand, and looked her in the eyes. “I get that I’m not on your Christmas list, but aren’t you a little too mad at me?”

  “A lot? That’s all you have to say?” She blocked out the rising anger and inhaled a calming breath. “And I’ll be as mad at you as I want.”

  He slid off the couch and knelt in front of her chair. Her alert system went off. Warm tension slid low in her stomach. She steeled herself against his charm.

  “I’m sorry.” He rested his hand on her knee. “What do you want me to say? That I was young and stupid? Okay. I was young and stupid. It wasn’t like I surprised you with the fact I wanted to be a SEAL.”

  Kay stared at his hand, burning her flesh, branding her as he used to. No doubt, removing her jeans would reveal blisters. She lifted his wrist with two fingers, moving his entire arm to the side of the chair.

  “I never believed you’d really go.” Keeping her voice from shaking required every ounce of determination she could muster.

  “You gonna hold that against me forever?”

  “I get that you wanted to serve your country. In fact, I respect and admire you for it. But there’s nothing here for you.”

  “You’re still single.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “I’m still single.”

  “That ship sailed. You’re a day late and a dollar short. Opportunity doesn’t knock twice. I’m sure one of those applies.”

  “You done with the clichés?” He tilted his head to the side. His expression reminded her of why she’d smacked him at the cemetery. He was just too damn cute.

  “I have more.” Her insides seized at his casual manner. “If you didn’t get my meaning, you really did suffer brain damage.”

  She’d lost enough. The night she graduated from high school, her twin brother, Kevin, had died in a car wreck. Her father had slowly wasted away from anger, effectively shutting Kay out of his life.

  Meeting Nate her first year in college had changed Kay’s life. She’d let him inside, fallen in love with him, and then he’d walked away.

  No more losses. No more being left behind. No more dreaming. Life was all about realism.

  Yet, looking into Nate’s eyes, the spark of interest, the desire flooding his gaze, sent her heart into free fall.

  The difference in him was incredible. The carefree, laughing young man she’d loved with all her heart was gone.

  Her hand betrayed her by inching across her lap and toward his face. She wouldn’t touch him. Couldn’t touch him. Another heartbreak like the last one would be more than she could take.

  “You were going outside to get me. Weren’t you?”

  “Only because I need to clear up something.”

  “What’s that?” The corners of his mouth lifted.

  “Your protection services. What’s the going rate?”

  “For you? Nothing.”

  “Stop it, Nate. How much will this cost me? I won’t be indebted to you.” Her resolve strengthened when his gaze narrowed and one cheek twitched.

  “It’s not like I’m asking you to have sex with me. You’re in trouble and I can help.”

  She couldn’t listen anymore. She went to the bedroom and retrieved her checkbook from the drawer. Flipping it open, she returned to her chair. She poised her pen, ready to write.

  “How much?”

  His chin jutted out, giving him an air of arrogance. He glared at her. One eyebrow rose. “Standard retainer is five grand.”

  Kay could be arrogant, too. The money her grandmother had left her meant Kay had enough in the bank to never worry about money. Not a fortune, but enough.

  “That sounds reasonable.” She scribbled out the check and then handed it over. “This is strictly business.”

  His eyebrows went up at her statement as his large hand engulfed her fingers. Funny how she’d always been fascinated by them. Loved the way ... stop.

  “If that’s what you want.” He folded the check and slid it in his back pocket. “Does this mean I shouldn’t interpret being invited inside as proof you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “I didn’t want to be responsible if you died in your truck.”

  His hand moved back to her knee, warming the skin where he caressed. His scent was clean and woodsy. And male. And Nate.

  A look of desire clouded his eyes. The pulse in his neck thrummed to the tune of the one between her legs. Her breath caught in her chest.

  Run.

  “Why was it so important to be a SEAL?”

  “My grandfather was a Vietnam SEAL. One of the first, since before then they didn’t exist. He was my mentor and biggest supporter. I guess I wanted to make him proud.”

  “You could’ve told me.”

  “I was too busy being young,” he stated matter-of-factly.

  “Maybe so.” His reason wouldn’t have changed her feeling of abandonment.

  She edged away from temptation, walking with determination toward her bedroom. The room behind her went dark.

  ****

  “Last one.” Johnny lifted the limp teenager up to the truck driver, waiting until the man secured her in the sleeper compartment to hand him a bottle of water. “If she wakes, give her a swallow of this. It’ll keep her calm until delivery.”

  “Will do,” the driver said.

  “Just a swallow.” Johnny stood outside the warehouse, supervising the shipment of girls to their new owners. This was the last trailer to dispatch. “You let her sip along the way. She drinks the whole bottle in one sitting, and you’ll pay for her.”

  When the trailer full of ceiling fans plus one teenage girl passed through the front gate, Johnny started inside only to find Mr. A standing aside, observing.

  “Good idea keeping them tranquil until delivery.” He clapped Johnny on the back and then led the way through the warehouse. “Can’t have another one escape.”

  “No, sir. The Vaughn girl taught us all a lesson.” Johnny’s mood was light after such a successful sale. Time to restock. The mall was too risky with its cameras and guards. Raves were much safer. The girls were already on Ecstasy, drinking and looking for a quick fuck. The next supply would come from a huge crowd where nobody would notice his movements.

  Hank, carrying his overnight bag, met them in front of the boss’s office. His primary function was collections. While most sales were wire transfers, made and validated prior to shipment, every now and then, some stupid bastard tried to outsmart them. Hank made sure the customer paid his bill in full.

  “Have a good trip,” the boss commented to Hank as he brushed past them, pausing at the exit.

  “Find my ring,” Hank said over his shoulder.

  Mr. A rolled his eyes and exhaled a sigh. It looked like the boss had forgiven Hank. Why was the question. The bruised face on the girl had reduced her value at auction.

  “Anything for me before I leave?” The boss brushed a piece of lint off Johnny’s jacket.

  “Yes, sir. My girl ran the motorcycle’s tags for me. Name’s Nathan Wolfe. He’s a private detective.” Johnny’s ears started buzzing and a sharp pain set off his headache. He paused to block out the pain. “I’ll get more information on him tonight. When I hear, I’ll let you know.”

  “Getting to the Taylor woman will be more difficult.”

  “She paid a visit to the chief. Apparently, nothing was said about a ring.” Johnny continued, “The rest isn’t good news. The FBI has been asked to look into the disappearance of these last two girls.”

  “Damn. None of this bodes well for the business.” The boss poured two fingers of wh
iskey, offering the drink to Johnny. He quickly withdrew the glass. “I forgot you don’t drink on the job.”

  “Never know when I’ll need a clear head. The boys noticed a female friend hanging out with the Taylor woman. We might find a use for her.”

  Mr. A sipped his whiskey, and Johnny savored the pungent aroma.

  “Maybe she would trade the ring for her buddy. Either way, when we get it back, that Taylor bitch has to die.”

  “Yes, sir.” The KA-BAR warmed inside Johnny’s boot.

  Chapter 9

  The slow rhythmic beat of country music roused Kay from what had been a fitful sleep at best. Nate’s shift should’ve ended by now, giving Kay an inexcusable pang of regret.

  Marcus must’ve tuned in the local radio station. Catching up with him would be good. By the time she’d learned of his wife’s death, the funeral had been over. Kay had planned to offer her sympathies, but Tyrell had strongly warned against it. He’d suffered guilt and pain when his sister had been murdered. His recommendation to let Marcus grieve in his own way was sound advice.

  A light tap on her bedroom door sent her grabbing for the sheet. Seconds later, Nate invaded her privacy. Tall and shirtless, he filled the doorway. His broad shoulders and carved-from-granite chest tapered down to a trim waist and narrow hips.

  Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t force one word past the lump jammed in the back of her throat. Her gaze was drawn to a tattoo on his left pectoral muscle right above his nipple. The eagle with a trident and ship’s anchor in its talons was obviously a SEAL emblem.

  Something shiny caught her eye, and her gaze shifted to the middle of his chest. The earth stumbled. A vice tightened around her heart.

  The Saint Jude medal hung on a chain around his neck.

  He moved across the room. A predator ready to strike. “You still take cream?” He set a steaming mug of coffee on her nightstand.

  His gaze swept across her face. Always perceptive, his brows knitted, his dark-blue eyes studied her.

  “What’s wrong?” He leaned closer. The chain swung forward, dangling her broken heart in front of her.