TANYA: Trouble With a Capital T (The Trouble Sisters Saga Book 1)

by Taylor Lee

  Meier nodded in agreement. “Before we begin to discuss the crime that has brought us here, I have a new treat for you both. It’s rare that I find two gentlemen who savor fine scotch. For that reason, I dug into my cellar and pulled out this extraordinary offering. I don’t know if either of you have had the pleasure of sipping a Macallan Private Eye single malt Scotch whiskey from the Speyside Highlands, but I assure you it will come close to the most orgasmic experience you’ve ever had.”

  Knowing that the ornate bottle Meier was decanting cost in the four figures, Ryker didn’t hold back an appreciative whistle. Turning to Titus, he said, “I don’t know about you, Sheriff Trouble, but while I’ve at least heard of this whiskey, I never thought I’d have the opportunity to taste it.”

  Titus shrugged. “You’ve got me beat, Agent Thompson. I’m not familiar with this fine whiskey, but I’ll take yours and Barrett’s word for it. As for orgasmic experiences, Barrett, I think we may have to defer to our young friend here. From what little I know of him, my sense is that he could school us old goats on experiences, orgasmic and otherwise.”

  Meeting Titus’s narrowed gaze, Ryker acknowledged the stern man’s veiled critique with a nod. Managing to suppress a sigh, he reached for the high ground.

  “Au contraire, Sheriff. I imagine it will take me years to accumulate the experiences, not to mention accolades, that you’ve garnered in your impressive career.”

  At that moment, Meier saved the two of them by putting the bottle and three crystal shot glasses on a silver tray and then motioned with his head toward the chairs in front of the fireplace. “Please, gentlemen. Take a seat and prepare to indulge in what I consider to be one of life’s great pleasures—fine whiskey.”

  After they were seated and their host had poured a generous amount of the exceedingly expensive liquor, Ryker forced himself to let go of the turmoil he was feeling and give in to the pure hedonistic pleasure of imbibing a drink that he was unlikely to ever taste again. After praising his host for his generosity and doing his best to describe the indescribable potion, Ryker surprised himself by remembering the whiskey he’d drunk last night. He couldn’t suppress an unbidden chuckle. At Barrett’s frown, he quickly explained.

  “Forgive me, Barrett. I was just struck by the fact that I drank myself to sleep last night with a bottle of Old Turkey, which was the best of the pickings available in Sledge Perkins’s bunkhouse.” Knowing he’d unintentionally opened the door to what he knew was common knowledge, he wasn’t surprised when Barrett also chuckled.

  “Yes, Agent Thompson. I heard from at least three of my agents today about last night’s fracas. From what I hear, you are an impressive fighter. Where did you train?”

  Ryker grabbed the lifeline the older man had unwittingly thrown him. The last thing he wanted to admit in front of the sheriff was why he’d attacked Manny. From what he’d heard the men saying this morning, they’d all picked up on the fact that he’d been infuriated by Manny’s crude reference to Tanya. A reference he did not want to discuss with her father.

  He painted a dismissive grin on his mug and shrugged. “I grew up in a tough neighborhood. You either learned to fight or you didn’t live long enough to wish that you had. I was a reasonably skilled fighter when I watched a couple of Mossad agents at Quantico demonstrating Krav Maga. Ten minutes into their match, I was hooked. I’d never seen more efficient defensive or offensive maneuvers—not to mention aggressive as hell. It turned out I had a knack for it and so I practice at least an hour a day. I also head to Israel a couple times a year to keep up my expertise. Don’t want to lose that level-six black belt I earned the hard way.”

  Barrett nodded in appreciation. “Impressive, Agent Thompson. I’ve heard of Krav Maga and, of course, those Mossad agents are the scourge of criminals everywhere.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I can only imagine how impressed those reprobates you’re living with were to see you in action.” He added with a slight frown, “That reminds me. Titus, where is that daughter of yours? Did she blow us off for a second time?”

  Sheriff Trouble shook his head. “Deputy Trouble has been busy. As you know, she is heading up the investigation into the murder of that young girl Violeta Acedo.”

  “Ah yes. I heard about that tragedy. Is the deputy getting close to discovering who killed the girl?”

  Titus shrugged. “She’s making progress.”

  Ryker took advantage of that curt dismissal to turn the conversation to the border investigation. “That brings me to the reason I asked to see you both tonight. I’m getting closer to confirming the full scope of the border corruption scandal. I’m at a place where I need answers to some critical questions that I hope you can answer.”

  Taking a satisfied sip of the aromatic scotch, Barrett chuckled. “Ah yes, my insistent young friend. I assumed you would want to discuss business, although in my mind doing so while drinking this extraordinary whiskey is a sacrilege at best.”

  Ryker guffawed. “Sister Mary Margaret, my sixth-grade school teacher, could have told you that heresy and sacrilege were ingrained in my pre-teen persona long ago, replacing obedience and reverence. She gave up on me except as an example to my peers of what they didn’t want to be. That said, Agent Meier, in your opinion, who has the wherewithal to pull off a scheme as significant as the one I’m investigating?”

  Titus spoke to him for the first time since his insinuated criticism of Ryker’s questionable experiences. “When you say wherewithal, Agent Thompson, are you referring to monetary status or position?”

  Ryker responded curtly. “Both. The magnitude of the corruption I’m uncovering insists that the head honcho has significant financial resources and that he is positioned in a way that gives him access to the border and all the issues and institutions surrounding it.”

  Barrett Meier’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Hmm, if I were to think very hard, I might assume that you are talking about me, Agent Thompson. After all, while the sheriff is as knowledgeable as anyone about border issues, he is paid dramatically less that what he is worth. In addition, supporting three beautiful young women through their childhood and young adulthood no doubt strained his financial well-being.”

  Ryker nodded and allowed a smile to cross his lips. “As I’ve said, at one time, both you and the sheriff were on my short list of perpetrators. Since, then Sheriff Trouble has earned removal from that list by dint of his honorable person. And frankly, Barrett, your whiskey alone gives you a break.”

  Gratified that both men laughed and seemed to enjoy his arrogant humor, Ryker sought to mine the intel he’d picked up from Mac Lewis, of all people. “In my reconnaissance, it’s clear that there are a few self-made millionaires among your townsfolk. Sledge Perkins being the most notable. As opposed to the self-made guys, there are a number of people who inherited significant wealth from the copper industry that still contributes significantly to the wealth in the state. One such person is your former wife, Barrett. Another is Preston Courtland.”

  Meier didn’t hide his surprise, then glanced at the sheriff. “Ah yes. Your soon-to-be relative by marriage, Titus. That is, if your incorrigible daughter actually goes through with that ceremony, which, at least to me, seems to have about a fifty-fifty chance of occurring.”

  When Titus arched a brow but didn’t respond, Ryker chose to ignore the personal implications of Meier’s surprising conclusion. Instead, he decided to press both men, testing his premise that the perpetrator had to have significant assets to pull off the multi-faceted crime. Obviously, if the individual was already wealthy, he could have moved much more quickly into the dark world of cartels and multinational crimes. He’d spent the day directing his team of analysts to scour the Courtland enterprise. What he’d learned was that Preston Courtland was known to be a sharp operator working in widespread industries. He also had the reputation of a facile relationship with the law, having been forced to settle a range of legal suits against his various enterprises—and losing significantly in the process. Ac
cording to his sources, more than a few of his schemes would have thrown a man with less financial resources in jail.

  “Tell me what you know about Courtland’s assets and, moreover, his possible associations that might interest the various cartels working their way into this segment of the border.”

  Meier shrugged. “It goes without saying that if you have more money than God and believe that there isn’t a man alive as smart as you are, you tend to get a vaulted view of yourself. If anything describes Preston Courtland, it is that he is an insufferable prick who believes to his core that the laws of the land weren’t meant for him. Knowing how you’ve likely investigated him, Thompson, I’m sure you know that if he didn’t have a raft of legal eagles that he pays millions of dollars a year, Preston Sawyer Courtland would be living in a confined space of the rest of his life.” He gave an ironic snort. “Although, knowing Preston, he’d wrangle a private suite in one of the country’s cushiest prisons like FCI Otisville or the FOC at Pensacola.” He added with a grin, “Trust me, he wouldn’t be bunking with an ax murderer.”

  Titus met Meier’s ironic gaze and nodded. “As questionable as a great many of Preston’s operations have been, Barrett, you have to admit he has yet to spend a night in jail, much less be incarcerated.” Turning to Ryker, he said, “However, Barrett is correct. The fact that Courtland has more money than God and a bigger ego has protected him from repercussions that would have taken down a less wealthy man.” Titus sipped on his drink and then cast a troubled frown on Meier, then Ryker. He sighed. “What I don’t understand is why a man who literally has every material thing that anyone could want still grasps for more. Continuing to take and not caring who it hurts or how illegal it may be.”

  Meier guffawed. “In a nutshell, that inability to understand is what makes you an honorable man, Titus.” He glanced at Ryker and quirked a questioning brow. “Why do I think that our young friend can understand Courtland better that you do, Titus?”

  Ryker took a hearty draft of the seductive whiskey and narrowed his gaze at the smirking man. “I don’t agree for a moment that Sheriff Trouble doesn’t understand or know the ugly side of humanity. In fact, of the three of us, in my mind he is the most knowledgeable and without question the most honorable. But like the sheriff, maybe because I’ve had to scrabble for every dime I’ve made, I don’t get it when wealthy men who’ve literally been given every opportunity on a silver tray still try to steal more.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then added, “Even going so far as to hook up with the cartels, the most scurrilous human beings who’ve walked our part of the universe.” He looked at Titus and then focused on Barrett. “No, man, that I do not understand.” Taking a sip of the potent whiskey, he shook his head and said with an aggrieved sigh, “I hope I never will.”

  Chapter 22

  Hold up, Agent Thompson.”

  Ryker turned to face the stern man who was standing beside his cruiser, clearly not finished with him. Ryker gave a short sigh and said with an ironic grin, “Hmm, why did I think you might want to have a word or three with me, Sheriff Trouble?”

  A fleeting smile curving his lips, Titus nodded and then his gaze hardened. “You are correct, Agent Thompson. I have several questions for you as well as things I wish to say to you.”

  Ryker sucked in an audible breath, then blew it out. “Have at it, Sheriff. I have relatively broad shoulders, and even as arrogant as we both know I am, I’m not adverse to criticism when I clearly deserve it.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’ll start with the questions I have regarding this operation. We can deal with the criticisms I have later, although I’d be more inclined to call them concerns.”

  Ryker nodded in agreement. “Please, Sheriff, as I said, have at it. What are your questions? I’ll do my best to answer them. But do know I haven’t yet solved this crime, although I’m getting damn close.”

  “In that case, let me be specific. What the hell was that about Preston Courtland?”

  “Other than roping the father of your daughter’s fiancé into the felonious mix of miscreants I’m chasing?”

  Titus’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, other than that.”

  “It shouldn’t surprise you, Sheriff, that Preston Courtland is in my cross hairs for a number of reasons. The primary ones being that he has the monetary wherewithal and the connections to pull off a crime as comprehensive as the one I’m investigating. That he is a weasel of unspeakable proportions makes him more than worthy of my attention.” Ryker paused, then made an attempt to shutter the humor he was sure was apparent in his twinkling eyes. He said as seriously as he could, “Frankly, it would be personally satisfying if I were able to confirm that Preston Courtland is an unspeakable villain. While I admit that being a first-class, preppy, elitist prick doesn’t necessarily warrant a cartel-loving father, you have to admit it would be poetic justice.”

  Sheriff Trouble coughed behind his hand and then fighting his insipient grin, said blandly, “Indeed.”

  Before he could comment further, Ryker clarified. “Unfortunately, my less honorable intentions be damned, Preston Sawyer Courtland is a red herring at best.”

  Titus studied him for a long moment and then said carefully, “I presume when you are ready, you will tell me what you mean by that inscrutable assertion, Agent Thompson.”

  Allowing an enigmatic smile to cross his lips, Ryker said, “That I will, sir. You can be sure of that.”

  Apparently seeing from his equivocal response that Ryker had said all he intended to say, the sheriff nodded. After a moment of silence, he said with a grimace, “Given that topic is apparently closed for the moment, perhaps we can go to the one that is front and center in my mind.”

  Ryker closed his eyes for a moment, then put up his hands in defeat. “Like I said, Sheriff Trouble, lay it on me. And don’t think that I didn’t spend a sleepless night remembering what an asshole I was last night. You have my apologies.”

  “Hmm, Agent, it’s not your apologies I want, it’s an explanation.”

  Again, Ryker put up his hands. “That’s an even more challenging request, sir. Explaining why I acted like a complete asshole is difficult at best. Let me confirm the obvious. To put it mildly, that outrageous daughter of yours has gotten under my skin.”

  “I noticed.”

  Ryker huffed. “I’m not surprised that you did, in that I not only accosted your daughter but threatened her.”

  Titus nodded in taciturn agreement. “I noticed both of those things as well.”

  Ryker couldn’t stifle his simmering anger. “Surely you know how challenging she is, sir? How unwilling she is to do what you tell her to do. For God’s sake, look at how she is determined to antagonize that head case Manny Davis. You’ve obviously warned her, as I have, that Davis is not only a despicable, misogynistic asshole but he’s dangerous as hell.”

  “Yes, Agent. I have told her that, if not in those heated terms. We all know that Davis is an explosion waiting to happen. However, I understand that the reason you took him on last night for going after an innocent man was, in addition, that he disparaged my daughter in disgustingly filthy language.”

  Ryker wasn’t surprised that Titus had likely heard all the repugnant things that Manny said about his daughter. He also knew that the sheriff was not going to let him off the hook for his over-the-top behavior with Tanya. He breathed a hard sigh. “Back to the scene in your office last night, sir, which is difficult at best to explain, it’s just that it kills me that your daughter, who is incredibly competent and self-aware and face it, such a brat, can be so flagrantly wrong in the most important part of her life.”

  “Hmm. May I surmise, Agent Thompson, the important area you are referring to has to do with her fiancé?”

  Struck by the sheriff’s qualified response, Ryker felt compelled to explain, which he knew would be a challenge. Damn, he couldn’t explain his outrageous reaction to himself, much less the stern sheriff. But he was determined to try. Facing the sheriff, h
e said as calmly as he could, “You need to understand, sir, the thought of that astonishing daughter of yours turning her life and her principles upside down for that phony prick is more than I will tolerate.”

  At Titus’s raised eyebrow at his presumptiveness, Ryker added fiercely, “Jesus God, man, that pretentious asshole continuously criticizes her. Her behavior, her work, her language, even her eating habits annoy him. Christ, he goes so far as to imply that she is fat. You heard what she said. You have to have seen him doing that. Undermining what is so special about her.”

  Titus nodded and then said carefully, “Yes, I have seen him do that and, no, I do not approve. And I can understand why you object, on principle, to some of Bram’s more off-putting remarks and beliefs. However, I’m sure you can understand how a young woman growing up in the circumstances Tanya did might be taken with the idea of hooking up with a man as wealthy as Bram.”

  Not containing his scorn, Ryker sneered. “You know you don’t believe that, Sheriff. Tanya would never fall for that demeaning shibboleth.”

  The sheriff nodded in apparent agreement, then frowned contemplatively. “Hmm. And yet she wears his ring.”

  Ryker blurted out, “Goddammit, she needs to give that fucking ring back to him! I told her that. You heard me . . . ”

  Titus agreed. “So you did. Rather forcefully, as I recall. Perhaps even calling her a fraud if she didn’t?” When Ryker slammed his eyes shut, unable to meet the perceptive man’s piercing gaze, the sheriff pressed him. “My question to you, Agent Thompson, is precisely what are you going to do about it? If she doesn’t give Bram his ring back or, of more importance to me as her father, if she does?”

  Ryker was stunned by his reaction to the sheriff’s discerning query. He acknowledged with a sinking feeling in his gut that this was precisely what had been bedeviling him. Yes, he was thoroughly taken by the surprisingly complicated, outrageous young woman. And hell yes, he wanted her in ways he’d never wanted a woman. But facing her solemn father, Ryker wondered if even he was enough of a cad that he would take her and then leave—as he knew he would have to do.