Trent waved him in and they headed into the makeshift command center in the heart of his open, sprawling home. Once again, furniture had been rearranged and Trent’s TV moved. Pete’s computer had already been connected. “How’s Kylie?”
“She’s good, but summer boredom is setting in. Leigh’s keeping her tonight. She’ll probably come home with her fingernails polished in every shade of the rainbow. I’d like to bring her up this weekend, if you and Kate don’t mind.” Joe surveyed the room, but he didn’t see his cousin.
Trent reclined on the couch, seemingly unbothered by having his home rearranged again. “Kate will be thrilled, but she’s welcome anytime. Even if we’re not here, Harlan and Sandy would love to have her up at the big house.”
Joe shook his head in amusement. Trent’s home might not be the “big house” on the Walker Farms property, but it was far from little. The large, airy home appeared rustic, but whispered wealth in an understated, masculine way. “Is Kate around?” He grabbed one of the dining room chairs, spun it around and sat, crossing his arms across the back.
“No. Stubborn woman didn’t want to wait on me. Someone contacted the rescue about an abandoned mother dog and her pups. She plans to take ’em out to the shelter.” Trent ran a hand through his shaggy, dark blond hair then shook his head. The last time he’d talked to his cousin, she’d despaired of Trent ever letting her out of his sight. It seemed he might have loosened his hold, but wasn’t happy about it.
Joe suspected Trent would happily house all Kate’s critters, both personal pets and rescues, just to keep her close at all times. He couldn’t say he blamed the man for his protective urges. They may not have seen eye to eye in the beginning, but when it came to keeping those they loved safe, nothing else mattered. They would always agree on that.
“Hey, Joe. I didn’t expect to see you here. You’re the last person I expected Rick to bring in on this op.” Pete Taylor barely looked up as he spoke, instead staring at the glowing screen of a massive laptop from his usual spot at the table.
“Man, when are you going to learn how to control that mouth of yours?” James Holloway placed a chair at the table then loomed over Pete and pinned him with a dark glare. “What did Rick tell you?” When he didn’t get an answer, James rolled his eyes and walked into the kitchen without sparing him another glance.
Suspicion tickled at the base of Joe’s neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have blindly offered his help.
After everything they’d done to keep Kate safe, he hadn’t hesitated went Rick called him in, but what kind of op did they need him for? He’d never met a more competent crew.
He could read between the lines. Kate’s rescue had been about family. They hadn’t needed him, but they chose to include him.
He took in the room around him, looking at it with a more discerning eye. Noah Ramsey, the quiet giant in the corner, greeted him with a single nod. James Holloway returned to his chair at the table with a bag of chips. Their postures were relaxed, but he’d seen them move like silent wraiths in the dark. The night he’d been out on Kate’s recue? They’d defined lethal grace as they’d worked together with flawless precision, each move they’d made coordinated as if they’d become one being.
Rick talked low on his cell while he paced in the kitchen. Disconnecting the call, he made his way to the living room. He took a seat at the head of the table and set his phone down. “Mayhem will be here in a few minutes. Family trouble. Joe, I’m glad you could make it.”
“No sweat. I’m happy to help.” Time to cut through the bullshit. “Why did you call me in? This isn’t something I need to leave my badge behind for, is it?” He hadn’t thought twice when he’d done it the last time. Kate’s life had been on the line. But it wasn’t something he would ever do lightly. Dark Horse needed to understand he couldn’t simply lay it aside at their whim.
“Possibly, and I hate to put you in this position again, but hear me out. I had two reasons for calling you. First off, and probably the most important reason, is I think this is likely connected to Kate and her trouble with Bailey. Trent and I agreed that you should be given the option of joining the op. We’ll lay it all out and let you decide.” Rick picked up his phone as if to use it or check messages, but set it back down as if he remembered he’d just done that. Raking a hand through his black hair, he sighed.
“If it has anything to do with Bailey, then I’m in all the way.” He barely restrained himself from asking if Kate was safe. He knew Trent wouldn’t have let her off the Walker’s horse farm if she’d been in the slightest bit of danger.
Trent walked over to stand beside the table, arms crossed over his chest. “We figured that would be your answer, but there’s more. You need to know what we’d be asking of you if you decide to join. If you don’t, we totally understand, but the fact of the matter is that having you on board would save us valuable time. On the other hand, it might put you at risk.”
“The second reason we called you in is that we would like your help identifying someone, possibly one of your own.” Rick’s tone held all the seriousness of a funeral.
“My own what?” His prior sense of unease morphed into a scraping, biting dread.
“We got word through Detective Bowie with the state police that someone from Potter County Sheriff’s Department is meeting one of Bailey’s lackeys tonight.”
Silence filled the room with an oppressive, smothering pressure.
Fuck. A punch to the gut would have been less painful. He’d sworn to do the right thing and always uphold the law, and he knew he wasn’t responsible for his fellow deputies. That didn’t make the thought of one of his coworkers crossing that line any easier to bear.
“Where do I come in?” He uncrossed his arms and fisted his hands on the chair back. Doublefuck! He’d promised himself that he’d only walk the line between what was within his duties as a deputy and what wasn’t that one time. A member of his family had been in mortal danger. Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place. He was torn between being thankful, even honored, that they trusted him enough to include him in something so volatile and wrecked because leaving his badge behind wasn’t something he could ever do lightly.
“We want you to hang back and observe. Just see if you recognize anyone or if anything at all sets off your alarm bells. Mayhem and Holloway will handle the rest. They’ve already been briefed. We’ll set you up outside to watch the bar’s front door. Just watch for anyone familiar. If you see anyone from Potter County that shouldn’t be there, alert me and we’ll decide what to do from there. But tonight we observe only. If you don’t want in, then we understand.” Rick’s all too serious eyes met his. There was no expectation, nor condemnation. He’d done exactly as he’d said. He’d laid it all out in black and white, leaving the decision to Joe.
“Count me in.” Those three little words held a world of weight, but what else could he do? Turn his back because someone he knew, possibly trusted, might be involved in something illegal? Hell no. “Whatever you need from me, I’m there.”
“That’s what we figured you’d say. We’re happy to have you on board.” He turned to Holloway. “James, you and Mayhem follow. We’ll go ahead and get into position.”
“Sure thing. I’ll update you when we head out.”
“I’m late! Sorry. I had a mama drama, as silly as that sounds. I’ll be ready in five.” Cara flew through Trent’s house, barely announcing her arrival before she slammed the bathroom door behind her. She dropped her duffle on the closed toilet and stripped out of her clothes. Folding the flowered skirt and pastel blouse, she wished she could toss them into the garbage can, but that would only cause her more grief in the long run.
She’d taken her mother to what was supposed to be a dinner out with Anne, her mother’s friend from church. Not wanting to listen to her mother’s harping, she’d dressed in one of her few mother-approved outfits. The formfitting blouse—one size too small—pulled tight across her shoulders. The top button barely closed
just above her breasts. It seemed an odd pairing when worn with a simple, seemingly church-worthy skirt, which fell to just below her knees. Then again, her mother had picked out the skirt and given it to her for her last birthday. When the light hit it just right, it became nearly see-through. She’d worn a slip and hoped her mother hadn’t noticed.
Cara feared her mother wouldn’t rest until she “caught herself a doctor” or, like tonight, the widowed pastor of the county’s largest church. Her mother had always expected her to dress in what Cara called sex kitten meets school teacher. As a result, she’d been uncomfortable all evening.
When her mother invited her to dinner, she should have known better. Her mother and Anne had conspired, trying to set her up with the pastor with the hopes that she’d be married, barefoot, and pregnant by the year’s end.
According to her mother, that was a woman’s lot in life. She’d assumed, when Cara had gone to nursing school, Cara would eventually catch, marry, and set up house with a doctor.
But that hadn’t ever been Cara’s life plan. Before that, when she’d joined the National Guard to help pay for her degree, her mother had flipped out.
In the beginning, she might have been guilty of letting her mother believe she would marry the first man to show her a ring, just so she could have some peace. Now, home and still husbandless, her earlier omission had come back to bite her on the ass.
Amused at herself, she thought it was funny that participating in a late night op appealed to her far more than a church dinner. But she didn’t care. She hadn’t seen her guys in forever, and the change in pace might help her leave the gray funk she’d been living in for the past few weeks behind.
None of them were familiar with the op’s location, but their goal was to get a couple of people inside to blend in. All she and James had to do was observe. Noah was going in solo, so she and James decided to go on a date for their part. She’d toyed with the idea of going full on tramp, but after she’d been on display for her mother’s scheme, she couldn’t make herself do it. She pulled on her favorite jeans then put on a simple short-sleeved blouse that flattered her shape. She put on a soft, chocolate colored, leather belt and matching heeled boots. Refreshing her makeup, she used a heavier hand than usual.
She packed up her things and flew out the bathroom as quick as she’d come. James waited for her at the end of the hallway, looking down at his phone. When he heard her heels click on Trent’s hardwood floor, he looked up. His mouth dropped open, but nothing came out.
“That bad or that good?” She smiled and placed a hand on her hip.
“That damn hot. My god, Mayhem, you clean up pretty. You don’t need all that paint, but it looks good on you all the same. We won’t have any trouble tonight, that’s for sure. Every man in the bar will be struck stupid by the sight of you in those jeans.”
“You’ve seen me in jeans before.”
“True. Something’s different though. Good different.” He cocked his head as he put his phone in his pocket and looked her over.
“Thanks. I worried I might have gone a little overboard with the boots.” She would not let nerves get the best of her. No way, no how. She had a job to do. She’d be more comfortable in scrubs or behind the wheel of a MRAP, but she could do this. She might be wearing heels but this job was no less important than her others.
“Sweetheart, you killed it. I have to say, that I drew the lucky straw tonight. Let’s go.” He held out his hand. It felt a little odd, putting her hand in his, but they’d been friends for years. He was a good man, maybe a little wild, but still one of the best she knew. It was a shame that she’d never really felt more than a passing attraction to him.
“What do you say we go spy on some lowlifes?” He nodded his head toward the door.
“Sounds fun.” She gave him her best cheeky smile and they were off.
In no time, they arrived at the Thirsty Beaver on the outskirts of town. The bar had seen better days, but the parking lot was full. The moment James turned off his truck, she heard music blaring through the door as someone walked in.
“You ready?” James had his hand on the door handle, but waited for her answer. Was she ready? Yeah, she was. She wanted to put her skills to work. She’d always been observant. She thought fast on her feet. Why not put that to use doing something good?
“I’m ready.” Not waiting for him to get her, she carefully climbed out. She took his hand in hers, and they walked across the lot. He dropped her hand, put his on the small of her back and leaned in, as if to draw her close. She froze, stopping him with a hand on his shoulder.
He stopped and looked down to check on her. “What’s wrong?”
She nodded her head in the direction of the door. He hadn’t seen what she had, because he’d been focused on her reaction. She knew the moment he recognized the problem. “Mother. Fucker.” Her blood froze when his curse confirmed what she already feared but hoped to deny.
Memories assailed her. She could feel the hot breath in her face just as she had the day it had happened. His anger, the pain, her fear, rushed through her in a tidal wave.
The door opened and loud music filled the night as Boyd Campbell walked inside the bar, oblivious to the upset he left in his wake. A cool, humid breeze blew through and snapped her out of her panic. No way. There is no way I’m going to bail on this.
If anything, the slimy bastard’s presence only solidified her determination to be a part of this op. She wouldn’t let him get the better of her.
James turned as if speaking to her, although he spoke into the mic hidden in the collar of his shirt. “We’ll call it off. Rick? Did you see—?”
“No. We’re not backing out. Get me MacDonald. He’s my new date.” She knew exactly what she had to do. There was no way Boyd would believe she and James had hooked up. They’d been more like a brother and sister in Afghanistan. Plus, Noah was already inside, in position. He’d be sitting at a table drinking beer and watching the crowd or shooting pool. Seeing two members of their unit inside the same bar was a stretch, but three? No way he’d believe it. “Rick. I can do this. Send me MacDonald. He’s the only one that will work. I’m good, I swear. Have him come in and play Casanova in fifteen minutes. I’m dumping James as we speak.” She pushed James in the chest and called out. “You prick!” Then she stomped off toward the bar. And thanks to her heeled boots, she had no choice but to saunter with her ass swaying all the way.
She prayed she was right. The only thing she knew was that Rick and the boys had her back. No matter what happened, they’d be there. With that unshakable knowledge, she headed in.
“You prick!” A husky, feminine voice came through Joe’s earpiece loud and clear. He watched the front of the lot and the bar’s entrance but didn’t see anyone out of place. Then he saw a familiar male form throw his hands in the air and turn his back on a small woman. The man stomped off toward the parked vehicles and recognition hit him. The tall, pissed off man was James Holloway. So that meant that…
He his attention snapped back to where James had been standing. The spot was empty. He scanned the lot and his attention snagged and focused on the door. A curvy little woman with sexy legs and the finest ass he’d ever seen stepped inside the rowdy bar. The door closed behind her.
He knew those legs. He’d dreamed of having them wrapped around his waist. And that hair? He’d lay odds that it smelled like sunshine and flowers. And there was no way he’d wait fifteen minutes before going in after her.
He’d known she was a friend of Rick’s. The Dark Horse founder had even referred to her as a team member, but he still hadn’t put it all together. He had no doubt that she was an intelligent, capable woman, but he couldn’t picture her as a war-hardened soldier. The Dark Horse crew had been in some nasty situations in Afghanistan.
She was too small.
But she was a nurse, right? Maybe she stayed on base or something and waited for the trauma to come to her? What were they doing putting her in a situation like this?
Talk about a mess. If Rick’s information was correct and someone from Potter County showed, then they’d likely see and recognize him. They’d question his reasons for being at a dive like the Thirsty Beaver, but that couldn’t be helped. He’d think of something.
He checked the time and cursed. She expected him to wait a full fifteen minutes? No way.
“Joe.” Rick’s voice sounded in his earpiece.
“Yeah. I’m going in.” He reached for the handle of Trent’s truck. He borrowed it because his beast stuck out like a sore thumb, and anyone from the Sheriff’s department would recognize it.
“Wait. She’ll be fine for a few. She can handle herself. Listen. Do you remember the images of Boyd Campbell from Kate’s rescue? Remember what he looks like? He’s lean, rangy looking, with brown hair.” Even through the connection, he heard Rick’s tension.
“Yeah, I do.” He’d never felt such extreme anger for another person from just their picture before. Everyone suspected Boyd had kidnapped Kate and delivered her to Senator Bailey. He’d also framed Trent for murder. When that fell apart, he planted damning evidence in a way that placed all suspicion on Bailey. After all of it, he’d vanished like a cockroach in the light.
“He and Mayhem have a history, and it’s not pretty. Years ago, when she refused his advances, things got ugly. He pinned her against a wall and crushed her throat, injuring her larynx. It’s why her voice sounds the way it does. Afterward, he dropped off the grid.”
She is so tiny. His anger burned hotter, brighter.
He felt his blood pressure rise and a sudden urge to choke Campbell came over him. He gripped the steering wheel and squeezed, reminding himself it wouldn’t be cool to put his fist through Trent’s window. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What’s wrong with her voice?” It sounded fine to him. The first time he heard it, the low, sexy tone had gone straight to his dick.
“Nothing really, it just never went back to the way it used to be.”
Catching Cara: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 2 Page 3
