Blood Money (Lone Star Mobster Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  Through the shadows, she saw a raised gun.

  “Gimme the girl and no one gets hurt.” Vick didn’t recognize the voice, but the accent was Southern.

  What would’ve happened if they hadn’t woken up? Would the man have put his hand over her mouth, forced her out of the apartment at gunpoint?

  Vick shivered.

  Justice gave a nasty chuckle. “Oh, somebody’s gonna get hurt alright.” He cocked the gun.

  Justice had been right about a hired gun, and he stood a good six feet away from them, pressed against the wall. His features were impossible to make out—he wore black clothing and a ski mask. The man was shorter than Justice with a wiry build. Vick guessed he’d probably squeezed in through the guest room window.

  Her stomach clenched. Please don’t let there be a shoot-out. This ain’t the O.K. Corral.

  “Doesn’t have to go down like this. I got no quarrel with you.”

  “What’s your name?” Justice kept the man in his sites. “You don’t sound like one of the cartel boys.”

  “Call me Mark, and I’m from around these parts.”

  “You’re a merc then?”

  “Yeah, I’m only in this for the dough.”

  Mark, or whatever his real name was, worked as a mercenary. Sometimes the cartels utilized sub-contractors, men who only cared about collecting a fee. It’d be easier to use someone this side of the border, so the gunman didn’t have to cross any security checkpoints and leave a paper trail for law enforcement.

  “Then you ain’t got a dog in this fight. Why don’t you show yourself and tell your boss, the lady ain’t interested. No means no.”

  “Can’t do that. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, and I always get the job done one way or another. And since you ain’t willin’ to play nice…” Mark fired off a shot, and they both hit the floor.

  Then he sprinted back down the hallway and slammed the door shut behind him.

  The bullet ricocheted off the wall, and then Vick felt a sharp bite of pain in her shoulder.

  With horror, she watched as blood soaked her shirt. She’d never been shot at before. Vick couldn’t quite process what had happened. It all seemed surreal.

  Justice fired a round and then raced down the hall.

  Numbly, she followed him. Her ears rang from the shot and none of this felt real, like some kind of waking nightmare.

  By the time, they reached the room, Mark was gone. The curtains flapped in the breeze. The wooden window frame was bent because it’d been jimmied open.

  “Dammit.” Justice slammed a hand against the wall.

  Vick slowly peeled back the fabric to reveal the wound. The blood felt thick and hot to the touch, staining her fingers, slipping down her arm.

  Justice turned to face her and then his jaw went slack.

  “He got me.”

  “You’re hurt.” Justice stared at the bleeding gash on her arm. “Shoulda been me, not you.” His lower lip trembled and sweat beaded on his forehead.

  “Yeah, but I’m okay.” Vick gingerly moved her shoulder.

  It was painful, but not to an unbearable degree. Vick didn’t see a bullet hole, though it’d cut a path along her skin. She wasn’t an expert on gun wounds, but maybe the hitman had only grazed her. Wouldn’t she be in a lot more pain if he’d scored a direct hit?

  Justice reached for her and then clutched his stomach. Backing away, he shook his head, then bolted down the hallway into the bathroom.

  Vick heard retching sounds.

  Oh no. Didn’t he mutter something about blood?

  In his mind’s eye, Justice might be back in the desert facing God knows what.

  Seconds later, Justice walked out.

  “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded, as though he’d pulled himself together. “We need to take care of your wound.” Justice examined it. “It’s only a graze. It could’ve been worse.”

  “Do I need to go to the emergency room?” Her arm ached, throbbed like it was on fire.

  He didn’t respond. Justice gaped at the blood on his fingertips, as though in some sort of trance.

  “Justice?”

  He braced a hand against the wall, as though he might collapse.

  “Justice!”

  He startled, eyes going wide.

  “Hey. It’s me. You don’t look so hot.”

  “Yeah, but I feel even worse.” Justice sucked in a breath. “And I’m useless to you right now. You should tell your mafia buddies what’s goin’ on.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Simon got himself a pro, not some two-bit cartel thug. This here situation just got FUBAR. You need more protection than Ace, and I can provide.”

  This can’t be happening. Vick had to persuade the bikers to reconsider. She didn’t stand a chance against a mercenary on her own.

  “Who’s Simon and why’s he tryin’ to hurt you?” Weapon raised, Jasper walked down the hall.

  Oh no. Jasper must’ve let himself in. And he’d probably been watching her place like he’d done the other night.

  Justice lifted his gun. Vick noticed a sheen of sweat on his chest, which had dampened his shirt.

  “It’s okay. It’s just Jasper.”

  “Fuckin’ catlike mafia bastards.” Justice blinked and then holstered his weapon.

  “Vick? What’s goin’ on?” Jasper demanded, completely ignoring the biker.

  She scrambled for a plausible excuse and came up with nada.

  “Yeah, Vick, what’s goin’ on?” Justice echoed with a raised brow.

  And then Jasper’s gaze lit on her arm. “You got shot?”

  “It’s only a scratch.” She shrugged and then winced from the motion.

  “Only a…” Jasper trailed off, a vein throbbed in his forehead. “Okay, I’m at my limit.” He eyed her. “What the fuck is goin’ on here? Who’s Simon? And who shot you? Was it the dickhead who went runnin’ through the bushes?”

  “Get a good look at him?” Justice asked.

  Jasper didn’t respond. Instead, he was focused on her.

  “It’s a long story.” All of a sudden, she felt cold, and Vick’s vision swam.

  “Can’t wait to hear it, Vixen.”

  “Did you see the guy?” Justice asked again.

  Jasper turned to face Justice. “Nah, he was wearin’ all black, covered head to toe. Had to be a pro. I chased his ass to a van down the street, but he took off before I could get to him.”

  “Get a license plate?”

  “Nope, he had an unmarked vehicle.”

  “Fuck. This shoulda been grape duty. Instead, we gotta a cartel and hired guns in the mix.”

  Vick had no idea what grape duty meant, but Justice needed to shut his trap. She could feel Jasper’s eyes boring into her as he waited for an explanation.

  “So, you’re her bodyguard, not Vixen’s boyfriend, right?” Jasper asked.

  “Yeah, but this one’s above my pay grade. I was just fuckin’ with ya earlier, man.” Justice turned to Vick. “You’re in good hands.”

  “But Justice—”

  “He’s right. I’m gonna take it from here.” Jasper held out his hand, and Justice shook it. At least, this time, they didn’t try to squeeze each other to death. “Thanks for watchin’ my girl.”

  “Sorry, Vick, but I gotta bail.” Justice jogged down the hall, and then Vick heard the front door slam shut.

  And there went her last hope.

  Jasper’s expression was stern. “You’re comin’ home with me. No arguments.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Vick? Talk to me.”

  She barely registered the words.

  Jasper took her by the shoulders, his face a mask of concern.

  “Vixen? You’re losin’ it, huh?”

  Her whole body shook. She was having a delayed reaction to the shooting. Her arm ached, and she felt jittery. Everything was falling apart.

  “Come on.” Jasper tu
gged her toward the front door. “Once we get to my place, I’ll take care of the wound, and then I’m pryin’ this story out of you.”

  “No, I can’t—”

  “It ain’t up for debate. You can’t stay here. This place is compromised.”

  “What about my stuff?”

  It seemed like a ridiculous concern now, but she was grasping for normality, for details, anything to keep her in the here and now. She needed clothes and basics like a toothbrush. But her thoughts were so scattered, she didn’t know if she could stay on task to gather up the items she needed.

  “Don’t worry about it, Vixen, what’s mine is yours.”

  “What about my cat?”

  “Ten will take care of Bast.” Jasper whipped out his cell phone, fingers flying over the keys. He waited for a reply. “Ten will be over in ten minutes to get her, and don’t you worry none, he’ll take better care of Bast than you do.”

  Vick knew he was right.

  And then somehow, they were at Jasper’s place. Vick didn’t even remember the trip over.

  As soon as they got inside, he locked all the windows and doors, and then hauled out another pistol and a shotgun, laying them on the kitchen counter.

  She sat at the table, in sort of a daze, convinced any second she’d wake up and this nightmare would be over.

  But it didn’t happen.

  Jasper went to the bathroom and retrieved a first aid kit. He made quick work of the wound—washing it with soap and water, sanitizing her skin with peroxide, and then bandaging her arm. He handed her a couple of Tylenol and a glass of water, and she swallowed the pills.

  “You could’ve died tonight, Vixen.” He cupped her cheek. “You almost did. Talk to me. Please?” Jasper brushed a thumb over her mouth. His eyes were shining, nothing but concern and curiosity in them.

  It’d all come down to this moment.

  Guilt gnawed at her belly. Hot tears blurred her vision, but she couldn’t say the words. Once she told Jasper what she’d done, things would never be the same.

  He’d never look at her this way again.

  She just shook her head.

  ***

  “You’re gonna be okay.”

  Vick nodded, but he doubted she believed him.

  When she wouldn’t talk earlier, Jasper handed her a shirt, and after she’d cleaned up in the bathroom sink, she’d put it on.

  When she emerged dressed in his clothes, he tried not to think about her bare legs and tucked her into bed instead. It made him feel possessive, proprietary. And he had a hard time thinking straight.

  Bad choice of words.

  For years, he’d imagined Vixen sprawled on his bed, but never under these circumstances. This was torture of the sweetest kind.

  Lying in the center of the king-sized walnut sleigh bed, she appeared tiny, swallowed up by the sheets and blankets. He’d intended to let her get some rest so they could hash this out in the morning, but she’d asked him to stay.

  And she didn’t exactly have to twist his arm.

  Jasper wrapped his arms around her waist, and Vick clung to him. He wanted to protect her more than anything. Vixen could take care of herself in most situations, but some asshole had come gunning for her. It’s the kind of problem Jasper specialized in, and he’d put the shooter down real permanent-like.

  “I already feel better.”

  “I’m glad, but I need to know the whole story.” He didn’t want to push her but needed to know.

  She rolled over to face him. “This is my mess, and I should clean it up. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the outfit.”

  “I’m gonna help you, Vixen. End of story.”

  “You already have.”

  “And I’ll do even more, so spill it.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Will you tell Dix and Byron?”

  Vick studied his face, and he could tell she was really skittish about this. Whatever the hell she’d gotten into, it must be bad. When he’d joined the outfit, he’d taken an oath, but Vick meant more to him. She was worth facing the outfit’s wrath.

  He shook his head. “What they don’t know, won’t hurt them, but we gotta take care of this fast and discreet.”

  She swallowed. “Okay, I’ll tell you. I’m, um, bein’ stalked.”

  “By who?”

  Vick glanced away. “His name’s Simon Caldwell, and he’s one of those narco lawyers. Right now, he’s workin’ on the Rodriguez case. Have you heard of him?”

  “Yeah, the name sounds familiar.” Jasper had seen the news reports on the “Angel.” Rodriguez had ties to the Centla cartel, which meant the lawyer did, too. “Rodriguez does wet work for the cartel?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And this Simon bastard is his lawyer?” She nodded. “Sounds like a great guy.” Jasper wouldn’t have a problem taking care of him then. The dickhead deserved to be punished.

  “How’d you meet him?”

  Vixen bit her lower lip, and a long silence followed.

  Jasper waited. He hated to invade her privacy, but he needed the lay of the land.

  “I… dated him in college.”

  Hmm. Jasper got the distinct impression she hadn’t told him the truth. Not a lie, perhaps, but she hadn’t come completely clean with him. It didn’t matter though, he had enough facts to go on for now.

  “I can’t handle any more trouble, Jasper.” She touched her shoulder. “I want him to go away for good.”

  “A tall order. Simon’s one thing, but the gunman is a professional.”

  “His name’s Mark.”

  “Probably an alias.”

  Men like the gunman only cared about getting paid. He’d come across one or two of them over the past few years. It’d always ended bloody. They couldn’t be reasoned with, and bargaining didn’t work either, they were all about reputation and results.

  “I’m still gonna poke around and see what I can find out about him.”

  “Mercenaries make a name for themselves by always completin’ a job, no matter what. It’s how they build street cred.”

  “So, we can’t bribe him?”

  The outfit prided itself on wheeling and dealing their way out of a lot of problems. Most of the time it worked.

  “Nope, I’m gonna have to put him down. Tell me more about Simon. How long did you two date?” Jasper didn’t need to know the details, but he wanted them anyway.

  “A couple of years.” Vick bit her lip.

  Hmm.

  “How come you didn’t mention him before?” Jasper worried she had residual feelings for this dick since he’d shared his bed for years. The lucky sonofabitch.

  “It never came up.”

  He called bullshit on that answer. They’d told each other everything. Why was she so secretive about Simon?

  With a sigh, she collapsed against the pillow.

  “I don’t see why Simon won’t give up. I’m just… me.”

  “Oh, I can understand the obsession, even if I think he’s a nut job.”

  Their eyes met.

  Her mouth parted and damn, if it didn’t look like an invitation. Jasper wanted to kiss her senseless and spend the night in her arms. But the last time he’d given to his urges, they hadn’t spoken for a couple days.

  So, Jasper settled for a nice, chaste kiss on the forehead.

  “You are somethin’ special, Vixen. Can’t blame a guy for wantin’ to hang onto you, but there’s a big difference between bein’ persistent and bein’ pathological.”

  “Yeah, Simon missed that part.”

  “I’ll make him see the error of his ways.” Jasper was looking forward to the ass-kicking part of this operation a bit too much.

  “Justice and Ace already tried to reason with him, but it made things worse.”

  Jasper gritted his teeth. “Well, Captain America and his sidekick ain’t me. I can get the message across a whole lot clearer.”

  “What are you plannin’?”

  Simon needed to be scared off, but the gunma
n would have to be taken out.

  Unlike the bikers, he didn’t mind spilling blood. And he’d sleep just fine afterward, thank you very much.

  “Not sure yet. Gotta few things to sort out. We’ll worry about it tomorrow. For now, you have a safe place to sleep. I’m gonna watch over you tonight.” Jasper placed his gun on the nightstand.

  “Thank you, Jasper.” She curled against him once more, laying her head on his shoulder.

  Jasper smoothed her hair and held Vick close.

  They’d finally reached a tipping point.

  There was something between them.

  It was time to move forward, instead of clinging to his past. His grandmother had been right about building new connections, forming a new family.

  And while Vixen might not have chosen another man, she’d nearly died tonight, and he couldn’t stand the thought of her not being a big part of his life.

  Vixen would be his, in every sense of the word.

  She just didn’t know it yet.

  Chapter Twenty

  “We need to talk to Rodriguez.”

  Vick nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee.

  They’d just gotten up and were sitting at Jasper’s table having breakfast. She’d barely calmed down from last night’s shooting, and then he’d gone and made her jumpy again.

  And after she’d had such a nice morning, too.

  Waking up next to Jasper had been delightful. They were snuggled together, as though they’d slept side by side for years. If it weren’t for a stalker and a gunman/kidnapper being hot on her tail, she would’ve reveled in it.

  “Are you crazy? The last time one of us met with a cartel, they sent our coworker back in pieces. By the way? Worst. Delivery. Ever.”

  “Yeah, but he’s the key to this thing. Simon can’t be reasoned with, right?”

  Okay, so he had a point. “Simon’s got one too many cobwebs in the attic.”

  “And Rodriguez must’ve hooked Simon up with Mark.”

  Darn it.

  “Yeah. If we could somehow talk to Rodriguez, and get him to agree with us, Simon might be forced to back off.”

  “Or face the cartel’s wrath, right?”

  “Yeah, but Rodriguez is called ‘Angel’ because he sends people upstairs. What makes you think he’d help us?”

  “Been watchin’ the news lately?” Jasper asked.