Frost Security: The Complete 5 Books Series

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Have you used it yet?” he asked with a little eyebrow waggle.

  “No,” I said, furrowing my brows as I shook my head. “No,” I repeated more firmly.

  “Oh, you want to, though. I can see it. You do have a crush on him.”

  I sighed in exasperation. “Dammit, Derrick. Last thing I need right now with all this shit going on is a boyfriend.”

  He laughed. “Ain’t talking about a boyfriend!”

  I rolled my eyes. “Last thing I need as a teacher in a small town is to go hooking up with every single guy out there.”

  “Who said he was single?” he asked with a laugh.

  My heart felt like it suddenly screeched to a halt. “What?” I asked. “He’s not?”

  My friend burst out laughing again. “Oh, my God, you do have a crush on him.”

  “I told you already that I don’t!”

  “Your lips say you don’t. Your eyes, though, disagree.”

  “Shut up,” I said sourly, taking another swig of beer. “Besides, even if I did like him, I wouldn’t have a chance with a guy like that. He’s tall and handsome, and intelligent and funny.” I frowned a little. “Not a chance in the world.”

  Derrick didn’t reply for a moment, instead taking another drink of his nearly finished beer. “Well, I don’t know about that,” he said finally, after wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. “I think he might go for a woman like you. You’re attractive and smart, and super sweet. I think Matt really likes girls like that.”

  “Think so?”

  “Yeah, I do. I think you’d be a shoe-in. Want me to put in a good word for you?”

  I shook my head and made a face. But, then, I thought about it. He and Matthew did work together. And Derrick and I were friends. And they always told you to try and meet people through your friends. Sure, I had a client-service relationship with him right now. But who said it couldn’t turn into something more?

  “Come on,” Derrick said when I didn’t say anything for a moment, “he’s a good guy, Becks. Give it a shot.”

  “I don’t know,” I said, sighing again. “Like, what if all this stuff with Uncle Zeke gets worse? I don’t think I could take being crushed again so soon afterwards. I’d just feel absolutely awful if things didn’t work out between us.”

  “Oh,” he said. “Oh, wow. You really, really like this guy, don’t you? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like this about someone.”

  I shrugged a little. “He just seems…”

  Derrick urged me on. “Seems?”

  “Special? I don’t know.” I blushed a little, embarrassed at the memory of me throwing my arms around his neck back at the Frost Security office. I didn’t know why I had, but it had just felt so right. “I actually hugged him in the office earlier today. After he took Uncle Zeke’s case. Not right when I met him or anything.”

  “Oh, right, cause that would’ve been weird.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  He grinned a little. “Know what we should do, right?”

  I sighed. “What?”

  “Take shots. To celebrate.”

  I almost burst out laughing. “I can’t do that! It’s the middle of the week!”

  “Really?” he asked, eyebrow raised. “You can’t? You’re on a three month vacation–”

  “Two month.”

  “Two months vacation. I’ve got a home care person at the house with dad, I’m off work tomorrow, and I’m off call. Let’s just live a little, lady. Celebrate the fact that you actually like some guy.”

  I grumbled a little until he fixed me with a look, and I stopped.

  “Becks. I’m buying.”

  “Fine,” I said. “But only one.”

  “Fine,” he agreed. “Just one.”

  He got up and went to the bar, got the bartender’s attention. “Four shots of Jack, Roy. I’m buying.”

  “Derrick!” I protested.

  “Ignore her, Roy, she’s just excited to see my wallet opened so widely this evening.”

  The bartender shook his head and scratched a sideburn idly as he lined up the shot glasses and began pouring four stout shots of Tennessee whiskey. This was not going to go well.

  Derrick passed over some money and, with a grin still plastered on his face, came back over with his hands full of liquor.

  “No,” I said, my voice nearly a hiss. “You know I can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” he asked.

  “Well,” I said as I took another sip from my bottle, “I’m also out of beer. What am I going to chase it with?”

  Derrick laughed, and turned back to the bar as he held up his fingers. “Roy, dos cervezas, por favor. Apparently, my friend doth protest too much.”

  I grinned as I drank the last of my beer. I wasn’t a huge drinker, or anything, but I’d been known to tie one on every now and then back in college. And he was right, after all. I didn’t have work tomorrow, and neither did he. Hell, I was supposed to be in Brazil right now, not stuck in the Rock waiting for my godfather’s trial. Besides, what else did I have planned for tonight?

  He brought back the two open bottles and set one down in front of me. We picked up our whiskey glasses, clinked them, tapped them to the table just like I had during my college days, and tipped them back. The amber liquid burned all the way down, warming my chest and belly like nothing else could. I put the glass back on the table and took a large swig of beer, washing away the flavor of the alcohol and cooling the whiskey’s burn.

  “Ready?” Derrick asked as he picked up the second shot.

  “Oh, God, no!” I replied with a laugh, suddenly feeling as carefree as a twenty-one-year-old again.

  “Come on, Becks,” he grinned, putting the glass in my hand. “Live a little.”

  I sighed and lifted the glass, toasting him again with a clink of our solid glasses. “You know,” I said as we both raised our drinks, “this is not going to end well. For either of us.”

  He winked. “Sure it will. What’s a few drinks between friends?”

  I tipped the shot back, downed it, and swallowed down another mouthful of beer to wash away the strong taste. This one went down much smoother than the one I’d taken moments before, and I could already feel the buzz rising in my body.

  “Two more?”

  “Hell no!” I cried, the alcohol already causing my inhibitions to drop bit by bit.

  “Really? Come on, just one more.”

  I sighed. “Okay, but at least me finish this beer first, okay?”

  “Okay,” he grinned, taking a big swallow of his. “But, you’re buying this next round.”

  I grinned, just enjoying the company. It was nice to be able to cut loose, to really let yourself have some fun for once. Especially when times were bad, and the stress was building in your head and shoulders so badly that it seemed like you might explode from the pressure.

  In the end, though, I was right.

  This was not going to end well.

  Chapter Ten – Matthew

  The Elk was already jumping when I got there around seven o’clock. I pushed through the crowd of after-work drinkers, the smell of stale beer, liquor, and cigarette smoke thick in my nose. Classic rock blared out of the jukebox and everyone seemed to be having a hell of a time, long necks and shots of whiskey and vodka in hand.

  Frank had called and told me I needed to talk to the bartender here, Roy.

  So I’d finished up what I was doing, exchanged a few words with Lacy on the progress imaging Zeke’s hard drive, then headed down. It was a short drive to the bar from Frost Security, one that I'd made more than a time or two with the guys after a particularly rough case was over.

  What Roy wanted to tell me, though, Frank wouldn’t say. Said he wanted it to be a surprise.

  Personally, surprises in this line of work had always struck me as something unwanted. There’s a reason why people always say “pleasant surprise” when it’s a good thing. It’s because everyone inherently knows that surprises gener
ally are neither good nor pleasant.

  Frank was about midway down the bar, and halfway through his beer. I slid onto the stool next to him, saying, “Now what's so important you dragged my ass out here?”

  My coworker gave me that characteristic grin of his. “That man down there,” he said, his Texas drawl thick and heavy, “has got your next lead in his hot little hands. Only person I can find around town that's actually willing to talk about the Florentinos. Even after that whole thing Jake caused a few months back.”

  Roy came back down our way, wiping the spot on the bar in front of me. “Matt,” he said with a nod. “Guess Frank here gave you a call, huh?”

  I nodded back. “He did. Said you might be able to help me out. Talk in the back?”

  “Sure thing,” he replied with a quick look around the bar. “Follow me.”

  We headed to the back of the Elk, the bar separating us. He had a straight path down the narrow aisle, while I had to dodge and excuse my way through the crowd. As I sketched a zigging and zagging line to meet him, though, I caught a familiar scent in the crowd.

  Vanilla and lavender.

  I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart fluttering like a rabbit’s when my pack was closing in on it for the kill. Instinctively, I scanned the crowd to look for her. Rebecca. She was here. No one else’s scent had ever lit a fire inside me like this. It had to be her.

  And there she was, sitting with Derrick near the back. Both had beers in front of them, empty shot glasses lined up between them. They were practically draped over each other, and Rebecca was laughing so hard her face had started to turn beet red.

  I frowned, grinding my teeth together. I knew they were just friends, or at least that was the impression I’d gotten from speaking to Derrick, but something about them being together just rubbed me the wrong way.

  I shook my head. Jesus, what was I doing? I was acting like a hurt thirteen-year-old seeing some girl I liked at the mall with another guy. If I was so damned attracted to her, I should just say something, even if she probably wasn’t into a guy like me.

  “Matt?” Roy called from near the back door. “You coming, man?”

  “Yeah,” I said as I turned around and followed after him. “Yeah, I’m coming.”

  I stepped into the backroom right after him, and he carefully shut the heavy metal door behind me. Empty keg after keg was stacked on top of one another. Cases of liquor were orderly placed along one side of the wall.

  “Frank was poking around about the Florentino family, seeing if any of the business owners around town have heard anything.”

  “What can you give me?” I asked. I didn’t want to mince words. Instead, I wanted to get back out to the bar to join Frank for a beer I desperately needed after seeing Rebecca with Derrick. “Were they offering the same insurance policy they offered Zeke?”

  “Not in so many words,” he said, shifting his feet uncomfortably like he was worried. Whether Zeke had been burned out by the Florentino family or not, the fire had certainly had a chilling effect on people wanting to talk about them. “But, yeah, guy came through here a few months back, offering the same thing. With a sorta twist on mine. Dunno if he offered it to the other bars in the area, or not.”

  “What kind of twist?”

  “Tax-free booze. Said he could get it to me off the books, cash under the table.”

  “Certainly isn’t original,” I admitted. “Pretty old school, in fact. He say where he was getting it from, by any chance?”

  Roy shook his head. “Not a clue.”

  “But you’re sure he threatened you with the whole insurance policy thing, right?”

  The bartender nodded, scratched a graying sideburn. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “he was definitely leaning heavy on it. Did the whole ‘Nice bar here. Be a shame if something happened to it’ shit.”

  “What’d you say?”

  He shrugged.

  I smiled a little. “You know I ain’t the cops, Roy. I’ve been coming in here for a while now. But if you particularly want to see an innocent man go to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, just go ahead and keep your mouth shut.”

  “Told him I’d think about it.” He made a pained face. “On both fronts. I ain’t exactly a fan of breaking the law, or nothing, but I ain’t exactly a fan of the government neither. Figure if I can make a few bucks, might as well.”

  I smirked. “Well, I’ll keep that part out of the file.”

  “Appreciate that.”

  “He come by since Zeke’s place burned down?”

  “Yeah, he came by. Same stupid shit-eating grin on his face. Asked if I’d reconsidered his proposal or not.”

  “Did you?”

  He ran a hand back through his longish hair. “Yeah. Look, I know you’ll probably think less of me for being willing to pay and all. But this place goes down the way they did Zeke, or I get any problems in here, I don’t know what I’ll do. You know? I mean, this is my life here.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, “I know where you’re coming from. Believe me. Pretty soon they’re gonna be leaning on my buddy and his fiancée down at the gallery. Guarantee it.”

  Roy nodded, then shook his head. “Nah, it’s still bullshit, man. This is America, we shouldn’t have to put up with that kind of shit. Whatever happened to the fucking land of the free?”

  “Would you be willing to testify about it? I mean, on Zeke’s behalf?”

  He grimaced a little.

  “That’s a no then, huh?”

  “Listen, Matt. You didn’t grow up in Colorado, right? You’re an out-of-towner. Ain’t exactly a Coloradbro, but you ain’t exactly from around here, neither.”

  “Your point?” I asked, a little irritated at the comment. It wasn’t a secret that I was from out of state, and I wasn’t ashamed by the fact. But it was still something that got brought up every month or so. Coloradans are protective, I guess, especially with all the newcomers in the last couple decades, or so—something that had become even more pronounced after the pot legalization a couple years back.

  “My point, I guess, is you don’t know these guys like we do. I grew up hearing stories about the Florentino family, about the shit they put people through for ratting on ‘em. Snitches get stitches, all that shit. Man, you just don’t get it. I cross these people, I’ll end up bad as Zeke. I try and go after them on the stand, I’ll end up even worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “Colombian Necktie, buddy,” he replied, sketching his thumbnail across his throat. “Or worse.”

  “Come on, Roy, you can’t be serious. Enough shit like this happens, the feds have got to get involved.”

  “Do they? Florentino family’s been around longer than I have, and I guarantee they’re going to be here when I’m gone.”

  “So you’re just gonna roll over, then? Let Zeke take his like a man?”

  He sniffed a little, turned away from me, and went to grab a case of liquor. “Yeah. Look, I gave you what you asked about.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “I…I hope it helps Zeke, some.”

  I groaned. Yeah, it’d help Zeke a little bit. At least I had confirmation that the Denver Mafia had been in town recently. That was more than I had coming in here, at least. But without Roy’s testimony in court or a report to the cops, it was only a lead. It wasn’t real evidence my client could put in front of a judge or jury. Just conjecture, they’d say.

  I turned to go, but stopped just as I grabbed the handle. “Hey, Roy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You got a number for these guys? A place to reach them, or some place they hang out?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he said, nodding. He pulled out his phone and read the number aloud to me. “Calls himself Reggie the Gap.”

  “Reggie the Gap?”

  Roy shrugged. “Big gap in his front teeth.”

  I gave him a look.

  “What? I didn’t come up with his stupid nickname. He came with it.”

  I stuffed my phone away and turned to leave.<
br />
  “Why’d you want his number, anyway? You gonna do something stupid?”

  “Me? Stupid?” I grinned a little. “Never, Roy. I’m the sensible one at the agency. Just gonna try and have a nice chat with Mr. Gap. See if we can’t come to some sort of an agreement.”

  Roy just shook his head. “Whatever, man. Just keep my name out of it, if you don’t mind. Got enough problems on my shoulders already, no need to pile it on even higher.”

  “Believe me, your name won’t come up once.”

  Chapter Twelve – Rebecca

  “Well there’s lover boy now,” Derrick said just as we’d finished laughing about some old high school story he’d been telling.

  My lungs seemed to seize at my friend’s mention of Matthew. I swiveled my head in the direction of Derrick’s nod, the world sluggishly following my vision like I was swimming beneath the ocean.

  The firefighter streaked through the crowd, not even looking in our direction.

  My heart slumped a little at the lack of recognition, and a frown creased my mouth as I watched him disappear into the back with Roy. I turned back to Derrick. “Didn’t even look over this way.”

  “He looked pretty intent on talking to Roy, though. Maybe he didn’t see us?”

  Not us. I crossed my arms on the table and, groaning, dropped my head onto them. Me. He didn’t see me.

  “Come on,” my partner in crime said as he cleared my empty bottle from the table, along with his own, “cheer up. You want another one?”

  “Ugh,” I mumbled as I looked up from my arms. “I really shouldn’t.”

  “Oh, come on, just one more, Becks,” he said in a singsong voice, “I’m buying still.”

  I sighed, knowing full well I was past my limit. I was petite, and couldn’t keep up with Derrick on the beer and liquor front. “Fine,” I sighed, giving in. “But just a beer. No more shots!”

  He grinned mischievously, clearly satisfied he was the victor in this, and disappeared back to the bar with both our empties in hand.

  I straightened up and sat there, my thoughts going back to Matthew. Why was he with Roy in the back? Was he following a lead? Did the bartender know something about my Uncle Zeke? All these questions began to swirl in my intoxicated brain, the alcohol fuzzing my thoughts.