by Jen Talty
He took out his cell and texted Clayton to make sure he took care of this situation before turning on that damn phone. Kick couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to another innocent person on his watch. “Until recently, I hadn’t thought I did.”
“What changed your mind?”
“You.” That was not the answer he expected to fly from his lips. He yanked on the reins, bringing Bradley to a stop at a fence in front of the playhouse. “If you were pregnant, would you want the baby?”
She opened her mouth three times. Her eyes grew wide, and her lashes blinked wildly. “Can we wait to have that discussion when I know one way or the other?”
“But that will most likely happen after all this is over and you’re back in Florida.”
She tossed her leg over, dismounting the horse. One of the kids, yelling her name, came barreling in their direction. “I won’t lie to you about that. I’m not that kind of person. But I honestly have no idea how I feel about it, and my mind is on my brother, Asia, and Monty right now.”
He tied up the horses before resting his hands on Cassandra’s hips. “I understand. And I won’t push. But it’s something we need to consider and talk about.”
“We will.”
He held her gaze for a long moment. She tilted her head, and the sun’s rays caught her shiny black hair, making it sparkle.
“You’re a beautiful woman and I…oh, screw it.” He heaved her toward his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. He slipped his tongue between her plump lips. Her hot mouth tasted like a fresh meadow after a spring rain shower.
A deep moan trickled from her mouth to his. Her hands pressed hard against his pecs, her fingers digging into his muscles, then she fisted his shirt, and he braced himself for her giving him a big shove.
Only she drew him closer, if that was possible.
“Cassandra!” a squeaky voice called.
Kick took a step back, wiping his lips as he watched Cassandra bend over and scoop up a little girl in her arms.
“Hey, Betsy.” Cassandra gave the girl a big kiss on the cheek.
He took a step back as a swarm of fifteen children basically attacked Cassandra with hugs and kisses.
Yeah. Kids might be nice.
He’d lost his flipping mind.
Chapter 9
“Why don’t you kids head on home,” Kick said.
Cassandra resented how easy it had become to be around Kick. She wanted it to be awkward. Or intolerable.
She wanted to hate him.
Only she found herself wanting to take him by the hand, lead him into the bedroom of the playhouse, and do unspeakable things to him, all in the name of getting him out of her system. Had she not been so damn desperate to feel him inside her, she wouldn’t be in this mess.
“Okay,” one of the little girls said. “See ya, Miss Cassandra.”
“Say hello to your folks.”
“You kids might want to get inside. Looks like rain.”
Cassandra glanced to the sky and frowned. Only a couple of clouds, and they weren’t dark. She followed Kick into the ship and into the galley kitchen. “Why did you tell them it was going to rain?”
“I told Clayton to radio the ranch hands. We have to assume the bad guys are going to show up here at some point. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Makes sense,” she said, but she knew there was more to that story.
“I would have loved to have been a little boy growing up in this place.” Kick sat cross-legged on the floor. If he stood, he would surely hit his head. “The woodwork in this place is fantastic. Your father did all of it?”
“Most of it.” She opened the cabinets above the working sink, pulling down all the plastic plates and bowls. “I wish I knew why my brother mentioned this place. So far, I haven’t found anything out of place. And the new things he mentioned, well, the only thing I see that my father replaced are these cabinets.”
“They aren’t store-bought, that’s for damn sure.” Kick stretched out on the floor, putting his hands behind his head as he stared out the porthole.
Jerk.
The least he could do was help look.
“But the craftmanship isn’t as precise as what I saw on the playhouse,” he said.
“During the summer months, my father has a program for troubled teens. Every year he gives them a project. This past one must have been a woodworking shop.”
“Now I know where you got your big heart for the underdog.” His boot rubbed against the back of her thigh.
It was a tender gesture and when she glanced over her shoulder, it became impossible not to smile. “He started it when I was in middle school after a young, energetic deputy brought me home after me and my friends were caught cow tipping.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. Seriously? Cow tipping? Come on, I can think of better things to get busted doing.” He rolled to his side, propping his head on his hand while he pushed open one of the cabinets under the sink.
“So can I and thankfully, I wasn’t busted for those things. My father would have locked me up and tossed away the key. He used to always say I was the reason his hair had thinned.” She moved over to the next cupboard, shifting the serving trays around, but found nothing.
Kick stuck his head between her legs.
She looked down, giving him the evil eye.
“Hey. I’m just trying to look under the sink.” He shimmied, sticking his head in the cabinet. “I’ve got something.” He reached in, shoving her legs to the side.
She flapped her arms like a wild animal as she lost her balance. “Shit,” she mumbled, trying to grab ahold of the counter, but her fingers couldn’t grip the slippery material.
He reached up and grabbed her by the thighs.
Thud!
“God damn it,” he yelled right after he smacked his head trying to sit up.
Her ass landed on his legs, and he groaned.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Not as much as my head, or my shins. Thank God you missed the crown jewels.”
She helped him to a sitting position. “This place isn’t made for grown-ups.” Running her fingers through his soft hair, she told herself she was looking for cuts or bumps, only he’d smacked his forehead, which only had a slight red mark. “What did you find?”
He held up a white eight-by-eleven envelope that had her name on it.
“That’s my brother’s handwriting.” She reached for the package with a shaky hand, but quickly yanked it back before her fingers could curl around it.
“Want me to open it?”
She shook her head. “I need to do it.”
“All right.” He set it on the floor with the clasp facing up. Leaning against the wall, he put his arm on her shoulder and massaged gently.
Taking in a few deep, calming breaths, she shook out her hands. “I wonder when he hid this.”
“Open it,” Kick said with a commanding voice.
She peeled back the metal clasp and pulled out a stack of papers. On the top was another handwritten note.
“What does it say?” Kick asked.
Clenching the note in a death grip, she cleared her throat.
“Cassandra,
I hate to say this, but if you’re reading this, I’m probably dead.”
“Jesus.” She leaned against Kick in search of his strength and support. His strong arms circled her body, giving her a whole lot more.
“I’m going to assume you were either able to decipher my note or Monty did. Either way, remember Bear and Swede from the Brotherhood Protectors? I need you to take these papers to them. They will know what to do. Go quick. Don’t wait. These people won’t hesitate to kill you. I’m sorry I put you in danger, but I didn’t know where else to turn. I thought about coming back here, but I didn’t want to bring this kind of trouble to Mom and Dad, so I had to take drastic measures. I hope it will all make sense soon.
See you on the flip side.
Karl.”
&
nbsp; “What does he mean by that last statement?” Kick took the stack of papers and started thumbing through them.
Well, he was the Brotherhood Protectors.
“Something we used to say to each other as kids when we would play truck drivers.”
“That’s a thing?” He glanced in her direction with pursed lips as if he’d just eaten something sour.
“Had we stuck with it, my dad would have built us trucks. But the game got boring. Anyway, it’s something we heard in an old movie about truckers. See you, or catch you, on the flip side means see you when I return.”
“But he started it by saying he was probably dead…holy shit.”
“What?” She tried to grab the papers from Kick’s hands.
“This is all information on Maxwell Bugsy’s illegal sports betting operation. Ledgers, documentation on who tossed what game, and how much Bugsy and his constituents collected.” Kick handed her one piece of paper. “Including bets placed on your brother’s games. The ones he lost, and the ones he didn’t.” Kick pointed to a number. “It appears that’s the number Maxwell lost on the bet he placed on your brother’s final game.”
“This is why my brother and his wife are dead?” She dropped her head back and squeezed her eyes tight, keeping the tears from streaming down her cheeks.
“It appears so. What we need to do now is get this stuff to my boss as well as a federal agent. And then we need to call the medical examiner and detective in charge of the case.”
She took the hand that Kick offered and followed him to the main deck of the pirate ship. “You think they were both murdered?” she asked.
He took her by the shoulders, gazing into her eyes with the kind of softness he had the first time they met. “The second someone shot at us at your friend’s house, I knew something didn’t add up. Now we just have to prove it.”
She raised up on her tiptoes. “Thank you, Kick.”
He cupped her chin. “There is nothing to thank me for. I’m just doing my job.”
“You weren’t doing your job when you shared a couple of movies with me or took me to Monty’s. I don’t think I could have survived this without you.”
“You shouldn’t count your eggs before they hatch,” a strange voice said.
Kick shoved her behind his body. She peeked over his shoulder and stared at five men, holding semi-automatic weapons, all pointed directly at her. “I didn’t turn my brother’s phone on since the cabin. I swear.”
“I know,” Kick said softly as he raised his hands. “I did.”
The only question Kick had at this very second was: where was his team?
He had no idea what he thought they would find on the pirate ship and while he suspected the murder/suicide had been a setup, he hadn’t figured out why.
Now he knew why, and he worried they had jumped the gun on bringing the bad guys here, especially now that guns were aimed at Cassandra. He also was concerned about the children. When he’d made the decision to turn Karl’s phone on, it had been to draw the bad guys to the main house, not the pirate ship.
“You did what?” She shoved her fist into his back. He wasn’t sure what was worse, that her nails scratched his skin, or the fact he was outmanned and outgunned. He scanned the area, grateful the children had scattered toward the houses, and a few woman gathered them up, bringing them inside and closing the doors. If things went according to plan, the locals were on their way.
That should be good news, only his plan had already been altered. As long as Clayton had his eyes on him through the security system, things would work out.
“I didn’t do it but instructed Clayton to do so the second we left.” He kept his hands held high as he made his way down the staircase and onto the grassy area between the playhouse and the ship, the family homes hidden on the other side, Cassandra still neatly tucked behind his back.
“So, you wanted them to come and kill us?” she asked.
“Yes to the first part, absolutely not to the killing part.” He kept his motions slow and methodical. “Are the documents still in your hand?”
“No. I dropped them on the deck.”
He would have done the same thing, so he appreciated her instincts. Only, in this case, it might have been better to keep them. “This could be interesting. Promise me you’ll follow my lead.”
“That all depends on how you handle this,” she said. “Of course, if we wind up dead, I’m blaming you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stopped at the base of the platform. Birds flew overhead. The tree branches rustled in the slight breeze. He searched for any sign that Clayton had the troops in place. It was short notice to assemble anyone, but the Brotherhood Protectors reach was far and wide. All he needed were a few strategically placed snipers, and he was golden.
Of course, the drone that Clayton was supposed to put in the air would be nice, but he didn’t want to see it.
“I think you have something that belongs to me,” one of the men said as he stepped from the sun, into a shady spot.
Maxwell.
“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.” Kick reached behind his back and rested his hand on Cassandra’s hip, pulling her as close as he could.
“I know my son-in-law hid some very important paperwork of mine somewhere around here. I think you just found it.” Maxwell inched forward. His finger hovered over the trigger, while he pointed his weapon at the center of Kick’s chest.
Kick raised his free hand. “Again, we don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t be a fool,” Maxwell said. He nodded toward one of the other men. “Go find them.”
“All right, well, we’ll just be on our way.” He knew there was no way Maxwell would just let him and Cassandra walk. That’s not how these things worked. That said, if he didn’t put that thought out there, he wouldn’t be playing his part.
Maxwell smiled, showing off perfectly straight, overly white teeth. They would probably glow in the dark, they were so bright. He wore a yellow button-down shirt and dark slacks. It was amazing he wasn’t covered in dirt and sweat. He took a large step forward, jutting his weapon out in front. “Oh, we’ll let you walk…walk right into the trunk of my limo, where we will find a great spot to dispose of your bodies.”
“That wouldn’t be too smart on your part,” Kick said. “People would come looking for me, and when my people find my body, it won’t bode too well for you, or your people.”
“Shut up.” Maxwell poked the long end of his rifle in Kick’s gut.
“Got it, boss,” another man said, waving the stack of papers in the air.
“Is it all there?” Maxwell asked.
“It is,” the other man said.
Maxwell pushed the gun harder against Kick’s stomach. “Any other copies?”
“None that I know of,” Kick said.
“What about you, pretty lady? Know of any other copies?” Maxwell licked his lips.
Kick fisted his hands.
“That’s the only copy,” Cassandra said with a confident tone, but her hands shook against his back. “I have a question for you.”
Oh no. Kick didn’t need her egging Maxwell on. But he wasn’t sure how to stop her at this point.
“Yeah? What’s that?” Maxwell asked.
“Did you kill my brother and your daughter just over these documents? Or was there something else?”
Maxwell tossed his head back and laughed. “What a silly question, my dear. First, I didn’t kill either of them. Your brother murdered my daughter in cold blood and then turned the gun on himself. I can’t imagine what overcame him to do such a thing.” He pounded his chest. “I’m heartbroken over the entire thing. Now let’s move. I want to get the hell out of this godforsaken state.”
“Let her go and take me. I’m worth more.”
Maxwell laughed. “I can’t sell you on the black market. She’s a bit old, but I’m sure I can find someone overseas willing to pay decent money for her.�
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“Over my fucking dead body.” Kick clenched his fists.
Maxwell’s men had circled them, leaving him very few options.
“That can be arranged.” Maxwell lifted his gun, pressing it against Kick’s temple.
He sucked in a breath as the cold metal sent a shiver down his spine. A sharp pain rattled his teeth when Maxwell smacked him across the face with the butt of the rifle. He fell to his knees, spitting out blood. His vision blurred. He blinked, trying to focus as he pushed up off the ground, only to be kicked in the gut.
He groaned, clutching his stomach. Lying on his side, he watched in horror as Maxwell grabbed Cassandra by the arm. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Right,” Maxwell said, shoving Cassandra forward. “Beat him to within inches of his life and then leave him by the woods’ edge. I want the animals to finish him off.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Clayton’s voice came in loud and clear, but Kick couldn’t get a visual.
“Who the fuck is that?” Maxwell grabbed Cassandra by the hair.
Kick wiped the blood from his lips as he stood on wobbly legs, grateful that Maxwell and his men were more concerned about finding the source of the voice. Although, Kick could do without Maxwell having his dirty hands all over Cassandra.
“You don’t remember me?” Clayton stepped into view from behind the playhouse. He held his hands in the air.
No weapon.
That meant he had backup.
Good to know.
He just wished he knew exactly where everyone was hidden.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Maxwell dragged Cassandra by the hair as he inched closer to Clayton. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Making good on a promise.” Clayton made eye contact with Kick. They might not have worked together very long, or on many assignments, but one thing Kick knew for sure, Clayton had his back. Clayton shifted his gaze to the south and then to the west, before his eyes diverted to the sky. “Do you remember what I told you at my mother’s funeral?”
