by Sophie Oak
Cade looked around the bar. Yeah, it was the kind of place where a knifing would be considered an everyday activity. The crowd was rough, the owner even rougher. “It’s not like I can’t handle myself.”
Sawyer stared.
“I know how to handle myself.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll excuse me if I escort you to your bike. I don’t need more trouble with the sheriff. He doesn’t care that the place is under new management. He just cares that his wife almost died here.”
“Died?”
Sawyer shrugged. “She wouldn’t have been the first. Won’t be the last. But I try to keep the murders outside. Less cleanup that way.”
Yeah, he needed to find Lucy a new second job. “If Lucy gets raped or killed, I swear you’re going to answer to me.”
Sawyer’s eyes got infinitely dark. “Yeah, you give a shit about Luce. I bet you do. You think I haven’t seen a hundred of your kind come and go? You give a shit about her until something better comes along. I grew up with Luce. She’s like my sister. She was supposed to marry my brother.”
Lucy had been engaged? “What happened?”
A bitter smile crossed Sawyer’s face. “What happens to most of my people. Prison. Got two brothers. One’s in prison. The other’s serving time in the US Army. I don’t see the difference if you ask me. Someone had to keep our mother going, so I came home. And if you ever accuse me of hurting Luce again, I’ll break both your arms, and then we’ll see how well you work.”
“I’m just looking out for her.”
“Yeah, I see how you look out for her. You looked out for her right up to the moment that rich blonde walked into town.”
It was Cade’s turn to laugh. “I should tell you to fuck off, but it’s obvious you care about Lucy, and she’s my friend. My friend. There’s never been anything between us. And Gemma is broke. Who do you think this money is for? I’m not after her cash, dude.” Her breasts. Her hips. That sassy mouth that spit bile half the time and sucked his dick the other half. Those were the things he was after.
Sawyer sat back. “She said she was crazy about some new guy in town. She wouldn’t give me his name. I kind of thought it was you or the other one.”
“Nope. Just friends. Ty from the ski lodge likes the hell out of her, but she won’t give him the time of day.”
“Good. He’s tapped more women than I have beers.”
It wasn’t anything Cade hadn’t thought in the past. “Nope. Lucy likes to go for broke. You know who Michael McMahon is?”
Sawyer’s bronze skin flushed, and his jaw became a rigid line. Yeah, he knew who McMahon was. “I know him.”
“So you can start worrying about him and stop threatening me.”
Sawyer’s fingers drummed along the surface of the table. “Good to know. Look, man, I don’t get into town much. How about we help each other out? You tell me if Luce is getting into trouble, and I’ll let you know a little information about that tourist you and Jesse have been looking for.”
A cold chill swept through Cade. “If you know something, you better tell me right fucking now.”
“You love this girl?”
“Yeah.” It wasn’t like his love meant much, but his heart was hers and it would be until the day he died.
Sawyer looked like he didn’t want to go into it, but he finally sighed and gave it up. “Fine. We had an asshole tourist with a New York accent walk into the bar yesterday.”
Now Cade was interested. They’d scoured the local motels for Patrick. He never would have thought the urbane dickhead would dare to enter a place like Hell on Wheels. “About six foot, skinny dude?”
“He was wearing a fucking tie.”
“Yeah, that’s him. Did you talk to him?”
“At length. He was asking around. Tell me something, what did he do?”
“He tried to kill my woman.”
“Fuck. That makes sense. He came in late last night talking about needing to find a guy. I thought he was asking about drugs.”
“What exactly did he say?”
“Well, first he wanted to know what kind of wine I had. Fucking tourists. Red and white. He complained about the lack of a Sauvignon Blanc, and then he proceeded to ask where a guy could hook up. I told him if he was looking for a buddy for the night, he should go to Trio.”
Yeah, Sawyer didn’t like the sheriff and that seemed to include his partner, Zane. “Just get to the point, man.”
“Fine. He asked about everything in a real roundabout way. It was obnoxious. I kept thinking if you want drugs, just say it so I can punch you in the face and kick you out of my bar.”
“He’s a lawyer.”
“Fucking lawyers. He walked around kind of talking to the regulars. I overheard him asking where he could find a man who needed a little cash. Again, a suit walks in, I start thinking drugs. He said he needed it real bad. So, I’m thinking well-dressed junkie.”
Cade wanted to throw up. “He’s looking to hire a hit man.”
Sawyer nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that now. He’s serious about killing your woman. And he talked to one man in particular for a real long time. They sat in a booth together for over an hour. It was why I was so upset about Luce being involved with him. I thought he was making a drug deal. It wouldn’t be the first time former law enforcement went bad. Now I know it’s darker than that.”
Cade picked up the cash and shoved it back Sawyer’s way. “Put that back in the safe. I’m going to take care of a problem.”
McMahon thought he could make some quick cash by killing Gemma? Cade was going to beat that notion out of him. He would lay fists into the asshole until McMahon told Cade exactly where Patrick was.
“Hey, think about this for a second.” Sawyer tried to stop him.
Cade strode across the bar, his boots thudding on the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he heard the door open. More witnesses to the crime he was about to commit. McMahon’s head came up, looking at the door. He muttered something Cade couldn’t hear. Now the jerk was talking to himself.
Cade felt that freaking tic start up again. “Hey, McMahon. You got something to say to me?”
There was a loud bang as the front door closed, but Cade’s eyes were on McMahon. McMahon scowled as he looked up. “You motherfucker.” He turned his face down. “He’s in the wind. Asshole decided to have a conversation at the least opportune time.”
A big body rushed past Cade, slamming out the front door. Cam?
Nate Wright walked up, pulling his hat off. “Goddamn it. Why didn’t we see him?”
McMahon slid off his seat. “He was hiding.”
What the hell was going on? “Sheriff, I think Patrick Welch hired this jerk to kill Gemma.”
“I know. Why do you think he’s wired right fucking now?”
Sawyer walked up behind Cade. “What the hell is going on, Sheriff? I don’t know if you recall, but this is unincorporated territory. Don’t you think you owe me the courtesy of informing me you’re working in my business?”
“Oh, yeah, because you would be so cooperative, Sawyer. And you know this is perfectly well within my territory. When you stop catering to criminals, I’ll let you in on my operations. This isn’t your fucking kingdom.”
Sawyer loomed over the sheriff. “Damn straight it is. You watch me, Wright.”
“No. You watch me. You think I will ever forgive you for what happened to Logan here? Never. I’ll shut this place down if it’s the last thing I do.” Wright got up in the big guy’s face.
Sawyer stared down at him, rage plain on his features. “That is between me and Logan. You get the fuck out of my bar. I see you working in here and I’ll sue the whole damn town.”
Cam ran back in. “He’s gone, Nate. I’m sorry.”
“Damn it.” Wright shot Cade a nasty look. “You, come on. Mike, let’s get out of here. Let’s hope he calls again. Damn it.”
“I better not see any of you in my bar again.” Sawyer shoved the bag toward Cade, who took it. “Except you. I
want that car and the pink slip here tomorrow, and it better be in perfect shape. You know what the sheriff says about me. I don’t know why Welch came after McMahon when everyone knows I’m a killer.”
Cade looked back at Sawyer, who shouted at someone on his staff. Nate pulled him along. “What the hell is going on?”
“You just fucked everything up, Cade.”
Yeah, he got that a lot.
Chapter Seventeen
Henry Flanders opened the door with a smile that faded when he caught sight of Gemma. “Miss Wells, this is a surprise.” He shut the door behind him a little as though trying to keep whoever was inside from seeing out. “If Nell has done something to upset you, you should just get over it. I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you, but I’m not letting you hurt her feelings.”
God, she really did have a crappy reputation. “I’m not going to hurt her feelings.”
“She came here to talk to your wife. She’s not some monster.” Jesse stepped in front of her.
Nice. The Neanderthal hormones were taking over.
Henry kept the door closed. “I’ve read up on her. I know the kinds of cases she handled. I know women like my wife tend to annoy lawyers because she tries to keep them honest.”
Gemma rolled her eyes because she could feel Jesse getting brutally pissed off. If she was going to keep Henry’s head in one piece, she needed to bring in the big guns. “Nell! Nell, I’m trying to join the good fight and Henry’s standing in the way!”
Henry Flanders’s face went tight as the door opened and Nell smiled.
“Gemma! How lovely. Please come in. Henry, why didn’t you tell me we had guests?” Nell’s blouse wasn’t buttoned properly.
Henry wasn’t trying to protect his wife’s feelings. He was trying to keep from getting cock blocked. Unfortunately, she couldn’t worry about that this second. She needed answers, and Nell was the only one who might be able to help.
Jesse frowned, obviously figuring out what Gemma had. “Sorry, man.”
“Yeah.” Henry’s frown disappeared, and an evil glint appeared in his usually peaceful eyes. “It’s okay. Come on in. Nell made some lovely tofu burgers. I am sure you would love one, Jesse. We can make sure you get one while your woman is talking to mine.”
Gemma nearly laughed at the look on Jesse’s face. The meaning was clear. Jesse would be enjoying fake meat for as long as Gemma kept Nell talking. Well, unfortunately, Jesse was going to have to take one for the team.
Henry led Jesse away as Nell let Gemma into the house. Nell’s house was just about everything Gemma would have thought it would be. The roof was covered in solar panels and there was a little windmill. Inside the cabin was neat and sported a huge wall of bookshelves and all kinds of activist stuff. She had three working petitions laid out, and a bunch of stickers and T-shirts for her upcoming protest at Tremon Industries.
“How many letters have you written Tremon?” Gemma looked around the pretty living room. No TV. Was that the handle of a flogger poking out of the very sweet-looking flowered couch?
Nell used her ankle to shove the item in question out of the way. She didn’t even blush. “Probably a hundred or so. Please sit down.”
Yep, Gemma caught sight of a ball gag. Nell was a freak. It made Gemma way more comfortable. She took a seat across from Nell. “Have you ever written a firm called Giles and Knoxbury?”
“Oh, yes. Many times. I’ve been writing them for years asking them to rethink their corporate politics. I’ve asked them to review many cases and rethink taking them. It’s a horrible firm. It’s number five on my hit list. I have several hit lists.”
Gemma bet she did. Nell Flanders looked to be in her thirties, but there was a perpetual look of innocence that made her seem younger when she talked. “So they know who you are.”
“Absolutely. I’ve actually protested against the firm before in person. They were defending a corporation against a group of farmers who had their organic farms bought out under false pretenses. They were supposed to continue organic practices, but the company immediately started using pesticides.”
“Holy shit. You’re the one who sent four hundred pounds of rotten lettuce to Mr. Giles. That was legendary at the firm.” No one who worked there could possibly forget that day. Or that smell.
Nell smiled. “I was trying to make a point.”
“So they definitely know you. Tell me what you think is wrong about the Calvin Township case. And do you have any more of those pictures?” She was looking for anything to jog her memory.
Nell retrieved the photos and handed them over. “They’re mostly just family photos. I use them to humanize the victims. It’s too easy to see them as names and dates on a report. It’s harder when you see that they’re just people.”
Gemma had to agree. Nell was smart when it came to running her particular business. And apparently she had quite a reputation. It struck Gemma that she and Nell weren’t so unalike. They were both chasing something. Gemma had chased her career, and Nell chased justice. At least at the end of the day, Nell would have done something good.
Gemma looked over the photos as Nell spoke about how she became involved with the case. So many families hurt. The children were the hardest. They should have a lifetime of health, but they’d been unlucky. They’d been born in a place where the water they drank made them sick. Except it didn’t according to the EPA.
“What did the outside sources say about the water supply?” Gemma asked as she glanced at what looked like someone’s birthday party. The people were all milling around with drinks in hand, neon signs flashing behind their heads.
“We were only able to pay for one. It found the reservoir was plainly unfit for human consumption. I have a copy. Unfortunately, your firm has five separate reports that claim it’s fine. It’s going to be a hard sell. Juries don’t like scientific data as it is.”
She was right. Juries tended to sleep through lengthy scientific testimony. Getting an expert who could just tell them in simple terms whether or not the water was fine would be the key. She kept flipping through party pictures. The man in the shot smiled gamely as though he didn’t particularly want to celebrate his birthday, but wouldn’t disappoint anyone.
Everyone in the picture looked happy. Even the men in the background.
Her eyes caught on the familiar well-cut blond hair and perfect suit. Everyone else was wearing some form of Western wear, but not Patrick Welch. No. He would wear his Italian custom-cut suits even in the middle of the sticks.
Gemma turned the photo around. She pointed to the man sitting across from Patrick, though she suspected she knew the answer. “Who is this?”
It would have been easy to pay four of the experts. When Giles and Knoxbury took on a case like this, they hired at least four experts to run tests. But in this case, they were dependent on the EPA’s report as well. The EPA should have been the untouchable voice of truth.
Nell studied the photo. “Oh, that’s the man from the EPA. Kevin something. Michaels. I have it all written down. I protested him, too. I think his report was very lazy.”
It all fell into place. “His report was paid for by Giles and Knoxbury. Or rather the firm negotiated the bribe for Tremon. See that jerk-faced, son-of-a-bitch asswipe next to him? That’s Patrick Welch.”
Nell went stark white for a moment and then jumped up, her fist pumping in the air. “I knew it! Yes.” She stopped, her little dance ceasing in an instant. “Are you sure?”
Gemma shrugged. “Nope, but why else would he be trying to kill me?”
And it wasn’t just Patrick. If she’d gone back to New York, she would have been brought into the fold, maybe, but she kind of thought she would have met a very convenient mugger one night going home. He would have been paid by Giles and Knoxbury, too. And then the difficult Ice Princess wouldn’t be a threat anymore.
Nell frowned. “He tried to kill you.”
“Yep. With strawberries.”
“I don’t like that man. Str
awberries are a gift. They shouldn’t be perverted.”
Gemma kind of thought they were more like her curse, but she didn’t mention that to Nell. “You understand what this means? All we have to do is prove the EPA was bribed, get new, clean reports on Calvin Township, and you’ll win your case.”
“How do we prove it?”
Gemma already had a plan. “We follow the cash, baby. The cash always leads the way.”
And it would lead the way this time. She just knew it.
Henry emerged, a little grin on his face as Jesse followed him. “Jesse and I have had a talk and a little snack. How are you girls doing?” He glanced down at the pictures. “Calvin Township? Gemma, were you serious about the whole ‘good fight’ thing?”
At least she could still surprise someone. “Yes. Although I have to admit, I’m also happy I get to send my ex-fiancé to prison. My old firm and Tremon Industries bribed public officials to fake the reports on Calvin Township. I can’t exactly prove it, yet.”
“You need to follow the money.” Henry’s eyes suddenly became deeply shrewd. “Start with the EPA guy’s accounts. We can even tap his credit cards. See if he’s paid anything off recently. He’ll almost certainly have been paid from a front account.”
How the hell did sweet Henry Flanders know about front accounts? It was why the corporate structure was so important. Accounting practices in really large corporations could be labyrinthine, with smaller companies paying into larger ones and even tinier ones taking the losses so the main front looked good to shareholders.
Nell just smiled up at her handsome husband, hugging him. “He’s so smart.”
Yes, he was. “You ever hacked a system, Henry?”
He laughed, an “aw shucks” kind of sound. “Of course not. I barely know my way around a computer. You need to talk to Cameron. I’m sure he’ll be glad to help.”
Nell practically gleamed up at him. Henry Flanders was roughly forty years old, but there wasn’t a hint of middle-aged paunch to him. He was good looking, with a lean strength and an almost Superman-like handsomeness behind his glasses. And Gemma thought he was full of shit. If he didn’t know how to work a computer, she would eat one of those tofu burgers that seemed to have turned Jesse a nice shade of green. She’d read jurors before, and she’d put Henry Flanders firmly in the no category. He would be a harsh judge.
