The thing was, they were on opposite sides of the law when it came to most things. Being an Adorite meant Max’s wealth was built on shaky ground—the vast majority of it having been accumulated through what most considered illegal means—while Courtney was a Kogan and her family had dedicated their life’s work to protecting people through any means necessary.
It was true when they said opposites attract. And if he was being completely honest, having so much opposition on various things only spiced up a relationship. Max loved Courtney beyond measure and would move heaven and earth to take care of her. He knew she felt the same for him, which was why she could overlook some of his more illicit, and often unethical, activities.
But when it was possible to keep her out of it, Max did so. Which was why he was heading back into the house to a secure location where there wasn’t the risk of the feds catching anything he might say. After all, in order for him to grant a favor to Travis Walker, he had to call one in.
As had become the basis of his existence, Max worked on trading favors, and it always paid to have someone owe him.
Especially someone with a ruthless disregard for human existence.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Trey did his best not to stare at the man sitting across from him.
It wasn’t easy.
Hell, staying away from Magnus had proved futile, despite Trey’s insistence that celibacy was the only answer.
Yeah, it was safe to say it was off the table at this point. For the past week, he and Magnus had been hooking up routinely, missing only a day or two because of conflicting schedules. Their interludes were always at Trey’s and they never resulted in an overnight. Sure, they would often pass out after, but Magnus was always gone by morning.
And most importantly, they were keeping their encounters on the DL. Trey did not want it to get back to his brother or anyone else what was going on. He didn’t want to deal with anyone’s judgment or concern. If he wanted to fuck Magnus with no strings attached, by God, he was going to do it.
As he sat there, fighting the urge to look at Magnus, Trey wondered whether or not there was any privacy at the back of the small plane. It was bigger than he’d thought it would be. A Gulfstream rather than a puddle jumper, so he figured it was safe to say there was at least one room at the back.
Did they have enough time to bang one out real quick? Would anyone notice they were gone?
Okay, so the answer to the last one was most likely. After all, if one person moved, everyone saw them. So maybe the better question was: would it matter if they did see? As long as they had privacy, Trey could pretend they were just chatting about the case.
Brantley would believe that.
Maybe.
Oh, who the fuck cared?
Trey figured there was only one way to find out.
Once they were at cruising altitude, Trey unbuckled his seat belt, got to his feet. He shot a heated look at Magnus before walking to the back, praying that no one else was paying any attention. It would’ve been hard for them not to considering their close quarters, but still Trey pretended Brantley, Reese, and Baz were too preoccupied or too uninterested to pay them any mind.
Sure enough, aside from a small bathroom, there was also a room that appeared to be utilized as an office. It was no more than fifteen square feet max, but it was more than enough room to—
Trey’s thoughts were cut off instantly when Magnus appeared, stepping into the space and gently closing the door. Like their other encounters, they were instantly on one another, lips crashing, tongues thrashing.
“I take it you’re glad to see me,” Magnus muttered against his mouth, already ripping at Trey’s jeans.
“I’ll be happy to see your mouth on my dick,” he countered, gripping Magnus’s hair firmly in his fist.
Magnus’s hazel eyes glittered with heat as Trey guided him to his knees, ensuring he held tight to his hair, wanting him to feel the pain, to know exactly who was in charge now.
Trey watched as Magnus unbuttoned and unzipped him. The man was sexy as fuck, there was no doubt about that. And his mouth… Fucking hell, he had some serious talent. Talent Trey fully intended to take advantage of.
When Magnus freed his cock, Trey exhaled heavily, then inhaled sharply when those lips wrapped around him, enveloping him in soft, wet heat. He never looked away, guiding Magnus’s head, feeding his cock deep into Magnus’s throat.
“God, you’re fuckin’ good at that,” he mumbled, forcing his eyes not to roll back in his head from the pleasure of it.
He thrust his hips, fucking Magnus’s face, knowing they only had a few minutes alone before the others would wonder where they were. He focused his attention on the sexy sight before him, the way Magnus’s eyes bulged when Trey hit the back of his throat. He did it again and again until he couldn’t hold back.
With a grunt, he pushed his hips forward and came right down Magnus’s throat.
Trey didn’t get the chance to linger in post-orgasm bliss, righting his clothes as Magnus got to his feet.
But before Magnus could slip out, Trey pushed him up against the wall and kissed him again. He lingered longer than before, the razor-sharp edge now dulled.
“I look forward to you payin’ me back for that later,” Magnus whispered against his mouth.
Trey pulled back, grinned. “You’re not the only one.”
He let Magnus leave the room ahead of him, then waited a couple of minutes. He glanced down to ensure his clothes weren’t askew, then when he figured the coast was clear, Trey stepped out.
It took effort not to smile.
More so not to think about when they were going to have a chance to do that again.
The one-hour flight was uneventful, allowing Reese to catch a few minutes of sleep when Brantley did. He figured Brantley’s reasons had more to do with his training than anything. He’d once mentioned, during his time with the Teams, they were forced to catch sleep when they could during missions. A skill that was obviously still ingrained in him.
When they touched down, they found Decker Bromwell waiting.
“This is the best I could do,” Deck informed them, gesturing toward a ten-year-old Ford Taurus, a seen-better-days Honda Odyssey, and what had probably once been a relatively nice BMW.
“If you were goin’ for inconspicuous, you did good,” Brantley told him.
“And if you were goin’ for reliable, you probably failed miserably,” Baz noted.
“They run,” Deck assured them. “Maybe not for long, but they’ll get the job done.”
Reese was betting they’d crap out sooner rather than later, but for now, they would do. No one expected them to be here long, so if they were lucky, it wouldn’t matter.
“Do we know where she was last seen?” Brantley asked, accepting a set of keys from Deck.
“We’ve got one sighting of her at the Starbucks, another nearby. Two different days.”
“So it’s safe to assume she’s stayin’ somewhere around there?”
“There’s not much ground to cover, to be honest. She could be stayin’ anywhere, including on South Padre for all we know.”
“We’re gonna assume she’s here,” Reese told him. “And we’re gonna do a grid search accordingly. There’s six of us. We go door to door, business to business. Someone’s seen her. It’s just a matter of gettin’ to her before she realizes we’re here.”
“Baz and Deck, y’all can start from the south, work your way north,” Brantley instructed. “Trey and Magnus, work west to east. We’ll take north to south, meet somewhere in the middle.”
Reese opened his go-bag, pulled out a sealed plastic bag, and passed it to Magnus. “We were able to get some of Juliet’s things. If you’re lucky, that’ll have her scent.”
“We’ll see what we can do,” Magnus said, taking the bag. “Adira’s my best, so if she can be tracked, she’ll find her.”
Reese hoped that was the case. He honestly wanted this to be over.
W
hile they were standing in the parking lot at the private airstrip, another plane came in for a landing, this one smaller than the one they’d come in on.
“Just FYI, this isn’t a busy place,” Deck noted. “I’ve been here for two hours and there’ve been no other planes in or out.”
Now there were two in a short time.
“No sense in stickin’ around to see who it is,” Brantley said, glancing at Reese.
Reese agreed. If that happened to be someone sent by Max Adorite, it would be best for them to hit the ground running. Even a few minutes in front of them might help.
Still, he kept his eyes on the plane as they piled into the cars and drove away. No one exited and they didn’t pass any vehicles sent to pick up a passenger. Maybe he was overthinking this. It was possible the plane was coming to pick someone up, take them to their destination.
“Let’s focus on the task at hand,” Brantley said. “We can’t control what Max Adorite does.”
“You’re right.”
“Plus, we should have a couple of hours on him.”
Reese didn’t bother to mention Max wouldn’t be the one flying down here. They wouldn’t be waiting for someone coming from Dallas. Knowing Max, he would call in a favor from someone local. Perhaps someone in Mexico.
For all they knew, that person could already be there.
Brantley wasted no time heading for the most populated places. He figured if they did end up going house to house, that would be their last resort. For now he wanted to focus on the businesses, mainly restaurants and motels.
He steered the BMW into the first motel they saw, pulling into a spot near the main office.
It was a single-story setup, probably two dozen rooms if he had to guess. There were a couple of cars and one motorcycle parked in spaces in front of the rooms, but other than that, the parking lot was empty. He saw no one, only a housekeeping cart stopped outside the first room behind the office structure.
Brantley walked into the motel office, leaving Reese to keep an eye out in the parking lot.
“Welcome,” a man with thinning hair and a bushy gray beard greeted. “What can I help you with?”
Brantley held up the picture of Juliet Prince, pressed it to the plexiglass barrier. “Have you seen this woman?”
The man leaned in to get a better look, squinting. He didn’t bother to put on the glasses that were dangling around his neck.
“She looks familiar,” he said, still staring.
“She’s probably changed her hair color, maybe cut it.”
“Yeah,” he said with a nod, standing tall once more. “Sure. That could be Mary Smith.”
Mary Smith? Very original, Juliet.
Before the man could elaborate, the phone on his desk rang.
“Excuse me a minute,” the man said, turning to snatch the receiver up.
Brantley glanced around, looking out the windows as a Ford truck was pulling into the lot. He couldn’t make out the driver as it puttered past, coughing black smoke in its wake.
“Sorry ’bout that,” the manager said.
Brantley turned back around. “You said this might be Mary Smith,” he prompted.
“Oh, right. Yes. But her hair’s red now. Pretty shade, too.” The man smiled, revealing a missing left incisor. “You’re the second person whose been in here lookin’ for her today.”
Second?
Brantley sighed. “Do you have a description of the other guy?”
“Mexican fellow. Tattoos. Didn’t speak much English.” The man looked skeptical when he asked, “Are you with the police?”
“No, sir. I’m with a private investigation firm.”
“And what do you want with Mary?”
Brantley figured telling him the woman was wanted for murder could send him into a panic, so he opted for another logical explanation. “Her family hired us to find her.” He added some sympathy to his tone. “They’re worried.”
That was the right way to go based on the way the man’s face softened somewhat. “She does look sad sometimes. Probably misses them, too.”
Because they were wasting time and Brantley didn’t want to risk Juliet seeing them, he urged the man for more information. “Can you tell me what room she’s stayin’ in?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t—”
Brantley’s cell phone rang. He held up his finger for the man to wait, then answered with a gruff, “Walker.”
“You’ve got exactly twenty minutes,” the deep voice said.
“Who is this?”
“Nice to make your acquaintance, Brantley Walker. My name’s Max Adorite.”
Leaving the balding man and his various excuses behind him, Brantley walked back out to the parking lot, moving toward the car where Reese was currently standing.
“What happens in twenty minutes?” Brantley asked, mouthing to Reese that Max was on the phone as he put it on speaker.
“One of two things, I figure.”
Brantley scanned the parking lot.
“Options, I assume?”
“You’re as good as Travis says you are.”
He sighed heavily, ensuring Max heard his frustration.
“If you look across the parking lot, you’ll see a late-model Ford truck.”
Brantley was already looking at the truck, noting the driver was still in it but it was now backed into a spot at the back of the lot.
“In twenty minutes, the fine gentleman in that truck is gonna go inside room 114 and he’s gonna deal with some business. For him to do so, it would be ideal for you and your friends to head on over to the Starbucks, where there are security cameras. Those cameras are gonna record you and your friends buyin’ coffee.”
Brantley looked at Reese. “Or?”
“Or you’ve got nineteen minutes now to go to room 114 and do whatever you feel is necessary with the heinous bitch who’s inside at this very moment.”
Max Adorite was giving them the choice of apprehending Juliet Prince or providing them with an alibi.
“It’s your choice, Brantley.”
“Does Travis know about this?”
“At this very moment, Travis and his husband are at the resort where they are bein’ caught on camera going about their daily lives, runnin’ their business. He’s well aware of the options and he informed me to leave the decision-makin’ to you. Like I said, your choice. Eighteen minutes and counting.”
The call ended, leaving Brantley to look at Reese.
He wished he could pretend it was a no-brainer, that they needed to storm that motel room and call the police. But the truth was, that wasn’t Brantley’s first thought.
However, he was leaving the final decision-making up to Reese because, when it came down to it, Reese’s conscience was clearer.
Neither of them said anything for a moment, then Reese pulled out his phone, dialed.
“Hey, Baz…”
Brantley waited, holding his breath.
“Meet us over at Starbucks in fifteen. Let’s regroup.”
Exhaling heavily, Brantley avoided looking at room 114 or the older-model Ford truck with the not-so-kind-looking gentleman behind the wheel. Instead, he walked around to the driver’s side, slid into the car.
A minute later, they were backing out of the parking lot, Reese making the same call to Trey.
Juliet was beginning to enjoy her time in this small port city.
It was too bad she had to leave. If it weren’t for the fact she’d felt as though someone was watching her, this would’ve been the perfect place to settle in for a while. Well, mainly for the reason that it wasn’t too crowded. Aside from that, it was a dump. And maybe also, despite the fact most of the people were desperately lower class, they were polite to her, which made them easier to tolerate. She could almost see herself interacting with them for a little while. Until she could get her new identity established, at least. At that point, she wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.
Although the news story about the reward
for her capture had died down somewhat, she knew there were still people out there willing to jump at the chance to get their grubby hands on that money. For them, the story would never die. Which meant she had to keep moving, preferably somewhere that didn’t get the local news.
Until that time, a few days in one spot was all she could afford. This was already day five, and she knew she was pushing her luck every extra minute she was here. She’d originally intended to be in Mexico by now, figuring they wouldn’t care much about what was going on in the US, certainly not in some Podunk little town. She could sip margaritas for a while before venturing back to the States to finish her business with Travis Walker once and for all. Only she knew she couldn’t simply walk in through a checkpoint.
But the good news was, just a little while ago, she’d finally found someone willing to fly her into Mexico, no questions asked. It had been pure luck she’d been having lunch at the only restaurant in town when she overheard a man on the phone. At first she hadn’t understood him because he spoke in Spanish, but then he had started talking in heavily accented English. If it wasn’t for the fact he was talking about a charter plane, she never would’ve approached him. He was not the sort she would talk to on a good day. He was obviously not American, and all those tattoos … they’d given her the creeps.
But Juliet had sucked it up out of necessity.
Of course, he’d been more than willing to do her bidding when she’d offered him money. Juliet had seen the gleam in his eyes. The guy was lowlife scum, probably worked for one of the cartels and would take any tiny crumb she threw his way, so she’d made him an offer she knew he wouldn’t refuse. Two thousand dollars to fly her over the border. He hadn’t even batted an eyelash before saying yes, only asking for half up-front, the other half when he picked her up to take her to the airport.
As much as she despised the idea of being anywhere near the guy, it worked in her favor and that was all that mattered. She just needed a few months off the grid, some time to catch her breath. At that point, she would pick up where she left off. Eventually Travis Walker would move on with his life, forget she was a threat. At that point, she’d have him right where she wanted him.
Alibi Page 20
