Cat

by Carolina Mac

  “Did he pressure you after he proposed?”

  “A little, at first, but then I became so busy with all the events leading up to the inauguration, he eased up.”

  “How long were you seeing him when he first started talking about a permanent arrangement?”

  “Umm… only a few weeks, if I remember correctly.”

  “This was before the election?”

  “Hmm… November. No. I think it was right after.”

  Blaine nodded.

  “Uh huh. I get why you’re asking me these questions. I was naïve, wasn’t I?”

  “Maybe a little.”

  The waiter brought the food and they ate in silence for a few minutes.

  “The Capitol is unfamiliar ground for me. Trying to adjust to a new life on top of the Reg disaster, I’m so thankful I have you to talk to, sweetie. You mean the world to me.”

  Blaine smiled. “Thanks.”

  Ranger Headquarters. Austin.

  FARRELL stopped by Chief Calhoun’s office after visiting Sue in the lab.

  “Did they have anything for y’all downstairs?”

  “Sue thinks the killer or killers wore gloves. Came prepared with their own weapons and left nothing behind. A planned execution with a dose of torture thrown in. They wanted Reg to tell them something and he might have, but they killed him anyway. We don’t have a lot to work with.”

  “Professionals,” said the Chief. “We never solve those.”

  “Has the autopsy been scheduled?”

  The Chief checked a list on his desk. “Tomorrow at three.”

  “I’ll take another run at the guy I shot in the leg,” said Farrell, “but he wasn’t about to cave when I went to the hospital. Hollered for a PD, cursed at me and wouldn’t talk.”

  “I think they transferred him,” said the Chief. “He might be downstairs in the infirmary.”

  “Handy. I’ll check before I leave.”

  “Y’all think the attempted mugging and the murder are related?”

  “Gotta be, Chief. No way around it.”

  Calhoun grinned. “You sound like Blacky.”

  DOWNSTAIRS at the lockup infirmary, Farrell showed his ID to the nurse in charge and she showed him where Vince Mills was reclining.

  “Hey, Vince, how’s the leg?” Farrell asked with a grin.

  “You shot me, you fucking asshole. Get away from me.” Vince jerked his left fist and the cuff clanked against the bed rail.

  “I’m giving you a chance for a lighter sentence, Vince. Tell me who sent you after Bromwell and I’ll talk to the DA for you.”

  “Bullshit. Things don’t work that way in the real world.”

  “I did you a favor, Vince,” said Farrell. “A huge one, man.”

  “You call shooting me in the fuckin leg a favor?” Vince spit at him and Farrell backed up laughing.

  “If I hadn’t shot you, your boss might have sent you to kill Bromwell. Oh, yeah. He’s dead, and one of your crew killed him.” Farrell pointed, “But we know it wasn’t you, Vince. You should thank me. I gave you an airtight alibi.”

  San Antonio.

  ANNIE picked Jack the Junker up at Blaine’s place before noon and headed down I-35 to San Antonio towing her bike trailer behind her old dark blue Ram.

  “Any thoughts on how we should get started?” asked Jack.

  “The bar is the most likely casual encounter,” said Annie. “A place called Flynn’s a couple blocks from the clubhouse.”

  “Does Blaine know you’re on it?”

  “He’ll figure it out.”

  “Do you think he’ll be pissed?”

  “Why?” Annie laughed, “Does my son scare you?”

  “He has a short fuse,” said Jack. “Not much scares me, but Blaine comes close.” Jack pointed at a couple of hotels as they passed. “Where should we stay?”

  “Somewhere upscale where I can take a lot of showers,” said Annie. “I’m going to be rolling with pigs.”

  Jack made a face. “Jesus, girl. You don’t have to do this you know.”

  “I do. I thought The Rule was dead and here we go again. That club is like a snake that keeps growing new heads.”

  They checked into the Riverwalk Hotel and had dinner, then Annie laid down for an hour’s nap before getting dressed for her mission. She changed into her leathers, brushed her hair and tied a red bandana around her head. A healthy spray of perfume and she was ready to take on The Rule.

  “Let me take another look at the pictures before we go.”

  Jack had placed the mug shots on the table in the corner of the room and they had spent time studying them to become familiar with the men they were dealing with.

  The president, Paul Langois, was tall with shoulder-length dark hair, muscular and not bad looking. The VP, Shaky Goldsmith was shorter, long stringy blond hair and a matching moustache and beard. The enforcer, Dougie the Dog, was a handsome looking guy. Dark brown hair, longish, but not long, clean shaven and muscled up.

  If she had to get close to somebody it would be Dougie or Paul. Race had mentioned Dougie a few times over the years. They had been friends, even when Dougie was in a different club. Rare because Race didn’t have friends. In his line of work, friends didn’t last too long. Kill or be killed. You were the killer or the corpse—one or the other.

  Annie was on her way out of the room when her cell rang. It was Blaine. “Hi, sweetheart, where are you?”

  “I’m at home, Mom. Jack is gone so I’m presuming he’s with you. Are you in San Antone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please be careful. I love you and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’ll be careful, sugar pop. Tonight, is just a meet and greet, nothing more.”

  “Make sure Jack is on his toes and has one in the chamber.”

  “I will.”

  FLYNN’S parking lot was packed with rows of shiny Harleys when they arrived. Annie parked her bike in a narrow spot and Jack parked the truck a couple rows away. They were both armed and had worked out a loose plan. Annie would sit alone in a booth where Jack could see her plainly from where he sat at the bar. Any hint of trouble and he would call it in and pull Annie out when the bikers ran from the cops. Bikers always beat it when the sirens arrived—like clockwork.

  She ordered a Lone Star and figured it would be the only one she had to pay for. In past experience, drinks came flying her way as soon as she hit the bar—any bar. She couldn’t help the way she looked. It was a cross she had to bear.

  It was almost eleven before six members of The Rule showed up. They filled up a couple of booths not far from her and she could hear them talking and laughing. Two different guys had sent her drinks already and then followed up with personal visits to her table. She told them she was waiting for someone, and they wanted to know who. Maybe all the bikers who hung out at Flynn’s knew each other.

  With the Rule crew in place it was time for her first trip of the night to the ladies’ room. She slung her purse over her shoulder and walked the walk. Ready for the hooting and the whistles, she didn’t turn her head or acknowledge the bikers in any way. Annie had her methods and they had always worked in the past. Men were men. Predictable.

  She used the facilities, washed her hands and checked her look in the mirror before leaving. Prepared for a guy to be waiting in the hallway—it had happened so many times before—she wasn’t surprised to see Dougie the Dog leaning under the light smoking.

  “Hey, baby, can I buy you a drink?” He flashed her a gorgeous smile.

  “I have a beer waiting for me, but thanks anyway.” She walked past him, and he followed but didn’t touch her.

  That’s amazing.

  Annie returned to her booth and sat down. Not waiting for an invitation, Dougie sat down across from her and waved at the waitress. “Bring us a pitcher, Sandy.”

  “Sure thing, Dougie.”

  “What’s your name, beautiful girl?”

  “Portia.”

  “Fancy n
ame for a fancy girl.”

  Annie sipped her beer and sized Dougie up. He was a hunk.

  “What are you doing here by yourself?”

  “Who says I’m by myself?”

  “I don’t see anybody with you, girl.”

  “I was waiting for somebody, but maybe they got busy and couldn’t make it.” She shrugged.

  “Lucky for me.” He filled a glass and drank it down. “Have you had dinner?”

  “I ate a while ago.”

  He set his glass down and focused on her. “I need to eat.”

  “Order something.”

  He smiled. “What if I don’t want to eat here?”

  “Don’t.”

  He chuckled. “You are brightening up my day, girl.”

  “Did you have a bad day, Dougie?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You know my name?”

  “The waitress called you by name.”

  “Oh, yeah, she did.” He reached across the table and touched her hand. “It sounds a lot sexier when you say it.”

  “Dougie, are you coming?” hollered one of his boys.

  “Your crew is calling you.” Annie pulled her hand away.

  “I heard but I’m ignoring them.”

  “You a big ladies’ man, Dougie?”

  “Not too much. No time for romance.”

  “But you got time tonight?” Annie sipped her beer and watched the wheels turning in Dougie’s head. Doing what they all did—figuring out a way to get her alone.

  Here it comes.

  “There’s a barbeque place down the street and I’m starving. Would you come with me?”

  “Maybe another night.”

  He nodded.

  A couple members of the Rule grew impatient and strode towards their table. Dougie waved them off. “I’ll be there in a minute.” His jaw was set in a hard line and Annie could sense the anger and the physical power in him.

  “I better go,” she said. She picked up her purse and slid out of the booth.

  He pulled out his phone and said, “I need your cell number.”

  Annie rhymed off her number.

  “Can I walk you out?”

  “No need.”

  “I want to.”

  She smiled and took his hand. Big hand, hard and calloused from the weights. “Come on then.”

  They went out the back way into the parking lot and Annie knew Jack would be close by if she needed him. She walked to her bike and stashed her purse in the left saddlebag.

  “Nice color.”

  “You mean girly colour?”

  Dougie grinned. “I didn’t say it out loud.”

  Annie threw her right leg over her bike and kicked up the stand.

  Dougie leaned down, put a hand on the back of her neck under her hair and brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Saturday, January 24th.

  Riverwalk Hotel. San Antonio.

  ANNIE woke, and turned her head. She smiled as she looked across at Jack sleeping soundly in the other queen-sized bed. They always shared a room for the sake of her safety. Privacy was sacrificed so time wasn’t wasted in a life or death situation, and there had been many of those.

  She ordered breakfast and coffee from room service, not intending to go out until later. She sat propped up on her pillows and checked for messages.

  One from the Dog. “Can’t stop thinking about you, girl. Can I see you later?”

  She smiled and texted. “Cowboys at nine.”

  “I’ll find you.”

  Governor’s Mansion. Colorado Street. Austin.

  JESSE and Travis with the help of a couple of Gene Wyman’s security men finished clearing the mansion. They found nothing, but it was good to be sure. Jesse called the Governor to let her know.

  “Jesse Quantrall, Governor. You’re all clear at the mansion. Do you need help moving?”

  “Thank you, Jesse, but I have help. Thanks again for all you’ve done for me.”

  “No problem. I’ll be in the city for the morning if you need me for anything.”

  Jesse and Travis left the Governor’s residence to head over to the Bromwell crime scene and media vehicles had already begun parking on Colorado Street.

  “Jeeze, boss, they’re gonna dog her while she moves in.”

  “Uh huh. She’s fair game now. Any little thing she does is newsworthy.”

  “I would hate that.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Luckily, it ain’t happening to us.”

  Governor Campbell’s Private Residence. West Austin.

  CAT stared at her reflection in the mirror over her vanity for the last time—at least the last time for a long while in this house. Would she like living in the Governor’s mansion with people cleaning and cooking for her? And what about the tours and the tourists? Why hadn’t she thought of any of this stuff when she wanted so badly to be Governor.

  Suck it up, girl. You got what you wanted. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

  The good thing about moving to the other side of the city, if there was a good thing, she only had to move clothes and personal belongings. No furniture.

  Her walk-in closet was almost empty. All her clothes, shoes and purses were either packed or on the bed waiting to go in the next container. She checked her watch, left the mess in her room and went downstairs for breakfast.

  Her housekeeper had coffee brewed and a plate of fruit cut up. “My but you look tired, Catherine. Sit down and eat something.”

  “Thanks, dear. I’ll have a coffee. Do we have any bagels?”

  “Of course, cinnamon raisin? I’ll toast you one right now.”

  Cat sat on a stool at the kitchen island and wondered what Blaine was doing. He was so busy, so focused and so productive, it was frightening.

  Almost eerie, ‘short fuse’ came on the screen when she was thinking about him.

  No salutation. “Are you ready to go?”

  “About another hour or so. I stopped to have a coffee and a bagel.”

  “For crissake eat something, Cat. When we had lunch, you were so fuckin pale, I thought you might faint.”

  She giggled. “You know how to cheer me up.”

  “Letting you know I’m conducting a little experiment this morning. Misty is going with me to Reg Bromwell’s residence. I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

  “Turns up? You mean out of thin air?”

  “It’s energy, Cat. I know that much.”

  “Can I watch?”

  “All of Texas will be watching you move.”

  “What if I bust my butt and get that done and over with by noon?”

  “Can you?”

  “I have to be filmed carrying stuff in, then do the five-minute interview and that’s it. I can unpack later if you’ll wait for me.”

  “Umm… how will you feel about being in Reg’s house?”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  “Call me when you’re leaving Colorado Street, and don’t come in the limo. Have Gene drive you in the SUV.”

  “Okay, that makes sense.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  ON THE WAY home to Quantrall, Jesse stopped in at Coulter-Ross to see Annie. He needed to spend more time with her, and he wanted to take her to dinner in Smithville at the Stonehouse, her favorite restaurant.

  He knocked on the door and Rosalie let him in. “Mrs. C. isn’t home, Mr. Quantrall. Won’t be back for a couple of days.”

  “Do you know where she went, Rosie?”

  “I think she mentioned San Antonio. Might be something with Powell Corp.”

  “Okay, thanks. I’ll call her.”

  Before leaving for home, Jesse sat in his Range Rover and called Farrell. “Hey, kiddo, I’m here at your ranch and Annie isn’t here. Do you know what’s going on?”

  “She’s working, boss. That’s all I can tell you.”

  I know what working means.

  “Jesus, I hate it when she’s doing something so fuck
in dangerous.”

  “Don’t think about it, Jesse. You don’t need the stress.”

  “Hard not to think about it.”

  I love her so goddam much and I fucked us up so bad.

  Bromwell Residence. West Austin.

  BLAINE drove to Bromwell’s house with Misty in the passenger seat. The murder was at a complete dead end and with the information and evidence they had so far, the case was virtually unsolvable.

  “Is having Cat in the room with you going to bother you, sweetheart?”

  “I don’t think so. I can block out people and my surroundings pretty efficiently.”

  Blaine parked in the drive and there was no sign of Gene’s SUV. “Let’s go in and you can get a feel for Bromwell before anybody gets here.”

  “Okay.”

  Blaine brushed her long curls back from her face. “You look pale. Do you feel all right?”

  Misty nodded but Blaine wasn’t convinced.

  He unlocked the door and let Misty go ahead of him into the foyer. She took one step inside, let out an ear-splitting scream and fainted on the tile floor.

  “Misty, no.” Blaine scooped her up and carried her into Bromwell’s living room. He laid her on the sofa and put a pillow under her head.

  Cat had come in right behind them with Gene. “I heard her scream,” said Cat, “when I was getting out of the truck.”

  “She fainted,” said Blaine. “Something scared her.”

  “I’ll get some water.” Cat went to the kitchen and came back with a glass half full.

  Blaine held Misty’s hand. Her eyes were closed. “Come on, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”

  Misty started mumbling in the ‘psychic voice’ and Blaine leaned closer to hear her. “They want the money. All of it. Give it back.”

  “Can you see where the money is, Mist?”

  She nodded with her eyes still closed. “We were there. Dead girl in ravine.”

  “Barton Creek Wilderness?”

  Misty opened her eyes and sat up.

  “You were fantastic, sweetheart.” He offered her the water.

  Cat was staring at Misty. “Reg stole money?”

  “It makes sense,” said Blaine. “People were pissed at him enough to kill him.”