Rowan (The K9 Files Book 10)

by Dale Mayer

  She stared at him, bewildered. “But Jeff died thirty-six years ago. If someone else knew of the coins back then, why wait three and half decades to make a move on it? Is it truly worth any kind of big money? Although … I guess those coins age well, as in, the older the coin, the higher its worth?” she asked Rowan, with a shrug.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “We’d have to get the coins appraised, but it’s not out of line to think that collection could be worth millions of dollars.”

  “I haven’t found anything online that mentioned coin collections associated with their names yet,” she said. “You’d think, if it were worth millions, it’d be mentioned, right?”

  “The detective was going to contact a couple specialists in town. Let me send this by Badger too.” Rowan sent several messages to Badger about the Bannon family tree, looking for any insights or connections that they might have missed.

  Plus we need a coin collector’s opinion, he texted Badger. Yet I only have a photo of the coins. He sent it to him and added, Can we get an estimate as to the monetary value for this collection, or maybe someone can just tell us it’s not worth anything except for its sentimental value. But I suspect it’s worth a lot of money, considering the rest of the grandmother’s estate.

  Rowan sent his latest text, then looked up at Brandi. “Did any of the Bannons have a record?”

  “Nobody has a record but Steve. And he was the one who killed my grandfather. So he must have done that for an emotional reason,” she decided.

  “Could be any kind of reason,” he said. “It’s pretty hard to tell just yet.”

  “Maybe, but I bet it had to do with my grandmother and Steve’s father, Jeff, who obviously loved each other. Or at least Jeff loved my grandmother.”

  “Maybe. I guess we’ll find that out tomorrow.”

  She rubbed her arms and said, “I can’t deal with this anymore. It’s time to go for a walk.”

  He laughed, held out his hand, and said, “Then let’s go.”

  She laughed and grabbed a hold of his hand and said, “Let’s grab a coffee too.” With the pups and Hershey in tow, they headed out the door, trying to get a little bit more sunshine to lighten up the gloom in their day.

  As Rowan and Brandi were out walking, he got a text. As he looked at it, Badger texted that it was hard to determine the value of coins from a photo, but one appraiser said it could be worth upward of at least half a million dollars or more. “Oh, shit,” he said. He held out the text to Brandi.

  She looked at it in shock. “So how did my grandmother get it?”

  “I think that’s what this is all about,” he said. “I suspect it was your grandfather’s collection.”

  “Do you think he stole it?”

  “We don’t know that,” he said.

  “Neither do we have a bill of sale for it.”

  “It doesn’t mean that your grandfather wasn’t the one collecting it all his life,” he said.

  She sighed with relief. “No, you’re right, and, even depending on what story this Steve guy tells us, it’ll be a story that’s convenient for him, not necessarily the truth.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “So keep it in mind when we talk to him tomorrow, and we’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  “Maybe,” she said, “but somebody is still out there gunning for me.”

  “The only reason to do that is so they can get that coin collection back.”

  “Which would be pretty dicey to do at the bank,” she said, “because obviously I’ll look like I’m under duress by going in and getting it with these kidnappers with me.”

  “Which is why,” Rowan said, “it’s possible that they would find another way to make you do it. Or find a way to pressure you into doing it.”

  “Like what? My grandmother is already dead.”

  “Your dog?”

  “I didn’t even know that she was alive,” she said, “and she is at the vet’s now and mending. Hopefully the bad guys don’t know where Lacey is right now. And you’re obviously looking after the puppies, so, no, I don’t think that’ll be the case.”

  “Right. Anybody else who could be used against you?”

  She shook her head. “No.” Just then her phone rang, and she looked at her Caller ID. “It’s Rosie from work,” she said with a laugh. “Hey, Rosie.”

  “I heard you were having a hell of a day,” the woman said.

  Rowan could hear both sides of the conversation because Rosie spoke so loud.

  “Yes, but that’s okay. I’m feeling better. I’ll take a few days off,” she said. “I know you’ll handle it with no problem.”

  “Easy peasy,” she said, laughing. “I just called to check in, to make sure you were okay.” And she hung up.

  “Who’s Rosie?”

  “A relatively new employee,” she said, “but she’s delightful. She’s always trying to mother everybody. She’s bringing in cookies and cakes, and then she’s warning my boss that he’s gained too much weight and that he’ll end up in trouble if he doesn’t lose some.”

  Rowan rolled his eyes at that. “That can get old pretty fast.”

  “I think my boss thought so too,” she said. “She’s a sweetheart though.”

  “Good,” he said. “You need nice people in your world.”

  “I do,” she said.

  For the rest of the afternoon, they spent their time with the puppies in the park—and Hershey, of course—and it was peaceful and quiet. Rowan kept watching the area to make sure nobody was after them and that they weren’t being followed. To the best of his ability, he couldn’t see any sharpshooters around. But he was quite happy when they turned and headed back to the motel and made it inside without any incident. “That,” she said, “was fun.”

  “It was,” he said with a laugh.

  “I know it must be close to dinnertime, but I’m so full from lunch that I can’t possibly eat again today.”

  “What, no burgers?” he asked, teasing.

  She burst out laughing.

  He said, “That’s okay. I’ve got enough leftover spaghetti that I don’t need to worry about it anyway.”

  She looked at her watch and said, “It’s already seven. How the hell does all that time go by?”

  “We were having fun, that’s how,” he said, as he sat on the couch, tucked her up against him, and said, “Besides, this was good for us.”

  “In what way?” she murmured, her head against his chest, her arms limp at her side.

  “Are you falling asleep on me?”

  “Nah,” she said. “I’m not that sleepy.”

  “Good,” he said. “It’s nice to spend time together.”

  “It’s been a long time since I had a relationship,” she murmured. “At least six months.”

  “Ditto,” he said, “but, for me, it’s probably been closer to a year.”

  “I tried dating after that, but nothing clicked. I didn’t like the last guy,” she said. “He was too young for me.”

  “Young in heart or just young?”

  “Both,” she said. “He was kind of rash and arrogant. It wasn’t a relationship. It was just one date. I met him through work. He belonged to, well, Rosie actually,” she said. “He’s Rosie’s son. And I think she was hoping that we’d hook up and make good on it, but it didn’t work out that way.”

  “What was wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. He was more of a ladies’ man than I was interested in.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Well, I’m not a ladies’ man. Does that mean you might be more interested in me?”

  He could feel her stiffen in his arms, and she slowly turned to look up at him. “Well, I was pretty sure we already figured out that I was interested in you,” she said, “but it might be a good idea to make sure we’re on the same page.”

  “Absolutely,” he said with a gentle smile. He reached out, flicked her nose gently, and said, “I’ve already suggested you move to New Mexico. At least that way not only can we
be together but so can the dogs.”

  She burst out laughing. “So is that the only reason you want me to go to New Mexico? So that the dogs won’t be separated?”

  “Sounds like a good reason to me,” he said with a smirk.

  She just smiled, and, when he went to flick her nose again, she reached out and snatched his finger. “I think there has to be more to a relationship than that.”

  “Like what?” he asked, settling back on the couch.

  She shifted so she stretched out alongside him now. She reached out and flicked his nose. “Well, there’s got to be loyalty, honesty, truth—you know? All that good stuff.”

  “Well, that’s me,” he said, with a grin, “loyal, honorable, truthful.”

  “Good,” she said. “That would suit me after this nightmare. And that was my grandmother, that’s how I was raised.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “And then, of course,” he added, “there needs to be another element.”

  “What’s that?” she asked with an impish grin.

  “How about that spark?” he said. “That special connection between two people who like each other and who want to take their relationship to the next step.”

  “Ah,” she said. “That spark.”

  He stared at her a long moment, waiting for any kind of answer. But she was busy studying his chest. And when he was just about ready to say something, she slowly raised her head, looked at him, smiled, and said, “Well, I don’t think that’s a problem, do you?”

  He grinned. “Not sure about that,” he said. “Maybe we should put it to the test?”

  She grinned. “You think, huh?” And she leaned over and ever-so-gently gave him the lightest of kisses. When she started to pull back, he grabbed the back of her head and slowly tugged her closer. When she kissed him the second time, it was a little deeper, a little longer, but still just a teasing kiss, not the real thing.

  “Now how about a kiss for real?” he murmured.

  “Ah,” she whispered, gently rubbing the tip of her nose against his, letting the warmth of her breath drift across his eyes and his cheeks, and she said, “You mean, like this?”

  And she leaned down and poured her soul into the next kiss.

  Chapter 16

  Brandi wasn’t really the kind of woman who advanced something like this. But it felt right, and tonight it felt like what she wanted, what she needed. And it felt like he was hoping, seeking for a little more than just her acquiescence. She kissed him tenderly, and then deeper and deeper, her tongue sliding across the edges of his lips, dipping in to war with his tongue and then pulling back out again.

  He growled in the back of his throat, his fingers sliding in her long hair and tugging her closer. When she finally came up for air, his eyes had turned lambent, then darkened. “Yes,” he said. “Exactly like that.”

  “Interesting,” she murmured, as she dropped a kiss on his chin and then on his jaw.

  “Why?” he murmured.

  She slid a hand down his neck to the opening of his shirt, and she said, “Well, normally in cases like this, I would say, we’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “I would agree,” he said. “I guess the question is, are you ready to go to bed?”

  “I’ve been yawning all afternoon. I’m pretty damn sure I was ready to go to bed this afternoon.”

  He gave a quick laugh, swung off the couch, and picked her up in a movement that had her shrieking and wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut to prevent the puppies from entering here. With her still in his arms, she leaned down, grabbed the bedding, and tugged it backward, and he just dropped her in the middle. She chuckled. “Talk about a man of action.”

  “That’s me,” he said smugly. “However, if I’d realized you were ready for this earlier this afternoon …”

  “We were a little busy,” she said.

  “Just a little?”

  “Okay, a whole lot,” she said with a big smile.

  “And remember,” he said. “You’re the one who said we had too many clothes on.” His shoes were already off, and he dropped to sit on the side of the bed, where he took off his socks, pulled his shirt over his head, and then stood up to reach for the belt on his jeans. By the time he turned around, she sat there cross-legged on the bed, completely nude. He stood and stared, his breath stuck in his chest.

  “Like what you see?” she said with an arched brow. She slowly stood up on the bed, so she faced him. “Because I’m pretty happy with what I see. A warrior.” She gazed at him, starting at his feet, noting the prosthetic without a hesitating backtrack, glossing over his jeans to study his scarred chest, then watched as he quickly tossed his jeans and boxers.

  “And here I thought the woman didn’t care about the outside, and it was all about the inner man.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” she said, as she slipped off the bed and linked her arms behind his neck. “But I guess I’m shallow. Because you know something? A whole lot of man is right in front of me, and I plan to enjoy every inch.”

  He chuckled, only to catch his breath as her hand found his erection, pulsating against their bodies.

  She said slowly, “This? This looks like it needs a little bit of attention.” And she gently rubbed him, pressing it against her own pelvis and cuddling it.

  “You are a she-devil,” he said with a groan.

  “Absolutely,” she whispered. “But the good news is, I don’t plan to just torture us. I’m all about satisfaction.” And she stepped back and pulled the blankets even farther off the bed, laid down, and held up her arms. “Care to join me?”

  It was rare for him to see a woman so comfortable in her skin, so at ease in her raw sexuality, not that she was an aggressor, but she was certainly meeting him on equal terms. He slid into the bed beside her and laid on his back, not knowing just how aggressive she wanted to be. But it was hard for him to not take charge because her breasts were demanding his attention—so perfect, so firm, just bigger than his hand, plump. Her ribs were lean, her belly flat, her hips wide, and her legs went on forever.

  He flipped her on her back and gave a happy sigh as he reached out a hand to cup her left breast before he leaned over and took the nipple in his mouth. She came off the bed, arching and crying out as he pulsated the sensitive tip against the roof of his mouth. And he knew they would be in for a hell of a night, she was just so sensitive. He kissed and teased, as his fingers taunted and stroked and soothed, while she cried out, demanding more, and then she flipped him onto his back again and very quickly went to teasing him right back.

  She was dynamite in bed, and he couldn’t get enough.

  By the time she straddled him and lowered herself on his shaft, he was already groaning, grabbing her hips and trying to drive upward, but she wouldn’t let him.

  “No,” she said. “I’ll set the pace, not you.”

  “Witch,” he said.

  “Warlock,” she murmured back, as she started to ride.

  His hand clenched her hips, as he tried hard to not take over. But she was doing a hell of a job as it was, and his head tossed from side to side as he roared inside, knowing that he would soon orgasm; it would rip through him at any moment. “I want you with me,” he whispered.

  “I thought that was my line,” she teased, as a chuckle burst forth.

  That humor surprised him, enjoying their lovemaking session all the more. To verbally tease a bit at this time? So nice. He shook his head, sliding his finger and his thumb down through her soft folds to find the little nub. When he found it, she almost screeched, and her pace picked up faster and faster and faster. Finally he gave a shudder and couldn’t hold back anymore. He grabbed her hips and plunged her down onto his shaft, and he lurched up once, twice, and then she screamed. His climax ripped through him, even as she collapsed atop him. He lay here, completely covered in sweat, his body trembling, wondering what the hell just happened.

  She groaned and said, “I don’t want to move.
”

  “I can’t move,” he murmured. “If you can, you’re better than I am.”

  “Sweetheart, there is no such thing as better in something like this,” she said. “I’m just 100 percent happy to be here right now.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “I know it’s not bedtime, but, Jesus, you wore me out.”

  “That’s fine,” she said. “You can have a half-hour restorative nap.”

  He looked at her in surprise.

  She grinned and said, “We have all night.”

  Chapter 17

  Brandi woke in the wee hours of the morning with a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were wide open to see Rowan standing with his jeans on, his hand over her mouth, whispering in her ear, “We have a visitor,” he said. “Get dressed.”

  She looked at him and frowned. He held up the text message he’d received from Badger, the phone lit up to say, Move now.

  She immediately scrambled from bed, as Rowan handed over her clothing, and she got dressed quickly, slipped on her shoes, and whispered, “We have no place to go.”

  “I know,” he said.

  He had brought Hershey and the pups into the bedroom too. Hershey stared at the bedroom door, the ruff on the back of his neck completely risen. But the pups were just making little yipping noises and chewing on each other. She quickly calmed them down, even though they were just playing, but, with Hershey, there was absolutely no way to know that anything was going on, except that he was on guard.

  With her now dressed, Rowan motioned at the closet. She frowned; he shook his head and pointed. She immediately stepped into the closet, and he handed her the puppies, and he partially closed the door. Understanding that he was trying to keep her safe—but that just left him exposed—didn’t make her any happier. But she understood.

  The bedroom door to the living room area was open just the slightest, and she heard somebody working on the front door. She frowned at that. And then there was a click, and Hershey growled deep in the back of his throat, but Rowan placed his hand on the dog’s nose, and Hershey immediately went silent. They waited, the two of them behind the bed, the bedroom door ajar, with her and the puppies in the closet.