by Carolina Mac
She straightened her tag. “Quinn.”
“Nice name.”
He and Mary weren’t officially broken up, but more and more she’d been accusing him of coming by her apartment late at night just for sex. And he couldn’t deny it. That’s the kind of routine he’d drifted into without even realizing it. He rarely took her out and if they weren’t having sex, nothing else was going on. Maybe it was time to call it. She’d always been too old for him, in her ways, in her maturity and nothing would ever change that.
Quinn brought his beer and set it down on a coaster in front of him. She smiled again and said, “Hey, you haven’t opened the menu yet. What’s the holdup?”
“I was paralyzed,” he drawled and winked at her.
“Oh, yeah, is that your line?”
“That’s all I’ve got. What time do you get off work?”
“Seven. I started at eleven today.”
“Have plans or can I take you out for dinner?”
“How do I know I can trust you? I never date anybody from this bar. It’s a biker hangout.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m here. I’ll give you my card and you can think it over.” Farrell reached into his pocket for one of his cards and put it in her hand. “I’ll have an order of nachos.”
She stood and stared at the card, then looked at him and nodded. “Yep, I’ll get you those nachos right away.”
Farrell enjoyed the view from the rear as much as from the front. Quinn had a dynamite body and a cute dimple near her mouth when she smiled. Her blonde hair might be long, but he couldn’t tell. It was all heaped up on the top of her head and clamped with a big clip. It made him happy just to look at her.
She brought the nachos, sour cream and extra salsa, then returned and brought another beer. He tried to figure how many tables she was serving at once. At least half the bar. Daytime they didn’t have much staff on.
When she brought the check, she leaned down and said. “Okay, you can pick me up, but I can’t go out for dinner until I go home and take off my uniform and shower.”
“No problem. I’ll make a reservation for eight-thirty and you won’t have to hurry.”
She opened her blue eyes wide. “We’re having a reservation?”
“It’s Saturday and I like to go where there’s a good band.”
“Okay, sure. Is that really your name on the card? Farrell?”
“Yep, that’s it. Farrell Donovan.”
She stared a moment longer. “The card says you’re a Texas Ranger. So… you’re like… Dead-Eye Donovan?”
“That a problem for you?”
“Hell no. I almost peed my pants when I figured it out.”
Farrell chuckled as he laid a big tip on her.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
ANNIE joined Tyler and the rest of her family in the kitchen of the big Victorian after her property viewing ended.
“Anything?” asked Blaine.
“She was all business, and as far as I could tell, all her calls were business too. Nothing so far. She was strictly selling real estate today.”
“Not killing anybody?”
“Nope.”
“What’s the plan for tonight?” asked Blaine.
“My stuff is in the car and I’ll be sleeping at Madill’s,” said Annie. “Not exactly sleeping, but spelling Travis off. Ty can come with if he wants. It will be boring if nothing happens.”
“Last night might have been recon,” said Blaine.
“That’s what Travis and I thought,” said Annie. “Brad’s a non-believer. He thinks we’re wasting our time.”
“Yeah, well Mr. Madill is dead wrong,” said Blaine. “I saw the hate in Leigh Kryssa’s eyes. She won’t give up until she avenges her husband’s death.
“I’ll stay where you are, Annie,” said Tyler. “You’re my wife and I have to accept what you do even though I hate it a whole fuckin lot.”
“Good man,” said Blaine and gave Ty a fist bump.
Wylie Coyote. Austin.
FARRELL parked in front of the bar at seven. He’d run home, showered and changed into clean jeans and a clean shirt and he was wearing his custom boots that he rarely wore. He’d splashed on cologne as he was leaving and was having second thoughts about the quantity.
Blaine noticed and called him on it. They were close and instinctively Blaine knew something was up.
Why was he so nervous? Should he have called Mary and made it official before going on a date? What the hell. Live dangerously. The worst that could happen, Mary would yell at him, call him names and hate him forever.
Yeah, that will be bad.
The guilt in his gut vanished the second Quinn ran out the door and spotted him leaning against his truck smoking. He would have rounded the truck and opened the door for her, but she was too quick, and she was perched in the shotgun seat before he was behind the wheel.
“I like your red truck.”
“Thanks. How did your day go?”
She giggled. “Hell, as always. That’s what waiting tables is all about. I count how many times I get asked out, how many times some asshole tries to touch me and how many times the jerks don’t even leave me a nickel.”
“That good, eh?”
“How was your day being a cop?”
“Same.” He stopped at the road and glanced across the console. “You want to tell me which way to go?”
“Oh, sorry. I’m not used to hanging with a cop yet and it’s messing with my head.”
Farrell chuckled. “Messing with mine too.”
“Go right, then another right at the first set of lights. It’s not far. I have to walk so I have to work close or take the bus.”
Farrell frowned. “You walk home after a late shift?”
“I do. Nothing else I can do.”
“The restaurant should be sending the servers in cabs if it’s after a certain hour. I think that’s a thing.”
“Not a thing where I work,” said Quinn.
“Maybe I should chat to the manager,” said Farrell.
“Hey, I only met you today. You can’t change my life already.”
“Oh, no? Who says?”
“I say.” She pointed. “See that white bungalow on the left? I live in the basement apartment.”
“Uh huh.” Farrell pulled the red Silverado into the driveway and parked beside a blue Toyota.
“Want to come in and wait for me?”
“Absolutely do.”
“You’re a funny guy. I like you already.”
Farrell grinned. “I ain’t that funny.”
Quinn’s Basement Apartment. Austin.
QUINN HAD her own entrance at the side of the house and steps went straight down into the basement. She put her key in the door and opened it to a cute apartment. Nicely furnished with a medium sized flat screen mounted on the wall.
“Your place is nice,” said Farrell.
“Thanks. Turn on the TV while I have a quick shower. I’ll get you a beer to keep you busy.” She came back with a Coors long neck and handed it to him. “I don’t have any Shiners. Sorry. I won’t be long.”
“Coors is good. We don’t have to hurry. Take your time.”
Ten minutes later, Quinn walked into the living room wearing a low-cut Navajo dress, lots of beads and tan cowboy boots. She smelled delicious.
“Wow, you look fantastic,” said Farrell. “Love your hair down long.”
She beamed him a smile and he saw the little dimple.
He stood close beside her, breathing in the scent of her as she locked her door, then handed her up into the truck and closed the door before sliding into the driver’s seat.
“Where are we going?”
“The Horse has a band I wanted to hear for a while. That okay with you?”
“Sure. I haven’t been to many of the clubs. I work too much, I guess.”
“You been at that place for a long time?”
“Couple of years.”
“Bikers ever get rowdy?
”
“Every night. That’s the only good thing about working the day shift. No fights, but you make a lot less in tips.”
Farrell nodded.
“You been a cop long?”
“While.”
“Do you like it?”
“Don’t matter whether I like it or not. It’s who I am. Me and my brother… never mind.”
“Oh.”
The Horse. Downtown Austin.
FARRELL PARKED his red baby, took Quinn’s hand and escorted her inside the club. Their table was ready, and it was close to the stage.
“This looks like a prime spot.” Quinn gave his hand a squeeze and he felt something.
“You like concerts?” asked Farrell.
“I’ve only been to a couple with friends, but they were fun.”
The server came and took their drink order. The place was noisy and filling up fast.
“I think we got here just in time,” said Farrell. Gonna be a big crowd.”
Quinn was lively and fun. An upbeat girl who saw the humor in things and people and she loved to laugh. Just what he needed.
The food was excellent and when the band started Farrell was glad he’d paid the extra to be near the stage.
He stared at Quinn a lot. So fuckin gorgeous and why in hell would she want to take a chance on him? Most of the time he didn’t know what to say and figured he was too quiet to score any higher than zero on the fun scale.
Jesus, I want her so bad. What’s wrong with me?
After the last set, Farrell drove Quinn home. He walked her to the side door of the house and waited while she got her key in the lock. The outside light was burnt out and it ticked him off.
She turned to him and said, “Thanks for everything. I had a great time with you, Farrell.”
“Best date ever.” He took her in his arms and kissed her once gently. Her body was compact and solid against his and he started to sweat. She tasted sweet and sugary and he wanted to keep on kissing her.
She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight for a minute, then let go. “I’d better go in.”
“I’ll call you.”
He was hard and so wound when he jumped in his truck he wanted to drive fast, smash all the speed limits and holler out the window.
I think I’m in love.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sunday, September 30th.
West Lake Hills. Austin.
ANNIE slipped out of bed and left Tyler sleeping when Travis touched her arm. She was already dressed and ready for her turn on watch.
Without a word she padded downstairs, checked the front and back and saw nothing. The doors were locked. The security system was activated.
She poured a cup of coffee from the pot Travis had on the warmer and sat in the dark in Brad’s gourmet kitchen. Moonlight shining through the garden doors bounced off the row of copper pots hanging over the island stove and she wondered if Brad could cook. A flash from the past reminded her of Billy and how he loved the kitchen. She smiled to herself and felt tears burning behind her eyes. Would she ever find that kind of happiness again? No chance.
Annie refilled her mug and as she added a splash of cream she heard a beep. One beep. What was it? Was it the security system?
With her Beretta in her hand she left the kitchen and tiptoed into the hallway. From where she stood against the wall in the shadows she saw a dark form heading for the hallway that led to the downstairs bedroom and den.
“Drop the gun.”
The intruder fired at the sound of her voice and Annie fired back at the flashpoint.
Bang. Bang.
Thud.
The man dropped to the floor as she flicked the light switch.
Travis was halfway down the stairs in his boxers. He kicked the gun out of the intruder’s reach, ran to the door and scanned the darkness for a vehicle and the guy’s backup.
“Anybody else?” asked Annie.
“Tail lights at the bottom of the driveway. They’re gone. Can I use your cell?”
“Kitchen table,” said Annie as she held her gun on the squirming, groaning masked man.
Inside of ten minutes, sirens sounded outside the house and the foyer filled with paramedics and police personnel. Brad and Tyler both hurried down the hall fully dressed to see what was going on.
“A man came right into my house to kill me?” Brad’s voice had gone up an octave. “I can’t believe it.” He stomped off to the kitchen.
Tarrytown. Austin.
CAROLYN BOYCE left the nursing home where she was doing a section of her nursing program in geriatric care. Vinny had bought her a bike, fixed it up for her and taught her how to ride. The Harley Softail was a fast and inexpensive way for her to get to and from work and school and she loved to ride.
He was a biker and she wasn’t happy that he was so high up in his club, but she loved him and didn’t ask too much about what he did. It was better that way.
They had a private life away from the club and Vinny respected that. He never brought any of his buddies home when she was there.
The rain had been brutal the past week, but it had stopped, and tonight was a great night to ride. She was approaching the bridge over Twenty-fourth Street when she heard a crack and hoped it wasn’t a tire.
A pain shot through her head and she felt dizzy for a second.
Blackness.
Carolyn died.
The Softail rolled.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE heard the phone and at the same time refused to hear it. “No, I can’t wake up yet. Not enough sleep.”
Misty nudged his arm with the cell, “Don’t go back to sleep, Beb. It’s Chief Calhoun.”
“Uhhh…,” he groaned and spoke his name. “Chief?”
“MoPac and West 24th. Austin traffic has the scene. Female rider.”
“Female?”
“We need a meeting. Ten o’clock in my office.”
“Copy that, Chief.”
Lexi jumped up and ran into the hall when Blaine walked across to Farrell’s room. “We got another biker down. It’s a girl.”
“Fuck that.” Farrell rolled over and stared at the time. “Go make me some coffee.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Blaine staggered back into his own bathroom and turned on the shower.
On the way to the scene they stopped for coffee and sitting at the drive-through window Farrell said, “I took a girl out last night and it wasn’t Mary.”
“Oh, fuck,” said Blaine as he passed his money to the girl in the window. He turned his head and said, “Sorry. Not you.” To Farrell: “Did you end it with Mary?”
“That’s the part that’s a bit sticky.”
“You didn’t, you raving fucktard. She’s been good to you.”
“Yeah, too good. I have to talk to her today.”
“You damn well better.” Blaine took the coffees from the girl and tipped her big for f-bombing her by accident. He passed the tray to Farrell.
West 24th and MoPac Expressway.
FARRELL parked behind the ME’s van and hopped out. “Not raining, but I guess that wasn’t the thing.”
“Not today, it ain’t.” Blaine stood over the girl’s body. She was dressed head to toe in her leathers, her long dark hair pulled back in a red bandana. “From the bridge the shooter couldn’t tell if she was male or female,” said Blaine. “The gear is the same.”
“Maybe he don’t care about the sex,” said Farrell, “long as it’s a moving target for him to practice on.”
“Anything, doc?” asked Blaine.
“Same. Tim’s got her ID.”
The medical examiner’s assistant handed Blaine a plastic bag with the girl’s wallet inside. Before he had time to look at her name his cell rang. “Mom, why are you up in the middle of the night?”
“Intruder at Madill’s. He’s on his way to Saint Mike’s. I saved him for questioning. Should I call the cowboy?”
“Farrell and I can do it. We’re alrea
dy up. Madill okay?”
“He’s a little freaked now that he saw the threat up close and personal on the floor in his foyer.”
“Maybe this is the break we need. Connect this mutt to Leigh Kryssa and bingo.”
“Bingo,” said Annie. “And thanks for your little talk to Ty. He seems to feel better about… things.”
“No problem, Mom. Love you.”
“Why is Mom up and what’s she doing?” asked Farrell as they walked to the truck.
“Shooting an asshole in Madill’s front hall.”
“Shit, did she kill him?”
Blaine managed a grin. “She said she saved him for us to question.”
Farrell snorted. “I love you, Mom.”
Tarrytown. Austin.
CAROLYN BOYCE lived in an apartment not far from where she was shot. Farrell pressed the buzzer next to her name—two names in the same apartment—a guy called Vincent Cortez.
“She lives with somebody,” said Blaine. “Boyfriend, roommate.”
“He ain’t answering,” said Farrell and pressed the buzzer again.
A voice hollered at them. “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”
“Police, Mr. Cortez. Need to talk to you about Carolyn Boyce.”
The buzzer sounded and Blaine grabbed the door. “What floor was it?”
“Seven. Seven forty. Hope the elevator works.”
The elevator did work and the roomie, Vincent Cortez had his head stuck out the door of seven forty looking for them as they stepped into the hallway. “Where’s Carolyn? Did she get hurt? Did she get a ticket? What?”
“Let us in for a second,” said Farrell, “and we’ll tell you what happened.”
Vincent’s hair was all over, and he had a lot of it. Dark and thick and bushy. A day’s scruff on his face, tats covering his muscled up bare upper torso and three silver rings in his left ear. A tough looking dude. He pointed at the kitchen chairs and removed a pizza box from the table. “Tell me what it is. Y’all are freakin me out here.”
“Not good news,” said Blaine. “Miss Boyce was shot by the sniper a couple of hours ago by the Mopac bridge.”
“No.” Vincent was on his feet and pacing. “No. Where is she? In the hospital?” The guy was breathing hard and he was close to losing his shit. “Don’t you fuckers tell me she’s dead,” he hollered. “Don’t do it.”
