Dangerous Loves Romantic Suspense Collection (43 page)

“Okay Jack,” she said with a deep sigh. “I’ll find him.”

* * * *

Early the next morning Vega pinned the photo of Grayson Walker to her bulletin board. “Where would a twisted mind like yours go?” She flipped open the police file and began the long process of digging into a fugitive’s head.

Days passed without much progress. The file was thick, but it didn’t have much in the way of useful information. His childhood was a mystery. No birth records could be found. Vega decided to work backwards, beginning with his arrest.

“This guy is sick.” Vega nearly lost her lunch when she finally got a copy of the crime scene photos. There wasn’t much left of the man Grayson was accused of killing. This crime really drove home the term ‘hack job’.

His best friend? That was always a good place to start. Unfortunately, the man Grayson allegedly killed, Greg Harper, was also the only man Vega might consider calling Grayson’s close friend.

Girlfriends were usually great sources of information. She spent days on the phone trying to track down a steady girlfriend, a one-night stand, or a whore.

Nothing. The guy must have been celibate.

Or really good at covering his tracks.

He’d helped build the lucrative Atlanta based Six-Star Enterprises with two other men, Joshua Whitfield and Greg Harper. Joshua Whitfield was the money behind the company, a titan in the investment-banking world who appeared to have very little involvement in the day-to-day operations of Six-Star.

The dead Greg Harper and Grayson were the brains behind the corporation. She couldn’t figure out exactly what Six-Star did besides acquire smaller corporations. But whatever it was, Greg and Grayson worked closely together. She traced their friendship all the way back to when they were roommates at the University of Georgia through their college years.

Something between the two must have gone sour in those last few days. Something that pushed Grayson so far over the edge, he saw nothing wrong with hacking his best friend into tiny bits. But Vega wasn’t interested in motive; she just needed a clue to Grayson’s whereabouts. Any crumb would do.

She was finally making some progress tracking down Greg Harper’s pre-college history—hoping to find a continued link between the men—when the phone rang.

“Hello?” she nearly shouted into the phone, desperate to hear good news from one of the hundreds of contacts she’d made in the past several weeks.

“Lower your voice, Vega,” her mother said with a stern clip. “I can’t understand why you insist on speaking with that bold voice. It scares away men, you know.”

Wonderful, her mother must have found
yet
another eligible bachelor. She’d just finished dodging that last one. “I’m really busy with a case right now, Mom. I’ll be staying at the office until very late every day this week.”

“You can spare a moment for your mother.” It wasn’t a request. Vega swallowed hard. He must be a real winner this time. “Tonight. Eight o’clock. I’d like you to meet Mrs. Byers’s son, Kyle. He’s a doctor.” Her voice literally sparkled on the word,
doctor
.

“I don’t know. I’m already seeing someone.”

“Oh, and wear something appropriate. I certainly don’t want Kyle scared away by those dreadful army boots, horridly baggy cargo pants, and one of those ill-fitting black t-shirts you insist on wearing.”

Vega looked down. That was exactly what she was wearing. Was she becoming predictable?

“Well, it’s practical. You can’t expect me to apprehend a fugitive in high heels and long skirt. I wouldn’t be able to defend myself. I’d break an ankle.”

“I don’t understand why you insist on dressing like you came from poverty. Your father was the city’s police chief for heaven’s sake. A very respected position. We have a duty to his memory to always look respectable. I about died the last time you showed up for lunch with me at the club.”

“I explained that. I…”

“And another thing, Vega. Your job. It’s unseemly. I’d rather you didn’t talk about it with Kyle. You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you started acting like a woman. It’s past time you got married.”

“I have no interest…”

“You have a duty. Just look at the example you’re setting for your sister.”

This was a new argument in her mother’s repertoire. It stung, too, because she agreed. Fiona had no business following in her footsteps.

“I’ve tried to talk to her, Mom. She won’t listen.”

“She’d follow your example if you grew up and acted like a lady once in a while.”

Vega listened patiently as her mother continued to lecture. Her duty as a daughter was to listen…not to agree. Though by the time she hung up the phone, she’d agreed to meet this new bachelor her mother had selected. Some family obligations simply had to be endured.

At five o’clock, she decided to call it a day. Fifteen minutes later, she found Butch Polsen’s well-used Ford Crown Victoria parked at the curb of her apartment building. Butch was waiting for her at the door, his snakeskin boot propped up across the frame, his blond hair shimmering in the streetlight. He tipped his battered cowboy hat. “You won’t return my calls.”

“Do you blame me?” She crossed her arms and stared at him. She wasn’t exactly disappointed to see him.

He might be an uneducated brute with a short fuse, but he was still the safest man in her life. Probably because he wasn’t the type of man who could tempt her heart. Or make her long for his love. Love was for powder puffs like Lila Crafter and her mother. No way would she end up like one of them, loving a hard man like a brainless ninny.

“I won’t apologize, if that’s what you expect,” he said. “That scum deserved to eat some buckshot after attacking me like that. You shouldn’t have stopped me.”

“You’re a menace, Butch.” She pushed him aside and unlocked the door. “Might as well come in since you’re here.”

He greedily accepted the invitation to invade her quiet space. “So, this is where you live?” He whistled through his teeth. “It’s so bare…depressing.”

Her second story apartment was furnished with natural woods: bamboo and maple. A few black crystals and polished ebony stones populated the tops of the furniture, creating a stark contrast to the whitewashed walls. A tall bamboo plant grew in a bubbling water garden beside a bank of windows. This was her sanctuary.

“I’m not going to argue with you, Butch. Not tonight.” She closed and locked the door behind them. “I’ve been summoned to my mother’s for dinner.”

“Another bachelor?” A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. He grabbed her by the nape of her neck and pulled her hard against his body. Her senses exploded with the memory of their past physical encounter.

His lips covered hers. With adept skill, his fiery kiss teased her mouth open. His tongue encircled hers, enticing her to surrender.

A thoughtless tumble with him would do wonders for her nerves. The elusive Grayson Walker had haunted her day and night. His stunning smile even dared to intrude into her dreams. She deserved a break.

Her body turned tingly, alive in Butch’s hands. He deepened his kiss, leaving her breathless. He’d already worked one hand into her shirt, arousing a nipple into a hard peak with those magic fingers of his. A hot gaze pinned her to the wall. A feral wildness she almost feared swirled deep in his blue eyes. His gaze pressing deeper, he peeled her khakis open and buried his hand in her panties.

She moaned against his lips. Her body throbbed as he eased a finger deep within her. Oh yeah, mindless sex would be a very pleasing way to spend the evening. She might even risk her mother’s anger…

Her cell phone chirped.

“Don’t you dare answer it,” Butch growled. His heavy caresses grew more intense. Her legs weakened.

The phone chirped again.

She swallowed a lusty lump. Her body felt heavy, burning for satisfaction. “Have to,” she whispered hoarsely, “expecting a call from Snitch.”

It took all her willpower to peel Butch away and reach into her coat pocket for the phone. “Vega here,” she said. Her voice sounded strained even to herself.

“Snitch,” a metallic voice said on the other end. “I’ve got a bunch of weird stuff on your fugitive.” There was a pause. “You okay? You sound funny.”

“Just a little overheated. Go on.”

“There’s a CIA file on this guy and his victim. It’s locked up tighter than Fort Knox. It’ll cost you…um…five hundred for the risk.”

Snitch was the best computer hacker in the area. Many of the bounty hunters in town used her services—at least they all thought Snitch was a ‘her’. The metallic voice had a decidedly feminine lilt. No one knew for certain. Payments were wired electronically to a Swiss bank account.

“Thanks Snitch. I’ll pay it. Let me know as soon as you liberate the files.” Vega switched off the phone.

Her mind started racing. The CIA? What was going on?

“You’re deep in that Walker assignment?” Butch asked. The passion drained from his voice.

“What do you know about it?”

“The last hunter to go after the bastard worked with me.”

She didn’t know. “Oh…I’m sorry, Butch.”

He shrugged. “The bonding company withdrew their contract with us hours after that bastard popped a hole through my friend’s head. Said they were afraid we’d carry out some kind of vigilante justice.”

“Imagine that,” she said dryly. Knowing Butch, he’d probably snap Grayson’s neck like a twig if he were to get near enough.

“Watch yourself, Vega. Don’t go after him alone.”

She shrugged off the warning. She knew how to take care of herself. “Tell me, do you know anything specific about this guy that could help me find him?”

He stubbed his foot against the edge of a sisal rug for several minutes before answering. “I shouldn’t help you. I lost a friend and a lot of money because of him.”

“Fine.” She checked her watch. She was dangerously close to being late for her mother’s dinner party. “I’ve got to get changed and ready to go to Mom’s.”

A few sleek dresses hung in the back of her closet just for these occasions. She went into the bedroom and started to dress. Her mother, always eager to impress—she was the good political force behind her husband’s rise to police chief—liked to make her dinner parties into grand affairs. Serving gourmet meals on the finest china in the family’s austere formal dining room. The fact her mother had inherited a fortune from a great-aunt, only made her lofty vision of what was ‘impressive’ all the more possible.

“He was Army Special Ops,” Butch called from the other room. “That’s what Snitch is probably opening, his Special Ops history file. His partner, Greg Harper, served with him along with two others. I don’t know what missions they were on. The lid on his history is tight. Doubt Snitch can pry those files open. The hacker we used failed miserably. Couldn’t get much of anything useful that way.”

She emerged from the bedroom fully dressed in a pale violet silk dress that dipped low in the back. Her strappy pumps with heels that would make a fluff-ball like Lila Crafter proud matched the gown perfectly. She pulled her hair up into a loose French twist. She hadn’t bothered with much makeup; her mother would scold.

“Thanks, Butch.” She gave him a quick kiss and pushed him toward the door. “If I don’t leave right now, Mom will be having fits by the time I get over to the house.”

* * * *

After a painfully long evening, Vega collapsed on her bed and stared at the ceiling. This new bachelor her mom had selected had taken one look at Vega and just about licked his lips. The conversation revolved around his life as a doctor at a private clinic and his opinions on everything, all of which bored Vega down to the soles of her feet…until he started to talk about self-defense. He’d recent begun taking classes and thoroughly enjoyed the challenge. Finally, a topic of common interest. She had agreed heartily and explained how invaluable her lessons had been to her when bounty hunting.

The room slammed into an uncomfortable silence. Her mother’s newest candidate for Vega’s future husband snapped his gapping mouth closed. She’d clearly shocked him.

Vega and the renowned doctor fit together like two ill-matched puzzle pieces.

She stared at the ceiling for several more minutes before dragging herself back up to check her phone messages. Snitch had called twice. First to report she’d retrieved Grayson Walker’s file, and then to report that she’d retrieved the files on the team who’d served with him.

Vega flipped on her computer and pulled up her email. Sure enough, the files Snitch had promised were sitting in her inbox waiting to be read. It took the rest of the night for her to absorb every word.

The files cracked open Grayson’s past, but gave nothing of what Grayson or his buddies had done during their years in the army. With a little additional computer work, she put together a long list of family and neighbors from Grayson’s childhood—all possible sources. Within a few days, she would know every detail, including Grayson’s favorite color. As the first rays of light streamed through her window, Vega leaned back in her chair, grinning. She felt damned full of herself.

“Gotcha!” she said.

Chapter Three

Her trail ended here.

The bar’s crumbling concrete block walls were in dire need of a fresh paint job. A handful of cars, beaten and dirty, were parked in the crumbly asphalt lot. For over a week, Vega had pounded on nearly every door between Atlanta and this backwater, salty area in the low-country of South Carolina. She was searching for Tommy Fisher, the man Grayson Walker would most likely run to. Fisher owned the bar. It was a far cry from the expensive glass and steel tower her quarry had used to house his Six-Star Enterprises.

She pushed open the door to the Broken Cricket, a seedy bar stinking of sour alcohol and sweat, and stepped into the dark interior with a cautious gait. She zipped up her leather jacket despite the pit’s heat, not wanting any uninvited eyes to take too much notice of her and her tight t-shirt.

Not when she had a job to do.

She let her gaze roam the darkened interior of the joint as she quickly made her way to the bar, peeling her boots from the sticky floor with each step.

Damn, this was not at all what she’d expected. Perhaps she was in the wrong place. Grayson, according to her research, would not willingly subject himself to such a hellhole.