Prodigal Son (2 page)

The job
was
all he had, at least for now. And he was going to do it.

“Your
coyote
is here, Jack.” His ex-mentor jerked. Alarm flickered across his face before he masked it. Rafe pushed a little more. “So how long’s he going to wait for you? Five minutes? Ten on the outside?” Seconds ticked by in heartbeats and drips of sweat. “If you want out of this place, buddy, you’re going to have to get through me.”

Jack narrowed his eyes. “Fine.” And charged.

Rafe reached for the Hunter, channeling energy through the clear crystal he always wore beneath his shirt. His senses flared into battle mode, adrenaline flooding his system. His eyesight sharpened. His hearing heightened. He met Jack’s attack, shoving him in the chest with both hands. Jack flew back, skidding along the floor and crashing into a booth. His face hit the corner of the seat with a wet smack.

Rafe stalked down the aisle after him. The Hunter prowled in the back of his mind, not satisfied with just a taste. His muscles hummed with the strain it took to keep that side of himself at bay. He didn’t want to hurt Jack if he could help it. He opened up a little more, let some of the raw power ripple along his flesh in a blatant show of intimidation. The crystal grew hotter against his chest. Maybe the old man would pick up the energy and back down.

Jack got to his feet, his gaze calculating as he wiped blood from his mouth. “Not bad, kid.”

“Give it up, Jack. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

Jack curled his bleeding lip. “I never run from a fight.”

Stubborn old man. Rafe flexed his fingers, hungry for a little carnage. Taking Jack down was starting to seem like a good idea. Was that his thought, or the Hunter’s? Logic warred with raw instinct. “You won’t win.”

Jack flexed his shoulders. “I got a few tricks left.”

“Yeah?” Rafe opened a little more, let the predator show in the bared teeth of his smile, the narrowing of his eyes. “You haven’t seen all mine yet, either.”

The pickup outside revved its engine. Jack’s eyes widened. Panic flared in his expression, and he whipped out a knife. “Get out of the way, Montana.”

“Can’t do that, Jack.” The Hunter snapped at the leash, smelled the desperation in the air. Wanted to take down the prey—for good.

That would not,
could
not, happen. He was a civilized human being, damn it, not a wild animal. And blood always cost a price no one wanted to pay.

“I don’t want to hurt you, kid.”

Rafe saw the truth in his eyes. “Yes, you do. What you
don’t
want is to do time for murder.”

Jack blinked, then shrugged, his mouth curving with scorn. “Got me there. But I’ll take the chance if it means getting out of here.”

Truth
.

Him or me
.
You know he’ll kill you and not lose any sleep over it.

“Sorry, Jack.” With no other choice, he unleashed the Hunter completely, the power surging through the crystal, overwhelming Rafe Montana, making him something different, something other. His mind winked out.…

*   *   *

He came back to himself with a snap, disoriented, worried, a little sick to his stomach. The crystal seared like a brand. How long had it been this time? Seconds? Minutes?

Jack lay on the floor, his face battered. His nose looked broken, blood seeping everywhere. The copper tang scented the air, filling Rafe’s nose and lungs, coating his tongue. Slowly he removed his boot from Jack’s throat, his heart pounding, his labored breathing straining his aching ribs. The knife lay on the floor several feet away.

No, no, not again
. Bitter bile rose in his throat. He opened his clenched fists and crouched down, pressed battered, bleeding fingers to Jack’s neck. Nearly keeled over when he felt the steady beat. Alive. He squeezed his eyes closed. Sent quiet thanks to the universe.

Outside, the screech of tires drew his attention. He rose and glanced out the window as the pickup peeled out of the parking lot. He blew out a slow breath and turned back to Jack. He had no beef with the
coyote,
not today.

A shuffle reminded him he wasn’t alone. He turned to look at the waitress. She froze in her tracks, halfway around the counter with her purse over her shoulder. He didn’t need any special powers to read the terror in her eyes.

Damn it. He’d forgotten she was there. He took a deep breath and tried to smile. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”

She drew back, wariness plain on her face. “I didn’t see anything.”

“I hope that’s not true, ma’am.” He reached into his pocket.

She screamed and crouched down, covered her head with her arms. “Don’t shoot me! I won’t say anything, really!”

“Hold on, hold on.” He yanked out his ID and held it up. “It’s just my wallet. Look, I’m a bail enforcement agent, and this man is a wanted fugitive.”

She peeked out between her arms, then slowly lowered them as she straightened. “What do you mean, bail enforcement agent?”

He shook his head, blamed Hollywood. “A bounty hunter. This is my ID. I’m one of the good guys.”

She tilted her head, considering him. “A real life bounty hunter, like on TV?”

“Yes. Like I said, I have ID. And my gun is still holstered.”

She gave a cynical laugh. “Pal, from what I saw, you don’t need no gun.”

He ignored the whisper of self-loathing that curled in his gut at the distrustful way she watched him. Very few had witnessed the Hunter in full action, and she seemed a little freaked. But he didn’t know how long Jack would stay out, and his cuffs had slid under the table during the fight. He had to take care of business before the burnout kicked in. Already his legs trembled with the beginning of the reaction.

You never got something for nothing in this world, and the price he paid for full-throttle Hunter equaled total physical shutdown for about twelve hours. He needed to get Jack in custody, and he needed her help to do it … before she had another unconscious body on the floor.

“Look—” He paused, flashed her an expectant glance.

“Vivian,” she offered.

“Vivian,” he echoed with a smile. “This guy is going to wake up eventually. You saw him pull a knife on me, right?”

She nodded.

“He’s dangerous, and I need to get him cuffed so he can’t hurt anyone. You can help me out by calling the cops while I do that.”

She considered for a moment longer, then nodded. “Okay. But you stay over there, got it? I don’t need you doing some crazy ninja moves on me like you did on that guy. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her voice quivered, and he could see the doubt in her eyes as she remembered what had happened earlier. “I sure hope you’re the good guy you say you are.”

So do I.
He smiled, trying to project reassurance. “Thank you, Vivian. I appreciate the help.” He ducked beneath the table and stood up again, holding the handcuffs where she could see them. “I’m going to cuff old Jack here, and you can call the police for me.”

“Guess a bad guy wouldn’t want the police, huh?” She went behind the counter, dumped her purse on the Formica and picked up the phone. Then she paused, her finger poised above the buttons. “So … you got a name or badge number or something I should give them?”

“My name is Rafe Montana.” He grabbed Jack’s arms and snapped the cuffs in place. “And Vivian, make sure you tell them we’re going to need an ambulance.”

“Sure thing.”

As Rafe straightened, the diner tilted, then steadied. He groped for a booth, half fell into the seat. Vivian’s voice seemed to increase in volume as she reported the incident to the cops, though he knew she wasn’t shouting. Then the handset hit the cradle like a sonic boom. The ancient vinyl beneath him creaked like thunder as he started to slump into it. The crystal around his neck faded to warm, then cool.

“Hey, Rafe Montana, you all right?” Her voice scraped like sandpaper over his whacked-out senses.

“No,” he muttered, shading his eyes against the suddenly blinding fluorescent lights. “I’m not.”

Burnout slammed over him.

CHAPTER TWO

“I won the pool.”

Cara McGaffigan frowned, pressing her cell phone closer to her ear as she dragged her wheeled carry-on down the airport Jetway. Already the desert heat of Nevada had turned the enclosed passageway into an oven despite the air conditioning, and she was baking in her jeans and sweatshirt. It had been chilly and raining when she’d left New Jersey. “What pool?”

Maisie, her friend and coworker, chuckled. “The one where we bet how long it would be after you landed before you called the office. I won.”

Cara stopped. Passengers pushed past her, and she automatically moved to the side, out of the way of traffic. “Are you kidding me?”

“Nope. I am now eighty dollars richer, thank you very much.”

Cara sighed, rubbing her temple. She’d been up since four in the morning and hadn’t slept a wink on the plane. “Am I really so predictable?”

“You are to me, but only because I’m your best buddy in the whole world.”

A businessman rushed by, jostling her. She scowled after him, then began moving forward again. “Then I guess the margaritas are on you next time we head over to Don Jose’s.”

“You got it.” Maisie’s tone grew more serious. “So you’re in Las Vegas. Now what?”

“Get my luggage. Get a cab to Danny’s place.”

“Are you sure it’s okay to crash there? I mean, I know Danny is your stepbrother and all—”

“Practically blood,” Cara reminded her.

“I know. But is it safe? He’s been missing for a while now. What if he was running away from someone, and whoever it is comes looking at his apartment while you’re staying there?”

Nothing she hadn’t thought of herself. Her throat grew tight. Her stepbrother had been missing for almost three weeks already, but despite the ominous implications, she couldn’t
not
come, even though the plane ticket had cost her more than she could really afford. She’d put up her condo for his bail, and now he’d disappeared. She’d find him. She had to. “It’s cheaper than staying at a hotel, and Danny might come back. Don’t worry, Maisie. I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Like you ever do. Did you bring the pepper spray I gave you?”

“Yes, it’s in my luggage.”

“Make sure you put it in your purse the minute you get a chance.”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Ha-ha. Listen, I care about you.”

“I know.” The sincerity in Maisie’s words brought a lump to her throat. She let out a shaky breath. Her emotions had been skating close to the surface these past few days. She had to keep it together, at least until she got to Danny’s place. Then she could lose it … when she was alone.

“Cara? You still there?”

“Yeah.” She glanced past the bank of slot machines in the middle of the terminal—such a weird sight—spotted the sign for baggage claim, and started in that direction. “Sorry, I’m really beat. I was up before the sun this morning.”

“I bet. Listen, I was thinking. You sure Danny didn’t just hit the jackpot and take off for Fiji or something? That would be like him.”

“You’re right. It would.” Despite the grim circumstances, her mouth curved as she thought of her stepbrother—always out for the bigger, better, flashier, get-rich-quickest way to anywhere.

“So that’s it then. He’s living it up on some tropical island and just forgot to tell you.”

“I doubt it. He would have called. Especially since August nineteenth has come and gone.” The lump in her throat grew bigger, and she struggled to keep her voice even. “He would never miss that, no matter how big the jackpot.”
And I refuse to believe he’d skip out and let me lose my condo
.

“You’re right. I’m so sorry, Cara.”

Maisie’s sympathetic tone almost destroyed Cara’s fragile control. With relief, she noticed that the baggage claim signs stopped at a monorail. “Listen, I have to get on a train to get to baggage claim, and I’ll probably lose the signal.”

“Okay. Keep me posted.”

“I will.”

“Oh, just one more thing.” Maisie paused. “Warren came back today.”

Her gut tensed. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. He was not pleased to find out you’d taken a leave of absence.”

Too bad
. “I talked to Mitch, explained it was a family emergency.”

“And since the three of you are partners, it shouldn’t be a big deal, I know. But I still get the feeling he’s ticked off about it.” Maisie lowered her voice. “I think he promised you would do a custom job for that new client, the Kirby Company. You know, personally.”

“He knows he’s not supposed to promise things like that. Things don’t always work out.”
Like our engagement.

“I agree,” Maisie replied. “Family comes first. And Mr. Big-Shot Salesman should know that. I mean, he’s certainly living that philosophy. He handed out invitations to Ashley’s baby shower today—personally! Can you believe that?”

Cara couldn’t answer past the clog in her throat. She visualized Warren’s wife—five years younger and nearly eight months’ pregnant.
That should have been me.

“Cara? Cara, you still there? Oh, man, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. I’m really sorry. I was just so astonished by his gall.”

“It’s okay, Maisie.” She took a calming breath. “I don’t have time to think about Warren right now. I have to concentrate on Danny.”

“That’s a girl. Listen, keep me posted, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Maisie. You’re the best.”

“Remember that the next time I need you to watch my dog.” With a laugh, Maisie disconnected.

Cara shook her head as she slipped her phone into her bag. What would she have done without Maisie, especially during the past year when she had struggled to work side by side in the same company with the fiancé who’d rejected her? The same fiancé who’d promptly married their hot young receptionist Ashley and gotten her pregnant within two months of marriage?

Cara had always longed for a family of her own, and she’d thought she’d found that with Warren. Knowing he’d used her to get partnership in the company, then dropped her to marry someone younger and prettier, had hit her confidence hard. But Ashley getting pregnant so soon—and trumpeting it all over the office—had decimated her fragile self-esteem to ash. Maisie and her Friday-night margaritas had gotten her through the worst of the nightmare. Ashley had eventually quit her job to be a full-time mom, so at least Cara wouldn’t have to watch her bloom with child with each passing day.