He wasn’t sure where those words came from, but they were true. He’d been a wreck over the last forty-eight hours wondering what she was doing. He’d waited in the office for two hours and when he saw her come in carrying flowers, his heart dropped into his boots, although he knew the spark was missing with her date. No one ends a date this early when they’re interested, and there was that missing shine in her eyes when he first saw her, but it had returned into her beautiful eyes and he felt alive again.
He inhaled sharply, taking in her scent mingled with the roses. “Sorry. I just had to clarify that fact.”
“Deegan…” With trembling fingers, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.
“What? Is it impossible to believe?”
“I’m not sure what to say. We don’t know each other, and I don’t think we even like one another.” Her tongue swept out to moisten her bottom lip. “When we’re together it’s like a dam has broken and suddenly—”
“We’re caught up in a thunderous waterfall.”
“Yes. Something like that. It’s a problem.”
“I like you and that’s the problem.”
Her mouth dropped open and then she snapped it shut. “You do like me?”
He chuckled. How could one woman be so irresistibly cute? “I think the question is, do you like me? I do see that the invisible daggers are out of commission.”
“This is ridiculous.” She sighed and stepped back, but only a mere inch or two.
“What’s ridiculous is that I would have given you daisies. They are your favorite,” he said softly.
She blinked. “Yes…but how…?”
“Every Wednesday you have a fresh arrangement on your desk. Most people probably think a lover sends them to you, but I once saw you stop at that corner shop down the street and buy a bouquet. This fellow you were with doesn’t know you.”
“Is that really the reason why you came here? To find out who I was with?”
Their gazes held and for a heartbeat he wanted to kiss her, to show her how much he truly liked her, but she wasn’t ready, not yet. Eventually he would give in to desire and so would she, and when he did, he’d never let go—she wouldn’t want him to.
“I thought you might like to see these.” He reached around and grabbed the thick envelope from the waist of his jeans and handed it over.
She stared for a good three seconds, then sat down in her chair with the envelope. He watched her take out the photos and look at each one, her mouth twisting more and more as the stack grew thinner. “Deegan, these pictures are of Annie. Someone was stalking her? How did you get these?”
“I was at the right place at the right time and had the right amount of money.” He shifted in his boots, still shocked that the homeless girl had the hidden treasure.
“That’s a bit vague. We should hand these over to the authorities working on the case.” Her brows scrunched as she spread the photos across the desk, examining each of them closer.
Deegan leaned over the desk, bracing his fists on the edge, sweeping his gaze across picture after picture of the aide in a restaurant, at the movies, on the sidewalk, and more. “We will, eventually.”
She snapped her chin up. “I could lose my career, and so could you. We’re not assigned to this case.”
“I made a promise to the girl who gave me these that I would find out who did this to her friend.”
“The girl was friends with Annie?”
“No. Her friend was the dead man found shot in the alley.”
Rubbing her temples, she sighed in frustration. “Tell me everything, including who this girl is and how she ended up with these pictures.”
He sat in the chair. “She wouldn’t tell me her name, but she and the dead guy in the alley, Gavin Franco, had been partners in an ongoing scam. They were runaways and needed to eat and pay for their habit, so they started pickpocketing. Once they became more skilled ,they found an easier way to make money. Stealing briefcases and holding them for ransom proved to be lucrative. They found all the personal information they needed to contact the owners and ask for money in exchange for their belongings back. Some would come up with the cash, and those who didn’t their briefcases were tossed into the dumpster, after the couple took what they could use or sell. One briefcase was lifted off a man near Annie’s apartment. They jimmied the lock and this was what they found.”
“They couldn’t have possibly thought this would be an easy scam.” Kiersten sighed.
“The girl wanted to toss the case, but Gavin saw dollar signs.”
“Was there anything else in the case? Identification? Address? There had to be a contact number obviously.”
Deegan shrugged. “She said there were a few pieces of paper, an uneaten sandwich and the pictures. And you notice who this is.” He picked up the photo with Everest and Annie sitting at a restaurant. She was crying, and Everest had his hand on hers, consoling her.
“Okay, so what happened? They contacted the owner of the briefcase, and…?”
“The girl said Gavin set up the meeting to exchange the briefcase for five hundred. That was the biggest exchange they’d done.”
“And they didn’t give the pictures back?”
“Nope.” He scratched his temple.
“They kept the pictures thinking they could hassle more money, right?”
“Pretty much. It’s not clear exactly what happened next because the girl wasn’t there when Gavin was shot and killed.”
“The owner was pissed because he didn’t get his pictures back. Or maybe planned to kill Gavin from the very beginning, but either way, I’m sure these pictures are worth more to the owner than five hundred.”
“Bingo.”
“And then the girl saw her chance at swindling some cash from you. How did she know about you?”
“She saw me asking questions at a local coffee shop. She’s smart. That’s how they’ve gotten away with scamming people for so long. Still think it’s a coincidence?”
Kiersten stood and paced the floor and he could tell by the way she bit her lower lip that she was working through her thoughts. She stopped in front of him and placed her hands on her hips, tilting them ever so slightly. “Where are you with finding Everest?”
Deegan gave his head a shake. “I checked at his workplace and no one has seen him. I had an old address for him that I checked out this morning, but he moved from the location several months ago. Surprise. He didn’t leave a forwarding address. I think our boy is running from something.”
“What are we going to do?”
“We? Does that mean you’re back helping?” He grinned.
“Don’t get too excited. Just so we’re clear, I won’t jeopardize my career to save your friend’s ass. From my standpoint, he’s not free of guilt yet, and if at any moment I find even a sliver of his involvement he will have my handcuffs wrapped around his wrists so fast he won’t know what hit him.”
He liked the way her eyes gleamed. “Duly noted.” He reached for his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“For another fifty, I was able to convince the girl to give me the number they called to reach the owner of the briefcase.”
“Wait. You had this all along and are just now telling me? What makes you think he’ll speak to you? He’s murdered a man, and maybe a woman, and I’m sure he’s across six borders by now.”
“What I think is that this guy wants his pictures bad enough to kill for. I’d bet my eye teeth that he’s waiting and hoping that he’ll get another call from the girl asking for more money. That’s what I’d do. The killer is brave enough to shoot a man dead in the middle of the day in an alley. He’s in a business deal with someone and our job is to figure out what business that is exactly.”
She crossed her arms. “Why hasn’t the girl made that call yet?”
“She’s scared. She’s afraid the killer will hunt her down.”
“Not scared enough to take the photos to the cops I see.”
Deegan shrugged. “I’m calling him.” He dialed the number the girl had given him. The phone was answered on the third ring.
“Yeah?”
“How bad do you want your photos?” Deegan asked.
The man’s laughter vibrated the line. “How did I know that I’d hear from you again? I’ve learned you can’t be trusted. It’s not very nice to keep a man’s belongings.”
“I’ll bring you the pictures.”
“For a price, I’m sure. How much?” he asked in a low, gravelly voice.
“Five hundred. Where should we meet?”
“In the parking garage of Calbre Plaza Hotel. Familiar with it? You should be. Isn’t that your stomping ground?”
“I’ll be there at nine P.M.” Deegan clicked off.
Kiersten looked at him in shock. “You nailed that one.”
“I’ve seen his type. He thrives on the adrenaline rush.”
“Wait…I’m getting a call.”
He watched her grab her phone from her purse and answer. As she talked, her brows scrunched and her mouth twisted. Once she clicked off, she blew out a long breath through the corner of her mouth. “That was Abby who works with the pathologist who did Annie Steele’s autopsy. I asked her to call if anything suspicious came up on the preliminaries. They found traces of fentanyl in the syringe. Here’s another thing…she had bruising on her scalp up in her hairline above her temple that matches the size of the muzzle of a gun. It looks like our aide did have a story to tell.”
*
The man clicked off and resisted the urge to smash the disposable phone onto the table. No, he couldn’t do that, not yet. He could walk away, forget the pictures, but he didn’t like being played a fool. It angered him, and yet he found it comical that the dipshit scammer wanted his drugs so badly that he was willing to risk the same fate as his friend in the alley.
Thrumming his fingers on the table, he didn’t enjoy the extra mile to get his pictures back, but he did like the thought of erasing another fucked-up human from the face of the earth.
Standing, he crossed the space of the attic of the boarding house where he’d been staying for six months and braced his fingers on the doorframe, testing it for sturdiness. He did two hundred lifts, liking the bittersweet ache in his muscles. Sweat slicked his naked body and his breathing was labored, making him feel rejuvenated. He thrived on pain. Pounding his fists against his chest, he smiled at his reflection in the full-length mirror, then gave his biceps a proud flex.
He’d come a long way from the scrawny kid who was bullied for his acne, dirty clothes, and trashy house on that backroad in hill jack country. He’d show them all. He was a man who would lead the world in erasing the scum.
If the military taught him anything it was how to kill a man twenty different ways, leaving no sign that he was there. He couldn’t account for his mates, unfortunately. They were idiots who botched up jobs. Why didn’t he do the mission himself?
It wasn’t that he enjoyed killing people as much as he liked the idea of ridding the country of trash. That was his duty.
Tonight, he’d be prepared to complete the circle.
Picking up the phone, he dialed a number he knew by heart, and when it was answered, he said, “I’m sorry to bother you but I wanted to let you know that the mission is almost complete…yes…I’ll bring the pictures to you tonight.” He hung up, dropped the phone to the wooden floor and smashed it with his boot. He’d learned to never keep any evidence.