Chapter Six
JoJo
I resisted the urge to strangle a certain sassy blonde who’d FUBARed my mission. True, I hadn’t given her much to go on, and I guess it was too damn much to expect her to follow my lead. This had been my operation, she’d been along as a favor to Danvers, and he’d hear about it. But busting her ass wouldn’t bring the Logans back, so I focused on the details in the car and trunk. It was almost as good as capturing them. Almost. Then there was our kiss, that had been a taste of perfection. I wished I had time to pursue her now, with her defenses low, but I had more important responsibilities, namely capturing the bastards who’d skipped bail and made a fool out of me.
We’d found four solid leads to follow up on tonight while the trail was hot. First, we’d found four gas receipts and I had those addresses down. Second, the hotel receipt with the alias on it—not far from the gas stations. Third we found a journal I pocketed before Charlie had made it to the car. The cops could have it when I was done with it. Fourth, I’d found a scrap of paper with two bank names—First Federal Credit Union and City Credit Union. I’d double check my notes later, but I didn’t think either of those banks had been hit, yet.
They’d dumped their ride but left a lot of damning information behind. A solid crack in their defenses, one I’d use to my advantage. They were fatally compromised—it was only a matter of time before the PD or I tracked them down. I wanted it to be me.
I gave West a nod, and he jogged back to the SUV. Charlie was still sifting through the trunk contents.
“I’m heading out, can I drop you somewhere?” I hoped she said no, but I had to ask. She was a complication I didn’t need even if her lips were the softest I’d ever tasted.
“No, I need to maintain the chain of evidence. A team is about twenty minutes out.” She blew out a breath. “You okay?”
I didn’t know what she meant.
“Your arm?”
I’d forgotten all about it, but once I thought of it, pain pulsed in my left arm. I’d had much worse. “It’s nothing.”
“You get shot a lot?”
“This isn’t shot. I’ll be fine.”
Her brows lifted in question but she didn’t ask. Instead she glanced away. “Sorry for screwing up the plan back there.”
Bikers didn’t apologize, and it wasn’t as much her fault as it was just different work styles—that’s why I worked with people I knew. Delta, my brothers, the prospects—they all knew the score, but cops were a foreign breed.
“See ya around, sugar.” I gave her my two-finger salute and jogged up to my bike. West and I would meet back at his motel room and go over the evidence we’d found, then plan our next move. If luck was with me, I’d track down the Logans tonight.
Back at a local motel—I preferred them to chains when I could get one—I checked into my room and called West over. He strode in with duct tape.
“If you’re not getting that looked at, you need better coverage.” He tossed me two bottles of pills—one a generic antibiotic and the other hydrocodone. I set the latter on the bed, I needed a clear head. I swallowed two of the antibiotics and drank down the water he gave me.
After he played nursemaid with a new bandage and duct tape cover, we got down to business.
“I want you over at this motel.” I rattled off the Extended Stay America’s address. “Take their photos and lots of cash. I want details and their room swept. Maybe they haven’t had a chance to clean out what they left behind.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m reading a good book.” I waved the journal at him. “Then I’ll hit the gas stations and then the two banks we found. They’re too cocky, they won’t abandon their plans just because we almost caught them. If anything, they’ll push up the timeline.”
“That’s stupid.” West scowled. “We’d have them if it wasn’t for the cop.”
“Maybe. But we don’t so no use pissing and moaning.”
West clamped his mouth shut with a nod before he headed out the door.
I lay back in the bed and opened the black moleskin journal.
April 15
I am a married woman! And we have the most romantic honeymoon planned. Yes, diary, we are robbing our way across Oklahoma and Texas to the border. Then we’ll live rich and fat in Mexico. No more trailer parks for us. Archer is so sexy with a gun, it makes me hot just thinking about it, imagining the fear we’ll create. I can’t wait until tomorrow...our first robbery. We’ll be famous before we’re through.
I was right, Deidre was bloodthirsty. Women were the worst psychopaths, rare but especially dangerous. I read through more entries looking for clues.
April 25
We almost blew it. Some guy came onto me at the club and Archer went crazy. He was so sexy when he beat the fuck out of the skeez who tried to hit on me. If the police hadn’t come, my husband would have killed him for insulting me. That’s true love.
Diary, I freaked the hell out once I realized he was in jail and I couldn’t get him out with our stolen cash, because duh, the police would figure that shit out. Luckily, I conned this biker guy to bond him, using a sob story and one of our credit cards to pay. When Archer walked out of the jail, the clouds parted and the sun shined down, giving him a halo. That was God giving us his blessing—he wants us to be happy. We won’t waste the second chance He gave us. Look out, world, the Logans are coming your way!
I slammed the book shut and barely kept myself from throwing the damn thing at the wall. The bitch had used me and I’d fallen for it. I’d track the bastards down if it was the last thing I ever did. I forced myself to open the diary again, skimming for more leads.
The last entry was only two days ago.
May 3
SL came through for us. She made an introduction to this weasly guy named Shorty who produced three new IDs for us. We’re using one now, have one if we need to burn the current one, and our forever names—Mr. and Mrs. Logan Banks. It’s so clever, even when I’m old my name will make me laugh, remembering our precious honeymoon. No one loves like Archer. Look out, world, here we come. Get out of our way or die!
Yup, Deidre was definitely a bloodthirsty bitch. I knew Shorty; while he wasn’t part of my network, I’d persuade him to give up their identities, especially after I showed him the diary. He could tell me or tell the cops. He’d definitely prefer me.
I sat up and pulled my boots back on. Three in the morning was the perfect time for an ambush. I made a couple calls to locate Shorty’s current hideout, then headed out on my bike. By the time the sun was up, I’d have all their identities.
Shorty was shacking up in a vacant house in a nice part of town. I rode my bike down the quiet, tree-lined street in an upper class neighborhood. I drove up the long drive and parked my bike in the shadows that hung close to the house. I found French doors leading in from the patio and jimmied the lock with my lock picks. When I opened the door, no alarm blared, so I moved quietly through the house. A light shone under a door crack on the main level. I put my ear to the door and heard the TV playing and someone shuffling paper. Shorty must work nights.
I pulled my gun and tested the doorknob; not locked. Throwing open the door with a loud bang, I rushed into the center of the room and locked on my target. Shorty sat in pajama pants and a faded T-shirt, hands on the keyboard of a massive computer system.
“Hands up! Don’t move unless you want to resemble a donut.”
Shorty’s hands shook as he raised them. “Who are you? What do you want? I have bodyguards.” His eyes flicked left and right, looking for escape routes.
“The Logans, eventually the Banks, send their regards.” I studied his face.
Recognition flickered in his eyes before they went blank. “You might just as well kill me, I don’t rat on clients.” His voice wavered but he believed what he said.
I held my gun steady as I approached him. I shoved Deidre’s open diary under his nose. The book fell open to the page I’d marked. “Even clients this stupid?” I showed him her diary entry.
“Motherfucking cunt,” he growled, giving me an obstinate stare.
“I appropriated this from a crime scene, and it could easily make its way to the police. You want to deal with them or me?”
He stared at my Brotherhood cut, then met my eyes. “You, I suppose.” He held hands up. “Can I pull up the identities on the computer?”
“You screw me and I take you into the cops. You won’t like prison.”
The short guy had to be in his fifties and he was soft. Too soft to survive hard time. His fingers moved fast across the keys and a file popped up. I saw the name Deidre had written in her journal along with the one on the hotel receipt. Shorty was playing it straight. The printer whirred to life and spit out four pages.
Shorty nodded to the pages, “That’s all I have.”
I picked up the pages, scanned them and nodded. I holstered my weapon and tore out the diary page. “An even trade.”
“Thanks.”
I whipped out my gun and struck him on the head before he finished the word. I wasn’t the trusting sort, and I didn’t want him alerting anyone before I got to them. I rifled through his pockets for his phone, then smashed it. I’d disable the landline at the box, if there was a landline. The relay box for the phone was outside the garage, and I disabled both the internet and phone line. I also slit the tires on the Honda I found in the garage. It was the best I could do without crossing my personal line. While I didn’t trust the crook, I also wouldn’t do him permanent harm. Not my style, at all.
I rode off into the night with new information for my skip tracer while we watched the banks.
* * *
My butt was numb and I had to piss, but I didn’t move. I had forty-five minutes left on this stakeout at the First Federal Credit Union. All the other robberies took place before noon, so I was betting they would change it up. I had backup on the way, but they wouldn’t arrive until about dark, then I could work out a better rotation for staking out the two banks. My gut said they’d hit one of them in the next twenty-four hours. I wished I knew where and when.
No intel had come back from the contractor we used for skip tracing. He was great at digging up all kinds of dirt, but so far they hadn’t used credit cards or pinged on any other databases since we’d found their abandoned ride. That meant they were likely paying cash to hang out at a flophouse or booking it for Mexico. If it was the latter, I might not catch them.
But I bet on their egos. No way they’d want to run low on cash. I figured OKCPD had recovered at least half of what they’d stolen. Of course they could pick option three, moving on to a new location and starting up again, but that meant more info gathering and waiting. Deidre wasn’t the waiting kind. She had a taste of violence and would be eager for more.
At eleven thirty a patrol car rolled to a stop in front of the bank. Fuck. I punched in Danvers’s number.
“Did you forget how to be a goddam cop?” I yelled into the phone when he answered.
“What?” He sounded groggy.
“How long you been up?” I quieted my voice.
“Twenty-four hours, maybe more. Now what are you pissing about?”
“Your patrol car sitting in front of the bank. It’s a neon sign warning the Logans away. They could see the damn car three blocks away.”
He cursed. “I told them low profile. Stupid, stupid... I’ll take care of it. We have a manpower shortage with all my detectives tracking down other leads from the car.” He paused and I heard him rifling through papers. “You really think they’ll hit one of the banks?”
“Get rid of the clown car, then we’ll talk.” I hung up. About five minutes later the car left but Danvers didn’t call me back. Good for me because when he did, I’d have to return the diary and tell him about the aliases. I should do that anyway, but I wasn’t ready to give up my advantage. I’d tell him or Charlie before the day was over, but right now I wanted to see if my bet worked out.
My phone rang. “Talk to me,” I told West.
“A cruiser showed up then left. What’s with that?”
“I called Danvers. He pulled them. Anything exciting there?”
“Nothing. You might be wrong.” West yawned, he hadn’t gotten much sleep either. None of us had in the past couple of days.
“Won’t be the first time. Stick it out until noon and then take a break before you go back for the afternoon.”
“Boss, you’re kidding, right?” West whined, which wasn’t normal for him.
“Not a bit. We need luck and that means digging in and doing the work.” I’d found I was luckiest when I worked the hardest.
“Shit, this sucks. If that cop hadn’t—”
“Quit bitching, just do the job.” I cut him off. I was as much to blame as Charlie since I hadn’t read her into my plans. We were complete opposites. Charlie was by the book while I lived in the shadows But we had one thing—off-the-charts chemistry. I wanted her naked, under me in the worst way, the consequences be damned. I could still taste her lips on mine and remembered her breath hot against my ear. But we hadn’t connected, even talked again. It was better that way.
An old pickup pulled up to the front of the bank and parked. A young guy jumped out with a cowboy hat, but he wore tennis shoes not shit kickers—no cowboy in Oklahoma did that. With aviators and the cowboy hat pulled low I couldn’t see much of the guy’s face. My gut twitched as my hunter’s instinct kicked in—I never ignored it. I eased out of the car and moved slowly toward the truck. Someone—Deidre, if my instincts were right—waited in the truck. Not much of a getaway ride, but then they wouldn’t expect to be chased. I walked down the street across from the truck and spotted Deidre Logan in the driver’s seat. I crossed the road and headed for the car behind the truck. I pretended to get in the ride, but ducked down and hid behind the car. Keeping out of the driver’s rearview and side mirrors, I made my way to the back of the truck and stuck a tracker to the rusted bumper. I crept back to my car and slid inside, then dialed Danvers.
“They’re here.” I spoke low and fast when he answered. “First Federal Credit Union. I got a tracker on the truck but I’m not going to intercept them here. Too much risk.”
“Son of a bitch. I’ll send Charlie and Brie your way. This tracker works?”
“It does.”
“Okay, I’ll tell them to connect with you on your phone, and not to spook them.”
“Got it.” I hoped Charlie listened to her captain better than she had me.
I hung up and called West, getting him in position a few blocks down. We would do two car surveillance. They wouldn’t get away from us this time.
Archer hauled ass out of the bank and jumped into the truck a second before the alarm blared in the credit union. The truck pulled out and drove at a sedate pace down the road, turning three blocks ahead. I’d fixed my Bluetooth to my ear and snapped my phone into the holder of the rental car before I pulled out.
West spoke in my ear. “I’m a block over, following parallel to their route.”
“Good, I’m following now.” I pulled out and sped down the road.
I hadn’t made it a half mile before a foreign number rang on my phone.
“Marcone,” I answered.
“This is Charlie, where are you?”
“Following our bad guy.” I hedged, not wanting her to come in lights blazing.
“Address.”
“I’ll call you when they settle.” I hung up and didn’t pick up when she called back. I couldn’t afford another misfire.