Present Tense (A Parker & Coe, Love and Bullets Thriller Book 2) (11 page)

He snapped his gaze toward me. "
You
can talk when I ask you to."

Yes sir
.

Never argue with men carrying guns.

"I was a fed myself," he said to Parker. "Fifteen years with the ATF. But you don't see me pretending to be anything but what I am."

"And what's that?" Parker asked.

"A bounty hunter, just like you." He snorted. "Or at least what you and your little honey pot play at. You've got a long way to go before you'll be any good at it. Assuming you live long enough."

"I don't understand. If this is about collecting a bounty, why were you shooting at Kelsey and Rider in the forest?"

"We weren't trying to hit 'em, just slow 'em down until we could catch 'em."

Suddenly overcome by anger, I stepped forward and the thug guarding me grabbed my arm. "Like you slowed down that Park Ranger?"

Cat Eater shook his head. "That was unfortunate, but it wasn't on my orders. Renner was new to the crew and had a mind of his own. And thanks to you, he got what he deserved."

I couldn't argue with that, but I wasn't sure I believed the rest of it. These guys didn't look as if they were too concerned about collateral damage. Bounty hunters, my ass. They were mercenaries.
 

"So how does Swan fit into all of this?" I asked.

"Who?"

"You heard me. J. L. Swan."

Cat Eater knitted his brows. He had no idea what I was talking about. "The real estate guy?"

"You're working for him aren't you?"

He laughed and gestured to Ethan. "Is that what this shit bird told you?"

I snapped my gaze toward Ethan and he eyed me sheepishly, making it clear that the Swan story had been another lie, stacked on top of all the others. Elena, the pillow talk, every word of it.

"What is
wrong
with you?" I said.

He shrugged. "I had to improvise." He nodded toward the bowling alley. "But I wasn't lying in there, Pooks. I promise you that."

"Yeah, whatever."

Cat Eater snorted again. "Pooks? Why's he calling you Pooks? Do you actually know this guy?"

"It's complicated," I said, then turned again to Ethan. "And what about the plane crash? Was Hap really poisoned or was that bullshit, too?"

"I'm guessing it was either a stroke or a heart attack."

"Yet you had me believing Wilky murdered him. How could do that?"

"Hey, Wilky's no boy scout. He planted that bug on me, remember?"

"That was at my request," Cat Eater said. "We were planning an intercept once you landed in L.A. and we needed to be able to track you. Fortunately, Wilky was happy to cooperate."

"I'm sure you were very persuasive," Parker said. "But this isn't about any bounty, is it? What does this clown have that you want?"

"You sure you don't know? You seem awfully anxious to grab him."

"Because he's a wanted man and belongs in lockup. And I don't particularly like him."

"I wouldn't, either, if he was calling my woman Pooks."

"That's really none of your business," Parker said. "But let me ask you again. What does he have that you want?"

"If I didn't have this weapon in my hand, I'd think
you
were the one holding it."

"Just answer me."

Cat Eater paused. Smiled. "Ten million dollars in jewelry and diamonds, which he stole from a safe in my client's bedroom and squirreled away somewhere. We intend to find out where."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Then again, maybe I could. "Let me guess. Your client is a woman."

"A very generous woman whose pride and reputation have been sullied by this useless reptile. She heard about his arrest and hired us to intervene once he arrived in L.A. She gets the jewelry back, we get the diamonds."

I said nothing. Just stared at Ethan. And when I looked at Parker I knew he was as disgusted as I was. Probably more—although I wasn't sure that was possible.

"Which brings me to the second reason I called this meeting," Cat Eater said. "I want you two amateurs to back off. This man is our prisoner now and we'll turn him over to the authorities when we're good and ready."

"And when will that be?" Parker asked.

"Once he tells us where he hid those jewels."

"And if we refuse?"

"This isn't a request, pal. Just a courtesy warning from one ex-fed to another. You try coming after him again and we'll have to take measures. And believe me, you won't like that one bit."

The coldness I'd seen in his eyes before was back and I felt a shiver of revulsion. For all Ethan's faults, I didn't envy him being in this man's custody.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," he said, "we need to have a conversation with our prisoner."

He signaled to his men and they all broke away from us, taking Ethan with them.

Ethan struggled, looking straight at me. "Don't let them do this, Pooks. They're gonna kill me. You know they're gonna kill me."

I saw terror in his eyes. Not a feigned or calculated emotion this time, but the real thing, raw and unvarnished. It was the most genuine I'd ever seen him, and despite all the lies and everything he'd put me through,
no-nonsense
Kelsey abruptly receded and I couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

We needed to stop these guys.

"Pooks! Please… Parker!"

But what could we do? We didn't exactly have the advantage here. If we tried to make a move, they'd happily cut us down without a second thought. And as you may have figured out by now, I kind of like being alive.

Ethan kept shouting and the thug holding him put a hand over his mouth as they dragged him toward the rear parking lot. I was surprised to see that they were taking him to a limousine that sat idling quietly in one of the aisles.

Had it been there the whole time? Cat Eater's rich client, wanting to see Ethan face to face?

I could understand why.

"He's right," Parker said quietly. "Once they have what they want, they
will
kill him."

"I know. So what can we do about it?"

"I'm not sure. If he called you Pooks one more time, I would've killed him myself."

"Shouldn't we tell the feds?"

"And what? Spend the next six hours being interrogated before they finally get their heads out of their butts? He'll be dead by then."

They had reached the limo and were pushing Ethan into the back seat as Cat Eater and his partner moved to their SUV.

"Then shouldn't we follow them?"

Parker shook his head. "They'll be ready for that. Too risky."

"We can't just let them do this."

"I know. But he's safe until he tells them what they want and they can confirm he isn't lying. And he knows he's dead meat if he caves too easily. Which gives us a little time."

"To do what?"
 

"To find out where they're taking him. And I think I know who can help."

"Who?"

"Who else?" Parker said. "Wilky."

PART FOUR

Here Today,
 

Gone Tomorrow

Arlin "Wilky" Wilkinson lived in a large, plantation-style mansion in a neighborhood full of them. I remembered thinking
this guy has green
when he'd hosted the barbecue here, and for the first time since I'd made my abrupt detour onto this new career path, I had begun to believe it might eventually pay off.

The mansion (there was no other word for it) was located in the curve of a cul de sac about ten miles north of the bowling alley. At four thirty in the morning it was as dark and inviting as a morgue at midnight—probably by design.

Parker pulled into the driveway and cut the Rover's engine. "Doesn't look like he's an early riser. We'll have to wake him up."

"Yeah, with a sledge hammer," I murmured, then immediately wondered what had gotten into me. This new Kelsey Coe was cause for concern.

Parker stifled a smile and we opened our doors and climbed out. But the moment we stepped past the hood of the rover, a motion sensor kicked in and flood lights illuminated the front of the house.

I hate when that happens.

We both hesitated, then shrugged it off and headed for the front door.
 

We were halfway there when a voice called out, "That's far enough, Parker," and a big brute of a man carrying an automatic weapon stepped out from the shadows at the side of the house.

I hate when that happens, too.

We both froze, then Parker relaxed and said, "What are you doing here, Mo?"

The name struck a chord—Elmo Lange—and I remembered meeting him at the barbecue. He was Wilky's in-house skip tracer, the guy who was supposed to have taken the escort job but had been forced to back out due to injury.

Like Parker, Elmo was a former Marshal's deputy and they'd known each other for years.

"Wilky's not too happy with you," Elmo said. "Considering how you and your girlfriend here sicced the feds on him. He figured you'd probably show up sooner or later and told me to keep an eye out for you."

Parker waved dismissively. "And do what? We're not here to hurt the guy. We just want to talk to him."

"I don't think he's much in the mood to talk. The feds really put him through a—"

"Where's your brace?" I asked.

He shifted his gaze to me. "What?"

"Wilky told me you broke your collarbone. Shouldn't you be wearing some kind of brace?"

Elmo frowned. "I broke my collarbone when I was ten years old. The brace came off a long time ago. Kinda doubt it would even fit at this point."

"So then why didn't you do the prisoner transport job? The one to L.A.?"

"I don't know anything about that. I just do what Wilky tells me."

"Do you watch the news?" Parker asked.

"Not if I can help it. What's that got to do with anything?"

"If you did, you'd know there was a plane crash in Houston National Forest—Wilky's chartered transport plane. The flight you were supposed to be on went down before it was barely off the ground, and Kelsey was the one who took your place."

"Because you had a broken collarbone," I said.

Elmo squinted at me. "You were in a plane crash?"

"Almost," I told him. "The prisoner and I were lucky enough to find a parachute before it was too late. But now I'm curious to know why Wilky would tell me you were injured when you clearly aren't."

"Kinda makes you think that plane crash was planned," Parker said.
 

"Which means Wilky is a murderer."

Elmo looked dumbfounded. He had no clue what we were talking about. But before he could respond, a voice called out from inside the house—

—"No! No! You've got it wrong. You've got it all wrong."—

—and the front door flew open, Wilky stepping into the light.

"I didn't kill anyone. That plane was not supposed to go down. That wasn't part of anyone's plan."

"Then why call me?" I asked. "Why pretend Elmo was injured?"

Wilky looked at us both, then sighed. "Why don't y'all come on inside. I need some coffee for this."

We sat at an island about the size of a pool table. Wilky's kitchen looked like something straight off HGTV and I was surprised he didn't have a personal assistant to serve us our coffee.

Instead, he took the cups from a glass encased cupboard himself and drew shots from a fancy one-button espresso machine that took up half a counter.

For a moment there I wanted to scream at him to hurry it up, a man's life was in danger, but I didn't think we'd get much cooperation that way.
 

Maybe I was learning.

"You folks have to understand," he said as he set cups in front of me and Parker. "I was as shocked by Hap's death as you were, and I certainly didn't want Ms. Coe to find herself in trouble. I thought this would be a fairly straightforward transport job."

I sipped my coffee, thankful to have a jolt of caffeine after a night of no sleep. "Then why send
me
instead of Elmo?"

Elmo stood near the kitchen doorway, holding his weapon in the crook of his arm. I wasn't sure what he thought we might do with these lethal coffee cups in our hands, but he was vigilant, I'd give him that.

"I was being torn a couple different ways," Wilky said. "I'd made a promise that I'd deliver the prisoner, and I like to think I'm a man of my word."

"To the cooperating agency you told me about? The one in L.A.?"

He nodded. "A-1 Bail Bonds. They've thrown a lot of business my way, which is one of the reasons I can afford to live in a place like this."

This was our cue to look around and marvel, but neither of us took our eyes off Wilky. "So where do Cat Eater and his crew come in?"

"Who?"

"The men who took Rider," Parker said. "And don't tell me you don't know anything about them."

A flicker of fear passed through Wilky's eyes and his usual effortless self-confidence momentarily receded. "His name is Jim Scaffe, and he's not somebody you want to get in bed with, if you can help it. But sometimes you don't have any choice, because he won't hesitate to hurt you—or anyone in your family—to get what he wants."

"Did he threaten you?" Parker asked.

"He never outright threatens anyone. But if he asks you how your daughter's gettin' along up in Dallas, you can be damn sure it ain't idle chatter."

"So he told you they were planning an intercept in L.A. and wanted you to make sure Rider had a tracker on him to facilitate the move."

"That's about the size of it."

"But what about me?" I asked. "How do I fit in?"

Wilky looked uncomfortable, no longer the good old boy who had met me at the airport. "You were cover."

"Cover?"

"I've got a reputation to think about. People lose confidence in you real fast in this business, and if I sent Elmo with the prisoner, A-1 might figure something hinky was going on. Elmo's one of the best and he's never lost a prisoner. Besides, I wasn't about to ask him to take a dive."

Elmo grunted. "Thanks, boss."

I thought about this and suddenly understood. "So you contacted me because you'd met me at that barbecue last month and you knew I was enthusiastic but inexperienced. You take a hit with A-1 but it isn't fatal because your main man was sidelined and you've got me as your fall guy."