Bring the Heat (9 page)

“You've lost your fucking mind,” Danny grumbled.
“Too many things can go south. What if we can't get to you in time?”

The possibility scared the hell out of Austin. God, he was so tired. Two nights virtually without sleep had left him feeling like he'd been run over and backed over again for good measure. He leaned back in his chair, waving off Danny's worry with a show of false bravado.

“You and Shane will be parked only one block from the club. I'll be wired and fitted with a tracking device. Nothing will go wrong.”

“If he realizes that we're there, one block is too damn far away.”

Austin slapped the files spread across his desk. “What else do you suggest? That I hide while he traps another poor, unsuspecting victim and hacks him or her to pieces? Forget it.”

“Better him than you.”

“You don't mean that.”

“No, but I hate this.”

Austin heard the defeat in Danny's surly tone. He'd go along with the plan, but he'd hate every second.
Well, that makes two of us, my friend
.

Austin turned his attention to the Blankenship file, burning to know whether his friend had asked Laura to dinner. Danny hadn't brought it up, and Austin didn't want to seem as though he gave a shit. Which he did, especially with the memory of Laura's hot, sweet mouth responding to his. Electrifying his starved senses.

Son of a bitch.

Danny pulled a folding chair close to Austin's desk and sat so they could review the file again, nodding to a photo of Blankenship's nude body, peppered with stab wounds. “Hell of a price to pay. Jesus, his parents.”

“Yeah.” The scene had been bad. The worst. Betty Blankenship's screams haunted every waking moment. They'd torment him for months, until they faded enough for him to seal them in that tight compartment reserved for awful things best forgotten.

“No parent should have to learn their child has been murdered, much less how this guy died.”

“Damn,” Danny muttered. “I've wondered if his closest coworkers knew about his bisexuality, or if he kept that part of his life totally private except for lifelong friends like Rick Yates.”

“Probably irrelevant, but it won't hurt to check.”

“I'll do some more poking around. What company did he work for again?”

Austin flipped through the report, scanning. “Here. Dynamic Media Creations in Nashville, near the new movie studio.”

“That's quite a trek from his apartment in Sugarland,” Danny observed thoughtfully. “Plenty enough distance to keep his nightlife separate from his job.”

His job
. Blankenship had worked as a
graphic artist
. Austin was struck by the detail. He'd heard that term recently, in connection to someone besides Blankenship. But to whom?

The memory returned full force, and he stiffened.
Frankie Blair
.

Danny stretched his long legs out in front of him, arching a brow. “What is it?”

“God, I must be losing it.” He raked a hand through his hair in annoyance. “I ran into my cable guy, Frankie Blair, in the Waterin' Hole the night Stacy Mead was murdered. Blair said he's in college to become a graphic artist. Graduates at the end of May.”

“So?”

“He claims he has a line on a job from a ‘friend of a friend.'”

“And you think maybe that was Blankenship? Pretty big coincidence.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I intend to find out.”

“Think he'll level with you?”

“Yeah,” Austin mused. “Actually, I do. Think I'll leave him a message at work, maybe drop by his place later for a chat.”

“I'll go with you, after I've paid a visit to Dynamic Media.”

Austin nodded absently, instincts humming. Danny, sharp as he was, had a lot to learn. Coincidences didn't exist in this job. Ever. A few days earlier, Austin had never met a graphic artist. Now he'd run across two in a very short time span. A fluke? Not frigging likely.

“I've got the ME's report on Blankenship,” Shane announced, brandishing a file as he strode toward them at a brisk pace.

Austin tensed and Danny straightened in his chair. Hurt went through him that Shane had received the file and not him, that Laura hadn't even called, but he told
himself it didn't matter. Their normally cool, composed detective vibrated with excitement.

Shane plunked the file on Austin's desk without ceremony. “You're not gonna believe this shit. There wasn't a lot of forensic evidence at the scene, but what Laura found—” He tapped the folder. “Look for yourselves.”

Austin opened the folder, peering down at the report. Danny scooted close, following the text with his finger.

“One strand of black hair, thirteen inches in length, collected from the abdomen,” the lieutenant read aloud. “A trace of Rohypnol found in the victim's bloodstream—no surprise there—but no evidence of sex. The black hair was synthetic. A wig, then.”

“Austin,” Danny whispered. “The report says it matches a strand of long black synthetic hair wound in the belt around Ashley's neck.”

Austin stared at the damning words, felt the blood drain from his face. None of them had seen this one coming, not in their worst nightmares.

“Oh my God.” He closed his eyes, feeling sick. “The killer was wearing a disguise.”

“He's changing his appearance, possibly to look less threatening as a woman,” Danny pointed out. “If we proceed with your fishing expedition tonight, the dragnet around you has to be tightened. No room for a clusterfuck.”

Danny shook his head. “This is ten kinds of fucked up. It feels wrong and I think we should call it off.”

“I disagree,” Austin said. “I say we go through with it—we just have to be cautious.”

Glenn spread his hands to indicate the evidence in front of them. “Cautious is an understatement. The fact is, Blankenship was lured to his death. Drugged and murdered by someone wearing a wig, probably a man. Whether or not anyone else is involved, we just don't know. Either way, he's just as dead, and God knows what the bastard has planned for Austin.”

Silence ensued, the truth weighing heavy between them. Cold gripped him, settling into the marrow of his bones.

Is that the way I'm destined to die? At the hands of my family's killer?

“I want DNA run on all of it,” Austin managed. “Especially the hair and the tissue under Ashley's fingernails.”

“Already in the works. I put a rush on the testing, but they're backlogged by months. If I have to get nasty, I will.” Shane shrugged.

Austin didn't doubt he'd follow through. “Do it. And I want to go ahead with tonight's setup.”

“You sure about this?” Danny gave him a hard stare.

“Positive. I'll arrive at the club around nine tonight, wearing the wire. You and Shane will listen in the van, which will be parked across the street. Watch everyone who comes and goes through the front entrance. Chris will cover the service entrance at the back alley, Tonio the parking lot.”

“Okay, we'll give it two hours. The killer doesn't make contact, your ass is out of there.”

“And if he does, he may try to ensure my cooperation by slipping something in my beer before taking me from the club to another location, like he did with Blankenship.”

“Shit,” Danny groused. “This sucks.”

Shane's mouth flattened. “There's no other way if we hope to catch him before he kills again. But this monster won't get the chance to hurt Austin. We'll be on him like white on rice before that happens, you have my word.”

Somehow, Austin didn't find that very comforting. Best-case scenario, the bust would go down as planned, his buddies finding him drugged to the gills and trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. Worst case?

In truth, he'd die regretting that he'd tasted no more than a single kiss from Laura Eden's lips.

•   •   •

Laura was tired and heartsick.

Seemed Austin's news spot had generated quite the blowup with the other news stations, and quite a few reporters wanted a comment from the ME's office. More than she'd expected. Poor Toby had been going crazy fielding the calls, as the phone hadn't stopped ringing.

Not a single call had been from Austin, though. Laura hadn't heard a peep from him since he'd dropped
her off at the station yesterday after lunch and promptly ordered Danny to follow her home.

Stupid, stupid. Just because he'd kissed her like a man dying of thirst, rocked her world like no man ever had, didn't mean he'd do it again. In fact, he'd backed way off, and the reason why couldn't be more clear.

“We'll darned well see about that.”

Austin's violent reaction to the dead woman behind the club bothered Laura, because she realized he was internalizing the murder. Perhaps feeling guilty, wanting to protect Laura from the same fate.

When he'd stood looking down at Mead's corpse, the dark emotions swirling in Austin's laser green eyes delved much deeper than simply
upset
.

He'd been haunted. Destroyed.

After he'd staggered to the men's room and hadn't emerged for a good fifteen minutes, Danny had gone to check on him. Lord knew what had transpired, but the guys didn't show for another five minutes, Austin's face white as snow. She'd felt so bad for him. Still did.

She'd gain Austin's trust. Melt his resolve, layer by layer, and expose the passionate, wonderful man she'd glimpsed before. She'd be there for him as a friend whether he wanted her to or not. As a lover if he desired, and at least part of him did. If he'd give, just a little, she'd fix that sexy smile permanently on his face before he knew what hit him.

First, she had to get him to stop avoiding her like the bubonic plague. Considering how well they'd gotten along yesterday, there was no time like the present to
take advantage of the brief thaw. He'd be reluctant to get close, especially with a psycho thrown into the mix.

Tough
.

Starting tonight, she'd turn up the heat on her sexy captain. When she'd run an errand at the station earlier, she'd overheard one of the detectives saying something about Austin being at the Waterin' Hole tonight. Perfect.

“Because that's exactly where I'll be, too.”

Austin got out of his truck, locked it, and pocketed the keys.

He smoothed the front of his shirt, impressed with their techie's skill. The tiny wire and tracking device were sewn into the seam next to the row of buttons on his shirt. Gotta love technology. Especially when two pieces of fiber optics, each one no thicker than a human hair, were all that stood between him and a grisly death.

“Everybody fuckin' pay attention,” he muttered, loud enough for the team to hear. “I'd appreciate waking up in the morning with my balls intact.”

He strode for the entrance to the club, secure in the knowledge that everyone was listening. His only lifeline. Not being able to hear a direct response creeped him out, but Danny had promised to call his cell phone, should a problem arise.

Problem. Right. What an understatement.

He chose his usual spot at the bar, rather than sitting at the back as he'd started to do. Best to stick to his routine. Looking around, he noted that Chandler wasn't working tonight. There was a different
bartender on duty, a guy named Bryce who made a damn good drink.

He ordered a beer and settled in. Alcohol was the last thing he wanted, but it was a tempting lure for a killer. Now there was nothing else to do but wait.

His thoughts turned briefly to Frankie Blair. He'd left a message for Blair at the cable company, but the guy hadn't returned his call. Hopefully, he'd manage to pay Blair a visit tomorrow.

No one approached him as half an hour ticked by. Eventually, the bartender returned, took his empty bottle, and replaced it with another cold one. The second brew proved normal as well, and Austin took more time with it. Despite the onetime binge that had landed him in the hospital, he wasn't used to drinking more than this in one sitting. One more and he'd have to stay the night with one of the guys, drugged or not. No way would he get behind the wheel of his truck drowning in alcohol.

The hour mark came and went. “Two brews. Danny, hope your spare bed has clean sheets. Looks like I'm crashing with you.”

Frustration was settling in. It was starting to look like their guy wasn't going to show after all. He'd stay a little longer, but it looked like he'd miscalculated.

Dammit to hell
.

•   •   •

Taylor Kayne pulled into his driveway, into the garage, and shut off the ignition. He blew out a long breath, just sitting for a few seconds.

Christ, it had been a hell of a day. As much as he wanted to assist on the stakeout and help Austin, a small part of him had been glad he'd been opted out. They had plenty of guys there to handle it. He was looking forward to a beer, a hot shower, and his sexy girlfriend, and not necessarily in that order. As soon as he could stir his ass out of the car, that is.

With a groan, he got out and hit the lock button, then started across the garage toward the door that led inside to the kitchen. He could almost taste his sweet Cara's lips, her body against his. Yeah, maybe he'd skip the beer altogether and go straight for the
real
intoxicating stuff.

A slight shuffle on the concrete behind him was the only warning he had that there was an intruder in his garage—and then it was too late to react.

As he turned, hand reaching for his sidearm, an explosion shattered the quiet of the night. A searing heat flared in his chest as the force propelled him backward and he fell. Hitting the floor hard, he lay on his back, vaguely aware of the figure dressed in black looming over him wearing a ski mask.

“You can thank your captain for your fate,” the man said coldly. “If you live long enough. What goes around comes around.”

The barrel of the gun lifted and two more shots exploded in the confined space. The gunman vanished and Taylor thought,
Cara. Please, let her be safe.

Nothing but agony, in his chest and abdomen. Every
breath he took was soggy and wet, and that was when it dawned—he was in real trouble.

I can't breathe. I'm dying
.

“Taylor? What's going— Oh my God!”

Suddenly she was at his side, cupping his face, stroking his hair. Her beautiful eyes brimmed with tears as she touched him, frantic, trying to figure out what to do.

“Don't you leave me! Hang on, do you hear me?”

Then she fumbled for her phone, punched in a number with shaking fingers. Her voice faded in and out, but he heard her yelling for help. Begging for the police and an ambulance. His buddies were going to feel so fucking bad when they found out about this. He wished he could tell them not to.

The bastard had tricked them all.

“Cara,” he whispered, clutching her hand.

“Yes, baby. I'm here.” Tears were streaming down her face.

“Tell Austin. It was him. Their killer.” His voice was a wheeze, and he coughed, afraid of the wet rattle. Knowing what it meant.

“No. Oh no.” Grabbing him, she held him tight and started to cry.

“Love you.”

“I love you, too,” she sobbed. “Taylor, please stay.”

“Trying.”

“Try harder!”

But he couldn't fight the darkness, no matter how hard he tried. The last thing he saw was the red and
white of the emergency lights cutting through the night all around him.

The last voice he heard was Cara's, crying out for him not to go.

•   •   •

Laura pulled into the parking lot at the Waterin' Hole, shut off the ignition, and debated whether to do this. She wasn't in the habit of chasing men, and she heartily despised women who did. Always had.

But wasn't there a difference between waggling one's tail like a bitch in heat and putting yourself out there? Letting the man in question see your fun side, that there's maybe no harm in taking a chance?

Yes, a big difference. Laura had made up her mind. Hell, she wasn't planning to throw him on the ground and have her way with him. She just wanted him to open up more, start to feel comfortable around her. It wouldn't hurt to try.

Walking into the club, she spotted him right away, seated at the bar. Even in the crowd, he appeared so alone, her heart went out to him. With new resolve, she approached and took an empty barstool on his left. His expression when he glanced over and saw her there was priceless.

“Laura! What are you doing here?”

“Coming out for a beer. What does it look like?”

“But you can't be here,” he sputtered.

She frowned. “I beg to differ. Unless this suddenly isn't a free country, I most certainly can be here.”

Leaning over, he lowered his voice. “No, I mean you can't be here with
me
.”

“I don't understand.”

“I'm working,” he hissed in her ear.

“I— Oh. I'm so sorry.” Crestfallen, feeling like an idiot, she started to climb off the stool.

Just then, Danny appeared next to them, shaking his head. “It's off anyway. He's not going to show.”

They'd been on a stakeout for the killer, and she'd bumbled right into it. If the man had actually shown, she could've blown it, big time. Or put herself or the men in danger. Austin's glare said it all.
Shit
.

“I had no idea. Again, I'm sorry. I'll just go.”

“You don't have to do that,” Danny said, touching her arm. Which earned him an even harder glare from his friend.

Just then Austin's cell phone rang. He jerked it from his jeans pocket and frowned at the incoming number for a second before answering. “Hello? Hey, Cara, what's up?”

As she watched, his face was transformed from mild curiosity to horror. All color drained from his complexion, and he managed a few questions.

“When? Was he at home? Where are they taking him?” A pause, then, “We'll meet you at the hospital.”

“What's happened?” Danny asked tensely as Austin ended the call.

“Taylor was ambushed in his garage tonight when he got home from the station,” Austin said, his voice rife with pain. Anger. His chest heaved with emotion. “The monster was waiting for him, gunned him down.”

“Is he . . . ?” Danny's question was filled with dread.

“Not yet. Cara said he's on his way to the hospital.”

“Let's go. Jesus, we've got to tell the others. Especially Shane.”

Laura knew the two were best friends. If anything happened to Taylor, Shane would be devastated.

“Come with me,” Laura told Austin. “I'll drive you.”

For once he didn't argue, a testament to how upset he was.

Outside, the others took the news about as hard as she'd expected. Especially Shane, who looked ready to pass out. Chris drove his cousin while Laura got Austin into her car and took off, praying the detective would survive.

Losing a friend and fellow detective to a murderer would tear a gaping hole in the group, and they might never recover from it.

Please, don't let it come to that. Let him live.

•   •   •

This is all my fault.

All the way to the hospital, the taunt repeated itself in Austin's brain. He should have known the killer would outsmart and double-cross him. He was probably laughing right now at the chaos he'd caused, the sorrow and pain.

I'm going to tear you apart. Someone else had better catch you first and put you in jail
.

Once at the hospital, they found Cara easily enough. She was pacing the main waiting room, and when she saw them, she flew into Shane's arms. Her sobs broke everyone's hearts. Not to mention those of Blake, the nineteen-year-old whom Taylor and Cara had taken under their wing and grown close to in the past few
months. The boy worshipped the ground Taylor walked on, with good reason.

“That animal shot him multiple times,” she cried. “There was so much blood everywhere. He told me it was the same guy Austin is after.”

Austin stepped forward. “Did he say how he knew that?” he asked gently.

“There wasn't time. But he sounded sure.” Her body trembled. “I don't know what's happening. When the paramedics left with him, he wasn't doing well at all.”

“I'll see what I can find out,” Austin said.

At the desk, however, even his badge couldn't get him any information this time. Taylor was still in surgery, and that was all they could say. The doctor would be out when he could, and it looked like they were in for a long wait.

Cara took up refuge between Shane and Chris, Tonio hovering, and when Shane's wife, Daisy, arrived, Cara hugged the woman and cried in her arms. Daisy was a juvenile officer with the department, and a fine person. Austin told Laura as much.

“I don't know her very well, or Cara at all, but maybe I can remedy that sometime,” she said sadly.

It seemed forever, and in fact it was hours before an Asian doctor came through the double doors looking for Cara as Taylor's listed next of kin. That didn't stop the rest of the detectives from crowding around, waiting to hear the news. Shane and Daisy were on either side of the woman, supporting her.

“Miss Evans?”

“Yes?” she said, voice tremulous. “How's Taylor?”

“I'm Dr. Chen,” he said in greeting, expression sober. “I'm going to be honest. Detective Kayne is extremely critical at this point. He took three bullets, two to the chest and one to the abdomen. Both of his lungs collapsed and he nearly bled out, and we had to resuscitate him twice.”

Cara's hand went to her mouth and a whimper escaped. “Will he make it? He will, won't he?”

Sympathy warmed the doctor's dark gaze. “I'm afraid it's going to be a long night. If he survives the night, he's got a chance. If he survives the next forty-eight hours, an even better chance. Every day the odds improve.”

If he survives the night
.

The realization on the faces all around Austin that their friend might not make it was almost more than he could take. There had been too much loss already. This absolutely could not happen. No way.

Dr. Chen finished by saying that they could see Taylor after he was moved to the ICU, but only two at a time for ten minutes each. Then he left with a promise to come back later. Nobody wanted to leave, and it was obvious his team was heartsick.

When at last Taylor was moved to a room in ICU, Shane offered to take Cara in first. They stayed twice as long as their allotted ten minutes. When they returned, Cara's face was red and blotchy, and Shane's eyes were red as well. There would be no easy way back for one of his finest detectives. A good man who didn't deserve this.

Daisy and Chris went next, returning fifteen minutes
later. Austin steeled himself and Laura squeezed his hand.

“Go ahead with your detective. I'll be here when you get back.”

“Thank you.” He gave her a small, grateful smile; then he and Tonio made the walk to Taylor's room. It was the longest of his life.

When they stepped inside, Austin heard a Spanish epithet from Tonio. He agreed wholeheartedly. Taylor was lying flat on his back, face pale as wax, a tube down his throat and just about anywhere else they could think to stick one. His messy blond hair was all over the place.

“He needs a haircut,” Austin said gruffly. “Don't I always fucking tell him that?”

Tonio gave a watery laugh. “Yeah, man. He always looks like a surfer boy.”

Taylor looked dead. And would be if not for the machines keeping him alive and breathing. Rage ate at Austin's soul. So many lives would be torn apart if this man didn't survive.

“We're going to catch this fucker,” Austin told his companion, as well as the man on the bed. “And we're going to put him away. I promise.”

“That's right, amigo. If we don't put him down instead.”

Austin nodded. That was a distinct possibility as well. He had a feeling the killer wasn't going to go quietly.

As they walked silently together back to their sad little group, a new determination seethed inside Austin
along with the guilt. It was a toxic combination, because he could do nothing to assuage either at the moment.