Into the Whirlwind (33 page)

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Authors: Kat Martin

BOOK: Into the Whirlwind
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Epilogue
Three months later
 
Meg had the table set and was finishing the spaghetti dinner she had cooked as she waited for Dirk and Charlie to get home. Dirk had gone for one of his rare haircuts, had taken Charlie for a trim as well.
The kitchen smelled of simmering ground beef, onions, and tomato sauce. She would slide the garlic bread into the oven as soon as her men got home. Val Brodie—she and Ethan had gotten married last month—had been teaching Meg to cook, and she thought she'd been doing a pretty fair job. Dirk and Charlie seemed to appreciate her efforts, and it wasn't really as hard as she'd imagined.
Even after opening She, her sportswear boutique—work she was loving—she had time to cook at least three meals a week. It turned out Dirk wasn't a half-bad cook himself so they traded back and forth as much as they could.
He was just about finished rebuilding his house at the lake. They'd decided to keep it, use it on weekends or just for a getaway spot when their jobs got too hectic.
A lot had happened since the kidnappings. Brandon Elliott had been released from the hospital in El Tepual just a few days after he was admitted. He was somewhere in South America with Morgan Flynn, off on another adventure.
Jonathan was in prison. He'd been charged with bank embezzlement, conspiracy to kidnap, accessory to murder, and half a dozen other crimes. He'd come up with information that had helped the FBI apprehend the two men in the van, then pled guilty to lesser charges. But he'd still be in prison for years.
Gertsman's criminal empire had crumbled; dozens of his cronies had been jailed in Argentina. Interpol had found plenty of evidence at the compound; Helmut Mueller had done his job. The place really was a fortress. In one of the outbuildings, they'd even found old canisters of deadly sarin nerve gas, originally invented by the Germans.
Meg shivered at the ugly memories of the time she had spent there. If it hadn't been for Dirk ...
She broke off the thought at the sound of a car driving up in front of the house. Wiping her hands on the apron she wore over her jeans, she started toward the front door.
It swung open before she got there. Dirk ducked his head, Charlie on his shoulders, and walked into the entry.
“Hey, baby, sorry we're late.”
“That's okay, but—” At the mischievous grin on his face, unease slid through her. “All right, what have you done?”
Charlie started wiggling. “Dirk sold the Wiper!” he shouted, grinning. “We got us a new car!”
“Oh, no.” Disappointment trickled through her. She tried not to pout. “How could you sell the Viper? I loved that car.”
“I know, baby, but it wasn't much good for a family.” He set Charlie on his feet, reached out, and grabbed her hand. “Come on. The one I bought is a lot more practical.”
Her lips refused to curve. “My car's practical enough. I liked the Viper.”
Dirk just laughed and tugged her forward, out the door onto the porch. She gasped at the gorgeous metallic-blue, four-door Porsche parked at the curb.
“Four hundred twenty horses, honey. Zero to sixty in less than six seconds. Tops out at nearly a hundred seventy miles an hour.” He grinned. “Gets good mileage, too.”
Meg started laughing.
“What?”
“I should have known you weren't ready for a station wagon.”
Dirk grinned. “I got a good price for the Viper and a great deal on the Porsche. It's last year's model, but it's real low mileage.”
Meg turned away from the car and looked up at him. “I love you, Dirk Reynolds.”
“Me, too,” Charlie said.
Dirk lifted the little boy and settled him against his shoulder as if he'd been a father for years. He caught hold of Meg's hand. “After we got our hair cut, Charlie and I had a talk. He thinks we've waited long enough. He wants us to get married.”
Tears burned behind her eyes. Dirk hadn't brought up the subject since that day in the family room. “That's what Charlie wants. What do
you
want, Dirk?”
“I want to marry you more than anything in the world.”
Her eyes welled. The sexiest man on the planet wanted her to marry him. The best man she knew. There was a time happiness had seemed so far out of reach. Meg looked at the two men she loved most in the world.
“I want to marry you, too,” she said.
Dirk and Charlie high-fived each other.
Read on for a preview of Kat Martin's
INTO THE FIRESTORM
coming next February!
 
 
Luke Brodie is a bounty hunter.
A fat $600,000 is the 20% bail enforcement
fee he'll collect if he brings in
international criminal Rudy Vance.
Emma Sullivan is also hunting Vance.
It's been almost a year since she arrived at her sister's
home to find the housekeeper murdered and her
young niece the victim of Vance's sick assault.
Emma is determined to find Vance and make him pay,
and no one—not even the infamous Luke Brodie—
is going to stop her.
Chapter One
Sitting at the long, neon-lit bar in Rocker's Karaoke Lounge, Luke Brodie sipped a cold Corona and eyed his quarry. A bail skip named Skinner Digby leaned back in a chair at a round Formica-topped table a few feet away.
“You here for Skinner?” Eddie Mullens, the bartender, a string bean of a guy with gold wire-rimmed glasses, followed his gaze to where Digby nursed his Jack and Coke. Eddie knew everything that went on in this part of Seattle. For a few bucks cash, he kept Luke informed if anything interesting went down.
Luke took a sip of his beer. “Digby skipped on a DUI bust.”
“Seems like small potatoes for you.”
Luke was a bounty hunter. He went after FTAs, guys released on bail who failed to appear in court. He got twenty percent of whatever the bondsman put up for their release. Luke specialized in the toughest and most profitable cases, bail skips whose bond sometimes ran into the millions.
“I need to ask Skinner some questions.” That was the way it worked. You went after the small fish to get your hands on the big ones. “Figure I might as well make a few bucks while I'm at it.”
Luke took a swallow of beer and returned his attention to his quarry. Digby had been flirting with a sexy little brunette in a tight black skirt and silver sequined top who laughed at one of his dirty jokes.
Luke was getting irritated. Skinner, with his bulldog face and beer belly, was no ladies' man. Luke wished the woman would just take the free drink he offered and move on.
Instead she sidled a little closer and leaned down to whisper in his ear, giving him a bird's-eye view down the front of her sparkly top at some very impressive cleavage. Skinner pulled out a chair, inviting her to join him.
Luke softly cursed. If the woman was going to hang around, he was going to have to make his move. He didn't like putting a woman in the middle of a situation that might go bad, but he needed to talk to Digby. The lady was giving him no choice.
He set the beer bottle down on the bar and came off the stool. Luke couldn't hear what the little brunette said next, but Skinner snarled a curse and started up from his chair.
Luke couldn't believe his eyes when the lady grabbed Skinner by the nape of his neck and shoved down hard, slamming him headfirst into the table.
Skinner groaned and went limp. An instant later the woman twisted his arms up behind his back, pulled a pair of handcuffs from the handbag on her shoulder, and shackled Digby's wrists. Looking even more stunned than Luke, he swayed, his legs wobbly, as the brunette hauled him to his feet.
Son of a bitch.
Luke turned to Eddie, who stood chuckling behind the bar. “What the hell just happened?”
“She's something, ain't she? Looks like the lady got to your bail skip first.”
“Who is she?”
“Name's Cassidy. She's a bounty hunter. Pretty amazing, huh?”
Luke was torn between annoyance and curiosity. “That's M. Cassidy?”
“Emma. Everyone calls her Em.”
Em Cassidy.
He knew the name, had thought it was a man. He watched the petite brunette, about five-three, no more than 110 pounds, haul Skinner Digby out the side door into the parking lot. Luke reached for his beer, took a last swig, tossed a little extra cash on the bar, and followed the lady outside.
It took him a minute to spot her beneath a lamppost at the edge of the lot. Luke sauntered into the shadow of a nearby parked car, got a real good look at her this time.
Late twenties, petite yet curvy in all the right places, thick dark hair that hung in heavy curls down her back.
A bounty hunter. That was a laugh.
The smile on his face slipped a little as he watched her with Skinner. She had the guy sitting cross-legged on the grass, hands cuffed behind him. She was pressing him to answer her questions—exactly the same questions Luke intended to ask.
“There's a guy you know,” she said. “His name is Felix Biggs. He's your supplier. I want to know where to find him.”
Felix Biggs. Same guy Luke was hunting.
Skinner just grunted. “Yeah, right. Like I'm gonna tell you anything.”
Emma lightly cuffed the back of Digby's head and Luke bit back a grin.
“You skipped on a drunk driving charge—third offense, Skinner. They're going to stick your butt in jail for at least a year. Tell me what I want to know and I'll let you go.”
She'd let him go? Luke hadn't expected that. Now he was even more intrigued.
Digby sat quietly, considering his options. “Take off the cuffs, then I'll tell you what you want to know.”
“Not a chance.”
Digby shook his head. “If Biggs finds out I told you, he'll kill me. He don't like snitches.”
Frustrated, Emma nibbled her bottom lip. It was plump and damp and Luke felt a curl of heat he hadn't expected.
“You want to walk or go to jail?” she asked, pushing but not quite hard enough, only willing to go so far.
Luke glanced around. If Skinner Digby didn't spill in the next few minutes, there was a chance the cops would arrive. Always somebody there to dial 9-1-1.
He stepped out of the shadows and Emma spun toward him and went into a defensive stance. He pointed to the bail enforcement badge clipped to his belt and she relaxed.
“I didn't hear you walk up,” she said.
Luke ignored her, zeroed in on Skinner Digby, crouched down in front of him. “The lady asked you nice and polite where to find Felix Biggs. You know who I am?”
“I know who you are,” Skinner grunted. “You're Brodie.”
“That's right. I'm going to ask you the same question just one time. You don't answer, you won't have to worry about dealing with Biggs. You'll have to deal with me.”
Skinner swallowed.
“Now . . . where is Felix Biggs?”
Skinner ran a tongue over his lips. There was a lump turning purple in the middle of his forehead. “Biggs is . . . he's out of town. Won't be back till Monday.”
“Where can I find him?”
Skinner gave a sigh. “Hangs around the Polo Club. Bitch there he's got the hots for.”
“What's her name?”
“Lila Purdue . . . like the college, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.” Luke rose to his feet, turned to the lady standing a few feet away. The moon was out. She was prettier than he had first thought, with big doe eyes, fine features, and a firm little chin. “Good to meet you, Miz Cassidy. Nice work.”
“Thank you.”
“See you around.” Luke started walking as a black-and-white patrol car rolled into the parking lot. Interesting lady, he thought as he ambled over to his battered old Bronco. Pretty and feminine with a hot little body.
The very last person who should be running around trying to hunt down criminals.
Luke just shook his head.
He wondered why she was interested in Felix Biggs. Biggs wasn't wanted, though he should be since he was a low-life scumbag. Maybe he knew something about another bail skip she was hunting. Luke hoped like hell Emma Cassidy wasn't going to confront him. He didn't think she'd come out as unscathed as she had tonight.
None of his business, he told himself as he crossed the lot, slid in behind the wheel of his SUV, and fired up the powerful V-8 engine.
The Bronco, the perfect, nondescript surveillance vehicle, had been completely rebuilt. A powerful Ford Racing 5.0 liter Aluminator XS Coyote engine—500 plus horses—idled like a predator under the hood. She had a Cobra jet intake manifold and fully CNC ported aluminum heads.
Welded restraints had been fitted into the back to hold any prisoners he had to transport back to jail. Luke loved the Bronco. Like driving a rocket disguised as a paper airplane.
He checked the rearview mirror, saw little Emma Cassidy hauling butt-ugly Skinner Digby over to the patrol car. He'd never understood women.
Clearly that hadn't changed.
* * *
Emma watched Luke Brodie's rattletrap, black-and-tan Bronco pull out of the parking lot. The vehicle was old and beat to high-heaven, but as she listened to the primal roar of the engine, it sounded more like a race car than a truck headed for the junkyard.
She'd recognized Brodie the minute he'd stepped out of the shadows, though he'd moved into them as silently as a cat. Maybe it was the soft-soled, knee-high moccasins he was wearing. More likely just the long-limbed, easy way he moved. She knew him from photos she had seen in a dozen different stories about him on the Internet and the research she had done.
Thirty-two years old, six-two, hundred-ninety pounds, medium-brown hair and blue eyes. Tonight she had actually seen him in the flesh. Not just handsome, as he appeared in the photos, the man had a devil/angel face that would drive any red-blooded female crazy. His eyes weren't just blue, they were a fierce electric blue that made her breath catch when they'd lasered in on her.
The snug, olive drab T-shirt and jeans he'd been wearing did nothing to hide the wide-shouldered, narrow-hipped, rock-hard body underneath.
She appreciated his help with Digby. She was still new at this, still learning the tricks of the trade. Interrogating a subject wasn't that easy.
Emma pulled her cell out of her purse and checked the time. It wasn't quite midnight and she was stoked. Digby's arrest had gone down just the way she'd planned. Once she finished her paperwork, she was heading down to the Hide and Seek, a bar where some of the local bail enforcement agents hung out. Not Luke Brodie, who lived in Bellevue, on the other side of the lake.
It was almost one when she pushed through the door of what looked more like a biker bar than a local pub, with its worn board floors, long wooden bar, and rickety bar stools. A couple of pool tables provided entertainment in the back.
Emma spotted Xavier Hernandez, a bounty hunter friend, playing darts with two other bail enforcement agents, Mike Grogan and Terry Watson, and Terry's girlfriend, Melissa.
Xavier, the X-man, was as big as a house with skin the color of teak. He was part Hispanic but had no idea how to speak the language. Like Emma, he was still learning the trade, trying to break into the business. Emma wasn't certain the soft-spoken man had the right personality for the business, but she had only officially been at it six months herself.
Xavier waved, left the dart game, and walked over to join her at a battered wooden table, flopped down in one of the captain's chairs, making it creak with his colossal weight.
Mattie Jackson, the owner and waitress, gave him the evil eye. “Easy, big boy, or you'll be buying that chair.” She was in her early forties, auburn-haired and big-busted, popular with everyone who came into the bar.
“Sorry,” X said, color washing into his cheeks. For all his size, Xavier was extremely shy, kind of a gentle giant.
Tray riding the palm of her hand, Mattie cocked her head in Emma's direction. “You having your usual tonight?”
Emma smiled. “An ice-cold Bud Light sounds perfect.”
When Mattie turned to X, he held up his unfinished beer. “I'm covered for now.” He took a swig as Mattie swivel-hipped back toward the bar. “So what's up, lady
?
”
Emma grinned. “I found Skinner Digby. He's cooling his heels at police headquarters as we speak.”
“Damn, that's good work
.
I would have gone with you, you know.”
“I know.” They'd teamed up a few times, Emma doing the locating, Xavier assisting with the capture. The problem was he was kind of a Pillsbury Doughboy: big but harmless. It didn't take long for a truly hardened criminal to figure that out.
Emma thought about Digby, his foul mouth and dirty jokes. “From what I knew of Skinner, I didn't think he'd give me much trouble.”
Mattie walked up just then and set a cold bottle of Bud down on the table. “Word is you got your man tonight. Good for you.”
“Thanks. I got a little help from Luke Brodie.”
Mattie's burnished eyebrows went up. “Watch yourself, girl. That man is a real heartbreaker.”
One look at him and Emma had figured that out. “I'm not interested in Brodie—at least not in that way. And he isn't interested in me.”
Mattie rolled her eyes. “From your lips to God's ears.” The woman was also brutally honest, which was not always good. Still Emma valued the budding friendship they were building.
Mattie gave her a wave as she walked away. Emma appreciated Mattie's advice, but aside from professional curiosity, she wasn't interested in Luke Brodie or anyone else. She didn't have time for a man in her life. She'd spent the last twelve months training, then completing the education and studying to pass the bail bond recovery agent exam.
Once she'd obtained the necessary licenses, she'd started learning the ins and outs, the skills and tricks of bounty hunting, and generally getting ready for the mission she planned to undertake.
“You get that info you needed?” Xavier asked, one of the few people who knew her real quarry, the reason she had become a bounty hunter. Xavier and his sister, Benita, and Emma's best friend and roommate, Carly Drake, a flight attendant based out of Seattle's Sea-Tac Airport.
Emma took a swallow of beer, enjoying the chill as it bubbled down her throat. “Skinner gave me a lead on Felix Biggs. I wasn't sure I was going to get him to talk. Then Luke Brodie showed up and the guy started singing like a bird.”
Xavier took a swig of his beer. “So you finally got to meet him.”
Emma nodded. “Yes, and he was everything I'd imagined. He didn't even have to threaten Skinner Digby. He just sort of looked at him, told him to answer my questions or else. Digby couldn't talk fast enough.”

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