Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (17 page)

his expression furious.

"Dammit, Maddix, don't tell me how to do my fucking job," the chief growled back at him. "And what the hell do you expect from my men? How many times has that little bitch called me a liar? She insults the whole police force when she does that."

"I don't care if she personally insults every son-of-a-bitching man on the force, their ancestors, descendants, and future in-laws," Maddix yelled back, his hands flattening on the sleek cherrywood of the desk he stood behind. "Do something!"

Nik slipped to the entrance into the empty living room, his lips thinning at the

piss-poor security of Maddix's home even as he took advantage of it.

Slipping through the darkness, he made his way to the heavy wood door that

barred the study. Thankfully, it wasn't locked. Not that it would have posed much of a problem.

"Look, Maddix, she's bringing this trouble down on herself."

"Fuck you, Daniel!" Maddix sounded as though he were ready to have a stroke.

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"Find the bastard. Now."

Nik stepped into the room. "And when you find him, I want him."

Nik was armed. The Glock he carried easily in his hand wasn't missed as the chief

of police turned to Nik in shock and Maddix sat down heavily in his chair.

"Thank God," Maddix muttered, shaking his hand as he pushed his fingers

through his hair, not for the first time. "Is she okay?"

Nik closed the door, locking it carefully behind him as he faced the two men.

"Your chief didn't tell you?" The icy fury threatened to escape.

Maddix lifted his gaze to Daniel questioningly.

"It was minor," the chief snapped. "A scratch, nothing more."

"Sweet Lord," Maddix whispered. Leaning forward, he braced his arms on his desk and stared back at Nik. "She's going to be okay?"

"I told you it was a damned scratch, Maddix," Daniel snarled, his large, wide-boned face flushing in anger. "Do you think I'd lie to you?"

"What I think is that you'd encourage your men to take less care with Mikayla Martin than any other citizen in this town," Nik answered for Maddix. "Your detective was less than thorough and your crime scene unit negligent. Trust me when I say I'll make certain you pay for it."

"God, Daniel," Maddix muttered again. "You can't handle this in such a manner.

You have to take care of her."

"I can't control this, Maddix," the chief argued. "Hell, she's pissed off the entire force. You can't handle it, either."

"
I'll
handle it," Nik assured them.

It was already being handled. The phone calls Nik had made on the way over had

ensured that the situation would receive its own special investigation.

"Why the hell are you here anyway?" Chief Riley snapped, his lips thin, his hazel eyes sparking in outrage. "I don't need you or anyone else telling me about my men or how they should do their jobs."

"I disagree." Nik shrugged. "And you can leave. It's not you I need to talk to."

"Like hell."

"Go, Daniel. You're about as much help as your men were tonight," Maddix growled.

Daniel threw Maddix and Nik both a furious glower before stalking to the door. It

took the chief a moment to unlock it before he slammed it heavily behind him.

Nik holstered the Glock as he turned, relocked the door, then faced Maddix once

again.

"Someone almost killed her tonight, Maddix," Nik said, his voice low, murderous intent clear in his tone. "I don't like how this game is going."

"And you think I do?" Maddix nearly came out of his chair in outrage. "God, Nik, if she dies, the whole world is going to believe I'm behind it. Do you think I'd be that fucking insane?"

Nik moved to the leather chair facing the desk and sat down slowly, propping his

ankle on the opposite knee as he stared back at the other man for long moments.

"I think desperate men employ desperate measures," Nik finally answered.

"Fortunately, I also don't think you're desperate yet. Which leaves it up to me to figure out who is. Who is so determined to take you down?"

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Maddix leaned back in his chair, an air of exhaustion surrounding him.

"Hell, just every competitor I have. I've managed to snag some prime contracts in the past years. It's caused several other companies to feel the pinch. But nothing could be pinching them this bad. I know the owners of those companies, Nik--"

"We'll get to that," Nik broke in. "My job now is to protect Mikayla. That means finding out who murdered Eddie Foreman. I find that person, then I find the man who nearly put a bullet in her head. And when I do find him, you won't have to worry about him causing any further problems."

Maddix swallowed tightly.

"Now, we're going to go under the assumption for the moment that you didn't kill Eddie and that Mikayla isn't lying. She believes she saw you. That leads to the question, who looks like you?"

Maddix shook his head fiercely. "Not even my son resembles me. I take after my mother's side of the family, and she's an only child. There aren't even any cousins on that side."

"Illegitimate cousins or brothers?" Nik asked.

"Hell no. As much money as I make, I'd know if there were any. They crawl out like cockroaches when you have money."

Nik stared back at Maddix thoughtfully. It had been worth asking. He'd had to

rule it out before he could begin his own investigation.

"I'll need any information you have on Eddie as well as the investigation your police department has put into this case, no later than tomorrow afternoon."

"I can do better than that." Maddix reached to a drawer at the side of his desk. "I have the file. Daniel has kept it updated as well. I've gone over every inch of it, though I can't find anything that points to anyone in particular, Nik. There are no suspects. No one saw anything except Mikayla, and I swear to God, she didn't see me there."

He pulled the file free. It was easily three inches thick. At least the police

department had been doing something.

Nik took the file, glancing at it for just a second before tucking it under his arm and staring back at Maddix emotionlessly.

"Keep Luke away from her," Nik finally ordered the older man icily. "If he comes around her again, Maddix, he's going to get hurt."

Maddix sighed heavily. "He liked her an awful lot, Nik. Despite appearances, this hit Luke hard."

"I think he's a spoiled little bastard and the only thing that hit him hard was the fact that he couldn't fuck her. Keep him the hell away from her, or I'll fuck him up. Are we understood?"

Maddix swallowed tightly. "I'll make certain he stays away from her."

Giving a quick nod, Nik turned and left the room, disappearing into the shadows

of the house and exiting out the way he had come.

He had his work cut out for him.

There were no easy answers here, and no suspects. All he had was a woman he

knew was innocent, a friend he suspected was innocent, and a game with no rules.

Fortunately, those games were the only games Nik played well.

"Mikayla?" Deirdre's voice outside Mikayla's door held a hint of warning.

Mikayla lifted her attention from the dress form and the ball gown hanging on it.

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"Yes, Deirdre?"

The door opened as Deirdre peeked in apologetically. "Um, there's someone here demanding to talk to you."

"Who?" There was an edge of irritation in her voice and she couldn't help it. She so didn't want to have to deal with Luke again.

"Me."

Nope, not Luke, but perhaps just as bad.

Glenda Nelson stepped into the room. Maddix's trophy wife. She was easily

twenty years younger than he, model gorgeous with her dark cocoa skin and shoulder-length raven black hair. Deep, dark brown eyes stared back at Mikayla with a hint of anxiety rather than the animosity she would have expected.

Glenda was just as arrogant as always, though. Pushing past Deirdre, she entered

the room, looking around the large sewing area curiously before turning back to Mikayla with a haughty air.

"We need to talk," Glenda stated.

"I have this, Deirdre," Mikayla assured her. "Go on back to the shop."

Mikayla waited until the door closed before turning back to the other woman.

"What can I do for you, Glenda?" she asked wearily. "If you're here to throw your own little fit like Luke did, then I don't want to hear it."

Glenda shook her head with a grimace as her chocolate brown eyes seemed to

darken further. "I heard about the shooting last night. I was worried, and concerned."

"Afraid I'd accuse Maddix of that, too?" Mikayla gave a little mocking snort.

"Not hardly," Glenda assured Mikayla with a slight shake of her head. "I'm as certain of Maddix's innocence as I am of my own. As I said, I was concerned, as is Maddix. I wanted to see for myself that you were unharmed."

Glenda had almost been a friend, one Mikayla felt she would have cherished.

Now, only suspicion and regret lay between them.

"Perfectly unharmed." Mikayla held her arms out from her body as she fought back the anger that continued to brew inside her.

How many women had come through that shop today out of simple curiosity?

They hadn't even bought anything, which would have been the courteous thing to do, after nosing into her business. They stared, whispered, and pretended to browse. A few even attempted to question her, but they all left empty-handed. Mikayla had escaped to the sewing room simply to get away from it all. After more than a month of the whispers, suspicions, and questions, she was ready to run home and hide for a while.

Who could have believed that trying to be honest, trying to find justice, could

result in this?

"I can understand why you're angry," Glenda said softly. "If you truly believe you saw what you think you saw, then this would be hard."

"Go away, Glenda." Mikayla had had enough. Either she was a liar or her eyesight was lousy. No one seemed willing to believe that she could have possibly seen Maddix Nelson commit murder.

"Fine, but before I leave, I want to look at the dress design we were working on before this bullshit started." Glenda placed one graceful hand on a slender hip as her expression became as superior and arrogant as always.

Mikayla's brows arched. "The dress design?" It was one of her best. It was still 85

lying on her desk, a dress she couldn't possibly begin without a buyer, a dress designed for one person specifically. The person standing in front of Mikayla.

"Why?" she asked suspiciously.

Glenda wasn't one of the easiest people to understand. There had been a time

when Mikayla had almost called Glenda a friend. But that had been before the former model married Maddix Nelson and moved up in the social sphere.

"Because it's my dress," she stated as though the reason were a foregone conclusion. "And I want it. The annual Autumn Ball happens in less than three months.

That doesn't give us much time."

"You told me to shove this dress in places I don't want to mention," Mikayla reminded Glenda, her eyes narrowing in anger. "What makes you think I'm willing to do it now?"

Glenda's arms crossed over her breasts as she stared back at Mikayla with cool

disdain. "That dress was designed for me, Mikayla. My body." One graceful hand slid down her side with the ultimate love for her own body. Mikayla almost rolled her eyes.

She needed the money, there was no doubt. Unfortunately, Mikayla truly did like

Glenda. The woman, despite that air of superiority, had a kind heart and a wry sense of humor. Before she married Maddix, that was.

"I want my dress." Glenda's eyes narrowed in determination. When she got that look, it was rarely a good thing. "For the Autumn Ball." A pout formed on her lips.

"Come on, Kayla; be nice to me. I'm trying here."

"Why are you trying?" Confusion washed over Mikayla. "Why do you even care?"

"The hell if I know. You accuse my husband of a heinous act, stick to your story, and nearly get killed for it. I figure, you're not lying, right? Someone's playing you, my friend. And if that's the case, I can still have my dress and remain loyal to my husband.

I'll raise your asking cost by a thousand, and that's it. Final deal. Now do I get my damned dress or what?"

"Don't call me Kayla," Mikayla snapped back at her.

"Agree to my dress or the whole town will be calling you Kayla before the week is out. I'll make certain of it."

As a threat, it was a damned good one. Mikayla despised that nickname. It was

the one her brothers had always used when they were playing tricks on her as a child.

Mikayla sighed wearily before glancing at the desk where she knew the design

lay. It would be a major coup for the shop. That dress was a masterpiece, and there was no doubt Glenda would make certain everyone knew she had an exclusive no-one-else-could-ever-wear dress.

It was business. Business was business, Mikayla's father had once told her.

But then, her father had pulled out of Maddix Nelson's contract as well when he

learned how easily the other man was getting away with murder.

And Mikayla needed the money desperately, as well as Glenda's support of the

store. Mikayla was surviving, but the past month had been slow. Too damned slow.

"I can't." And she regretted it like hell. That dress was one of the most beautiful designs she had ever come up with. "I'm sorry, Glenda, but I can't."

"But you will." Glenda's brown eyes narrowed on her. "Look, until this is cleared up neither Maddix nor I want to see you suffer, Mikayla. Or this shop. I'm trying here; 86

help me out. . . ." Glenda seemed to get to the very heart of the problem. "We were friends once. And your father is established, Mikayla. He has plenty of work to replace a few lost contracts. Do you?"

No, she didn't.

"This is just a dress," Glenda said softly. "For a friend. You gave your word before this happened. Your father hadn't even signed a contract on the new projects. Let's face reality here. It's not the same situation."