Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (23 page)

And Steve had been out of town for months. Mikayla had left several messages

with his service as well as on his cell phone.

"I can't believe Maddix did this." Robert sighed again. "But I can't believe you lied about it, either. That puts a lot of us between a rock and a hard place, Mikayla. Like I said, his granddaddy was a real bastard. I wouldn't have put anything past him before his death. That old bastard went so far as to threaten to disinherit Maddix's father if he dared decide to have another child. He didn't want Maddix's daddy, Lowell, to have a large family. Felt it would take away from the company they were building."

"But as you said, he's dead," Mikayla pointed out. "And it wasn't Maddix's grandfather I saw, Robert. It was Maddix."

"Yeah, I hear ya." Confusion filled his voice then. "I wish I had answers for ya, girl. I don't like nobody takin' potshots at ya. Drop this, before you get killed."

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She couldn't drop it. The injustice of it, as well as the knowledge that dropping it would only convince everyone she was lying. She couldn't do that. She wasn't a liar. She knew what she had seen.

"Thank you for your time, Robert." She ended the call with a sense of falling further into the rabbit hole her life had become.

"Anytime, Mikayla," Robert promised her. "Tell your daddy I said hi. I'll be prayin' for ya."

She ended the call and stared at the phone for long moments before calling Nik.

She gave him the information quickly and didn't have to wait long for his

reaction.

"You were to stay out of this," he growled, anger surging in his voice.

"Look, I'm texting you Robert's cell-phone number. He's willing to talk to you as well."

"I told you to stay out of it," he snapped again.

"And I told you, this is my life," she retorted. "You don't know the people to talk to, Nik; I do. I may not be able to get all the answers, but this is something we didn't have before."

"Text me the damned number," he snarled. "Then get off that fucking phone and keep your ass out of trouble until I get back. Do you understand me?"

She almost grinned.

He sounded protective rather than angry.

"I'll do my best," she told him, knowing he knew better. She knew better. If she could manage to think of another direction to go in this, then she would make the call or the visit or send the e-mail. As she told him, this was her life, and she wasn't giving up.

Texting the number after hanging up, she stared at the phone, rubbed her brow,

then made a quick note of the information Robert had given her before adding it to the file she was keeping.

Disregarding Nik's orders, she made a few other calls, but the information Robert

had given her couldn't be confirmed by the few sources she had to talk to whom she could rely on. That left her with yet more dangling threads to this.

Threads she would have to pick at later, she thought as she hung up the phone an

hour later.

The rest of the day was spent like most others. Mikayla worked on the dresses in

the back, kept several fitting appointments, and even managed to sell two more of her own designs before closing time came.

As she and Deirdre were standing at the register counter waiting for Nik, an

explosion shattered the quiet of the store.

Glass rained into the shop as the mannequins standing in front of the window

toppled over, knocking a rack of dresses to the floor and leaving Mikayla to stare at it all in shock as the sound of tires squealing seemed to echo around her.

Deirdre was screaming something. Cursing was more like it, as Mikayla stared in

shock at the destruction.

"That was a fucking gunshot!" Deirdre screamed at her. "My God, Mikayla!"

"Call the police, Deirdre." Mikayla felt almost numb inside.

She couldn't have avoided the shot if it had been for her. She would have been

dead. But it wasn't her they were after this time. It was her store. Her livelihood. Her 112

security.

Someone was trying to frighten her, trying to force her into backing off.

She pulled her cell phone from her purse and pulled up the address book and Nik's

number.

"Mikayla? I'm on my way to pick you up," he answered immediately.

"I might be a while leaving," she told him. "Someone just shot into the shop and destroyed the front window. I have to call Dad to get this boarded up for the night. I can catch a ride--"

"I'm on my way." The line disconnected.

As Deirdre stood over the rack of dresses that had fallen, Mikayla watched as she

pushed in her father's number and called him. Just as with Nik, she had no more than gotten the explanation out than he had hung up with a terse, "We're on our way." Which of course meant the whole family was arriving.

At least the window would be boarded up quickly, she thought wearily.

She hadn't moved from the counter. She had no intention of moving.

"Go home, Deirdre." Mikayla stared at her friend as she looked at the pile of clothing helplessly once more.

Deirdre's head snapped up, her expression disbelieving as she turned back to

Mikayla. "Do what?" she asked incredulously.

"Go home. Dad and Nik will be here soon. Don't bother coming back in for a

while."

It wasn't a brick thrown at the window. This wasn't spray paint on the glass. That had been a bullet, and Deirdre could very well have been in the way of it.

"Like hell," Deirdre snapped as she stalked back to the counter. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be damned if some jackass is going to run me off."

"You'd rather one of them kill you?" she asked her friend point-blank. "That was a bullet."

"No fucking shit," Deirdre yelled back at her, her hands going to her hips. "And I saw the car they were in and got part of the plate number. Fuck 'em." Rage was glittering in her green eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

The end of her sentence was punctuated by the hard, furious throb of the Harley

as it jumped the sidewalk and came to a hard stop.

Mikayla watched as Nik jumped from his seat and through the opening where the

window had been and strode quickly to her.

He'd done that so smoothly, she thought inanely. Stepped up on the seat, those

long legs stepping onto the window frame, and in the shop he came. As though he owned the place.

"Are you okay?" His hands gripped her shoulders, his eyes, no longer frozen but burning with rage, going over her quickly. "Dammit, Mikayla. I told you to let me take care of this."

Mikayla felt herself shaking then. She was gripping his forearms as though they

were a lifeline.

"That makes twice since Eddie's murder," she whispered shakily as she stared up at him. "What do they say about the third time?"
A charm?

"It's okay, baby." He pulled her against him, his hand at the back of her head, pressing her to his chest as he sheltered her with his harder, stronger body. "God, baby, 113

you have to stop pushing buttons here. Let me handle this."

It hit her fully then. If he hadn't been supporting her she may well have fallen to the floor in hysterics. Someone had shot at her again. What if that bullet actually hit her the next time?

Nik could feel the rage tearing through him as he looked past Mikayla to the other girl.

Deirdre Maple was watching him closely, her green eyes curious, knowing. And

suspicious. She didn't trust Nik at all, and that was probably a good thing. It was a quality Mikayla should have developed before she let him into her bed.

Not that he had any intention of betraying her, but she was so fucking trusting.

"The car was a late-model Civic," Deirdre stated as Mikayla continued to hold on to him. "Maryland plates." She quickly rattled off the first three numbers. "It was a grayish or silver color, hard to tell in the low light." She nodded to the busy street. "They shot up a side road and disappeared rather than continuing on Washington Street."

"I didn't see anything but the glass exploding into the shop." Mikayla pulled.

"I was watching the street." Deirdre shrugged. "Since the last time someone tried to gun you down, I've been trying to watch things better. I saw the guy stick his arm out the window toward our window, but I didn't see the gun and I didn't see his face."

In the low light, it would have been easy at that angle to miss the gun, Nik

thought as he turned and stared out the door.

"This is crazy," Mikayla whispered as she moved back only as far as Nik allowed her to go. "Why try to kill me now? I've been questioning people for weeks."

"Because you're getting too close," he snarled. "For God's sake, you have to stop this!"

It was a warning to him as well, Nik knew. A warning to back off, just as that first shooting had been a warning to Mikayla. To back off the investigation.

"And here's our friendly neighborhood Detective Dumbass," Deirdre's tone was nearly a sneer as several police cars pulled up as well as an unmarked car.

Detective Robert Denover stepped from the unmarked vehicle, his bald head

shining dully in the overhead lights as he propped his hands on his hips and stared at the front of the shop with a frown.

Deirdre moved back to Mikayla's side as Nik slowly stepped away from her to

meet the detective as he entered the shop.

"Ms. Martin." He nodded back to Mikayla before his gaze swung to Nik, his gray eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Mr. Steele. I'm surprised to see you here."

Mikayla's gaze flickered between Nik and the detective. "You know Detective

Denover?" she asked him faintly.

"We've met." Nik nodded shortly. "He's investigating the Foreman murder as well."

Mikayla knew that, and she wasn't pleased with the efforts she knew he had put in

on that investigation. He had been almost insulting the night she had reported the murder once she had told him who she saw.

Denover gazed around the shop, shaking his head before turning back to the

officers behind him. "Find the bullet," he ordered them with a hint of frustration. "Get the statements. I'll go over your reports when I get back to the office in the morning."

He turned to leave.

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"You'll take care of this yourself." Nik wasn't about to let him leave without properly investigating the matter. He'd just about had enough of this bastard's attitude.

"You'll do it, or I'll make certain your chief hears about your neglect."

The detective's lips curled mockingly. "He won't be surprised."

"But he may well be surprised when federal agents descend on his office with an investigation into how he's running it," Nik offered with mocking pleasantry. "I can arrange that, Denover. And I will arrange it."

He had every intention of arranging it anyway once this was finished. Mikayla

wasn't being protected and Foreman's death wasn't being investigated as it should be. The fact that Maddix was good friends with both the mayor as well as the police chief and doing business with the city had given him a cachet he shouldn't have possessed.

Denover's lips tightened as he threw Mikayla an irritated look. Shaking his head,

he proceeded to at least oversee the search for the bullet and the statements Mikayla and Deirdre gave.

As they finished, Mikayla's father's pickup pulled in outside and the entire family spilled from the crew cab of the vehicle. Three brothers, a furious father, and a concerned mother.

For a moment, deja vu whipped through Nik. His parents had arrived at his home

in a similar manner, his brothers and sisters close behind, the night his wife and daughter had died. They had gathered around him; they had sworn to support him. Until he'd gone against several politicians in his determination to find the men responsible for his wife's and daughter's murders. It was then that his family had turned their backs on him.

Mikayla's family hadn't turned their backs on her when they saw how difficult the

fight was, though. They were there. Her brothers lifted sheets of plywood from the back of the truck while her parents rushed inside.

"Nik." Ramsey Martin nodded in his direction as his wife, Jorrey, rushed to Mikayla's side. "I want to take her home."

It was a similar conversation that had been conducted the last time someone had

shot at Mikayla.

"She's not a child." Nik shook his head. "Whatever Mikayla decides, I'll help her.

But it's her decision."

"And I'm not moving back in with my parents." Mikayla pulled back from her mother's embrace with a frown. "I told all of you that."

Ramsey dug the fingers of one hand into the back of his neck in frustration, worry and love apparent on his face, in his dark gray eyes.

"Mikayla, someone is trying to kill you," her mother argued.

"If someone was trying to kill me then I'd be dead," Mikayla pointed out, and Nik couldn't help but agree with her. "Someone is trying to scare me, and though they're doing a damned good job of it, I'm not running away and hiding."

Mikayla said "Damned." Nik stared at her in surprise, as it seemed her parents did as well. Mikayla just simply never cursed.

"They're going to get serious," Ramsey protested. "I don't want to have to bury my own daughter, Mikayla. I'd appreciate it if you'd hang around long enough to make certain your brothers pay for my funeral."

Mikayla's lips twitched as she glanced at Nik. "He swears my brothers will sell his business and live high on the money for the few days it will last."

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"Few hours," Ramsey snorted as he turned and looked at the three young men working quickly to close the front opening where the window had been. "And that's beside the point. The point is, this isn't going to work. I don't like knowing some bastard is shooting at my daughter."

"Hiding won't change anything," Mikayla argued, though Nik could see it was hard for her to argue with her father. "It just puts you in danger as well."

"I'll take steps to make certain this doesn't happen again, Mr. Martin," Nik spoke up, and nearly snapped his own teeth no sooner than the words came out. What the hell was wrong with him? The best thing he could do was turn her over to her parents, finish this investigation, then ride off into the fucking sunset. He hoped without breaking Mikayla Martin's heart.