Trust Me: The Lassiter Group, Book 1 (2 page)

The rest of the team had slowly given up, assuming drug and arms dealer Samuel Blackwater had taken her out.

Before Cara’s death, the Lassiter Group had been tasked to gather intel on Blackwater after word got out that he was stepping up his game and entering the biological weapons market. They’d been working on identifying all the players involved in an upcoming deal when things had fallen apart and they’d lost Cara.

Unfortunately, Lucas’s boss had ordered him to let it go as of three weeks ago. He would have been reassigned along with the rest of the team if he hadn’t insisted on some vacation time. The vacation time Joe had been pushing him to take for weeks.

If Joe had learned Tess passed along the tip that led Lucas to Riverbend, he would’ve had his ass in a sling before he’d stepped so much as a toe into Canada.

Lucas glanced around the shop. Was she alone, or was there someone else here with her, like the owner, Sherri, or another employee?

“Was there anything else?”

He held up the dream catcher, but his eyes remained locked on the detective. “Does it work?”

A small grin curved her lips. “You’ll have to let me know.”

“What, no nightmares you want to escape?”

An unreadable emotion blinked across her face, then she offered him that polite smile that looked as genuine as the chocolate-covered peanuts with the Reindeer on the package. “I think everyone has bad dreams they wish they could wake up from.”

“Some more than others,” he said, holding her gaze. “Actually it’s not for me. I screwed up and took my nephew to a scary movie and my brother is holding me accountable for his bad dreams.”

“Well, for your sake I hope it works.”

“You and me both. I don’t suppose you’ve got a gift box?” Or anything else that would drag this out a little longer. He needed to know whether or not anyone else would be interrupting what came next. Like someone out back.

“Sure.” She bent down to check under the counter. “Looks like we’re out.”

“Too bad. My nephew likes opening the package as much as finding out what’s inside.”

“I can check out back.” It came out almost grudgingly.

He nearly smiled in triumph. “That would be great. I wanted to check out the snow globes anyway. My brother’s wife is a sucker for them.”

“Okay then.” She moved around the counter, and although she betrayed no suspicion he had an ulterior motive for being there, she was careful to keep him in her peripheral vision, never turning her back on him entirely.

Smart girl.

She turned a corner, and instead of bolting down the narrow hall toward the back door, she disappeared into a room on the left. He let out the breath he’d been holding, half-anticipating that she would run.

A chime over the door tinkled.

So much for being alone with her. He glanced at the front of the store and went perfectly still.
Fuck.

Picking up a red and blue windmill from the closest display, he ran through his options, eliminating every one that involved walking Maxine Walker past the two men who just stepped through the door.

The first one inside—tall and dressed in a green Aloha shirt—had a tattoo that wrapped around his throat and supposedly ran down the length of his body. James “Snake” Martin was Blackwater’s muscle and had been working for the dealer for over twenty years. He usually stuck close to Blackwater though, unless he was with…

His gaze darted to the second guy through the door.

Fantastic
. Blackwater’s son.

Christ, he needed to talk to Tess. Whoever her source was, they’d apparently shared their information with Blackwater, and god knew who else. It would be really helpful to know who else might end up breathing down his neck before he got Max the hell out of here.

He was hardly a fan of hers, considering more than one person had implicated her in Cara’s death, but he could guarantee what he had in mind didn’t involve roughing her up for the hell of it. He’d bet his next bonus that neither man wandering around the front of the store could claim the same.

Sensing movement, he spotted his target in the doorway, a box in her hand. He started forward, planning an interception that began with getting her down the hallway and ended with them slipping out the back door, without attracting the attention of Blackwater’s men.

It would have worked out fine if she’d kept her eyes on him and didn’t glance at the two men who’d joined them. He had to give her props, though, since the only indication she’d recognized them was the squaring of her shoulders as she strode to the counter, closer to the men.

He knew from his homework that Maxine Walker was a risk taker, reckless according to some, and had earned the nickname Mad Max. If he had doubted what he’d read, every determined step forward would be proving him wrong.

Either she was confident neither man would recognize her, or there was some tactical advantage in heading back to the cash register. Moving to catch up with her since she’d dodged around another display to get ahead of him, he undid the snap on the side pocket of his pants where he had stashed his Sig Sauer.

Seeing as he was supposed to be fishing in Florida, using the pistol was at the bottom of his to-do list.

Ahead of him, Max set the box on the counter, hollered out about the shop being closed in a deeper-sounding voice than earlier, and bent down to grab something. He saw her dig a gun from a bag beneath the counter and tuck it in the back of her waistband as he approached from her left.

She stood, sparing him only a glance before slipping the dream catcher in the box.

“Just had a couple questions.” Snake strolled closer. “For the owner, actually.”

Max’s hands momentarily stilled, then she continued to slip the box into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front. “She’s away on vacation,” she lied. “Won’t be back for a couple of weeks.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe you can help us. We’re looking for someone.”

“Sure. Just give me a minute.”

She motioned to Lucas. “The dream catcher comes to nineteen seventy-five.” She kept her face angled away from the two men the whole time, but Lucas didn’t doubt she was keeping track of them.

Still, there was no way she’d be able to have a conversation without one of them seeing right through her new look.

Lucas turned toward them, cutting them off before they got any closer to the counter. “I’m friends with Sherri, the owner. Maybe I can help.”

Blackwater’s son shrugged and dug a picture out of his pocket. “We’re tracking down a missing person.” He offered the photo to Lucas.

It was the same one he had in his own file on Maxine Walker. “She’s pretty, though I don’t usually go for blondes myself. And she’s missing? Do you guys think anything bad happened to her?”

“Not yet. We hope,” Blackwater tacked on, forcing a smile that was probably supposed to pass for concern.

“I haven’t seen her around town. Is she local?”

“No. It’s an old case, actually.”

“You know, you should probably talk to Constable Herring. He’s the RCMP officer running the BBQ on the wharf today, the big guy massacring the burgers. He’s pretty vigilant about what goes on in Riverbend. He might have come across your missing woman.” All of which Lucas had learned in the two minutes he’d spent scoping the area out earlier.

Turning his back, he kept his body between them and Max. He offered her the picture. “Have you seen her?”

Her eyes snapped to his, suspicion glittering in the steel-blue depths. “I don’t think so. No.”

Before Blackwater Junior got any closer, Lucas pivoted around, handing back the picture. “If one of you guys has a business card or contact number, I’m sure Sherri would have no problem getting in touch with you guys when she gets back into town.”

Blackwater’s son tucked the photo back into his suit. “We’ll be in touch with her later.” He nodded to Snake, who lingered another moment, then headed for the door.

“You need to go,” Max hissed under her breath, all but shoving the bagged and boxed dream catcher down his throat. “Now.”

He lowered his voice to match hers. “I can’t do that.”

She stepped around the end of the counter, putting herself a few feet closer to the back door. “Who are you?”

The chimes sounded and Lucas waited to hear the door close. And waited…

Max froze. The cool resignation in her eyes said it all—Snake had recognized her.

How in the hell had Blackwater’s men found her? And of all the lowlifes he could have sent after her, why did one of them have to be Snake?

Three months ago she had figured out how he’d earned the nickname, had witnessed the sick bastard drape his albino python around a snitch, grinning as it wrapped itself around the guy and squeezed the life out of him.

But it was the presence of Blackwater’s son that really unnerved her. Samuel Blackwater wouldn’t have sent his oldest son, his right-hand, if he wasn’t dead set on getting her back to New York. She knew she’d crossed the line in that rundown warehouse three months ago, had made it impossible for him to forget her.

The same way he’d made it impossible to forget what had gone down that night. The nightmarish images hovered at the back of her mind, and she quickly shut them down. She couldn’t afford the distraction. Not when she was determined to avoid being stuffed in a trunk with Snake’s python and taken back to Blackwater.

The stranger opposite her snapped his head around, his gaze locking onto Snake. Whatever he’d come looking for, it didn’t have anything to do with a souvenir for his nephew. He knew who she was, which left him with the advantage. He also knew who Sherri was, and the local law officials. How long had he been hanging around town?

Across the room, Snake went for his weapon.

“Down!” Max threw herself against Mr. Unknown, and they crashed to the floor.

She ignored his surprised grunt and rolled to a crouch, yanking her gun out as the first set of silenced shots tore into the display case behind her. Shattered glass rained down on her head.

Damn it. Sherri was going to kill her. Thank god she’d said she planned to wait until morning to come back in.

Angling around a shelf filled with some locally crafted pottery, Max slid to her feet, catching sight of Snake. Her first shot missed, but the second nailed him in the side. Since she hadn’t pegged Mr. Unknown—who’d crawled off somewhere—as anything but a tourist, it was good to know her aim wasn’t as far off-base as her instincts.

Heart drumming against her ribs, she edged behind the counter. She dug another magazine of ammo out of her bag and tucked it into her pocket for the time being before looping her bag over her head and across her body.

Another of Blackwater’s guys could be waiting outback for her, but she’d have to take the chance seeing as she wouldn’t be leaving through the front.

Counting on the men’s view of her being obstructed by more overflowing shelves—and to think she hadn’t appreciated Sherri’s determination to use every square inch of space before now—she maneuvered behind a stack of wooden crates.

Breath held, she waited. The only sound in the shop was the occasional sharp breath—more of a wheeze really—from Snake. With her eyes on the shelf in front of her, she inched backward around the last corner between her and the back hall.

At the sound of a magazine sliding home, she spun around.

A gun pressed against her side, and she lifted her head to find Mr. Unknown inches away.

Who was this guy?

A ghost of a smile touched his mouth, and then vanished as she nudged the tip of her Glock against the inside of his thigh. One dark brow arched, but she couldn’t tell if he looked impressed or annoyed.

“I’m on your side.”

Uh huh. And tonight Santa Claus would bring her a cherry-red Chevy Silverado pickup truck and an all-expenses paid vacation to Maui.

“Who do you work for?” Her eyes never left his face as she heard the other two men move in their direction. She was running out of time.

Gunfire ripped apart the model ship display next to them.

“No one needs to get hurt, Detective. Just come along and your
friend
gets to walk out instead of being carried in a body bag.” The strained voice came from the right.

Her
friend
rolled his eyes, then tipped his head to indicate the hall behind him. “You go, I’ll cover you.” He started to stand.

Max yanked him back down. “So you can shoot me in the back?” she hissed.

Splinters of wood skimmed above their heads.

“Fine.” He sprang up, fired off a few rounds and then crouched beside her. “You cover me and I’ll go.”

With no way to believe him and Snake and Edward Blackwater closing in, he was the lesser of two evils. She hoped.

“Better get going.” Before she could argue, he moved around the crate in the opposite direction of the back door.

There wasn’t enough time to speculate on who he was, or more importantly, who he worked for. A succession of shots plowed into the far wall, and she ran low, sprinting down the back hall. She only hesitated for a heartbeat, unsure if anyone waited for her outside.

Short on options, she shoved the door open and pressed back against the inside wall. Outside, the private parking lot was deserted.

At least something was going for her.

She sprinted across the empty lot, digging her keys from her pocket. With nothing worth stealing in the ancient, battered pickup, she hadn’t bothered to lock the door earlier.

Breathing hard, she slid behind the wheel, jammed the key into the slot and turned it over. The engine sputtered and died.

“Son of a bitch.” She cranked the key in the ignition again. The engine coughed, almost caught and quit.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

On her third try the engine jerked, shook like a bulldozer overdosing on nitro and died.

Darting a look at the shop’s back door, she realized she hadn’t closed it. Anyone who pursued her would have a clean shot.

Slamming the heel of her hand on the wheel, she glared at the console. “Start or I’m going to shoot holes in your fucking transmission myself.”

As if it understood her perfectly, the truck revved to life on her next try.