Superior Collision Page 3

  He watched the big man carefully before he answered.

  Quit being a paranoid freak.

  “You askin’ ’cause you got an idea?” Carter said slowly.

  An overly beefy shoulder went up with a half-shrug, and Bubba shook his head. “Just askin’.”

  He couldn’t help the string of curses that left his mouth. “I need to get the fuck out of here.”

  “Nah, you’re fine here.”

  “Fine? Sure I am. I’m fucking broke.”

  “I told you I’d cover you. Besides, you need to lay low. No one knows you’re here, and it needs to stay that way, right?”

  Yeah, Bubba had floated him some money, but Carter hated owing people anything. It usually bit him in the ass. But now… He needed to make nice and seem grateful. “Yeah, and I appreciate it.” He forced a nod, then a smile.

  The fence’s keen gaze didn’t waver, but the big guy seemed to relax a tad. He leaned into the back of the couch that’d been Carter’s bed for the last few weeks. It’d seen better days, like most of the furniture in Bubba’s house.

  The guy sure didn’t flaunt the money he had.

  Too bad the condition of the damn sofa contributed to the ache in Carter’s back and the constant pain radiating down his bad leg.

  “I need a big hit. I need…” He swore some more, and dragged his hand down his face. Stubble scratched his palm, but he didn’t see shaving in his near future. He’d have to give a shit for that, and he didn’t.

  “I know, man. Sorry Grady didn’t work out.”

  “Fuck Grady.” But Carter would’ve worked with the asshole, had the crew leader been willing. “Do you know anyone else?”

  Bubba shook his bald head, his expression screaming regret. “Not in Cali.”

  Carter perked up. “So? I don’t care where. I’ll go. Like you said, you’d cover me. Where?”

  “I can make a few calls. Maybe to a buddy out in Arizona, but it’s a longshot. He’s been burned by the laws, and doesn’t trust easily.”

  “Even if you vouch for me?”

  He shrugged. “I can give it a go, but no promises.”

  “Awesome.” Carter rocked on the end of the maroon recliner, from eagerness as much as to try to alleviate the ache in his leg and lower back. Probably should stretch, but then he might pace, and he didn’t want his nerves to show.

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Bubba grabbed the phone from the table and started dialing.

  Carter muttered thanks, his mind spinning a mile a minute. There were too many unknowns he’d need to figure out ASAP—not just Bubba’s old friend.

  In LA, he knew the train schedule, the tracks, the lines, even when the big manufacturers shipped. He’d have to learn it all for wherever he landed—and fast as shit, if it was to work.

  He’d negotiate as low a cut as he could with the crew, too. Then he’d get Bubba to fence the rides. As soon as he had enough money, he could disappear for a while. Rowdy was a thorn in his side, yeah, but he’d have to figure that out.

  The FBI was still hot on his ass, and he needed to stay hidden for a while, until things died down. Then he could hunt Rowdy and take care of him. He’d always hated outliers, and his former teammate had already escaped his wrath.

  It wouldn’t happen again.

  Carter had shot his old friend, but he didn’t think the injury had been severe enough—or that he was that lucky—to have killed Eric ‘Rowdy’ Vargas.

  Nah, the asshat was out there, somewhere.

  He didn’t know what idiot FBI agent was on his tail, either. It pained him to admit.

  At least one of the agents on his case was a female named Taylor Carrigan. That info was thanks to her dead BFF, the guy they’d all known as John Donovan—whose real name had turned out to be Murray. He’d been FBI, too. He hadn’t even had to torture the bastard too much for a tell-all on Agent Carrigan.

  Pussy.

  She was out of the Dallas office, and the lead investigator. John had been undercover to bust them.

  What was worse was when Carter had discovered Joe Pompa, old crew leader and former older-brother figure, had betrayed them all, because he’d known John was a fed in their midst.

  Carter had done what he’d needed to then.

  Traitors.

  His whole crew had turned out to be traitors. They weren’t really the only family he’d ever known.

  It didn’t matter now.

  He’d gotten them. Killed Rick and Mac right there at Joe’s old place in LA, after he’d discovered they were only with him to watch him. They were really Team Joe—and had been reporting back to the guy, even though he’d been on the run.

  Rowdy’s loyalties also had lain with Joe. He’d gotten away that night, but Carter had hunted their leader and the two others that had fled with the traitor, all the way to Texas.

  He’d taken care of Bran and Moose, too.

  Bubba setting the receiver in the phone’s shallow cradle caught his attention.

  “Well?” he prompted when his friend said nada.

  “I left a message.”

  “A message?” Carter cursed—for the hundredth time that day.

  “It’s just how these things work. No worries, he always calls me back.”

  “When?”

  The big man cocked his head to one side. “Soon. Patience, my friend.”

  Carter growled. “Don’t fucking tell me to be patient. This is important.”

  Bubba narrowed his beady eyes. “I know. Back off, or I might decide not to help you anymore.” The attitude was almost unknown from the fence.

  He reared back—and put his own ass in check. “Sorry, dude. I’m…stressed.”

  “I know. Just chill. He’ll call.”

  Carter forced a long exhale and refrained from more four-letter words.

  “You’re fine where you are. No one knows you’re here, and we’re keepin’ it that way. You can breathe easy, man.”

  Yeah right, was his first instinct, but Carter nodded. He couldn’t call Bubba an idiot and expect to keep his place on the ratty couch.

  It might be a piece of shit, but it was a place to sleep, and right now, he needed that, as much as he hated to admit it.

  Chapter Four

  “So you really like it here?” Shannon eyed his friend and former partner with skepticism. In lieu of sitting alone in his hotel room, he’d called Mark Rodriguez on the off chance his buddy had a free evening. Turned out the guy was working, but like he’d said, he had to eat.

  They’d met in a Chinese restaurant in his friend’s patrol district. According to Mark, all the local cops vouched for the place. It was a hole in the wall with only about six tables but Shannon had no complaints about his sesame chicken dinner.

  The ambiance was nice, too. A great date spot, with Asian tapestries on every wall and low lighting. Even sported paper lanterns hanging above each table.

  Rodriguez laughed, and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, actually. Why, you worried about me?”

  “Well, I actually miss your ass.”

  “Aww, partner.” Mark grinned. His dark eyes twinkled and his mustache twitched.

  His friend was happy, and Shannon could see it. That was great, but he genuinely missed working with the guy. They’d been partners for three years, before Shannon had made sergeant.

  He flashed a grin back, and gestured to his friend’s uniform, and the new sergeant stripes on his sleeve. “Looks good on ya, I gotta say.”

  “Thanks.” Mark ducked eye contact and reached for his soda, a classic move for him, unable to take a compliment. “I miss Antioch, but I love running a shift.”

  “I knew you had it in you. Are the guys of Dallas PD treating you right?” Shannon asked.

  “Oh yeah, a great bunch of guys. And gals.”

  Something in his friend’s tone made him pause. “Gals? As in, one in particular?”

  His friend shook his head but his goofy smile gave him away. “Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” S
hannon laughed.

  “Well, it’s new. She’s a detective.”

  “A detective. Can you handle that?”

  Mark threw back his head and laughed. “I’m sure as hell gonna try.”

  “Good luck, for real. I hope to meet her soon.”

  “If all goes well, you will, sooner than later. You know I have to bring her home to meet my mom.”

  Shannon chuckled and nodded. His buddy was close to his mother, not unlike Shannon with his own. She lived in Antioch, where Mark had been born and raised.

  “Speaking of, you know she already has us married off.”

  “I bet. Expecting grandbabies, no doubt. Shoulda held back the news a bit. It’s hard to date a cop, man.”

  Mark sobered and nodded. “I know. When it’s them, everyone says, ‘It’s different this time.’ I want to believe that.”

  “I hope it is.”

  “Me too, she’s great. What about you?” Mark asked.

  “Me? Nah, no one special.”

  “Damn shame, with that face of yours.”

  Shannon growled and his buddy laughed again. He still hadn’t lived down the time he’d gotten hit on by a buxom brunette on a traffic stop a few years back. The woman had been handsy as well as the verbal come-on, and he’d threatened to arrest her. She’d offered to persuade him well enough that he wouldn’t write her a speeding ticket.

  Mark had snagged the dash cam video, and it’d made the rounds at the PD. The woman had said he had the face of an angel. Of course, the nickname had stuck. Every time they got a new hire, the story was somehow revived and all the guys had a laugh at Shannon’s expense.

  “Still say she was high.”

  His buddy chuckled again and shook his head. “We shoulda never stopped calling you Angel.”

  Movement by the door caught Shannon’s eye, and a petite fair-haired woman entered the restaurant, going straight to the checkout counter. The retort died on his tongue.

  She was dressed in dark slacks and a matching blazer. The outline of the gun at her waist was visible to the trained eye.

  Shannon glanced at his watch. It was almost eight. “Working late, Agent Carrigan?” he called.

  She didn’t smile when she turned to him and his buddy, and Shannon found himself wishing for even a slight curve of her full mouth. Disappointment settled low and he tried to shake it off.

  Recognition softened her features a tad, making her even prettier, but it didn’t satisfy him.

  What did you expect?

  She’d shot down his dinner invitation that afternoon.

  The hostess brought Carrigan’s order, already bagged and ready to go. The beep beep of the buttons on the cash register were audible from where Shannon sat with his friend.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the petite FBI agent who looked impeccable despite the time of day.

  The first time he’d met Special Agent Taylor Carrigan had been at McAuley’s, the local cop bar in Antioch.

  He’d held the door open for her and told her where she could find APD Detective Jared Manning. Hadn’t said more than a few words to her, but her demeanor had screamed uptight, from her strawberry-blonde hair in its librarian bun down to her shiny black loafers.

  That image hadn’t changed when he’d seen her in action at a crime scene, either. He’d been first on scene at the double murder that had to do with the case she was working, and she’d been a demanding, impatient investigator wanting to do everything herself, including not wanting to wait for the Crime Scene Unit before breaching the scene.

  Manning, who’d been working with her, had confirmed what a pain she was, but it hadn’t dimmed Shannon’s interest.

  When he’d taken her statement after a shooting incident a few weeks later—where Manning’s biological brother had ended up with a bullet in his head—Shannon had seen something in Carrigan that’d solidified his draw to her.

  Vulnerability under her toughness.

  She’d snapped and tried to push him away, but Shannon had kept her calm and drawn her to him, giving in to the odd urge to touch her. He’d tucked her into his side and walked her to his cruiser. He’d regretted releasing her then. He’d wanted to hold her, though Agent Carrigan would’ve never allowed that.

  He’d thought about her often in the following months, and seeing her outside the federal court house that afternoon had been welcome. He’d always liked a challenge. Which was probably why he’d asked her out.

  Shannon found himself disappointed again when the ching sounded and the cashier closed the register’s drawer with a click.

  Carrigan hadn’t spoken, and would probably leave just like that.

  So much for her saying she hoped to run into me again.

  His stomach jumped when she did the opposite, and headed to his table.

  “Nice to see you again, Sergeant.” Still no smile, despite the pleasant tone of voice. Her hazel eyes glowed almost gold in the dim light of the hanging lantern.

  Damn, she’s gorgeous.

  Mark cleared his throat and Shannon jolted in his seat—and reached for his manners.

  “Mark, this is Special Agent Carrigan, you remember her from that case in Antioch a few months back?”

  “Yeah, I think it was right before I left.” His buddy stood, and threw his hand out to the FBI agent. “Mark Rodriguez.”

  Carrigan shook his old partner’s hand and finally smiled.

  Shannon was jealous as hell it wasn’t for him.

  “Nice to see you again. A sergeant as well, I see.”

  “Yeah, for a few months at DPD now.” The radio on Mark’s hip screamed.

  “Officer needs assistance. Officer needs assistance…”

  “Shit, looks like I gotta go.”

  “Damn, sounds like it,” Shannon said. “Be safe.”

  Mark slapped him on the back. “You know it, brother. Good to see ya. Call me and we’ll get together again before you leave.”

  Shannon nodded and watched his friend key up his mic to answer the call, then he dropped a twenty dollar bill on the table. He was gone before Shannon could tell him dinner was supposed to be on him.

  Agent Carrigan’s shifting from foot to foot next to him caught his attention. “Hope everything’s okay,” she said.

  “I’m sure it will be. Rodriguez is a hell of a cop. I kinda want to rush out there with him.” He made eye contact with her and smiled. “Sit with me. I’ll call the waitress to clear the table.”

  “That’s probably not a good idea.”

  “Why not? I’m still eating, and you have to eat.” He gestured to her paper-bagged order. “You can tell me about that bad day. Although, I hope it improved.”

  Carrigan made a face and shook her head. “It didn’t. By much.”

  “Oh? I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She stared at him for a few seconds before speaking, and he wanted to squirm. “You are, aren’t you?”

  “What?” He reared back, studying her.

  “Genuinely upset I had a bad day.”

  He blinked. Didn’t know what to say. Did she have an issue with good manners? “Uh…”

  “Forget it. I’m sorry. I…should go.”

  Shannon’s hand shot out of its own accord and landed on her wrist. “If you want to make it up to me, stay. Take a load off and eat what you ordered.”

  Her body screamed hesitation, but she didn’t pull away. Her gaze darted to where his hand enclosed her wrist.

  His eyes followed suit, then Shannon couldn’t look away from where they were joined—or help the wish that they were joined in a different, more intimate manner.

  Her bones were so delicate in his large hand, and Carrigan’s skin was so soft. Without thought, he stroked her smooth flesh with his thumb.

  The FBI agent jumped and tugged free. But she sat down, instead of running away.

  They locked eyes. “Sorry,” tumbled out from both of them at the same time. Carrigan fidgeted on the chair, her cheeks pink.

  He nev
er would’ve pegged her for a blusher, but Shannon couldn’t look away. He didn’t want her to call him on staring, so he cleared his throat and looked down at his dinner. “This place has awesome sesame chicken.” He forced himself to reach for his chopsticks.

  “They have awesome everything. I always come here when I’m in the mood for Chinese. It’s my favorite place in the city.” Carrigan put her bag on the table and took two containers out of it. “You have good taste, I got the same thing.”

  Breathing a tiny internal sigh of relief, he leaned back and smiled. He reached for his soda and took a sip. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “No, I don’t drink when I eat. Takes up too much room in your stomach.” She didn’t look at him when answering. She opened the takeout chopsticks and snapped them apart.

  “Ah. Never thought much about it.”

  Carrigan shrugged. “Not many people do.”

  “Not many health nuts pick that meal off the Chinese menu.” Shannon gestured to her open container. She’d already dug in and taken a bite of seed-and-sauce-covered chicken.

  “Not a health nut. I’ll run it off.”

  “Not much to run off, Special Agent. You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

  Finally, she cracked a smile and his heart honest-to-God shuddered. He chided himself. The smile had definitely made the small tease worth it.

  “Well, thanks. I’m not crazy about it, but I do try to stay healthy. Besides, I like to run. It gives me time to think.”

  “Healthy works for me. I hit the gym a few times a week.”

  “What’s your drug of choice?” Carrigan asked as she took another bite.

  “I like to lift.”

  “Cardio?”

  “I vary my routine.” Shannon wouldn’t admit how much he liked Zumba. If the guys at work discovered it, he’d never hear the end of it. Right up there with Angel, the unwanted nickname. Not that Carrigan would tell anyone, but he couldn’t confess that what most considered a feminine exercise style was right up his alley.

  She stared, as if she didn’t believe him.

  “All right, I have a secret.” The words tumbled out of his mouth, unbidden.