Silent Deceit (4 page)

  After a two-hour session at the emergency
room, they were back at her motel. No broken bones, a goddamn miracle as far as
the doctor was concerned. Skip carried Natasha inside. Laid her on the bed and
phoned out for pizza. Lined her meds up on the bedside table and poured her a
glass of water to take a pain pill. Never let it be said he wasn't a handy guy
to have around. 

  "Okay Skip, get it over with."
She threw her hands in the air and glared at him. "Do your damndest and
yell at me. Let it all out, and we'll both feel better. I know I messed
up."

  Messed up? Yell at her? Hell, he'd like
to throttle her for scaring him half to death. And make love to her, fool that
he was. Stupid woman. At least he’d gotten some satisfaction from the tetanus
shot and stitches she'd endured at the hospital. Hard to believe she was afraid
of needles and had clung to him like a lifeline.

  He watched her now, watching him, looking
pale and fragile in the Queen size. And beautiful. Sexy. Smelling like sin. His
anger evaporated, replaced by the need building inside him like a freaking
inferno. "I'd rather do this."

  He touched down beside her, careful of
her bandaged foot encased in a Velcro boot, and wrapped her in his arms.  She
didn't resist when his mouth covered hers. Tentative at first, she opened for
him, her sigh soft between them as his tongue touched hers. Honeyed. Warm. His
hand dipped beneath her sweatshirt, gliding up skin the texture of satin to
palm a breast. She arched into him when his thumb and forefinger rolled the
furled bud. Still, as desperate as he was to have her, he held back. "Tell
me if you want me to stop."

  Eyes shining with desire—no question
there—she reached for him. But, he had to be sure. She'd been through a lot,
and had taken a pain pill. She moaned, touching the back of his hand through
the fabric. "No...I need this too."

  Skip breathed a sigh of relief and pushed
her sweatshirt up, his mouth closing on her other breast. He teased the peak,
nipping and suckling until she writhed beneath him, his own body rock hard and
ready to explode. Her hand found his and guided it down to her button fly.
"Help me get out of these."

  "Bluebird..." He removed the boot, pushed her jeans past her hips and slid
them carefully down her legs. Ah, God, her panties were a tiny scrap of red
lace. Settling between her thighs, he cupped her bottom, his teeth teasing the
material aside. His mouth found her sweetness. Glistening...exquisite...wild.
Senses reeling, he couldn't get enough, wanted to shout from the rooftops when
she cried out for release.

  Time enough for that—they had all night.
To touch and taste, explore each other's needs. 

  Someone knocked on the door. "Pizza
delivery."

  Shit!

  "Hurry up and pay him." Natasha
grabbed for the comforter and covered herself. "I like cold pizza. Don't
you?"

  "It's my favorite." Skip
reached into a back pocket for his wallet, unlocked the door and shoved a
handful of bills at the guy out front. Grabbed the pizza and locked up again.
He tossed the pie on the small desk and—another pound on the door. He winked at
Natasha. "Delivery dude forgot the sodas."

  He flipped the deadbolt, reached for the
drinks, and came nose-to-nose with Blue.

  "Make room in the bed for one
more." He shot through the doorway with Rena in his arms. "She's
starting to come around, but I couldn't leave her alone in that hellhole."

  He nodded to Natasha as he deposited Rena
gently beside her, unzipping her out of his leather jacket and covering her
with a quilt. "How are you doing?"

  "I'm fine," Natasha said. Then
she yawned and closed her eyes, a sure sign the pain meds had kicked in.

  "We'll be next door if you need
us." Blue motioned to Skip. "Let's go. Take the pizza and lock
up."

  Grabbing Natasha's Glock from the desk,
Skip placed it beside her on the nightstand. Turned off the lamp. Nothing else
he could do other than snatch the pie, take a cold shower, and listen to Blue
snore.

  "Y
ou think they dosed me with
Rohypnal?" Rena slumped on the couch and downed a couple of aspirin.
"No wonder I have such a horrible headache."

  Blue looked away, as if the sight of her
clingy sleep Tee and shorts made him uncomfortable. Natasha felt her eyebrows
arch in surprise. She had seen Blue work undercover many times. There was
nothing wrong with her memory, and biker babes strutted around topless or naked
in front of him all the time. After all, he was a great looking guy with a
killer physique. She'd often seen gals slide into his lap hoping for a thrill
ride, and not on his Harley. But he'd brush them off. His response to Rena was
different. One Natasha had never seen before—awkward and almost shy.

  "For sure they used Rohypnal or
something similar." His fists clenched, Blue paced the small room looking
like an eagle trapped in a budgie cage. "You were paralyzed when I found
you. Couldn't move. Couldn't speak. All you could do
was stare when I picked you up and carried you off. Deuce made damn sure you'd
be compliant and unable to remember a thing."

  "All the more reason for me to act
as if nothing has happened." Rena glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
The digital readout blinked five a.m.. "I'll sneak back to my apartment
before anyone notices I'm gone. Can one of you give me a lift?"

  "Let me find you some clothes."
Hobbling to the tiny closet—the ache in her foot flaring with every step—Natasha
pulled out jeans, a hoodie, and an old pair of sneakers. The red in the hoodie
matched the streak in Rena's bangs.

  Relief at Rena’s decision to return to
the club overrode the guilt nudging Natasha's conscience. This wasn't the other
woman's fight, and Zach wasn't her brother. Still, if she wanted to help
without being pressured, why not let her? "Blue, will you take Rena back
by the logging road? Skip and I should park in the lot with the rest of the
cleanup crew."

  "No freaking way. Use your brain,
Rena." Blue stopped the back and forth routine and glared, apparently not happy
with Rena's take on things. "Anything could have happened to you last
night if Deuce and Moshpit had a mind to have themselves some fun. And I wasted
valuable time watching you, waiting for them to come back. It's damned lucky
they bypassed your door when they shut down for the night or I might have
killed them. Which wouldn't help us find Zach."

  Rena tipped her chin, a stubborn look in
her eyes. "Look, I appreciate what you did, but I can take care of
myself."

  "Nope. You're finished on this op,
sweet cheeks, unless you want to be raped...or worse.  I can't spare anyone to
watch your back. My people are already spread too thin. Most of them are in
Edmonton right now. Besides, you're a distraction I can't afford." 

  "Nice speech, Blue, but you don't
own me." Rena gathered up the clothes in her lap and stood, pushing past
him as she crossed the room. "I'm going back to
Trailblazer's
because I don't have a choice. I'm saving to buy a taxi, remember? Besides, I
wanna be there when Tigz shows up."

  The outer door opened before Blue could
respond. Skip strolled in with their takeout order. He smelled delicious—some
kind of manly shower gel—and Natasha thought he looked good enough to eat. Figuratively
speaking, of course. Still, part of her wished they could continue what they'd
started last night. His hair tied back with a strip of leather, he was dressed
in black from head to toe; cargo pants, T-shirt, a windbreak jacket, and work
boots. "I don't recall meeting anyone named Tigz. Who is he?"

  "My B-F-F." A smile curved
Rena's lips. "Typical male, he comes and goes when he pleases."

  Blue grabbed a coffee, snarling into the
cup. "Where the hell was he last night when you needed him?"

  "Who knows? Like I said, he's real
hard to pin down." She shut the bathroom door before Natasha could beat
her to the shower.

  "Stubborn." Blue downed his
coffee, crumpled the cup and tossed it in the wastebasket. He eyed Skip,
ignoring her completely. "Don't leave Rena alone. I’ll be back later. Fool
woman needs a goddamn babysitter."

  "
I'll
handle Rena."
Natasha locked gazes with her CO. While she might be walking with a limp, she
could still hold her own. "She's my responsibility."

  "Oh, yeah? Then I'll watch your
back." Skip caught her arm, demanding her full attention. "You're
shuffling like an old lady this morning. I'd order you to stay put if I thought
you'd listen to reason."

 
Order me off the job and stop me from
finding my brother? I don't think so
. "I'll be dressed and ready to
roll just as soon as I shower."

  "Skip's right...no heroics, Nat."
Blue unwrapped one of the breakfast sandwiches and  headed for the door.
"Keep your eyes and ears open. That's it. We'll go back tonight. See what
Deuce is up to when no one else is around."

  "Yes sir." She snapped a salute
Blue's way and rolled her eyes. The testosterone in the room was stifling.

  Oblivious to her
theatrics, a grimace tightened his jaw. "And find
out who Tigz is, so I can pound the asshole."

  "Blue? Call me crazy, but is there something going on
between you and Rena?" A bold question, Natasha knew. But her CO was behaving
out of character. "First you treated her like a whore, and now you seem
worried about her. What gives?"

  "Is it a crime because I don't want to see her
hurt?" He scowled, clearly not amused by the question. It surprised Natasha
he bothered to give her an answer at all. "I don't want to bring her home
to meet Mom, if that's what you're asking. But, while I might be a hard ass, I
don't enjoy seeing any woman abused. Hell, she has bruises all over her after
last night."

––––––––

   S
kip wheeled the pickup into the parking
lot at
Trailblazer's
and rolled to a halt. Rain danced across the roof
and pinged off asphalt as he hopped out and jogged around to the passenger
side. Turning up his collar, he suppressed a shudder. The north wind swooped
down from the Rockies carrying the scent of snow. Another month and they'd be
buried in it. Hopefully he could wrap this up and hit
the beach in Maui before too long. He was due some
vacation time and hated winter.

  "It's not too late, Tas. I can take
you back to the hotel."

  Natasha eased herself out of the vehicle,
determination in her gaze. "I won't find Zach sitting in bed and watching pay-per-view.
Let's get this done."

  She wore work boots that gave her foot
better support than the Velcro boot, but her limp was obvious when she picked
up the pace and hobbled to the shelter of the building. The door swung wide.
Deuce grabbed Natasha's elbow and helped her over the threshold.

  "What happened to you?"

  "Some idiot cowboy stomped on me
when we were dancing last night. Broke a couple of my toes."

  Skip edged Natasha past Deuce. The slimy
bastard gave him the creeps. "Yep, and then I broke his face."

  "Nice one," Deuce laughed,
nudging his chin at Natasha. "You can take inventory with Rena if she ever
shows up. Liquor, beer, glasses, dishes; let's see what got damaged and what we
need to replace. Be sure to include the upstairs bar in the count. And clean up
the breakage."

  "I'm here, boss." Rena rushed
in behind them, looking pale and drawn. She wiped rain droplets from her face with a tissue.

  "What's a matter? You have a late
night?" Deuce leered at her, hands on his hips. "You look like shit,
missy. Grab a coffee and get cracking. Lots to do today."

  Skip held back the urge to wipe the smirk
off Deuce's face with an elbow to his teeth. Kingman damn well knew why Rena
was dragging her heels this morning. Breathing deep, he loosened his fists and
watched the women head for the coffee pot. Time enough to pound on Deuce's face
after they found Zach. And his gut said he'd have to stand in line to do it.
Behind Blue. "Where do you want me?"

  "You can put my office to rights.
Same deal; record the damage and save what you can. Toss the rest."

  "I'm on it." Skip headed for
the stairs, his adrenaline spiking. Finally, a chance to gather Intel on the
creep.

  "Don't go snooping into any file
cabinets. They're locked...I already checked. And stay off my computer!"

 
We'll see about that.
He sauntered
through the bar, taking note of Deuce's goon squad. Not too many in evidence
today. Mitch helped Natasha and Rena with the inventory. Moshpit rode herd on
the construction crew repairing the tree damage to the wall. A couple of goons
kept eyes on the men carrying in windows to replace the shattered ones. Mostly
they refreshed their coffee and donut supply from the makeshift serving area.

  The stairs groaned as Skip made his way
to the second floor. A door on the right stood open, providing a view into the
upstairs lounge. The smell of cigar smoke and stale sex permeated the air. He
nearly gagged, didn't envy Natasha and Rena the task of taking inventory in
there. Maybe they could open a window.

  The office was on his left. Man, the
damage was extensive in Deuce's inner sanctum. An
outer wall was boarded up, sheets of heavy plastic flapping at the edges every
time a gust of wind blew through the cracks. Skip focused on searching for
clues to Zach's disappearance. The fact the office would be cleaned in the
process was only a side benefit for Deuce.

  He cleared a space against an inner wall to stack smaller items. Worked through the morning
pulling electronics and memorabilia out of the debris. And the handy, dandy,
assault rifle he'd found stashed in a corner. Illegal? Hell yes, but would he
mention it to Deuce? Not if he planned to live through the day. No ammo for the
long gun and he wasn't armed.

  He righted a couple of wall hangings and
stopped dead. The first was a framed sepia colored drawing of a map, circa
1810. The legend at the bottom identified it as
Kingman Coal Mining
, and
appeared to include a hundred square miles of real estate. The second was a
yellowed photograph of a group of men sporting handlebar moustaches, ill
fitting suits, walking canes, and top hats. Their names were listed below. At
the center of the group was
Jeremiah 'Deuce' Kingman
, owner and operator
of the coal mine. Holy crap! Deuce was his namesake. It made sense he was a
direct descendent on old Jeremiah's family tree. But what did it mean?

  "Hey! What are you looking at?"
Moshpit appeared out of nowhere, not easy to do with his crater face and bulky,
no neck body. Moving quick as a cobra, he snatched the photo out of Skip’s hand
and tossed it in the keeper pile. "You like old stuff?"

  Skip nodded. "I'm a bit of a history
buff."

  "You don't say? Well, save it for
trolling graveyards," Moshpit said. "Now get back to work."  

  As soon as Moshpit disappeared down the
stairwell, Skip grabbed the photo again. He focused on the landscape behind the
men standing at the gates of the mining operation. Alarm bells clanged inside
his head. A mountain range loomed in the background, the same one that sat
behind Deuce's club, roughly two hundred years later. A piece of the puzzle
surrounding
Trailblazer's
slid into place.

  His mind spun off on a tangent. Coal mines
meant underground tunnels and railway cars. The means to stash and move
contraband without law enforcement being the wiser. No wonder Deuce had been
off their radar until Zach's disappearance. Whatever he was up to, no one saw
it happening above ground.

  They needed maps of the area, an
X-marks-the-spot overview of old tunnels and mineshafts. There was another way
in—a back door to
Trailblazer's
—he was sure of it. The key was finding
it, and taking down Deuce's operation before he had time to hide the evidence.
And Zach. Jesus. Natasha's brother might already be dead. Resting for all
eternity in a mineshaft, right beneath his feet.

––––––––

  S
kip hit disconnect on his phone and
glanced at Natasha. "Blue's going to meet us at the hotel. It's up to you
to convince Rena to come with. I don't think she will listen to me. "

  "That's easier said than done."
Natasha sighed as she searched the club for the absentee bartender. "She
was here a minute ago. Now I don't know where she's gone."

  "She probably needed a nap after she
got roofied last night. Let's check out her apartment." Skip took her hand
as they exited by the back entrance. The rain had stopped, wisps of smoke from
Trailblazer's
fireplace floating on clear, autumn air. At least tomorrow promised better
weather, Natasha thought. And with a bit of luck, she might even find her
brother.

  Crap, the helplessness she felt was
destroying her brain cells.
Listen to me. I'm resorting to crystal balls
instead of chasing down solid leads.
She was a cop, not a fortuneteller.
Luck and Ouija boards wouldn't help her one darn bit.
Unfortunately, she was starting to believe that nothing would.

  Skip climbed the stairs behind her, and
she rapped on Rena's apartment door. "Hey! It's me."

  The door opened a crack. "Go away.
I'm busy."

  "Look, we need you to come with us
to the hotel. Blue is meeting us there."

  "I can't right now. Tigz just got
back. He's soaking wet and exhausted. And he's in a bad mood. I'll talk to you
later." Rena shut the door in her face. Natasha heard the lock click.

  "For the love of Mike!" She
whipped out her cell phone and called Blue. Did he want her to stay with Rena
or meet him in town? Five seconds later, she listened to dead air. She glanced
at Skip. "Guess he's on his way."

  "I figured." He tipped her chin
and brushed a kiss across her mouth. "It won't take him long to get here.
He spent the afternoon at the local library."