The Lawless Kind (40 page)

‘To be honest, Kirstie, the trouble we were involved in was only one of dozens of violent confrontations throughout the country that week. Things are in turmoil, and the Federales are hard put to keep up, let alone spare any time to investigate ancient history. They’ll be happy that another of the major gangs has been broken, rather than start looking for motives why.’

‘So you think we’re safe from prosecution?’

Shrugging, I said, ‘Pointless worrying about something unlikely to happen.’

‘Only unlikely?’

‘There are always crusaders for the truth. We can only hope that there are juicier lies for them to concern themselves with. The impending North American Alliance already has the conspiracy theorists jumping up and down; our story will be lost among thousands of other tales soon enough. When they can go after the politicians and make loads of noise, who’s going to trouble a woman who simply retrieved her abducted baby?’

‘It makes a good story, you have to admit.’

‘Hope it doesn’t end up in another of those mystery books you’re so fond of,’ I joked. ‘Please don’t tell any of your author friends what happened.’

‘My lips are sealed.’ She mimed zipping them together. When she caught me staring she relaxed her mouth, her bottom lip protruding. I watched as blood flooded her lips and would swear they were riper than before. There was nothing I wished for more than to touch her.

Three days earlier, Rink had warned me about this moment. I’d limped into his office at Rington Investigations, grunting as I sat down opposite him. I stretched out my leg, rubbing at the muscles in my thigh.

‘You’re getting old, brother,’ Rink said.

‘Tell me about it,’ I said. ‘It’s been weeks since I exercised. I’m going to do some running soon. I’ll be good once I’ve put the miles in again.’

‘Your knee still giving you trouble?’

Actually it was. Of all the minor injuries I’d picked up in Mexico, the twisted knee I’d acquired while avoiding being crushed by the SUV in Hermosillo had stayed with me longest. But it was on the mend, and I was confident of a full recovery. All my other injuries had faded, even the horrendous welts from Jorge Molina’s rope. The bullet nicks on my leg and forearm were pink scars now, the myriad scrapes and scratches from flying glass a network of fine scars that would disappear now I was back in the sunshine.

‘It’s fine,’ I lied.

‘I’ll come with you,’ he offered. ‘A nice easy ten miles to get us started.’

‘Maybe tomorrow, eh? Or the next day.’

Rink winked. ‘Knew that knee was giving you hell.’

I offered him a sheepish grin. ‘Just don’t tell anyone, eh?’

‘You seeing Kirstie this weekend?’ Rink asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘You should take it easy, brother.’

‘We’re taking everything one step at a time, Rink. The same as my fitness regime.’

He held me under his gaze. I knew something was troubling him: our association with Walter had grown to be a burden he wasn’t happy carrying these days.

‘You still think it’s wrong for me to date Walter’s granddaughter?’ I asked.

‘No. Not in that sense, brother. What I said back then, I was just trying to make you see where a relationship with Kirstie might lead you.’

‘Don’t worry, you won’t be hearing any wedding bells if that’s what’s bothering you.’

He grunted out a laugh, but it was hollow and humourless. ‘You know what I’m worried about.’

He was intimating that if I was close to Kirstie then I’d be too close to Walter, and by virtue to Arrowsake. And, because he’d never turn his back on me, so would he.

‘You don’t find it strange that, after what went down in Mexico, we haven’t been hauled in by the feds yet?’

‘I know where you’re heading with this,’ I said.

‘Good. You need to heed my warning. Walter had another CIA agent murdered, for Christ’s sake, and it’s like Thomas Caspar never existed. How could he get away with that?’

‘We don’t know for sure that Walt had anything to do with it.’

‘Bullshit! You know exactly who was on the other end of that garrotte. And you know who sent Vincent after Caspar.’

‘Stephen Vincent doesn’t work for Walter,’ I reminded him.

‘No. Agent Vincent is Arrowsake through and through. But doesn’t it make you think . . .’

‘It does,’ I admitted. ‘How or why did Arrowsake get involved? I know what you’re thinking, Rink: you believe Walter asked them for help and now he owes them, and it’s most likely us who’ll end up repaying his debt.’

Rink shook his head. ‘What I’m saying is that we don’t know Walter the way we think we know him.’

‘Shit,’ I said.

‘Shit doesn’t begin to describe it if I’m right,’ Rink said.

‘You mean Walter hasn’t cut ties with Arrowsake? For a hit on someone as important as Caspar, it would take someone with a lot of juice in the organisation to give it the green light. Caspar’s death has been covered by a smokescreen, the same way as the trouble down in Mexico has. We’ve been allowed to get away with everything because to name us would also name Walter. Arrowsake aren’t going to let that happen, are they?’

‘You’ve got it,’ Rink said, though he didn’t seem happy with my epiphany. ‘Walter hasn’t moved away from Arrowsake at all. He’s moved
up
in rank. He’s where he always intended to be, Joe, and you know where that leaves us.’

‘He can’t make us work for him again.’

‘Can’t he? I’m not saying he’d force us, but if he can play on your loyalties . . . Shit, Joe, if you’re canoodling with his granddaughter you’re as good as hooked in.’ He mimed snicking a dog leash to a collar round his neck. ‘We’re fucked, brother.’

‘No. I won’t let it happen again. No more Walter Hayes Conrad. No more using us as his personal assets.’

‘You think so, brother?’ Rink asked with a slow exhalation. ‘Then you’re stupider than you look.’

Simply by being here in Kirstie’s apartment, I’d kind of proved Rink’s point for him. Didn’t stop me from coming to a decision. Getting up from the settee without showing discomfort was a struggle, but I pulled it off. Kirstie stood also.

‘You’re going so soon?’ she asked, her disappointment obvious.

‘No.’ I held out a hand to her. ‘Just wanted to finish something we started back in Mexico. You asked me if I’d kiss you again, and I said we’d talk about it once you were safely home. You ready for that talk?’

‘My grandfather warned me about you.’

‘He did?’

‘He said you’re too impulsive for your own good.’

‘Maybe he’s right. But I won’t know for sure until you order me to get out.’

Kirstie flushed, but she didn’t give me my marching orders. She began kissing me in the living room, and didn’t stop until much later in the bedroom, as we slept naked in each other’s arms.

Thanks and Acknowledgements

My thanks and gratitude goes to Denise Hilton, Luigi Bonomi, Alison Bonomi, Sue Fletcher, Swati Gamble, Eleni Lawrence, Jim Hilton, my family and friends, and to all the readers who choose to pick up a Joe Hunter book.

Special mentions of thanks this time go to Lee Marshall, Ian McAdam, Graham Smith, and Kirstie Long, for allowing me the use of your names. Hope you don’t mind the Joe Hunter treatment your fictional equivalents went through?