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  DOUBLE DOWN

  THE BLACKMORE AGENCY:

  BOOK ONE

  CAROLINA MAC

  Copyright © 2017 by Carolina Mac

  DOUBLE DOWN - 1st ed.

  ISBN 978-1-988850-16-0

  All rights reserved

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  To My Faithful Readers

  Being against evil doesn’t make you good.

  ―ERNEST HEMINGWAY

  CHAPTER ONE

  South of the Panama/Columbia Border

  AUTOMATIC WEAPONS. The gunfire startled her awake and her heart picked up the pace. She threw back the thin cotton coverlet, slipped out of bed and padded barefoot across the cool tile floor in her silk nightshirt. The house was quiet. Where was Lucho? She hadn’t heard him get up. She pulled back the sheer curtain and peered into the steamy night. A full moon cast its eerie light down on the jungle canopy, the tops of the trees melding together like miles of dark shag rug with a silvery frosting.

  The razor wire atop the eight-foot compound wall glinted metallic in the moonlight and reflected the dangers of trespass. Not off-putting enough for some. The attacks were becoming more and more frequent. Lucho’s enemies were rapidly gaining in numbers and in strength. Every night brought more men and more assault rifles. Soon they would breach the wall, overpower Lucho Hernando and kill him. They would absorb his vast drug operation and make it their own without causing a ripple in production or exports. No one would know or care.

  Nothing would change except the seat of power.

  If my people don’t move in before that happens, all my months spent in this hell on earth will be for nothing.

  “I can’t let that happen,” she mumbled to herself. “I’ll die before I see that happen.”

  I gave up the man I love for my career, and for what? For the promise of a promotion and a raise? Chances are good, I will die here. I’m a fool.

  She couldn’t see them, but from the second floor of the mansion, the ear-splitting sound of the M16’s cut through the thick, humid air like fireworks on the Fourth.

  There was no sleep for her now. Fabiana stepped through the garden doors onto the balcony, stood in the shadows close to the stone wall of the house and lit a cigarette.

  How many would die tonight? Would one of them be

  Lucho?

  CHAPTER TWO

  Texas: Wednesday, March 1st.

  BLAINE CROSSED the massive farmhouse kitchen, chains on his Harley boots clunking out a rhythm. “You guys better hurry. Y’all are gonna miss your bus.”

  Jackson and Lucy struggled with their backpacks as he held the door open for them. “When’s Mommy coming home?” asked Lucy.

  Both the six-year-olds looked enough like him to be his siblings—black hair and matching eyes—even though they weren’t. Jackson was Annie’s only biological child. She had adopted Blaine when he was sixteen and made him part of her family. Little Lucy was a foster child. Annie had lots of love to spread around and she took in a lot of strays.

  “She’ll be here waiting when the school bus brings y’all home. I’m picking her and Jesse up in a couple of hours.”

  “Good,” said Jackson, “I miss her a lot.”

  Me too. I hate it when Annie and I are separated. Fab

  always said I was way too attached to my mother. Am I?

  Race walked into the kitchen with a confused look on his face that Blaine didn’t recognize. He stood motionless near the coffee maker and stared at it.

  “You okay, Race?” Blaine called from the door. “Can I help you with something?”

  Race didn’t offer a reply.

  “Hurry up, Blaine. Me and Luce are gonna miss the bus.”

  Blaine looked away from Race, checked the time on his phone, and herded the kids onto the porch. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s hurry.”

  On his return trip down the long lane that led into Coulter-Ross, Blaine stopped for a breath at the tall iron gate that kept his family safe.

  That first day Annie brought him home from Odessa was still crystal clear in his mind. The house looked the same, huge stone and timber construction with tall windows affording stellar views of the pine forest. A long porch stretched across the front, welcoming and comfortable, tricked out with dark green wicker furniture. Wide landscaped beds curved against flagstone walkways—not in bloom yet, but spring wasn’t far off.

  Everything was the same, and yet everything was different. He was a man now—thanks to Annie, he had lived to see his twenty-first birthday. And thanks to Annie rescuing him from the bike club he was trapped in, he had made something of his life. He was an attorney. The youngest in his class to pass the bar. And a criminologist. About to embark on a new phase of his life.

  He stomped out his smoke in the dirt before crossing the porch and going into the house. The kitchen was spotless and empty, except for Race standing in the same spot staring at the coffee maker. Rosalie, the housekeeper, had finished her breakfast cleanup and had moved on to another part of the house.

  Blaine circled the huge granite island and moved closer to Race. The big man never moved.

  What the hell is going on with him now?

  He had never wanted Race to live at the ranch, even though he was Jackson’s biological father. Blaine saw him as the dangerous criminal he once was, and probably still was, underneath the new façade. He couldn’t ignore Race’s violent history just because he had been declared neurologically

  deficient after his near drowning in the Colorado River.

  As Blaine edged closer to Race, Declan O’Connor,

  Annie’s medic she kept on staff, strode into the kitchen to refill his coffee mug. Blaine tilted his head towards the long-haired ganger and Declan nodded.

  “What’s happening, Mr. Race?” asked Declan in his Irish lilt. “Are we having a problem this morning?”

  Blaine stepped out of the way and Declan laid a hand on Race’s tattooed arm, but not in time to keep him from

  crumpling to the floor.

  Dec dropped to his knees, grabbed onto Race’s wrist and groped for a pulse. “He’s out cold. Call 911.”

  JESSE QUANTRALL held Annie’s hand as they waited by the luggage carousel at Austin-Bergstrom. “Never thought I’d get to see Hawaii,” he smiled at his bride, “and never

  imagined for a minute, that we’d enjoy it together, Ace. Best two weeks of my life.”

  Annie focused her gray eyes on him and smiled. “Long time coming, cowboy, but you are definitely worth the wait.”

  He leaned down and kissed her.

  BLAINE GREETED the tanned newlyweds with a broad grin as they came through the arrival doors. He hugged Annie and took one of the bags from Jesse. “You shouldn’t be carrying anything heavy.”

  “Bull
shit,” said Jesse, “I’m as healthy as a horse.”

  Blaine didn’t bother to argue in the busy airport lounge, but he knew better. Jesse had suffered a near-fatal heart attack and was fighting his way back—how much time he had left was unknown—but Annie wasn’t wasting a minute of their life together. The wedding had been a quiet affair at the ranch, with family only in attendance, Jesse’s four brothers, and

  Annie’s boys. A rocky romance over the past few years, but reality had reared its ugly head and Jesse and Annie had

  decided to go the distance together.

  “I’m parked right out front. Y’all look relaxed and both of you look like you got some sun.”

  “We had a fantastic time,” said Jesse. “Best ever.”

  “How did things go at the ranch while we were gone?” asked Annie. “How are the kids. I missed them.”

  “Kids are good. They are both missing you and asking when you’d be home. Lucy doesn’t say much, but she was asking this morning.”

  “What else?” Annie jumped in the back of Blaine’s big black diesel and let Jesse take the shotgun seat, so he could smoke.

  “Race had a … something… happen. Don’t know what it was for sure,” said Blaine. “Just conked out this morning in the kitchen and Dec sent him to Fayette Memorial for tests.”

  Annie leaned over the console. “What do you mean? Did he faint? What kind of tests?”

  “Don’t know, Mom. Haven’t had a chance to talk to

  Declan yet.”

  “Jackson didn’t see it happen, did he?”

  “Nope. The kids were already on the bus. Happened when I came back into the house.”

  “Good.” Annie blew out a little breath. “Not good that it happened, but I’m happy Jackson didn’t witness it. Wonder what could be wrong with Race?”

  “Could be his head injury causing problems,” said Blaine. “I have no clue.”

  Jesse offered no comment. It was no secret he wasn’t fond of Race. The next big hurdle for Jesse would be moving from his own ranch, Quantrall, to Annie’s ranch, Coulter-Ross, and living day in and day out with the big ganger in his face.

  “Do you want to stop into the hospital on the way to the ranch?” asked Blaine.

  “I guess we should,” said Annie, “Jackson will ask me first thing, where his Daddy is.” She leaned over the console and patted Jesse on the arm. “I know you’re tired, cowboy. It won’t take long.”

  “I’m fine, Ace,” said Jesse. “Do what you have to do.”

  RACE SAT PROPPED up on his bed staring at a tiny TV screen when Annie and Blaine found his room on the third floor. His dark hair, making a comeback after his brain surgery, splayed out behind his head on the pillows. Dark eyes glanced away from the screen and focused on Annie as she crossed the room to the bed.

  Jesse had remained outside in the smoking area, catching an unhappy nod from Annie. After his heart attack, he was supposed to quit, but hadn’t been too successful—at least not yet—but he had managed to cut down. A little progress was better than none.

  Annie walked over to the bed, leaned down and gave Race a hug. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on with you?”

  “No clue, Annie. Declan said I fainted or some damn thing. Can’t explain it.”

  She pushed his long hair back from his face and her gray eyes narrowed. “That’s a nasty lump on your forehead, sugar.”

  “I guess I hit my head on the cupboard door handle when I fell. That’s all it could be. Hurts like hell.”

  “Uh huh. And the doctor is running some tests?”

  “Had some scans today.” He shrugged. “Nobody bothered telling me about the results. I guess the doc will tell you.”

  “Maybe they don’t have results yet,” said Annie, “I’ll leave word at the desk for the doctor treating you to call me as soon as he knows anything. I wanted to be able to tell Jacks something positive. He’ll be asking as soon as I get home.”

  Race smiled. “Yeah, I guess he will. What about

  Pyewacket?” Race clenched his fist and seemed agitated. “Can you feed her for me?”

  “Of course, we’ll feed her, sugar. Don’t worry about your cat.”

  Race blew out a breath. “She’s my biggest worry, Annie. You know that.”

  Blaine rolled his eyes and headed into the corridor to wait.

  This is a guy who slit people’s throats and sold drugs to kids for a living, and his biggest worry is who will feed his fucking cat? I’m gonna puke.

  ROSALIE SERVED DINNER in the dining room. A little welcome home celebration for the newlyweds. All Annie’s cowboys, wearing smiling faces, crowded around the table. Bull, ex-bull rider and cattle foreman, Wayne, foreman of the Appaloosa operation, Monroe and Teddy—two Apache boys that Annie had given a home to.

  Blaine sat next to Farrell, his tall, blond foster brother who squeezed in next to Jackson and Lucy. Blaine looked at Jesse and pointed to the chair at the head of the table. “You’re the new head of the household, Jesse. Might as well get used to the seat of power.”

  Jesse grinned and winked at Annie, “Yeah, in name only.” He chuckled. “Y’all know who the big boss is.”

  “Yeah, we do,” said Monroe. He scooped a huge load of mashed potatoes onto his plate.

  “Glad to have you at the barn anytime, Jesse,” said Wayne, “You know more about Appaloosa breeding than anyone in the whole state of Texas, and I welcome your input.”

  Jesse grinned, “Thanks, Wayne. I’ll do what I can to help y’all out.”

  Annie nodded, but wore a concerned look on her face.

  AFTER DINNER, BLAINE held court in his study. “We need a meeting to transition smoothly from Quantrall Investigations to The Blackmore Agency. The operation will be basically the same and Jesse and I will continue as partners—no difference there.” Blaine swiveled in his leather chair. “The only noticeable difference will be Jesse’s absence from the physical side of things. We’ll have his input on all other aspects of any case we take on.”

  “Travis should be here soon,” said Farrell. “Said he was coming around eight.” Farrell Donovan was one of the kids Annie had rescued from a bike gang. He had come to her with his younger brother, Neil, who was at school in Dallas. Jesse had hired Farrell to work at QI, and he had obtained his

  investigator’s license.

  A few minutes later, Annie opened the door, carried in a tray loaded with coffee fixings and Travis Bristol was right behind her. A tall, former marine with a fair complexion, Travis was a recon specialist and an expert in electronic surveillance. A valuable addition to the team.

  “Bout time you got here, slacker,” said Farrell. “This is an important meeting.”

  Travis glanced at his watch. “I’m right on time. Bet I didn’t miss anything if you were doing the talking.”

  Jesse smiled and didn’t comment. It was gonna be harder than he thought to dissolve QI and hand over the business to Blaine. Without realizing it, he rubbed his chest and felt short of breath.

  Annie looked up from the coffee table, saw him touch his chest and nodded. She watched him like a hawk.

  He’d been no hell in bed the last couple of nights, either. Maybe a two-week honeymoon was too long for a heart

  patient.

  “Okay, cut the bullshit,” said Blaine, with eyes on Farrell. He held up a yellow pad. “I’ve got a list of stuff to go over.”

  Travis fixed himself a coffee and sat in one of the leather wing chairs. “Go, boss.”

  Blaine nodded. “Okay, number one. Our new headquarters. For now, it will be this office. We can come in and out through the back door and not bother anybody.”

  “I think I’m missing Jesse’s trailer already,” said Farrell. “I feel it creeping up on me.”

  “You’ll feel something else creeping up on you.” Blaine gave his foster brother the stink-eye. “Shut up.”

  “Can’t shut up until I ask about the dogs,” said Farrell. “Are Red and Bluebelle moving over here with
Jesse?”

  Jesse nodded. “Yep, I’ll bring them when I move my stuff.”

  “Okay, good,” said Farrell. “I’m still gonna be the dog handler, ain’t I?”

  “Of course,” said Blaine. “Almost everything will be the same. We’re making as few changes as possible. “Second, is Jesse’s role as consultant. He’ll have input on everything we’re doing, but he won’t be physically involved. That means we need one more man.”

  “A new hire,” said Travis. “Don’t hire an asshole, boss.”

  “I’ll try not to, Trav, but remember—I hired you.”

  Farrell snorted, and Jesse smiled.

  Annie held up a hand. “Can I say one thing here? I know I’m not part of the new company or anything, but just to let you know—I’m watching Jesse, and if he gets too involved in any of your cases, to the point where it’s threatening his health, I’m putting the damper down.”

  Jesse shook his head. “Don’t worry, Ace. I won’t.’

  Annie giggled. “So you say, cowboy, but you forget, I know you better than most.”

  “I’ll have the agency send us some candidates for tomorrow,” said Blaine. “We’ll hold interviews in the afternoon. We’re tied up in the morning. Governor Richardson wants us in his office at nine a.m.”

  JESSE TOWELED OFF after his shower, a bit apprehensive knowing Annie was waiting for him in bed. Their first night together at Coulter-Ross. It felt different to him—like he didn’t belong. He felt like a stranger away from his own ranch, his own house, his trailer, his dogs.

  His heart raced as he walked barefoot across the hand-painted Mexican tiles. He inhaled slowly and tried to calm his

  respirations so she wouldn’t notice. He lifted the sheet and slid in beside Annie’s warm body. Ignoring the tightness in his chest, he rolled on his side and took her in his arms. “I love you, Ace.”

  “I love you too, cowboy, and I could hear you breathing all the way from the bathroom door.”