Cat Read online

  “Looks like nobody home,” said Hammer.

  “That’s okay,” said Blaine. “We know where they live.”

  “Let’s find where they party,” said Farrell.

  “Wonder if the undercover guy knows that?” said Hammer. “He should if he’s been hanging with them.”

  “Good thought.” Blaine called Kramer and asked him.

  “The regular watering hole is Flynn’s. Friend of the pres owns it.”

  “Thanks,” said Blaine, “that will save a lot of time.”

  “You have a plan in mind?”

  “Nope, not yet. Just getting set up.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.” Blaine asked the GPS lady for the closest Flynn’s and luck of the Irish, they were only two blocks away.”

  Governor Campbell’s Private Residence. West Austin.

  TRAVIS and Fletcher left Reg Bromwell’s murder scene in the hands of the techs and drove to the Governor’s home to meet Jesse.

  “I like Jesse,” said Fletcher, “he’s a nice guy.”

  “The best, and he’ll stand behind you. He takes care of his own.”

  “I thought I heard one of the girls at the house say something about his baby?”

  “Yeah, he has a baby girl. He dated one of his trainers for a short while, then they broke up. A year later the girl was killed in an accident in the training ring and he found out about his daughter.”

  “That must be tough for him raising a baby.”

  “She’s a year old now and his brothers help look after her when Jesse isn’t home.”

  Travis parked next to the security team’s SUV. Gene Wyman, was standing next to Jesse smoking and Travis introduced Gene to Fletcher. At first glance Gene appeared to be a short muscular thug with slick-backed black hair, but he was anything but a thug. Smart and cautious, Gene was an expert at keeping the people he was assigned to safe from harm.

  “Nice to meet you, Fletcher.” Gene offered his hand. “You’re on a good team.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve swept the house a couple of times and didn’t find a damn thing, but if Blacky wants it done again in light of recent events, I don’t fault him. Let’s do it.”

  CAT went straight upstairs when she arrived home and changed out of designer suit number two and into a navy track suit. She hadn’t run in ages, but it might be good to start again—lower her stress level and build up her stamina. Lord knows, the way the workdays were shaping up, she was going to need more energy.

  What should she do while men were swarming all over her house? Hide in the bedroom? That would be crazy, but that’s what she felt like doing. She was trying not to think about Reg being dead, but it was hard not to.

  What the hell was Reg doing that got him killed?

  She could hear conversation downstairs and she had to at least be polite to all the men trying to protect her. Protect her from what?

  She took a couple of deep breaths and eased her way down the stairs. Travis was walking around the living room with a gadget in his hand. She watched him stop, take a little tool out of his jeans and pick something out of the doorframe. “Tiny,” he said and showed it to Gene. Blaine was right about Gene, he was a nice guy.

  Blaine is right about a lot of things.

  She walked across the living room to where the men were standing. “What did you find?”

  “Somebody wanted to hear what was going on in your living room, ma’am,” said Jesse, “but it might have been aimed at Mr. Bromwell and not at you.”

  “But we don’t know that,” she said.

  “No, we don’t.” Jesse pointed towards the stairs. “We’ll do the whole house to be sure, then before you move, I’ll send the boys over to sweep the mansion.”

  “Finding that… little thing in the doorway means somebody was in my house when I wasn’t here, doesn’t it?”

  Jesse nodded. “Uh huh. That’s what it means.”

  “If the security alarm was turned on, how did they get in and out?”

  “They did something to the panel,” said Gene. “There are ways around it.”

  “I’m shaking a little. I’ll be in the kitchen pouring myself a drink. Would anyone else like one?”

  Jesse grinned. “I’ll have a beer with you ma’am. I think right now you could use the company.”

  “Thank you, Ranger Quantrall. You are a kind person.”

  “You can call me Jesse.”

  Marriott Hotel. San Antonio.

  BLAINE booked a room at the Marriott and took the boys downstairs to the restaurant for dinner. It had been a long day with a lot of driving distance covered and they were all tired.

  “Don’t know what the steaks will be like here,” said Farrell, “but I’m hungry enough to eat anything.”

  “Order whatever and if you don’t like it, you can order wings when we go to hang out with The Rule.”

  “Maybe they won’t let us hang with them on our first night,” said Farrell.

  “We’ll hang close to them, but not with them.”

  “What about Hammer?” asked Farrell.

  “What about me?”

  “I thought of that,” said Blaine. “You’ll have to be backup outside. They take one look at you and the cop sign will flash in front of their bleary eyes.”

  “I don’t think so.” Hammer sounded annoyed.

  “I know so,” said Blaine. “Not your fault. Same thing with Travis. Y’all have that military thing ingrained. He’ll look like a Marine until the day he kicks off the planet.”

  North San Antonio.

  FLYNN’S was loud and rowdy at ten. All the stools at the long bar were occupied and most of the booths were full. Decorated with an Irish flair, it wasn’t the worst pub Blaine had ever been in. A little run down and in need of updating but thriving none the less.

  He tried not to be too obvious as he glanced around for the top dogs in The Rule.

  Farrell pointed, “There’s an empty booth.”

  They grabbed the spot quickly, sat down and ordered a pitcher. Farrell ordered wings and flirted with the waitress.

  “I don’t think Hammer liked waiting in the truck,” said Farrell. “But they’d make him in a second.”

  “Did you study the pictures before we left?”

  Farrell nodded. “Mugs aren’t known for being good pictures. Might be a stretch to ID them a couple years later if they let their hair grow or shaved it all off.”

  “True,” said Blaine. “I’ll head to the men’s room and do a scouting trip.” Blaine finished up in the bathroom, washed his hands, stepped into the dimly lit hallway and heard the rumble in the parking lot. Some of the boys were just arriving. He checked the time on the way back to the booth. Ten thirty.

  He sat down across from Farrell. “Coming in now.”

  “Want a wing?” His order had arrived quickly and he pushed the basket towards his brother.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Wish we could tag their rides,” whispered Farrell.

  “Me too.”

  “Gotta match them up first. See who’s riding what.”

  Ten of them wearing cuts strode by hooting and laughing. They filled up the last three empty booths and ordered half a dozen pitchers. Blaine could see them plainly from where he sat, but Farrell had his back to them.

  “Wish I had the pictures in front of me,” said Blaine.

  Farrell picked up a napkin and wiped the wing sauce off his hands. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to the first picture. “I put them on my cell, bro.”

  “You’re brilliant. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Fuck, no. Just the opposite.”

  Blaine laughed and studied the pictures. “Yep, at least one. Dougie the Dog is over there.”

  “Wonder which ride is his?” asked Farrell.

  Blaine grinned. “Don’t matter. We’ll tag them all to be on the safe side.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Friday, January 23rd.

  Marriot
t Hotel. San Antonio.

  AFTER an early breakfast, Blaine checked out of the hotel. He’d done research the night before on addresses for the top three and come up with possibilities but had no idea how recent they were. Outlaw bikers weren’t known for giving their correct addresses to anyone, especially the cops.

  “Where do you want to start, boss?” asked Farrell.

  “Start with the locates I came up with and if we don’t match to any of the tags, we’ll check the trackers one by one until we get something solid.”

  “That could take a while,” said Hammer from the back seat.

  “I need a locate on the top three,” said Blaine. “For another reason.”

  “Like what’s the reason if it ain’t to find the guns?” asked Hammer.

  “Someone needs to know.”

  “Who?”

  Blaine ignored the question and lit up a smoke.

  “I get it,” said Hammer, his voice laced with sarcasm, “classified.”

  Hammer could be annoying, and Blaine could feel tension radiating off Farrell. Farrell wasn’t a Hammer fan.

  North San Antonio.

  NEARLY OUT OF GAS, Farrell pulled up to the pumps at Buc-ee’s before they took the ramp to I-35. “That was a lot of chasing down with a shit result, bro.”

  “Not a total loss,” said Blaine. “We nailed down the president. He lives out of town and has a couple of acres. Ideal for parking big rigs.”

  “No big rigs there,” said Hammer. “The guns could be anywhere in the whole country by now.”

  “Easy to hide a couple of rigs in the junkyard too,” said Farrell. “Good central location. Customers could easily pick up from there.”

  “We’ll organize surveillance teams as soon as we get home.”

  “Be nice to know what the boss of the club is planning,” said Hammer, “and intercept him.”

  “I’ll put someone in his life to turn him inside out.”

  “Who?” asked Hammer.

  Farrell grinned.

  The Capitol Building. Austin.

  CAT couldn’t remember feeling worse both mentally and physically as she stepped out of the limo at the front door of the Capitol. How she would ever get through the day was a mystery. It was Friday and the last day of the week. That was all she had to hang on to.

  Tomorrow should be a day off, but it wasn’t going to be a day of rest. She had to move to the mansion and the media would be filming her moving in. Her press secretary had arranged for her to give an interview and talk about how excited she was to be living in the historic residence. Jeeze, how would she ever get through it?

  Mrs. Warburton glanced up as she entered the outer office. “Are you feeling any better ma’am? I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Not many people knew about her affair with Reg Bromwell, but Mrs. Warburton did. The woman knew everything. Sometimes a good thing—sometimes not so good.

  “Thank you, dear,” said Cat, “Would you come in please? I’m going to need help this morning.”

  “I’ll bring your schedule and be right with you.”

  Cat took a moment in the ensuite and checked her makeup. She’d couldn’t remember when she’d ever looked worse. The liquid makeup was supposed to match her skin tone, but she was so pale this morning she didn’t have any fucking skin tone at all. All she had was red-rimmed eyes, poorly applied mascara, and blotchy red patches on her cheeks.

  Thank God, she and Reg had kept their relationship on the down-low. Otherwise, things could have been a lot worse.

  Mrs. Warburton came in carrying a coffee tray. She poured Cat a cup, fixed it the way she liked it and set it on her desk.

  “Thanks,” said Cat, “Let’s start by calling each other by our first names when we’re working privately together. It will be a lot easier for both of us. Call me ‘Catherine.”

  Mrs. Warburton smiled. “It will take some getting used to.”

  “What can I call you?” asked Cat.

  “Call me Penny.”

  Cat sat down and took a sip of her coffee. “Penny is a pretty name.”

  “Shall we go over what you have today?”

  Cat nodded. “Let’s. I have to focus and get better work habits. The work here at the Capitol is so different than my court work, I’m not into a routine yet.”

  “You have a meeting with the Lieutenant Governor in his office in fifteen minutes. At ten thirty you meet with the Board of Paroles and Pardons.”

  “How long is that one?”

  “Two hours,” said Penny. “Until twelve-thirty.”

  “Do I have a break then? Maybe I’ll have time for lunch today.”

  “You will. Mr. Blackmore-Powell called and requested twelve-thirty until two at the Capitol Grille. He’s on his way back from San Antonio.”

  Cat smiled, and a lot of the tension drained out of her body.

  I can get through the day if I’m seeing Blaine.

  “I’ll do some of my signing before I see Stokes and finish up after lunch if I don’t have a cramp in my hand.”

  Penny smiled.

  The Blackmore Agency. Austin.

  BLAINE stopped off at home to change his clothes before his lunch with Cat. He rarely wore anything but black jeans and a Harley shirt with his leather jacket over top, but at least they would be clean jeans and a fresh shirt.

  He parked in the drive and sent the annoying Hammer home for the weekend. “Get some sleep. If we get a break, we might be gone again.”

  “Sure, boss,” said Hammer. “I don’t think I’m contributing much to the team and I don’t like the feeling that I’m not carrying my own weight.”

  “You will soon. We might log a lot of hours on this one.”

  “Farrell, talk to the junkers in the carriage house. Split them into two teams and send them to San Antone. One team to the auto parts yard and the other to Paul Langois’ house.”

  The junkers were agents assigned to the Blackmore Agency for protection and for support. They lived on the premises and Blaine could avail himself of their services when ever the need arose. Somebody paid the junkers—somebody other than him.

  “Yep,” said Farrell, “I’m on it.”

  Blaine went inside, patted the dogs greeting him at the door, then hugged both Misty and Carm in the kitchen. “How are my girls?”

  “We missed you,” said Misty, giving him a quick kiss. “Are you home for the weekend?”

  “Not yet, but I’ll be home for dinner and we’ll talk about what’s going on.”

  Farrell barreled in the back door and stuck his head in the kitchen. “Only three junkers out there, boss. Jack is on assignment.”

  Jack? He’s Mom’s bodyguard when she’s working. The man has already talked to her.

  “I want Travis with Jesse on Bromwell’s murder, so find Fletch and pair him up with Greg.”

  Coulter-Ross Ranch. La Grange.

  DAY BY DAY, Annie’s depression over the impasse with Jesse deepened. Barely able to get out of bed in the morning, Declan noticed her lethargy and diagnosed the problem on the first try.

  “Sweetheart, you’ve got to focus on something else. Dwelling on Jesse or the lack of him in your life is making you ill.”

  Annie sat at the island with a mug of coffee and half a cold bagel. She hadn’t been eating and nothing got by Declan. “I’ll try, Dec. I’ll try hard today.”

  She answered her cell and a diversion was at hand.

  “How’s my girl?”

  “I’m okay. Do you have something for me?”

  “Yes. It’s immediate. This is what I need you to do.”

  The Grille. Downtown Austin.

  BLAINE made it to the Grille by twelve forty-five. Fifteen minutes late, but he had hurried. “Is Governor Campbell here yet?” he asked Kim at the hostess station.

  “She is, Mr. Blackmore. “I’ll show you where she’s sitting.”

  Blaine followed Kim to a private alcove screened by greenery near the back of the restaurant. Cat was staring into her w
ine glass and didn’t see him coming. “Hey, I know I’m late, but I tried not to be.”

  Cat smiled. “As long as you’re here.”

  “I see you have a drink.” He motioned for the waiter and ordered a Corona.

  “How did the classified stuff go?”

  “Barely started. Gonna be a bitch.”

  Cat raised an auburn brow. “A big case?”

  “Did you see on the news about the six ATF agents being murdered at the Laredo border?”

  “Of course,” she said, “It was on every channel.”

  Blaine opened the menu and said no more.

  She leaned in closer. “Is that all you’re saying?”

  He nodded. “All I can say.”

  Cat smiled.

  “Are you ready to move tomorrow?”

  “I’ll work on it tonight when I get home. Gene and your people are sweeping the mansion today before I go.”

  “Did they find anything in your house?”

  “Travis found something. It was so tiny, I could hardly believe it was anything.”

  “Good, I’ll ask him about it.”

  “Jesse was good to me. He had to break the news to me about Reg, and your partner was kind and caring.”

  “That’s Jesse. He was well brought up by a strict father. All the Quantrall boys are gentlemen.”

  “Jesse is a handsome gentleman too.”

  Blaine shook his head. “Don’t go there, Cat. I want him back with Annie.”

  “He’s like family to you.”

  “He is my family.”

  The waiter brought Blaine’s Corona and they ordered the lunch special.

  “I don’t know how we’ll find out what Reg was into now that he’s dead,” said Blaine. “I hope the techs or Travis and Fletch turned up something in the search of his residence.”

  “I’ve tried to recall conversations to see if there was any mention of anything or anyone—ever—and there was nothing.”

  “Could have been intentional,” said Blaine. “He wanted you to know nothing about what was going on in another part of his life.”

  “This was a man I was seriously considering marrying,” said Cat. “Makes me shudder to think how little I knew about him. It would have been a terrible mistake.”