Aimee Thurlo - Secrets of the Lynx

“That’s not going to narrow things down much for us,” Kendra said.

“To track down whoever set me up, we’ve first got to find Annie,” Paul said.

“I’ll get you a booking photo of Annie Crenshaw. If you need backup, call,” Preston said.

“Do you know the alley that Yolanda spoke about?” Kendra asked Preston.

Preston looked up from the computer screen and nodded. “Downtown, between Third and Fourth streets. Strictly small-time dealers hang out there, but they watch each other’s backs and usually see our people coming. It’s hard to set up a sting there.”

“I hear you,” Kendra said, then glanced at Paul. “Street people are usually unpredictable and half the dealers are high themselves. You want to sit this one out? Someone’s likely to pull a weapon once I show a badge.”

“A lot of people around here know I’m private, not a cop, and I’ll get farther than you can flashing your badge. Let me help out.”

“All right, then. Let’s go,” she said, leading the way out of the building.

“Unless we actually see Annie, let me pick who we approach. We’re more likely to avoid trouble that way,” Paul said.

Kendra didn’t answer. In situations like these, only one rule applied. Whatever could go wrong would—and at the worst possible moment.

* * *

T HEY WERE BACK in Paul’s truck moments later. “Before we head over to the alley, let’s stop by Hensley’s Gym. It’s on the way,” Paul said. “I’d like to check out the place where Annie supposedly crashes at night. It might give us some insight into her current situation that’ll help when we question her.”

“If we go onto private property without probable cause we’ll be trespassing, and that’ll place us on shaky legal ground. Do you know someone who could give us access?” Kendra asked.

He nodded. “I went to school with Bobby and Mike Hensley, the sons of the late owner. I’m sure I can get a key from one of them.”

Several minutes later they arrived at a large sporting goods store on Hartley’s west side. The place was bustling with customers.

“Looks like a sporting goods store is more profitable in Hartley than a gym,” she said.

“No, that’s not it. The gym was Jim Hensley’s dream. He was really into bodybuilding and training. After their dad passed on, Mike and Bobby followed their own interests and started this business instead.”

“Paul, is that you?” a voice called out.

A man in his early thirties came out from behind the counter and shook Paul’s hand. “I heard you’d moved back home. I’ve been wondering how long it would take for you to come by and say hello. Man, it’s good to see you again.”

“Sorry, Mike. I’ve been getting things sorted out and haven’t had time to touch base,” Paul said.

“Yeah, I heard. It sucks having to give up your career like that,” he said. “You were the only one in our class who knew what he wanted before college. It took guts, reinventing yourself like this.”

“At least I was able to walk away,” Paul said.

“True enough.” Mike took Kendra in at a glance and smiled.

“This is Marshal Armstrong,” Paul said, introducing them. “We came hoping you might be able to help us out.”

“Of course. Whatever you need, buddy. Let’s go into my office and talk.”

Once the door was shut and Paul explained what they wanted, Mike reached into the open safe behind him. He pulled out an envelope and slid it across the desk. “The key’s inside. Guess Bobby and I should have boarded up that place.”

Just then the door flew open and a boy who looked about three came bouncing in. He leaped into Mike’s arms, and squealed with delight as his father lifted him into the air. “This is little Mike, guys.”

Kendra smiled. She loved kids, but particularly ones close to that age, full of energy and innocence. The thought filled her with a familiar yearning, one that had become a permanent part of her these days.

For the past few months she’d been looking into the possibility of single parent adoption. She’d never met Mr. Right and wasn’t sure he even existed, so she’d checked out other options. As she’d researched the adoption process, she’d discovered a series of holdbacks, some due to her profession, and all valid issues she’d need to resolve before she could take things any further. Unfortunately, she still hadn’t come up with any solutions.

Paul shook Mike’s hand and thanked him. “You’ve done really well for yourself, buddy. I’m glad to see it.”

“My wife, Cynthia, and little Mike changed my life. I never thought I’d get married, but it was the best thing I ever did.”

As they walked back out to the pickup, Kendra noticed how quiet Paul had become. “What’s up?”

“I’ve seen two of my brothers settle down and I know they’re happy, but the marriage scene....” He shook his head. “It sure isn’t for me.”

“How come?”

“I’m a confirmed bachelor,” he said, then before she could press him for more of an answer, he added, “What about you? Is there a guy back in Denver?”

“Not in Colorado, not anywhere at the moment, but in case you’re wondering, I have no intention of becoming one of those career marshals married to the job. I want...more...for myself.”

“Like what?”

She shook her head, signaling him to drop it.

“A woman of mystery...” Paul smiled slowly.

The impact of that very masculine grin spread an enticing warmth all through her, and she avoided looking at him, afraid she’d give herself away.

Paul was big trouble, no doubt about it. He was a man who loved flying solo, yet he was built to perfection and could entice any woman with a pulse. Everything about him, from those wide shoulders to those huge hands, spoke of raw masculine strength. The steadiness of his gaze mirrored courage.

“I imagine you’ve got no shortage of girlfriends,” she said.

“I can usually find a date,” he said.

She suspected that was the understatement of the year. A man like Paul probably left a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he went.

* * *

T EN MINUTES LATER they reached their destination, an old brick building just one block south of Main Street in the business district. Paul drove his pickup down the alley, then parked beside what had been a loading dock. The big steel back door had a massive padlock attached to it. This entrance had clearly not been the one compromised.

“Let me go in first,” Paul said, pointing toward the door and interrupting her thoughts. “If we come across squatters, I don’t look like a cop, so we’re more likely to avoid a confrontation.”

“I don’t look like a cop either. I’m in plainclothes, just like you.”

He shook his head. “You’re wearing business district clothes—dressy slacks and a matching jacket to look professional and cover up your handgun. You’re also wearing sensible shoes, not heels, so you can fight or chase a perp. I’m wearing jeans, a denim jacket, worn boots and a working man’s shirt.”

“Okay,” she said, glancing down at herself and shrugging. “Remind me to dress country. For now, take the lead.”

She smiled as he moved ahead of her. He was long-legged, slim-hipped, and had the best butt she’d seen in a long time. Sometimes being second in line had definite advantages.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.