True to You Page 2

  “She is their second chance,” King guessed. “I’ll bet she’s loyal to them so long as they are to her.”

  Trigger pointed to a map. “That’s how it seems. She’s got a large piece of property. Mostly open land. She lives in the main house. She converted the barn into a kind of communal housing unit with four rooms, a large living space, and kitchen area. Right now, only one guy is living there. Ray McDaniel. Sixty-four. Lifetime criminal. Mostly drugs and minor assaults that amounted to nothing more than bar fights. One sexual assault charge, dismissed due to lack of evidence. He’ll be your roommate if she lets you stay.”

  “She will.” To end Iceman’s reign in the Guzman cartel, he’d do anything to get Cara on his side.

  “She doesn’t just let anyone stay there. The people who work for her have been with her for years.”

  “Seems like there’s space for me at her place if only one guy is using those four rooms.”

  Trigger opened another file. “Tandy is Cara’s best friend and works for her as a waitress. She stays in the apartment above the restaurant. Her rap sheet includes possession, pandering, and prostitution with one assault on a broke and doped-up john who couldn’t take no for an answer. She stabbed the guy and was kicking the shit out of him when the cops arrived. She was in and out of jail from sixteen until three years ago when she went to work for Cara.”

  “What about the coffeehouse?”

  “Crossroads Coffee.”

  “So, not just where the place is located on the map, but a place for people who are at a crossroads in their life. Stay on the straight and narrow, or take another path.”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it, but maybe that’s exactly why she named it that.” Trigger closed the file and stacked it with the others. “Everything we’ve gathered on her and Iceman and his crew over the last few months is in these files. Don’t get caught with them.”

  King took the stack of papers.

  Trigger pointed to the battered pickup parked behind the Camaro. “Ashley and I went to your place, cleaned out your fridge, and packed you a bag. The truck title says Chris Hickman, but trust me, it will be easier if you stick to everyone calling you Flash from now on. One person calls you Chris and you don’t answer, it could raise suspicions with Iceman. You don’t want him digging too deep into your cover.”

  King took the advice. Trigger had spent far longer and deeper undercover than King ever wanted to go, but he wanted to see this case against Iceman through to the end.

  “I left directions inside the truck cab for a motel on the outskirts of town. Get some sleep, your head together, and eat a decent meal.”

  King needed it. He’d bulked up thanks to the hours working out in the prison yard with Scott, but the food sucked and he’d leaned down.

  “Head over to the coffee place this afternoon when the morning crowd thins out. You shouldn’t have a problem getting the job. She’s down two employees.”

  Suspicious. “Two? Why?”

  “They eloped in Key West and decided not to come back.”

  King tilted his head. “Did the DEA help out there?”

  “No. Love and sex on the beach had everything to do with that. It worked in your favor.”

  “A love story for the ages.” Ashley rolled her eyes and yawned.

  “I can’t believe you guys drove all the way here to see me off. One of the guys from the local office could have left me the truck.”

  “I wanted to see for myself that you’re holding up after being in there.” Trigger notched his chin toward the prison at King’s back. Exactly where he wanted to keep it from now on. “Ashley wanted to see you and check in with Scott. Plus, she refused to let me come alone, too afraid I’d fall asleep at the wheel.”

  “Sweet.” King pretended to gag. “You guys make me sick with all your love and happiness. I just got out of jail and you flaunt your gorgeous fiancée and how concerned she is with you. You’re a jerk, you know that, Trigger?” For all his teasing, he kind of meant it, mostly because he didn’t have a woman welcoming him into her loving arms when he walked out of those gates. Trigger had been through hell this past year and ended up with an angel in his bed, his heart, and in his life forever and ever, Amen! as the Randy Travis song goes.

  “Sorry I’m going to miss the wedding.”

  “Agent Bennett will be available while I’m on my honeymoon.”

  “You guys have fun. I’ll just be here taking down the bad guys.”

  Trigger deserved all the happiness in the world.

  King just wanted a little piece of it before he went back undercover again for God knows how long. Judging by the fact Trigger showed up here and sprung him in the middle of the night to give him all this information, he wasn’t going to get any downtime before he headed straight for Cara Potter. And Iceman. He had some payback to dole out to that guy.

  But first he needed to get in with his daughter.

  Chapter Two

  Cara fell into the chair in her tiny office and sucked in two deep, calming breaths. Didn’t work one bit to calm the rage roiling in her brain. She wanted to ring her employee Tim’s neck for sneaking out of work. Again. To help his father. And hers.

  Tim promised her he’d stay away from Iceman’s crew, but they kept trying to suck the teen into their sordid life. One of these days, Tim would end up just like them, stuck in a life he couldn’t escape with a rap sheet as long as his thin arms.

  She wanted something better for him. He wanted something better for himself, but his father’s demands and threats and the fear they invoked because Tim knew his father would hurt him if he didn’t comply made Tim do things he’d never do if he had a choice.

  So many kids faced tough choices. A life of crime, or a hard life struggling to get by each and every day. One sounded easy because it promised money in your pocket, but the consequences were dire. Kids didn’t think about things like consequences when others lured them with intriguing but empty promises.

  Cara tried to give Tim an out and a means to support himself, but he still wanted his father’s approval and love even if it meant he ended up in jail to gain his respect. Tim hadn’t figured out yet that having any of those things at the expense of living the life you wanted meant nothing.

  And let’s face it, a guy who threatened and terrorized his own kid wasn’t worth the effort because he’d never give Tim the love and kindness the kid desperately wanted and needed.

  One day, Tim would realize the futility of his efforts and go his own way. The way she had with her father.

  It took a great deal of soul searching and strength to go against the natural order of things and turn her back on her father.

  She rubbed her thumb over the scars on her right hand.

  Sometimes it took losing a piece of yourself to finally sever that final tie that binds you.

  Old nightmares clenched her heart in pure terror, stopped it for a split second, then let loose to allow her heart to thrash in her chest. She didn’t let the panic attack consume her, the way they had eighteen months ago. She’d been kidnapped and used as a pawn in a game she didn’t want to play, but her father wanted to win even if he had to sacrifice his only child.

  In the aftermath, her animosity toward her father turned to hate, and she’d struggled to learn to control her anxiety, and it remained a challenge even now.

  Her father left her at Manny’s mercy—though he had none—after the ransom demand. Iceman refused to give in, give up, or give a dime to get her back.

  She didn’t owe him anything and expected less than nothing from him.

  The truth couldn’t be denied: the only thing that mattered to him was being Iceman, the guy who lived up to his name when it came to his daughter when she needed him most.

  The plain and simple truth: you can’t count on anyone but yourself.

  Case in point, Tim left to do his father’s bidding and two of her best employees went and fell in love and ran off to get married and live as beach bums in Florida.
Lucky assholes.

  The couple, not Tim.

  He’d be lucky to get out of his twenties alive if he kept doing his father’s bidding.

  What she wouldn’t give to ditch her life, run off with a sexy guy, and let someone take care of her for once.

  A fist pounded on the office door, interrupting the few minutes she’d stolen for herself. “Cara, the sink is backed up. Again,” she and Tandy said in unison.

  Cara raked her fingers through her hair, gathering it into a ponytail. “On my way.” She pulled the navy hair tie from her wrist and twisted her hair through it twice, then let her hands fall to the arms of the chair.

  She sucked in a breath, fortified herself to find the strength to get through this day three employees short, one clogged sink, and several more things on her to-do list than any one person could possibly do alone.

  She needed help.

  She needed a new life.

  Short of that, she’d suck it up and do one thing at a time like she always did, because when she had so many responsibilities what else could she do?

  Chapter Three

  King drove the truck down the two-lane road with the radio off and the windows rolled down. He needed the peace and quiet, the feel of the wind on his face, and the fresh, clean pine and grass scent of the great outdoors. He’d crashed at the motel for a few hours of blissful sleep that wasn’t interrupted by screaming, yelling, crying, metal doors clanking open and closed, toilets flushing, and restless inmates. That place was never quiet. His sense of survival never shut off.

  Now, he might be free of the bars surrounding him, but the danger he faced was no less great. If this didn’t go well, if he was discovered, he’d be dead.

  He didn’t like involving the woman. Everything he read in the file, which wasn’t much, led him to believe she had nothing to do with her father’s shady business activities. In fact, she kept a very low profile. She lived a rather simple life, but her childhood had been punctuated by instability and violence, judging by the number of domestic dispute calls to the various places she lived. Iceman and Cara’s mother were an on-again, off-again couple until Cara’s mother died of an overdose when Cara was just seven. Twenty years later, Cara had grown up living with her grandparents, graduated high school in the top ten percent of her class, and left college one semester shy of graduating with a business degree. Nothing in the file explained why she suddenly left school nearly five years ago.

  She opened the coffee shop just over three years ago. Since then, Crossroads Coffee had become a hub for truck drivers, bikers, local ranchers, and farmers. Based on the surveillance pictures the DEA snapped, her father’s crew dropped in from time to time. When they did, the pictures showed her pissed off and ready to explode based on the grim set of her pink lips and the deep crease between her tightly indrawn eyebrows.

  Funny, none of the pictures showed her smiling. Oh, sure, she flashed a grin for customers, but she never smiled in a way that brightened her light blue eyes.

  He wondered if the anger simmering under the surface toward her father would burst out in angry torrents of information he could use, or keep her too furious to trust even one word to him.

  Would she see right through him?

  Did she even know anything about her father’s activities?

  Had he wasted his time locked up behind bars for nothing?

  Time would tell.

  He felt like he was walking into a land-mine field and no matter how lightly he tread he’d set off some fireworks. He hoped he didn’t get burned and his cover didn’t get blown.

  He took what little time alone he had left and focused on the bright blue sky and the wide open space around him. Green rolling hills dotted with cows and horses. Homes with families.

  He missed his. He should call his brother and sister and ask after their spouses and children. They didn’t lead any kind of life like his. Most days, he wouldn’t trade his job for any other. On days like this, he’d rather be tripping over toys, changing diapers, and kissing his wife like his brother was probably doing right now.

  Lost in thought and enjoying the fresh air blowing across his face and through his hair, he didn’t register the fight going on just off a side road until he’d nearly passed it. He didn’t think, just slammed on the brakes, threw the truck in reverse, backed it up, and stomped on the gas as he turned toward the man hitting a skinny teenager. The kid fell to his knees, his hand braced on his stomach as he gagged. Blood trickled down his chin from the blow he’d taken to the face.

  King skidded to a stop, cut the engine, jumped out, spotted the three other men standing by a beat-up Pontiac and the produce truck Iceman escaped a drug raid in several months back. King wondered if it was still filled with apple crates packed with drugs. He put the thought and his immediate reaction to bust all these guys out of his mind and focused on the kid.

  “Who the fuck are you?” The dark-haired guy beating the kid glared.

  King shoved him away from the kid on his knees. “Hit him again and I’ll teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

  “Fuck you.” Stupid Guy came after King with his fist up, telegraphing exactly what he intended to do.

  King sidestepped the punch to the face, used the guy’s momentum and King’s quick reflexes to punch the guy right in the jaw, snapping his head to the side, and sending him to the ground, knocked out.

  “How’d you do that?” the kid asked.

  “Practice,” King bit out, shaking his head at the man lying unconscious at his feet. He glanced over at the kid. “You okay?”

  The kid pressed the back of his hand to the cut on his lip. “Yeah. Fine.” His pale complexion and wide eyes said otherwise.

  King held his ground when the three men by the Pontiac closed in, creating a half circle of muscle in front of him. King needed to diffuse this situation fast before he got his ass kicked or they simply shot him for butting in where he didn’t belong. He just couldn’t stand by and watch the kid get beat.

  He hated bullies. The three men in front of him included.

  “Iceman, right?” King held the other man’s intense gaze, noting the flicker of surprise that flashed in his ice-blue eyes before they narrowed with suspicion.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Flash.”

  That got an eyebrow raise from Iceman and an exchanged look from the two others with him.

  “I don’t know you. How the hell do you know me?”

  “We have a mutual acquaintance. Scott Lewis.”

  Iceman’s hands fisted at his sides. “He’s in jail.”

  King nodded. “So was I up until a few hours ago. We shared a cell.”

  “Flash have something to do with that?” Iceman cocked his chin toward the man lying at King’s feet and the speed with which King put him down.

  “Scott gave me the nickname after I saved his ass when some rival thought he could take Scott out. Probably had something to do with the lightning bolt scar on my arm, too.” King shrugged. “Whatever. The name stuck.”

  “How long were you in with him?”

  Too long. “One hundred fifty-three days.”

  Iceman’s eyes narrowed and one side of his mouth drew back in a lopsided grin. “First time in.”

  “Hopefully the last.”

  “Not if you keep looking for trouble.” Again Iceman indicated the man at King’s feet just now moaning as he came around.

  “Assholes who beat up kids deserve what they get.”

  Iceman didn’t move or say anything, but King got the feeling he agreed even if he hadn’t done anything to stop the guy from punching the kid.

  “Tim disobeyed his father.”

  “I don’t give a shit why he hit him.”

  Iceman’s mouth twitched like he might have smiled if he didn’t feel the need to uphold the tough-guy glare for the men standing next to him who kept looking to him to see what they should do.

  “What were you in for?”

  King took a second
before answering. “Possession with intent to sell. Though the intent part seemed stupid. I’d already sold most of what I had, but they didn’t know that when the cop stopped me for rolling through a stop sign. Damn bad luck. Up to that point, I’d escaped a few tricky situations with suppliers and dealers and the fucking cops. Stupidest thing can turn your life to shit.”

  Apparently Iceman and the two guys next to him agreed, giving him a commiserating nod.

  The guy he’d laid out in the dirt struggled to push himself up. He sat back on his heels and shook his head to clear the stars King made him see. He’d have one hell of a headache and deserved a hell of a lot worse.

  King had stood his ground with Iceman and the other men, but shifted now to put himself between the guy on the ground and the kid. The kid stood behind him, shifting from foot to foot.

  Suspicion filled Iceman’s eyes again. “So let me guess, you’re out and need some quick cash, so Scott sent you my way.”

  King shook his head before Iceman even finished speaking. “Total coincidence that I drove by and saw this fuck hitting the kid. I didn’t notice you right off, but Scott was right about your looks being unique. You came up, but only because most of the guys under Scott in jail are from your crew.” And still working for him from the inside. Now that King was out, they’d find their line of communication and smuggling drugs inside cut off. Scott would probably be pissed, but that wasn’t King’s concern. The man in front of him held his total attention.

  “I’m not giving some guy I don’t know, with nothing but his say-so that he’s part of Scott’s crew, a job.”

  “I watched Scott’s back and he watched mine on the inside, but I’m not part of his crew. And I’m not looking for a job with you.”

  That made Iceman tilt his head with surprise and even more suspicion.

  “I’m headed for some place called Crossroads Coffee. I’m on parole. Scott said the lady who runs the place hires ex-cons. I need a job and a place to lay low for the next six months. That’s all, man.” He didn’t let on that he knew the lady was Iceman’s daughter.