Lone Star Christmas Mission (Hard Justice #9.5)

Chapter Three

Cash threaded his SUV around the sharp curves of the rural road toward his house. Like Kayla’s, his place was nowhere near the proverbial beaten path, and at this hour, there was no other traffic.

Well, none of that he saw anyway.

But he kept watch for Harvin just in case the asshole was already lying in wait. Not a lot of people knew where Cash lived, but with all the digital tools and internet resources available, it wouldn’t be hard for Harvin to get the info. Nor would it be hard for Harvin to assume that Cash would be taking Kayla to his place.

That last possibility was giving Cash plenty of concern and having him second guess this, but Kayla was exhausted and in pain. And his house was more secure than a hotel would be.

Far more.

After all, one of the benefits of working for Ruby Maverick was that the operatives got all the current bells and whistles when it came to security and threat detection.

Despite the exhaustion and pain, Kayla wasn’t sleeping. She was sitting straight in the seat as if on alert. And she probably was. It’d be impossible for her to fully relax after the shit that she’d been through tonight. Cash wished it was over, that she wasn’t still in danger, but Harvin’s phone call had made it clear that she was the target.

Yeah.

Harvin apparently intended to pick up where his father and uncle left off. Or rather try to do that anyway. Cash intended to end the miserable SOB’s life before he could get to Kayla. He’d failed to protect her sister all those years ago, and he had no desire to put her through that kind of hell again.

“What made you move out here to the Hill Country?” Kayla asked, the question cutting through the flood of thoughts and worries going through his head. “I mean, other that the fact it’s beautiful.”

It was indeed beautiful. A Texas paradise with its rolling hills and, in the spring, acres of the famous bluebonnets. Along with that were the limestone bluffs, mineral springs, and a nice side dish of peace and quiet. It was even quieter in winter, especially now with the glistening frost covering the ground.

“Ruby had some houses built out here for her operatives, and I bought one of them,” he explained as he took the final turn to his house. It was a private road with sensors that started to ping the app on his phone.

“Gunner,” Cash instructed the app. “I’m driving through. Keep the sensors activated.”

Despite the annoying pings that jacked up his adrenaline and caused his body to automatically brace for a fight, Cash didn’t want to turn them off in case Harvin was nearby, ready to strike. The asshole could try to use their arrival to sneak onto the property.

“Gunner?” she repeated.

“That’s what I call the app that manages the security system along with pretty much the rest of the place,” he explained. “And, yes, it’s named after the dog I had when I was a kid.”

Kayla smiled. “I remember. A German Shepherd. He once ate my ice cream cone, and I cried.”

Cash remembered that. Remembered, too, using his entire meager savings to buy her another one. He’d enjoyed watching her eat that cone.

Hell, he’d enjoyed most of his time with Kayla.

They’d met when he was eight and she had been seven. That was the summer his folks had bought the house next to her parents, and along with Kira, they’d become fast playmates.

And something else.

Even though Cash had been just a kid, he had felt an instant connection with Kayla. Friendship at first sight, but later, when his brain had been better able to process such things, it had felt more like…well, that she was his soulmate.

Oh, he’d mentally kicked his own ass over that flowery label.

But while he disapproved of the word itself, the feeling remained. And was still there.

It was ironic that he’d never had that kind of connection with Kira despite her being Kayla’s identical twin. Cash had always been able to tell them apart, unlike just about everyone else in the neighborhood, and when he’d become a teenager, it’d been Kayla he’d had wet dreams about.

Then, things had gone to hell when they were fifteen. Virgil had launched that hell by acting on this obsession with them and trying to abduct the girls at knifepoint.

Even now, those images were way too fresh. One week before Christmas. There’d been the threat of frost and maybe even some rare snow with the temps dropping into the low thirties. And there had been the lingering smell of the smoke from the neighbors’ fireplaces. Central Texas didn’t always get winter weather when the rest of the country did, but it had that night.

Christmas lights and decorations were everywhere. Lots of blinking colors and so much anticipation of the holiday. Or rather the Christmas party that Kayla, Kira, and he had been invited to. Their parents were already at one just up the street, but this was a party just for the teenagers in the neighborhood. A costume deal where Cash had been planning to make out with Kayla and ogle her in the fairly skimpy Mrs. Santa costume she’d already modeled for him.

Cash had opted for a Santa suit, a cheap one he’d bought from a party supply store. Staying with the Christmas theme, Kira was going as an elf.

As planned, Cash had dropped by Kayla’s house at eight so Kira and they could walk to the party together. But when he got there, Virgil already had a knife to Kira’s throat and was using it to force both Kayla and her toward his car in the side driveway. Cash had seen the look in the man’s eyes and knew one thing.

They were the eyes of a killer.

Kayla’s head was bleeding, and Cash had learned later that Virgil had clubbed her with the handle of his knife. He’d punched her, too, and broken a couple of her ribs when she’d tried to fight back. She had only surrendered and submitted when Virgil had put the knife to Kira’s throat.

That night, Cash hadn’t paused to think about Kayla’s injuries. The knife. Or anything else other than getting to the girls and saving them. Shouting for help but sure as hell not waiting for it, he’d grabbed a handful of rocks and tried to pelt Virgil with them. When that hadn’t worked, Cash had lunged at him.

And failed at that, too.

He’d managed to yank Kayla away from Virgil and sling her behind him. But before Cash could do the same to Kira, Virgil had jabbed the knife into her not once but three times. By then, the neighbors had run to help and had restrained Virgil, but it had been too late.

Kira was dead.

That was an image that was the clearest of them all. Kira, lifeless and bleeding on the cold ground, and Kayla sobbing over her body.

Thankfully, that image didn’t freeze in his mind as it sometimes did because Gunner’s voice cut through the mental noise.

“Should I open the garage door for you and your visitor?” the app said.

“Yes,” Cash verified.

“How did Gunner know you had someone with you?” Kayla asked.

“I have security cameras and infrared sensors all over the property. I’ll get plenty of advance notice if someone approaches.”

Of course, that wouldn’t stop a sniper from shooting through the windows, but Cash would take precautions for that, too.

He pulled into the garage and turned off the engine, but he didn’t get out until the garage door had fully closed. Kayla was still struggling with her seatbelt by the time he made it to the passenger’s side, and he helped her with that, being careful not to touch her too much, then he led her inside.

As programmed, the lights came on, and the door automatically locked behind them. Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down started to blare out from the hidden speakers. Again, that was usual. But Cash shut it down with a simple voice command. Kayla’s raw nerves probably didn’t need his blaring music. Or so he thought.

“Keep it on,” she insisted.

Cash did, but he instructed Gunner to lower the volume. Along with lowering the shutters on the entire house. A security measure to prevent someone from spotting them through the windows. Around them, merging with the now softer playing music, there was the whirring sounds of the shutters.

“If you’re hungry,” he said, motioning for her to follow him out of the mudroom and into the kitchen. “I can fix you—”

“No. I can’t eat anything,” she muttered while she glanced around the great room, that was the living, dining, and kitchen area.

When Ruby had had the place built, she’d gone for a neutral palate, and Cash hadn’t made a whole lot of changes. The basic décor was white with varying shades of a pale, watery blue and green for the walls, rugs, and furniture. His one contribution was the dining table and chairs that he had purchased shortly after he’d moved in.

And Kayla spotted that purchase.

Her attention landed on the rich oak table with the live edges that incorporated the shape and natural elements of the wood. Both it and the chairs had obviously been made by a highly skilled craftsman and were works of art.

And Kayla herself was the artist.

“You bought some of my pieces,” she said, sounding more than a little surprised. She ran her hand along the table. “I mean, I knew someone had bought it, but it was a cash purchase, so I didn’t know who.”

He hadn’t wanted her to know. Hadn’t wanted her to think of him and spiral into panic again. But he could see now that he’d been wrong to assume that. Kayla seemed pleased.

“You do good work,” he let her know.

“Thanks. I had a good teacher.”

Her dad. He had indeed introduced Kayla to his hobby, and she’d turned into something much more. Cash didn’t know what her net worth was, but he knew she had a very successful business. One that gave her all the solitude and privacy she needed.

Until a few hours ago, anyway.

Alvin might have permanently snatched that solitude away, though by attacking her in her workshop. Cash hoped that when this was over, when Harvin was caught and neutralized, that Kayla would be able to go back to the work she clearly loved without the memories of Alvin’s attack.

Kayla walked into the living room, glancing at the framed photos on his mantel. Some of his late folks. Some of him with friends and colleagues.

And the one of her.

Cash cursed for not getting the chance to remove it. It was a photo of them at age fifteen at one of her dad’s barbecues. The summer before Kira’s death. Before life as they’d known it had gone to hell in a really shitty handbasket.

In the shot, Cash had his arm slung around her neck. A neck that sported a hickey from one of their making out sessions. They were both grinning like loons and probably having trashy thoughts about each other.

“I’m glad you kept that picture,” she said, surprising him.

In the past, when they’d touched on, well, the past, she’d shut it quickly down. Maybe this was the fatigue talking.

“I kept my copy of the picture, too. But…” She stopped, turned to face him.

And there it was. She was shutting down the godawful memories.

“Thank you for saving me,” Kayla said, and then added a muttered, “ again . You do know that Alvin sent you that text to get you to my place so he could kill both of us?”

Cash nodded. Yeah, he’d known that, but the man couldn’t have issued any threat that would have stopped him from trying to rescue her. But as it turned out, she’d already rescued herself.

Which brought him to the blood.

It was still on her hands and in her hair. And Cash was about to show her the guestroom so she could shower, but she walked toward the corner of the living room and frowned when she spotted the undecorated tree and the boxes of ornaments on the floor.

“I haven’t gotten around to decorating,” he murmured, and he likely wouldn’t now that it was Christmas Eve. Especially not, too, with Harvin’s threat looming over them.

But it was more than that. And he confessed that to Kayla.

“Except when I was away on deployment, every year I get a tree and drag out that box of lights and ornaments, but I managed to finish it.”

She nodded. “It was the same for me until a couple of years ago. It didn’t feel right putting up stuff when Kira wasn’t around to enjoy it. Plus, my folks weren’t around either.”

Yeah, that was it, along with just the sight of the decorations triggering the bad memories. For Kayla, it was probably a double hit since her parents had died in a car crash around the holidays when she’d been twenty-four.

Cash totally understood. His parents were gone, too. First, his mom from cancer the year he’d finished high school. His dad had pretty much checked out of life after that and had passed away from a heart attack when Cash had been on his first deployment. Without parents or siblings around, the holidays could be tough, even without the addition of the crap nightmare Virgil had given them.

“But after more therapy, I realized that the tree could be like a tribute to Kira,” Kayla went on. “She loved Christmas.”

She had indeed, and Kira had been even more excited about going to that party than even Cash had been.

“Well, at least you have that decoration up.” She pointed to a cheesy-looking Santa in a hula skirt, shorts, and flip-flops holding up two bottles of tequila.

Cash smiled. “A gift from one of my co-workers. Jericho. He, uh, has a strange sense of humor.”

Kayla attempted a smile, too. It didn’t come close to looking genuine, and it really stood no chance whatsoever of forming once she glanced down at her bloody hands.

“This way,” he insisted, motioning for her to follow him to the hall. He led her to the guestroom and pointed at the ensuite bathroom. “The shower’s in there.”

Kayla nodded and glanced at the bathroom. Then, the bed. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” she blurted.

The tremble in her voice got to him. So did that haunted look in her eyes. Hell. That bastard Alvin and his spawn had spun her back twenty years to that nightmare she’d barely survived.

Cash swallowed hard. “You won’t be alone.” He pointed to a chair in the corner. “I’ll be there.”

“That doesn’t look very comfortable,” she remarked.

It wouldn’t be, but Cash wasn’t expecting to get much sleep anyway. “I’ll be fine,” he assured her. That was true about the sleeping arrangements, but everything else was in the shitstorm mode.

Including his feelings for Kayla.

It was damn hard to be around her and not touch or want her. In fact, the not wanting was impossible. But he’d keep his distance, somehow.

Kayla didn’t, though.

On a heavy sigh, she went to him and pulled him into her arms. Her body landed against his, and she didn’t jump back as if he’d scalded her.

Cash listened for any changes in her breathing. Any signs that she was about to have a panic attack. Thank God there weren’t any. She just stood there, holding him while he held her.

After several minutes, she finally eased back, and their gazes locked. Hell. The heat came. So damn much of it. But he didn’t kiss her. Cash’s arms slid away from her as she moved back even more. Still, she didn’t seem to be retreating in terror from the flashbacks.

“Shower,” she muttered. “I’ll make sure not to get my stitches wet.” After giving him one last look, she headed in that direction.

Cash didn’t curse until she’d shut the door and could no longer hear him. He was about to launch into a stern lecture to himself about his hands-off policy with Kayla, but before he could do that, his phone buzzed.

Ruby’s name flashed on the screen.

Obviously, his boss wasn’t getting any more sleep or rest than Kayla and he were, but he prayed she was calling with good news.

“Did you find Harvin?” he immediately asked.

“No,” Ruby was quick to reply. “But I know what he’s been up to, and, Cash, it’s not good. He just posted this on the dark web.”

Shit. Cash definitely didn’t like the sound of that. However, before he could question Ruby about it, his phone dinged with the sound of an incoming video, and he clicked on it.

It was grainy footage but still clear enough for Cash to see the man dressed in a Santa suit. He was on his knees in what appeared to be some kind of warehouse. At first he thought it was Harvin mimicking his dad’s choice of costumes, but then Cash spotted someone behind the Santa.

Harvin himself.

There was no doubting it, and while Harvin was looking directly in the camera, he kept a gun pointed at the Santa.

“This message is for the murdering bitch, Kayla, and the Maverick Ops’ fucker who keeps saving her sorry ass,” Harvin growled. “Come to me and surrender, both of you, or this will just keep on happening.”

And with that, Harvin pulled the trigger.