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"You know who's after me?" she asked, not even a nervous wobble in her voice.
"Yes, ma'am." He nodded. "Jarrod Fane. Age thirty-six. Second-generation leader of the Crest Society, with a two-hundred strong compound of armed followers and fellow nut jobs outside of Redfin, Idaho."
Oh, the arrest warrants on her came from the county judge presiding over the nasty custody case involving Essie, but there were only a few people in that area not under Fane's thumb. He was frat boy pretty, smooth and as dictatorial as any tyrant in a third world country.
If Isaac's recitation shook her, she didn't show it.
Her breathing remained as steady as her hands, folded in her lap. "Then you know I wouldn't leave a damn thing to chance."
"How did Wolczyk find you at the party?"
"Who?"
"The bounty hunter. His name's Archie Wolczyk."
"How do you know him?"
"Fort Worth isn't that big of a city. If the great state of Texas gives someone a security or investigative license and you're in the general area, I know who you are." The light turned and he merged into traffic. "So how did Wolczyk find you?"
Her cheeks turned pink. "I don't know."
So she could get ruffled—especially when it turned out she didn't know something. He tucked that bit of information away for later when he could think about what else got her all excited and bothered.
"Could he be at your house?" It's exactly where he'd be after flushing out his quarry into the open. He'd set up watch and wait for the target to scurry back to home base before taking off for the great wide open.
"No." She shook her head—firm, decisive, back in control. "I'm working at B-Squad under my name, but neither my house or my car has any link to me. Lash worked up the security system. He's the only one who knows where I live."
He breathed easier. He and Loud Mouth Lash, the B-Squad's resident security expert and sniper extraordinaire, had served together in the Marines. The man knew his shit. The house just might be Fort Knox worthy. However, there was always a way to find someone, a paper trail that would lead to the
front door.
"Your name's not on the water bill? The cable? With your cell phone?"
"Nope."
So, somehow Wolczyk had gotten the jump on her connection to B-Squad. It wouldn't have been a main player, but the Devil's Dip Gym on the main floor was still active. One of those guys could have slipped. A trainer? Janitor? Guy who'd whacked off to her one too many times in the gym's cold showers? Maybe he’d followed her home one night. Maybe she’d let something slip about a neighbor.
Isaac didn't know, but he'd find out and then that little loose-lipped motherfucker would be out on his ass.
"I'll check the house out later."
Her blue eyes went wide. "You'll check it out?"
"As long as I'm watching out for you, you're not putting a dainty little toe inside the threshold before I give it my sign of approval."
She looked about ready to blow, but only for a second or two. Then that icy curtain came back down and she looked out her window at traffic as they inched down one of Fort Worth's always-clogged main thoroughfares, ignoring him with so much determination he considered being worried.
After a few minutes she turned in her seat to face him, the flash of what must have been her beauty queen smile nearly blinding him to oncoming traffic.
"Do we have a destination or am I too much of a weak little female to have the privilege of knowing that?" She served up that ice in a honeyed voice that was sweeter than his grandma's tea in August.
Nope. He wasn't falling into that trap. His mama had not raised a moron.
"Darlin', you are all female but not in the least little bit weak."
If she was placated by his compliment, it didn't show. "So what's the answer?"
The Majesty Movie Theater loomed up ahead on the left. The marquee advertised a show starting in ten minutes. It wasn't perfect, but it would do.
