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He pressed a familiar number and grimaced when his call was answered with a sharp demand to know where he was.
“I’m still at the scene,” he said. “The EMTs just took away the body.” He listened a second. “Of course I’m sure. There wasn’t any identification, but she had the badge on her jacket. It has to be her.” Another pause. “No. I couldn’t destroy it. Those dumbass kids had already taken pictures. You don’t think people would ask questions if it magically disappeared?” He blew out a heavy breath, the puff of icy vapor reminding him that he was freezing his ass off. “And it gets worse. Lia Porter came charging down here claiming she’d seen the woman the night she died.” He flinched as a sharp reprimand drilled into his ear, as if he was somehow responsible for Lia being in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I don’t know. She was babbling about a woman jumping off the bridge and recognizing the jacket. She’d seen a picture one of those inbred brats took. I told her I’d talk to her later.” He made a sound of impatience as the reprimand continued. “How was I supposed to distract her? I’m cold, I’m tired, and I’m done playing sheriff for the day. I’ll deal with Lia after I’ve made sure there’s nothing out here that can point back to us.” He held the phone in front of his face, his tone sarcastic. “Oh, and you’re welcome. Once again I’m stuck trying to clean up your messes.”
Chapter 2
The sprawling collection of buildings outside the city limits of Vegas looked more like a compound for a large cult than a business. Set in the middle of an acre of barren desert ground, the long, sprawling buildings were constructed out of thick adobe, with solar panels on the roof and basins in the back to recycle the rare rainfall. The large windows were tinted and double-paned to keep out the scorching heat and the floors were recycled bamboo.
The obvious attempt to be environmentally sensitive wasn’t usually associated with a pawn shop. Or even a motor garage. But there wasn’t anything usual about Money Makers. Or the owner.
Kaden Vaughn had left Madison, Wisconsin, when he was eighteen. He’d traveled to Hollywood with no plans in mind beyond enjoying the warm weather and beautiful women. Within a few weeks he’d managed to land a gig as a stunt driver for an ongoing series. It wasn’t supposed to be a career, but somehow he’d found himself taking offers from big budget movies. Eventually he’d been asked to do his own reality show,Do or Die, performing daring stunts that not only provided him the adrenaline rush he constantly craved but an obscene bank account.
Five years ago, however, he’d left Hollywood to build his own business. A combination of a pawnshop in one of the long buildings that was managed by his best friend, Dom Lucier. And a separate structure for his shop, where he created custom-built motorcycles for those who could afford his services, as well as a space that housed his collection of rare and antique motorcycles. To save time and the bother of driving back and forth to work, Kaden had an open loft built above the shop, where he lived.
He didn’t have any interest in fancy houses or a splashy display of his wealth. A comfortable bed, a large kitchen where he could cook his meals, and a gorgeous view of the nearby Vegas skyline was all he needed.
Currently he was rummaging through his built-in closet, grabbing jeans and the few heavy sweaters he had folded on the top shelf. He turned to toss them into the open suitcase he’d placed on his king-size bed. For the first time in nearly five years, he wasn’t packing for a quick trip to Hollywood. He was headed to Wisconsin.
The place he’d fled only minutes after receiving his high school diploma.
“Yo, Kaden!”
The sound of a male voice echoing from the shop below had Kaden spinning away from the closet and heading toward the distant railing. His heavy boots squeaked against the polished wood floor. Most of the customers assumed he wore them, along with his faded jeans and khaki Henley, to look the part of a motorhead. As if his long dark hair, piercing silver eyes, and multiple tattoos scattered over his lean, tightly muscled body wasn’t enough. The truth was, he wore the clothes because they protected him when he was welding or working with searing-hot motors.
Reaching the edge of the loft, he gripped the steel railing and glanced over the edge to discover his partner, Dom, standing in the center of the shop.
“I’m up here.”
Dom nodded, moving toward the steel staircase at the end of the building. He was an inch taller than Kaden and several inches broader, with short blond hair and black eyes. The two had met in Hollywood shortly after Kaden arrived in town. He’d discovered it was going to cost him triple what he’d expected to rent an apartment and he’d gone to the nearest pawnshop to trade in his motorcycle for the cash he needed.
Thank God, Dom had been working there. He’d convinced Kaden to keep his bike and given him the telephone number of an acquaintance who was looking for a driver willing to do the sort of stunts most people would consider insane. The two had been best friends since that day.
Dom reached the upper loft and crossed to stand in front of Kaden. “I got your message saying you were headed to Wisconsin. I had to make sure it wasn’t a mistake.”
“Is there a problem with me taking off a few days?”
“Christ, no. But you haven’t wanted a break in the five years since we opened Money Makers.” Dom folded his arms over his chest. Like Kaden, he was wearing casual jeans, although Dom had chosen a flannel shirt. Neither felt the need to pretend to be something they weren’t. The business was flourishing. In fact, most of the time they were busier than they ever wanted to be. “So, what is it?” Dom asked. “A disaster? A woman? A midlife crisis?”
Kaden arched a brow. He’d just turned thirty-five. “Midlife?”
“Hey, you ain’t getting any younger.”
Kaden casually flipped him off, not bothering to point out they were the same age. Instead, he turned to head back to his waiting suitcase.
“None of the above.”
“There’s no way in hell you’re taking time off for a vacation.” Dom followed behind him. “Not to Wisconsin.”
“No.”
“Talk to me, Kaden.”
He grimaced. Dom could be as stubborn as a mule. No, more stubborn, he silently acknowledged. Once the man had stood in front of a bulldozer for over forty-eight hours to keep a local basketball court from being ripped out and replaced with a high-rent apartment building.
He wasn’t going to get off Kaden’s back until he revealed why he was headed to Wisconsin. A place no one in their right mind would choose to visit in the middle of winter.
Leaning forward, Kaden grabbed his phone from the mattress, pulling up the online image that was sent to him by his cousin who lived in Green Bay.
“Here.”
