Claim & Protect Page 5

  “What kind of shouting match?”

  “The kind that made it crystal clear he’s a narcissistic jackass with a hot head. I gotta assume he knows where she works, and I’m certain I pissed him off, so I wanna know what kind of history he’s got.”

  Knox’s office door opened just as Knox asked, “Pissed him off, how?”

  Beckett back-and-forthed a look between the two of them. “Pissed off who?”

  Knox nodded at Trevor. “Trev butted in between an employee and her ex.”

  Beckett winced, shut the door behind him, and sauntered to the chair next to Trevor. “Not a good move. Thought you were the level-headed one of us.”

  “I am until a man threatens a woman. Then I tend to lose my shit.” The scary part was the level of fury he’d felt staring down Natalie’s ex was about ten times what he should have felt for a woman he barely knew. No way in hell was he sharing that tidbit with his brothers, though.

  Beckett’s relaxed posture went on-point in a second. “What kind of threats?”

  “Standing outside her apartment late at night and demanding she get her boy out of bed so he could see him. Threatening to take her to court for full custody when what he really wants is to fuck with Natalie.”

  “That a common pattern?” Knox asked.

  “He hit her place up four times last night before she finally came out to deal with it,” Trevor said. “Nat says he’s kept his hands off her so far, but he’s got a history of violence prior to the divorce, both with Nat and the kid.”

  Knox frowned, his gaze distant for a second, before he swiveled back to his computers. “Could have sworn the divorce decree said irreconcilable differences.”

  Trevor scoffed. “Yeah, what she couldn’t reconcile was getting backhanded anymore. The judge is apparently a friend of Wyatt’s and ignored her abuse claims. He actually granted joint custody.”

  “Hold up.” Beckett sat up and planted his elbows on his knees. “You said this went down at her place?”

  Knox glanced back at Trevor and waggled his eyebrows. “Excellent point. Share more about that.”

  Trevor shook his head and scowled at Beck. “It’s not what you think. I overheard her talking to her ex before she left work and followed a hunch.”

  Beckett grinned.

  Knox chuckled. “A hunch? Is that what they’re calling sassy brunettes these days?” He looked to Beckett. “You should see her, brother. Posts all kinds of shots of her and her kid on Facebook. A mix of homemade apple pie and pixie all rolled up into one.”

  Boy, he’d hit that one on the head. Though, he’d failed to mention her sweet curves. Ever since Trevor had pulled her next to him and palmed her hip, his mind had been more than happy to remind him how good she’d felt.

  His phone let out a sharp ring. He slid it out of his back pocket, intent on punching the silence button until he saw the name on the screen. “Sorry, guys. I gotta get this.”

  Knox shrugged and spun back to his computer.

  Beckett kicked his feet up on the ottoman. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere until I hear more about Miss Homemade Apple Pie.”

  Trevor huffed out a chuckle and swiped the screen. “Been a while, Doc,” he said into the phone.

  That perked Beck and Knox’s attention, both of their gazes homing in Trevor.

  Doc Stinson had sounded terminally exhausted ever since Zeke had introduced him to Trevor over a year ago. Though, when you spent your days trying to save people with next to no chance at living, it probably took its toll on even the hardiest person. “Yeah, well. My preference would be you never had to hear from me.”

  “I take it that means you’ve got another one?”

  “Stomach cancer,” Doc said. “We’ve tried everything we can get our hands on, but he’s not responding. There’s a new experimental drug being manufactured in Germany. Was hoping you could work your magic again.”

  Magic was a bit of a stretch. More like illegal importing with a hope and a prayer his international passengers covered what he was doing. “Who’s the patient?”

  “A man in his early forties. Family guy. Has a wife who’s as nice as can be and two daughters, one thirteen and one nine.” Doc let out a sigh and got quiet. “I want ’em all to make it, but this guy’s worth going the extra step for the win. I wouldn’t ask if he wasn’t.”

  “I know you wouldn’t.” And Trevor didn’t even consider the risk unless Doc vouched for them. He scratched his jaw and mentally rifled through his upcoming trips. “Let me see what I can work out. If I can swing something, I’ll call you for the details.”

  “Appreciate it. Tell Zeke I said hello.”

  “You got it.” Trevor killed the call and tossed his phone next to Beckett’s boot-shod feet. “Damned if I know how I’m gonna pull this one off.”

  “Zeke’s friend needs another run?” Beckett asked.

  “Some drug out of Germany. One of his patients has stomach cancer and is out of options.” Trevor dropped his head back on the cushioned chair back and studied the ceiling. If he took the job, it’d be his fourth gamble, but it could also be the fourth life he’d helped save. Knowing three people were still breathing because of his actions made it awful compelling to make the run happen.

  “You worried about the risk?” Knox asked.

  Trevor shook his head. “Not the risk so much as the logistics. I’ve got no overseas hauls in the next month, and if I’m gonna cover the expenses, I’ll have to add a load of those cosmetic meds again.”

  Knox snagged a pen up off his desk and twirled it between his fingers. The poor guy had more problems sitting still than Zeke ever had, and the only way he managed to sleep at night was the release he earned via the never-ending stream of women who graced his bed. “I keep telling you. Keep to the booze runs. They’re easier.”

  “They’re easier, but they take up a ton of space in the plane and don’t make nearly as much,” Trevor said.

  “Then have the patients cover the difference,” Beckett said.

  “No way in hell I’d go that route.” Trevor sat up straighter and snagged his phone. “By the time they’ve done all these treatments, Doc says their money’s usually maxed out. What I make on the injectables covers the cost of the flight as well as the drugs.”

  “Brother, you’re pushing it,” Knox said. “You forget I’m the one who dropped all the extra cash you cleared from the last haul into that sick lady’s bank account. You could cover the cost with the booze.”

  Maybe. But if people wanted to spend their hard-earned money shooting their faces up with drugs that were admittedly beyond the FDA’s approval, then he had no problem passing on the profit to people who just wanted to live. He checked his watch and stood. “I gotta get back to The Den. Ivan can only cover for a few more hours.”

  Beckett stood as well and gave him a stern look. “Knox is right. Think about it. Penalties on alcohol aren’t gonna be near as hard on you if you get caught.”

  Trevor nodded and strolled to the door. “You gonna run that check on Natalie’s ex?” he said to Knox.

  “Yep. How fast you need it?”

  “When you can. Odds are it’ll be a wasted drill, but if he’s a nutcase with a history, I want to be prepared.”

  * * *

  Trevor hated it when Knox was right. Considering the brainpower generated between Knox’s ears, this particular I-told-you-so was just one of many.

  He stared at the numbers on his screen and tapped his pen on his desk. If he could get a high-end client for an overseas trip, he could take the G6 and squeak by with enough liquor to cover the price of the meds.

  Then again, not just any passenger could swing the price tag that came with his Gulfstreams, and a smaller plane meant less space to haul with. Injectables took next to nothing in storage, and if this patie
nt was like the last three, their bank account was likely in the red.

  “Fuck it.” He snatched his burner phone out of his bottom desk drawer and dialed up the faceless middleman he’d used for the last two trips. Zeke had indirectly turned Trevor on to his contact months ago, but no one had ever met him. The mystery man just paid for and accepted delivery of the goods wherever Trevor left them, then peddled the merchandise for God only knew what kind of markup.

  By the fourth ring, Trevor was just about to hit the end button when a familiar but groggy voice answered. “Hello?”

  “Kind of late for a working man to be asleep, ain’t it?”

  Apparently, Trevor’s voice was enough to shake the sleep off, because the next time Middleman spoke, he seemed wide awake. “Was wondering when I’d hear from you again.”

  Which was why Trev switched phones after every transaction. The faceless/nameless routine worked both ways. “There a market for any more of the shipment I brought in this summer?”

  “Enough I could sell your last shipment twice over. Everyone wants to be young these days. You give me a date and I’ll be ready.”

  It was almost too easy. Although, he’d still have to find a passenger. Without it, the trip would be too risky. “No date yet, but I’ll let you know when I’ve got one.”

  “Make it before Christmas, would ya? My kids are on me for some new game system.”

  Trevor grunted and ended the call before he could volley back with something nasty. Talking with the guy never sat well with his instincts, and he couldn’t care less about what the guy’s kids got for Christmas. The only thing that mattered in this scenario was someone actually living through the holiday and the ones that came after.

  He popped the battery out of the phone and dropped it back in his drawer.

  Before he’d closed it, two short raps sounded on his office door. “Yeah.”

  It opened a second later and Ivan towered in the entry. Bulk-wise, he gave Beckett a run for his money, and between his dark skin, muscles, and long dreads, the guy could stop a belligerent drunk with little more than a glare. He could also cock a smile, crook his fingers and have any number of women jumping in his lap. “Inventory’s done, and Vicky’s running the bar,” he said. “You need anything before I head out?”

  Yeah, he did. Preferably, taking over running his bar and keeping it in the black so he could get back to flying full-time. Of course, then he’d probably get some wild-ass idea and start another business. Flying made for the best brainstorming, second only to working with his horses. “Nope. We’re all good. You got Mary tonight?”

  Ivan smiled huge at the mention of his four-year-old. He and his baby momma hadn’t been an item long enough to do more than procreate and barely tolerated each other for more than ten minutes at a time, but mention of his little girl never failed to bring out a full set of pearly whites. “Got her the whole weekend. Gonna take her out trick-or-treating before the Big Bash kicks into full gear on Monday. You cool with that?”

  “Only thing I’d be pissed at is if you missed taking her.” He started to wave Ivan off, but caught a glimpse of the curvy woman his mind had been fixated on since last night in one of the security monitors. In less time than it took him to blink, all the rest of the day’s hustle and bullshit disintegrated, replaced with the same heated buzz he’d walked away from her with last night. “Thought Nat had the night off?”

  Ivan scanned the screens on the wall and latched on to the one with Natalie. “Sarah called in sick. Nat said she’d take whatever extra days I could swing her, so I called.”

  A good thing for extra cash in Natalie’s bank account, especially on a Thursday since half the downtown crowd was ready to blow off a whole lot of stress by then. Not so good when she had a kick-ass kid at home she could be spending time with.

  “Something wrong with callin’ her in?” Ivan asked.

  Trevor shook his head, but kept his focus on the monitor. Hard to do anything else when she was bent over a recently vacated table with her ass on prime display. “Not a problem.” Not one fucking problem at all. “Just surprised to see her here.” He slid his attention to Ivan, a little of the fury he’d felt the night before wiggling its way free. “You ever see a guy in here bugging her since she started? Five-foot-eight, looks like Malibu Ken, and still thinks polos are the shit?”

  “Nope. Should I?”

  Trevor reclined in his chair and crossed his arms. With anyone else, he’d have to mind what he shared, but this was Ivan. If he couldn’t lay shit out there without worrying, Trevor had no business putting him up for the brotherhood. “Not necessarily, but keep your eyes sharp. Him or anyone else gives her shit, I want ’em out. Especially the handsy ones. Had one last night clamoring for her ass.”

  Ivan’s eyes narrowed, enough shrewdness firing behind his gaze to show he was all-too-easily reading between the lines. Between the two of them, every waitress had more than enough protection, but not once had Trevor ever singled one out before.

  “I’ll talk to Ben and the rest of the guys watching the door,” Ivan said. “We’ll make sure she’s covered.”

  “Appreciated.” Trevor motioned toward the door with a chin lift. “Have a good night with your girl.”

  “You know it.” Ivan grinned and shut the door behind him.

  In the monitor, Natalie sauntered up to a four-top and laid a sweet smile on a pair of khaki-wearing businessmen.

  The men smiled back and Trevor fisted the hand on his desk. Man, he hoped like hell Ivan kept an eye on her. With the way his mind had been churning through thoughts of last night and the way her body had felt close to his, he’d likely pulverize any poor bastard who hurt her on his watch.

  Chapter Five

  The closer Natalie got to Elm Street, the sweatier her palms got. It was the second drive-by she’d made past The Den’s employee parking lot, once after she’d escaped the monotonous grind of the health care office she worked in and now after her trip to the grocery store. Ever since she’d come up with her cockamamy idea, her body had buzzed on a constant flow of adrenaline. Which, considering the seven-to-four shift she’d just pulled glued to a desk and a telephone, counted as an official form of torture.

  She pulled into the lot and circled toward the far end.

  Backed into the over-sized slot reserved just for her boss sat Trevor’s behemoth truck, the metallic sheen of the silver paint glowing beneath the street lights.

  Natalie let out a shaky breath and stared at it, her heart thumping twice as fast as the pop tune playing low on the radio. This was nuts. Absolutely, certifiably insane. But if it meant keeping Wyatt off Levi’s back and making her boy’s last night at home brilliant, she’d run naked through Times Square.

  She parked her SUV and hopped down to the asphalt. The temps had dropped to the upper fifties shortly after the sunset, but it hadn’t damped any of Deep Ellum’s weekend enthusiasm. Already, the soft chatter of patrons strolling up and down the streets and the muted thump of live music filled the air.

  With one hand pressed to her stomach to combat the incessant flutters, she marched inside and scanned for any sign of Trevor. It was barely after seven o’clock and the place was already close to full, which meant everyone on staff would be headed home with a nice chunk of change in their pockets. They’d also have throbbing feet, but Natalie had actually liked that part of her shifts. It reminded her of the days she’d spent in the hospital and the career that would be hers again—just as soon as she earned enough time and money to get her license back.

  “Hey, sweet girl. What are you doin’ in on your night off?”

  Natalie jolted at the sound of Ivan’s voice behind her and spun so fast she nearly lost her balance. “Ivan. You startled me.”

  “I see that.” The light smile he’d had on his face slipped, replaced with a sharpened scrutiny. “The
re a reason my girl’s so jumpy?”

  “Me?” She tried to play her startled response off with a laugh, but it came out more of an awkward snort. “Not at all.” Liar. “You just snuck up on me, that’s all.”

  He nodded, but his expression said he wasn’t buying it. “So why are you here instead of chillin’ with your boy?”

  Damn. Time to put her crazy idea into motion. And sooner rather than later, because no way was all this pussy-footing around doing her heart any good. “I needed to talk to Trevor. I saw his truck outside. You think he’d have a minute to talk to me?”

  Something flared behind Ivan’s gaze. Not a gleam exactly. More like comprehension. Though what pieces he’d clicked together, she couldn’t fathom. “Yeah, I ‘spect he’d be glad to give you a minute.” He waved her toward the more eclectic half of the bar where the women liked to hang out and the hallway beyond. “He’s in his office. Just got in about thirty minutes ago and is running through last night’s numbers. Head on back.”

  Well, that was a plus. At least in his office the noise wasn’t so loud, and if she crashed and burned with her request, she wouldn’t have a ton of witnesses. “Thanks, Ivan.”

  “You bet, sweet girl.” He grinned and sauntered off, sliding behind the bar and chatting up those seated on the other side like they were his long-lost friends.

  Before she could chicken out, Natalie wove between those milling around tables and worked her way toward the office. Trevor was a nice man. Fair and reasonable. He’d proven that more than once in the last few weeks. Best case, he’d graciously accept her offer and keep things as platonic as she meant them. Worst case, he’d draw the line and politely tell her it was a bad idea. Even if he thought her idea was stupid, he wouldn’t laugh in her face. At least she hoped he wouldn’t.

  She paused outside his office door, hands fisted at her sides while her stomach did a Cirque du Soleil routine. Right. Okay. She could do this.

  She knocked on the door and held her breath.

  It took a few seconds before Trevor responded. “It’s open, Natalie.”