High-Sided (Armed & Dangerous #3)(5)

I stepped out of Sean’s grasp and faced him. “Exactly. And I’m the one who should be asking questions. What did he mean when he said you have enemies outside of the racing world? Who have you pissed off?”

He huffed and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter what I’ve done. It’s all in the past.”

“Are you serious right now? Sean and I are about to take over the business. I need to know if there’s something we should be worried about.”

“I’ve got it handled, Kassidy.” His gaze met Levi’s, and a few seconds passed before Levi nodded.

“What’s going on?” I snapped, looking between the two. “Why are you two looking at each other like that?” They were keeping me in the dark about something and I didn’t like it.

Levi averted his gaze. “I think I know someone who can help.”

“Who? The cops?”

He shook his head. “No. Someone much better than that.” He nodded at my father again and they marched off toward the shop, leaving me with Angela and Sean.

I looked over at Angela. “Who the hell is he talking about?”

She shrugged. “No clue. I figured you’d be the one to know.”

“Whoever it is,” Sean said, “hopefully, they can figure out what the f*ck’s going on.”

I’d always known my father harbored secrets he didn’t want known, but if my team was in danger, I wasn’t going to sit by and let them get hurt. One way or another, I was going to find out the truth.





Logan


“I’m so ready to take a vacation,” Micah grumbled. The perp had cut his arm during the scuffle and blood dripped all over the floor. He dug his knee into the serial killer’s back so I could handcuff him.

The old, abandoned house smelled like piss and trash, and it pissed me off even more that I was touching a man who’d killed over sixty people. The thought of him cutting up another victim made me ill.

I slammed the sick f*ck’s head into the floor and hauled him up by his neck. He hissed in pain, which made me want to hold on tighter. “And that’s what we’re going to do once we turn this pathetic piece of shit in.”

His name was Sam MacEntire, a man who’d been on the America’s Top Wanted list for over five years. It took Micah and me three months of non-stop searching, but it was over. On our way outside, I made sure to knock Sam’s head into every wall and door frame we passed. The FBI wanted him alive, but they didn’t say I couldn’t rough him up. Sirens blared down the street, and it wasn’t long before the police had the house surrounded.

Arnold Jenkins, the chief of police of Wichita, thundered up the front porch steps and holstered his gun. “Good job, boys. I don’t know what we would’ve done without you.” A small smiled spread across his lips. “Looks like MacEntire lost the match this go around. It’s a shame you couldn’t cut off his dick like he did his other victims.”

“Believe me, I wanted to do a lot worse than that,” I said.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get what’s coming to him.” Two of his officers raced over and took Sam away, locking him up in one of their patrol cars. Arnold’s gaze found Micah’s bloody arm and he hissed. “You’re probably going to need stitches, son.”

Micah glanced down at the gash. “I’ll be okay. Nothing a few bandages and some pain meds can’t cure.”

Arnold nodded. “Now that MacEntire’s in custody, all we’ll need is for you to come down to the station to sign some papers. I’m sure you’re both ready to get out of Kansas.”

“You have no idea,” I sighed, taking a seat on the steps.

When Micah and I had traced Sam’s location to Wichita, it didn’t take long to find the sick bastard. He had a thing for young boys, so it wasn’t a surprise when we found him lurking at one of the local middle school baseball games. I had a way of distinguishing the good people from the bad; it was a skill a lot of FBI agents had. I guess you could say it was more of an intuition type of thing, not exactly something you learn from textbooks.

As much as that skill was valued in my line of work, there were times you needed a break. I had hit my breaking point.

Arnold looked back at the patrol car, where MacEntire glared at us. “I guess I better take him in, so I can tell the world he’s been caught. I’ll see you both at the station,” he said, nodding at us both.

Micah took off his T-shirt and wrapped it around his arm. “The f*ckhead ruined my tattoo,” he growled. He moved his shirt so I could see the gash. He was right, once his wound healed, his tattoo wouldn’t look the same with the scar.

We were almost exactly the same as far as height, build, and age, but his whole left arm and back were covered in tattoos. Other than that, most women thought we looked alike.

Getting to my feet, I pointed down the street where we’d left our car. “Come on, let’s get you to the hospital.”

I thought he’d fight me on it, but he followed me to the car. I’d never worked with him before, but he turned out to be one of the best FBI agents around—other than myself. That was why the FBI called us in to work together. On the way to the hospital, he leaned his head back against the seat.

“I’m serious about taking a break,” he said. “Let’s pack up our shit and ride our bikes across the country, meet some women, and forget life for a while.”