Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(10)

“It was bad,” Ross said.

Bad? It was a horror show. Brynn looked out the window and tried not to think about the details. The victim suffered multiple gunshot wounds and was rushed to the hospital, where she was declared dead on arrival.

Brynn shuddered. Jen wouldn’t have been rushed anywhere if her date on Thursday evening hadn’t been a doctor. He’d shown up soon after the attack and kept Jen hanging on by a thread until the paramedics arrived.

“Honestly, I’m glad Reggie hired these guys,” Ross said. “Every last one of them. I don’t know what it costs, and I really don’t care. That guy’s a sadist. Jen proved that at trial.”

“He has antisocial personality disorder.”

“Well, what difference does the label make if he comes after one of us? If Corby shows up in your living room, are you really going to care about his clinical diagnosis?”

“He’s not going to come after us. Reggie’s overreacting.”

“Overreacting? Jen is dead.”

“I know,” she snapped. “I’m aware of that, okay? But everyone’s jumping to conclusions about who killed her. Jen was a prosecutor for four years. You know how many people she helped convict?”

“No.”

“Hundreds. When we worked for her, she was averaging ninety-five felony cases a year. Add misdemeanor filings, and her caseload was nearly four times that. Jen made a boatload of enemies, and any number of those guys could be out on parole and looking for revenge. God knows plenty of them are unstable.”

“Yeah, but think about the timing. James Corby just escaped from prison.”

“True. And he was one of her most high-profile cases. Maybe someone heard about it and decided it was the perfect opportunity to settle a score.”

Ross shook his head. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know. But you have to admit it’s a possibility. And now here goes Reggie, mobilizing an army of bodyguards. All this drama so he can make a point to Dallas law enforcement that they’re not competent to do their basic job.”

“He wouldn’t do all this just to make a point.”

“He absolutely would. He’s manipulating the press, ginning up publicity for us right before a big trial. You know as well as I do that he never misses an opportunity to shine a spotlight on himself or the firm. When we show up with this entourage, people will notice. I mean, really, six bodyguards, Ross?”

They neared the gate to the property. No guardhouse, no keypad, not even a sign, just two plain black panels that slid open when they got close.

Ross rolled through the opening, and Brynn watched in her side mirror as the black gates glided shut behind them. Liam Wolfe’s compound—like the man himself—was practically invisible unless you knew where to look.

Ross turned onto the highway and hit the gas, and the V-8 engine gave a throaty growl.

“Lemme just say this.” Ross looked at her. “James Corby is a sick son of a bitch. Whether he killed Jen or not, I’ll sleep a hell of a lot easier when they collar him up.”

Yeah, sure. Like they could just pluck him off the street, a man who’d slipped out of a maximum-security prison.

“Me, too,” Brynn said. “But first, they have to find him.”





BRYNN SAT amid a mountain of pillows, her files spread out around her on the king-size bed. She was supposed to be prepping for trial tonight, but she’d spent the past two hours digging for info on Jen’s case.

A shrill noise made her jump. She looked at the phone on the nightstand. No one was supposed to know she was here.

Another cringe-inducing sound, and she grabbed the phone. “Yes?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Bulldog.

She slid her laptop aside and leaned back against the pillows. “How’d you find me?”

“Are you kidding? I’m a fucking detective. How’s the Ritz?”

Ha. She and Ross were holed up in an extended-stay hotel north of Houston with a bunch of cranky businessmen.

Not that Brynn had socialized much. She’d purchased dinner in the gift shop before coming straight up to her room.

“It’s peachy,” she told him. “Where are you? And please tell me you’ve got something on Perez.”

“I do, but you’re not going to like it.”

“Damn.” She grabbed the single-serving wine bottle on the nightstand and took a swig.

“I talked to his baby mama again this morning. She still hasn’t seen him, but I tracked down one of his buddies, and sounds like Perez was talking about Vegas.”

“Vegas?” Brynn plunked the bottle down on the nightstand. “Tell me you’re kidding.”

“No. I’m working on confirmation.”

A sharp knock sounded at the door.

“Bull, hang on, okay?”

She crossed the room and peered through the peephole to see Ross standing in the hall, wearing jeans and his SMU Law T-shirt and holding a pizza box. Brynn unlatched the door and let him in.

“Bulldog’s on the phone,” she told him. “He thinks Perez might be in Las Vegas.”

“Vegas? What the hell?”

She grabbed the phone again and sat on the bed. “I thought he lost his job last month,” she said to Bulldog. “How does he have the money for Vegas?”