The Angel and the Outlaw. Ingrid Weaver
raked his fingers through his hair. “This is sounding complicated.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Would Tony object if you worked with a partner?” she asked.
“Tony Monaco’s never been real particular about methods. He’s more interested in results.”
“Then there isn’t any good reason why we shouldn’t team up. You did say you would do whatever it takes to keep your bar.”
He turned back to the window and lifted a blind slat to look outside. “Yeah, I did say that.”
“Why can’t that include working with a Tavistock?”
He shook his head, muttering something under his breath.
“Well?”
The silence lasted longer this time. Finally, he left the window and strode directly to where she stood. He took her by the shoulders. “If I agree to this, you’ll keep your distance from Sproule, right?”
Her heart began to pound. She wanted to think it was from what he was saying, but she knew it was more from his touch. “I’ll stay away as long as you don’t shut me out of what you’re doing.”
“Hayley—”
“I mean it, Cooper. Don’t shut me out. I want you to keep me up to date on your progress.”
He moved his palms along her shoulders to her neck. “I’ll do more than that. Once I bring you in with me, you’ll be all the way in.”
“That’s how I want it.”
“Don’t be so fast to agree, Hayley, seeing as how you cleaned up so good and all.” He touched his fingertip to the pulse at the base of her throat. “The kind of dirt you’ll be getting into now won’t be so easy to wash off.”
Chapter 4
Cooper heard the distinctive rumble of the split carburetor well before he saw the bike’s headlight sweep past the chain-link fence to the broken gate. Nathan Beliveau was right on time, which wasn’t surprising, considering his business—he was the president of the largest courier company in the midwest. He would know about keeping schedules. But his choice of transportation was…unexpected. Cooper leaned back against the front fender of his truck and waited as the Harley Davidson coasted down the ramp into the abandoned gravel pit and slowed to a stop beside him.
The echoes of the bike’s engine faded gradually, replaced by the ticking of cooling metal. A cloud of dust tainted with exhaust floated through the headlight briefly before the beam was extinguished. The meeting place they’d agreed on was five miles out of Latchford and half a mile from the highway. The floodlight that had been mounted near the entrance when the pit had been in operation was long gone, but it was a clear night and the moon was almost full, so there was enough light to see what he needed to.
The man astride the motorcycle stretched his long legs on either side to balance the machine but made no move to get off. He could probably afford to travel by chauffeured limo, but he appeared completely at ease on the powerful bike. “You’re Webb?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Cooper made no attempt to hide his scrutiny—it would be expected. “Nice hog, Beliveau.”
“She’s a beauty, all right.” He slipped off his helmet and rested it on the gas tank in front of him. “It sure beats riding a desk.”
Cooper shifted his scrutiny from the bike to the man on it. Moonlight gleamed from his straight black hair and the sharp ridges of his cheekbones, revealing the stamp of native heritage. He would probably look just as comfortable riding bareback on an Appaloosa.
Wind rustled through the weeds that ringed the pit, muffling the distant whine of tires on the highway. Nathan lifted his face, as if testing the breeze. “Tony said you wanted televisions.”
“Know of any?”
“How about a trailer load of sixty-two-inch plasma screens?”
Cooper whistled. “That’ll do.”
“They’re at an electronics manufacturing company in Hammond where they’re scheduled for an overnight shipment to Kansas City. The pickup’s slated for ten-thirty tomorrow night. That means you should be out of there by ten.”
“Sounds good.”
“Can you handle a big rig?”
“No problem. Have you got one with a sleeper compartment?”
“There’s one at the Chicago terminal. I’ll arrange to have it parked in a rest area off the Interstate. You’ll have until seven in the morning before I’ll have to report it missing.”
Cooper calculated the time it would take him to get the truck to Hammond, do the pickup and drive back to Latchford. It would be cutting things close, especially since he would be taking detours onto secondary routes to get around the weigh stations. “I’ll have it back by then.”
“Try to keep the damage to the rig to a minimum. My insurance rates are already killing me.”
“Except for the wires, it won’t have a scratch.”
Nathan turned his head toward Cooper. His eyes were too deep-set for the moonlight to touch, making his expression inscrutable. “You better be as good as Tony said you were. I heard it’s been a few years since you did a job like this.”
“Some things you don’t forget.”
Nathan studied him. “That’s right. Some things you don’t forget.”
Cooper couldn’t help being curious about Nathan’s connection to Tony, but he knew better than to ask. The fact that he was here said enough. Nathan was indebted to Tony Monaco, just like Cooper, just like all the members of the Payback network.
And he was probably as eager as Cooper was to settle his debt and get on with his life.
Leather creaked as Nathan slipped his hand inside his riding jacket. He withdrew a folded sheet of paper and held it out to Cooper. “Here are the rest of the details about the load. It should be all the information you’ll need.”
“Thanks.” Cooper pushed away from the fender of the truck, took the paper and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans. “If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”
“Count on it.”
“About those TVs…”
“What about them?”
“Who’s covering the loss?”
“Nobody. The guy who runs the electronics company in Hammond owes Tony a favor.” Nathan switched on the ignition, gripped the throttle and kicked the bike back to life. “I heard he decided not to pay it back.”
One hour later, concealed by the overhanging boughs of the maple at the back of the Tavistock yard, Cooper grasped two of the wrought-iron arrowheads that ran across the top of the fence and vaulted to the other side. He paused to look around, but there was little chance of his arrival being witnessed—the houses on this side of the street backed onto a park, which was not only picturesque, it could prove to be a useful setup. Hayley had probably cut through the park when she had carried the rifle to the Sproule estate.
He turned his attention to the house. When he’d brought Hayley home last week, he’d noticed that the front of the house had a big veranda decorated with gingerbread trim. There was no porch in the back, nothing to use to climb to the second story, and the rear door was solid wood with a deadbolt. But the ground-floor windows were the sliding-sash kind and had conveniently wide ledges.
No dog. No alarm. A yard with overgrown trees that blocked the view of the next-door neighbors. For a family of cops, they should have paid more attention to making their house secure. Cooper used the gas meter that stuck out from the wall for a foothold and hoisted himself onto the nearest window ledge. He scowled as he let