Irished (The Invincibles Book 7) by Heather Slade (the top 100 crime novels of all time txt) 📕

“Irish.” He turned his chair so he was facing me. “Both teams report to you.” He looked over his shoulder at Cope. “As do you.”

“Roger that.”

“Good. Now, I’m going to ask one more thing of you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I want you to make Stella the lead on the Kerr side of things.”

“Roger that,” I repeated.

“No objections?”

“Isn’t that what she is now?”

“What we’ve been working on for the last few weeks is a flea on a dog compared to the horse we’ve gotta break now.” He looked between Cope and me. “No comment?”

“About the analogy?”

Decker laughed and pointed his thumb at Cope. “Is he really this much of a pussy?” he asked me.

“Not even a little bit.”

His eyes scrunched, and the smile left his face. “I’m damn glad to hear it, Irish.”

“News out of DC isn’t good, boys,” said Decker, looking at his phone several hours later. “Stella got the runaround today when she met with the attorney who took over after Barb’s lawyer was murdered, so she still hasn’t located the safe-deposit box. Worse, they found evidence that the housekeeper had been working for Kerr for years. Some relation to his wife.”

“And Kerr killed her?” asked Cope.

“If, in fact, he was the killer, then yes, it would appear that way.”

“How’s Stella doing?” I asked.

“She’s okay, Irish. I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing from you directly, though.”

I ignored his suggestion. I wasn’t quite ready for Stella and I to be “buds.”

The news didn’t get any better the following day. While Stella and Buck had figured out where the safe-deposit box was located, the branch manager of the bank was demanding a warrant for her to get into it. On top of that, the storm that had flooded the valley where the Roaring Fork Ranch was located had moved to the East Coast, wreaking havoc on travel. Even if they managed to get the box’s contents, now there was a question of whether they’d be able to return to Colorado in time to meet Buck’s curfew.

“How serious is Buck’s father’s will?” I asked Decker.

“According to Hammer, if Buck doesn’t follow it to the letter, the ranch will be sold and all the assets, including the proceeds from the sale, will be given to charity.”

“Seems extreme,” I mumbled.

“Extreme? Seems downright vengeful, bordering on psychotic, if you ask me.”

I was glad Decker said it because that was really more what I was thinking. I wondered how Flynn was doing and whether she even knew her brother was in danger of not making it back in time.

“I need to take a break,” I said, heading out to the porch to call her.

She sounded tired when she answered. “Hey, Paxon.”

“Hey, Flynn. I just wanted to check in with you. Things with the investigation have heated up. I anticipate working some long hours over the next few days, but I wanted you to know I was thinking about you.”

“I was thinking about you too, Paxon.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“I sure wish we could sit on my porch swing and talk again tonight.”

“I wish we could too. Listen, I have to go, though.”

“Everything okay?”

“I’m not sure yet. My brothers have called a family meeting. We might have to find a way to cover up the fact that Buck might not make it back within forty-eight hours.”

“I wondered if you’d heard.”

“Maybe we can talk later?”

“I’d like that.”

“How is she?” Decker asked when I came inside.

“If you’ve got my phone bugged enough to know who I was talking to, why is it you don’t know what we discussed?”

Decker laughed. “I know you were talking to Flynn by the look on your face, Irish. I don’t need any fancy spyware to read you like a book.”

“He’s smitten.”

I glared at Cope, stunned he would say something like that. “We’re friends.”

“Right,” both he and Decker said at the same time.

The next afternoon, we sat glued to our computers and phones, waiting for word from the East Coast. Buck returning to the ranch in forty-eight hours became the least of anyone’s worries when we were alerted that both Rock and Ink were down and Stella had been kidnapped—not in DC, as we’d thought; it all went down in New York City.

Finally, Decker managed to reach Jinx Jenkins, who, even though he was chief of the DC Metro Police, was on the scene in New York. Decker put the phone on speaker.

“Johnson, Ryan, and TJ are fine. Nicholas Kerr is dead, as are the crew that nabbed her. I’m going to need a little help, Decker. First of all, I have no jurisdiction in the State of New York. Second, even if I did, cleaning up this mess would have the media in a frenzy.”

“Jinx, you said you’re on the scene?” Decker asked.

“Affirmative.”

“What’s the twenty on Stella and Buck?”

“Your whole team is on their way to the airfield.”

“Copy that. Help is on the way.”

When Decker ended the call, he looked at Cope. “How many cleaners can you get to New York City, and how fast?”

“How many do you need?”

“I’d say at least five. More would be better.”

“You got it.” Cope was about to make a call, but Deck held up his hand.

“You goin’ official on this one?”

“Affirmative.”

“Money McTiernan?”

Cope shook his head. “My dad.”

Decker chuckled. “Knew he’d be good for somethin’.”

Prior to the mission we undertook, Cope’s father was more of a liability to his son’s career. Since we read him in on our investigation last year, when both Cope and I almost died, the man’s role as chair of the Senate Intelligence Committee had proved to be a valuable asset.

Decker got up again and walked toward the window.

“How the hell is he getting these calls?” I asked Cope. He shrugged.

Seconds later, Decker returned. “That was Buck. Unfortunately, the only thing in the safe-deposit box was another key. However, this time, Stella believes she knows what it’s for. Once they land, they’ll make a pit stop here and then head out again.”

“Where to this time?” I asked.

“Back to New York City.”

“What a clusterfuck,” I muttered, thinking not just about the