“No.”
She stopped in front of him, bristling, though she and Cole conducted this same argument every time. Her brother preferred when she kept a low profile and stayed out of trouble. For the most part, she’d been a commendable employee and sister. But she resented that he wouldn’t let her do a job she was fully qualified to perform. She’d never been afraid of the chase and capture—not when she’d been a cop and not now—and she actually enjoyed an occasional run. It appeased the restlessness in her, which she’d been experiencing too much of lately. The bounty she made also helped to fund her low-income abduction cases, which was her main priority. And the well was quickly running dry to support those gratis projects she took on from time to time.
She folded her arms over her chest, refusing to back down, a stubborn trait she’d learned from the very guy standing in front of her. “You know, for someone who showed me the tricks of the trade, you certainly have a way of making me sound inept, despite my training.”
His gaze narrowed at her attempt to heap guilt onto his conscience. “I’m not trying to make you feel inept,” he countered. “Dammit, Joelle, you shouldn’t be out gallivanting after criminals. That’s why you quit the police force.”
That wasn’t why she’d resigned, and they both knew it. But it was a moot point she didn’t wish to argue. “I need the extra money to help supplement my lower-income cases.”
“I’ll help fund those cases. I’ve told you that.”
“No, thank you.” She appreciated her brother’s support, but as always she refused to accept his offer. While the agency made damn good money from locating missing persons and other investigative services, which in turn fattened her own paycheck, she didn’t feel right about draining his finances, or the company’s, to support her own personal cause.
Ignoring any further protests, she plucked the folder from his grasp and didn’t even flinch when he growled in response. Having been raised by Cole since the age of sixteen, she knew he was more bark and growl than bite.
He dropped into the chair Melodie had recently vacated, and Jo skimmed the contents of the file without his interference. She found all the pertinent information enclosed—a bail bond agreement, a certified copy of the bail, a booking slip, a picture of the fugitive and a copy of his Washington State driver’s license. Though the guy had committed his crimes in San Francisco, he apparently hadn’t bothered with a California renewal.
She took in his statistics. Dean Colter, age 32. Six feet tall and one hundred and ninety-five pounds. Judging by the date of birth on the document, he’d be celebrating his thirty-third birthday behind bars, since that date was next week Friday.
Her gaze traveled between the booking photo and the one on the license, comparing the two. The man had pitch-black hair, and though the license stated his eyes were green, she couldn’t confirm that with either photograph. While the driver’s license showed Dean Colter with a short, executive haircut and an easy grin, the booking picture captured a grown-out shaggy hairstyle and a cocky smirk. Obviously, the former photo had been taken before Dean’s penchant for a life of crime.
Her finger skimmed down the attached report, absorbing more details and what he’d been charged with. Grand theft auto. “This is hardly a threatening skip.” She met her brother’s gaze. “Come on, Cole, cut me some slack. It’s not as though I’ll be dealing with a murderer here.” She’d certainly come up against much worse.
“How do you know?” he challenged.
She perched her jean-clad bottom on the edge of her desk. “Because it states that he’s a first-time offender with no priors. How dangerous can he be?”
Cole elevated a dark brow in response. “Did you happen to notice that his bail was set at a hundred thousand dollars?”
She glanced back to confirm Cole’s claim, and her jaw nearly dropped in shock. She’d definitely missed that tidbit. “Why? He was only charged with GTA. That’s a felony, yes, but a minor crime in general.”
“He was arrested with half a dozen high-end vehicles that were headed for a chop shop and theft ring that the local police have been trying to bust for the past three months. The guy knows the contact’s name, and he was willing to testify against him. The bail was set at such a high amount to keep him honest, but being a first-timer, he was very predictable and hightailed it back to his home address in Washington.”
“He’s easy money then,” she said, very aware that her cut would be a cool ten grand, which would go a long way in filling her professional reservoir.
Cole sighed, the sound rife with resignation. “It’s a good fifteen-hour drive to Seattle from Oakland.”
As if that minor inconvenience would deflate her determination! She figured out the time line in her mind. “If I leave within the hour and spend the night at a motel on the way, I’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon.” She flashed Cole a quick grin that reflected the tide of exhilaration blossoming within her and warded off any further argument from him. “I’ll be back before the weekend is over.”
She’d return with her guy in tow, and an easy ten grand in her pocket.
2
“WHAT ARE YOU STILL DOING at home?” Brett Rivers, the CEO of Colter Traffic Control asked his boss, the disapproval in his tone clearly drifting through the phone line. “You should have been long gone by now.”
“Yeah, I know.” Dean tucked the cordless phone more comfortably against his ear as he walked out of his master bath with everything he needed for his spontaneous getaway. Brett was his right-hand man, a good friend, and someone Dean trusted implicitly to hold down the fort in his absence. “I keep telling myself the same thing,” he said, shoving his shaving kit into his duffle bag on top of the casual clothing he’d packed. “And I promise I’m almost out the door.”
After three years of working day in and day out to the point of mental exhaustion and burnout, Dean was anxious to taste a bit of freedom and indulge in a week of pure relaxation and solitude—with a cold beer in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. While basking in the sun and waiting for the trout to bite, he had some serious thinking to do about his future and the direction of his father’s company. To make the important decisions awaiting him, he needed a mind free and clear of any distractions or influences.
Dean gave his bedroom one last quick glance, found nothing he couldn’t live without, and addressed Brett’s question while zipping up his piece of luggage. “I know I told you I’d be leaving early this morning, but I had a few things to wrap up at the office and it took longer than I expected.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, he groaned, realizing that he sounded just like his father, who’d passed away three years ago from a stroke. How many times had Dean been on the receiving end of that same excuse while growing up? And how many times had he resented that flippant explanation and sworn he’d never be like his father, who’d been obsessed with work to the point of excluding everything else in his life?
Too many times to count, yet here Dean was, careening down that same path to emotional and physical destruction. Sure, he had some work-related success to show for his efforts. He also had a broken engagement.
On a personal level his life was sorely lacking, and that knowledge was beginning to bother him. Especially since he’d lived such a carefree, easygoing life before taking on the family business. Hard to believe how much of a rebel he’d been back then. Now, when he came home in the evening after a twelve-hour day, or a week-long business trip, he was too aware that there was nothing or no one waiting for him. Hell, he didn’t even have the time to care for a pet, let alone give attention and affection to a woman. And the truth of the matter was, what woman would endure his rigorous schedule for the long run?
Certainly not Lora, the woman he’d been engaged to before taking over the reins of Colter Traffic Control for his father—before