Renegade
Renegade
Cascade Mountain Manhunt
Mia London
Susan Sheehey
Contents
RENEGADE
Other Novels
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
A Message from the Authors
Other Novels
About the Authors
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
Copyright © 2020 Mia London & Susan Sheehey
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All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the publisher.
ISBN: 978-1947874183 (E-Book)
978-1947874206 (Paperback)
Publisher: Amepphire Press
11923 NE Sumner St, Ste 766015
Portland, OR 97220
Edited by Sharon Pickrel
Formatted by Leigh Stone
Cover design copyright © Romance Novel Covers Now
Published in the United States of America
To our faithful and loyal readers.
The voracious readers.
The vacation readers.
The bathroom readers.
We do this for you.
Enjoy!
RENEGADE
ROMANTIC SUSPENSE SERIES, BOOK 2
* * *
Librarian Lynée’s perfect small-town life is overturned by an overbearing, bad-boy lawman on a motorcycle. His intentions are hardly friendly, and definitely not innocent.
Not with a vengeful cartel on his heels.
Cascade Mountain Manhunt Series
Runaway
Renegade
Other Novels By Mia London
Sweet Escape Series
Dry Spell
Hot Spell
Cold Spell
* * *
Undeniable Series
Undeniable Fate
Undeniable Love
Perfect Series
Perfect Seduction
Perfect Surrender
Life To The Max
Wanton Angel (Prequel to Life To The Max)
Beyond Lace (Hard Men of the Rockies 4)
* * *
Accidental Tryst
Other Novels By Susan Sheehey
Sweet Escape Series
Dry Spell
Hot Spell
Cold Spell
* * *
Royals of Solana Series Boxset
Prince of Solana
Jewel of Solana
Crown of Solana
Royal Wedding novella
Knights of Texas Series
Tell Me What You Want
Tell Me What You Crave
Tell Me What You Need
Tell Me What You Feel
Audrey’s Promise
* * *
Summer Heat: Imperfectly Yours Anthology
For the first time in three months, Jace Ivy took a deep breath. With his gun on his hip, he sank into the bar stool at the Rock Road Diner, sipping hot coffee with his eye on the prize—Reed Monroe.
The vindicated joy racing through his veins was inexplicable. The same high as when he jumped out of a Cessna in Panama.
When he was given the assignment to bring in a rogue DEA agent suspected of shooting his partner, Jace was infuriated. No federal agent ever wanted to track and investigate one of their own. But after seeing the charges on this guy, he felt energized. Two other divisions had spent over half a year trying to find this guy with no results. Which is when they called him.
He couldn’t wait to nail the guy’s ass to the wall. He just had no idea it would take this flippin’ long. Previous cases like this he’d solved within a few weeks. This one took over three months. And only because his target had goofed at a coffee shop with the security cameras, and his face hit their recognition software.
If Jace had a woman at home, she’d have divorced his ass by now.
Him married?
He chuckled out loud.
The waitress, Skye from her name tag, still looked stunned and frowned at his laughing.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Inside joke. How about I get my sandwich, then your cook there and me,” he pointed with his fork, “can have a little chat?”
Skye nodded and scampered to the back to Monroe.
The small place was quaint, fall decorations dangling from the old ceiling tiles, and autumn wreaths hanging in the windows. Reminded him of a retro fifties diner complete with the red and white leathery plastic seats. Would’ve been cool if it were on purpose. But at least it was clean with the fresh lemon cleaner scent across the Formica counter. This place either stayed open only because it was the only place in this tiny town, or the food was that good. Hopefully, the latter.
He kept his gaze fixed on the chef, making sure he wouldn’t run out the back door. The man had clearly been hiding out in this remote town east of the Cascade Mountains for a while. Long enough to establish a job and some connections, based on the intimate whisperings with this waitress.
A glance to his left and Jace noticed a strawberry blonde, her hair pulled back, glasses teetering on her nose, and lips like Tinkerbell. Her ultra-conservative clothes reminded him of an accountant or some kind of government worker. Like she was trying to blend into the dated scenery of the diner, only to fail miserably with that bright face.
“Morning.” He felt like he should say something since she just stared at him with her mouth parted in shock. “In some cultures, it’s considered rude to openly gawk at someone.”
She blinked and straightened her back. “Sorry.”
He couldn’t be sure, but was she looking down her nose at him?
He chuckled again. Damn, this sleepy town could be a lot of fun. Too bad he wouldn’t be around for long.
“Skye.” The blonde waved to her friend, beckoning her.
The waitress returned and leaned in close to Tinkerbell.
“I should go, but I can stay if you need me.”
Skye placed a hand over the blonde’s. “No. I’m sure this is a misunderstanding. I’ll call you later.”
The blonde leaned in closer still. “Be careful.”
Jace almost spat out his coffee, and some of it burned up into his nose. Several heads turned. He wiped his mouth to cover his smile.
Oh yeah. This assignment has definitely come to a glorious end.
Monroe came around the counter, pulling off his chef’s apron. He let the thing dangle in his hand as he stopped several feet away. The look on his smoothly shaven face proved he knew exactly what Jace was here for.
He didn’t look like he’d spent the last year
on the run. He looked pretty damned happy where he was.
The whole diner had paused and watched the interaction like a thriller movie on a screen. Big audience. Which meant this guy was going to either make it super hard or as quiet as possible. There would be no middle ground. Given the amount of time it had taken to catch up to this guy, Jace almost wished Monroe would provide a little more drama at the end. Maybe give the blonde at the end of the counter a real show.
Jace took another sip of his coffee, then stood. The guy was a good four or five inches shorter, so it was easy to make himself look wider and in control. “Turn around. Hands on your head.”
“Let me see your badge first.” His voice was strangely calm.
With a smirk, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his shiny DEA emblem in a black wallet. “Jace Ivy, Special Investigation Division. Satisfied?”
Monroe glanced at it. “This place closes in fifteen minutes. We have a lot to talk about. Perhaps you’d like to finish your food, then we can grab a booth.”
Skye set the plate before him—club sandwich, chips, and a pickle spear. She nibbled her lower lip like it was coated with chocolate.
Jace nodded slowly. “All right.” He lifted the top slice of bread off his club, investigating. “As long as you didn’t put anything in here.”
Monroe shook his head and grabbed a tomato slice from the top of the sandwich. Then popped it in his mouth. Proving at least the sandwich wasn’t poisoned.
Jace frowned.
“Happy now?” the cook asked. “But, I’d watch her apple pie.” His head jerked toward the waitress.
She gasped and smacked his upper arm.
“Give him a piece of pie on me, baby.” Then he kissed the top of her head as he slipped on his apron to make the last orders for the hungry crowd.
Okay, so Reed found himself a woman to spend his time with. Interesting.
“Nuh-uh, Monroe. Out here with me.”
Monroe turned. “I have a job to finish.”
“So do I. You’re not allowed out of my sight. I said you could have fifteen minutes until the place closes before I arrest you. I didn’t say you could return back to the stoves where Lord knows how many knives you’ve got back there to use against me.”
Monroe put his hands on his hips. “Then who will feed these customers?”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass. But it won’t be you.” He gestured to an empty booth. “Have a seat.”
His suspect glared.
Damn, I love this part. He looked to the waitress. “I’d appreciate that slice of pie now.”
The blonde Tinkerbell stood by the door, clutching a book to her chest and openly gawking at him.
He tossed her a wink.
Lynée Clark couldn’t believe her eyes. Jace Ivy, Special Investigations Division. This scruffy, motorcycle-club-esque man was actually a lawman. Which didn’t match anything in her mind of how an authority figure was supposed to look and act.
He was DEA, just like Reed. The rest of the town knew Reed Monroe as Guy Hancock, the newest addition to Cascade Creek. Her best friend’s boyfriend, and a considerably better cook than Ralph, the diner’s owner. True, Guy was an alias, which they’d learned over the last week. Guy was really an undercover agent on the run after being framed for murdering his former partner in El Paso. Or at least that’s the story he told Skye. Which, of course, she then told her best friend, Lynée.
Lord, this Jace man was tall. When he gave her that wink, a whirlpool spiraled through her body, practically leaving her lightheaded. Now, he sat in a booth with his back to the wall opposite Reed, eating a piece of Skye’s apple pie.
“Keep your hands on the table, where I can see them,” he instructed Reed.
Walk away, Lynnie. But her feet just wouldn’t move. She was completely mesmerized by this walking paradox. He was like a 12-car pileup—horrifying, disturbing, but she couldn’t take her eyes away.
“Is there something I can help you with, honey?” the man asked, an all-too-confident smile on his lips. “You just can’t stop staring. At least tell me your name.”
Lynée frowned at his continued use of chauvinistic endearments. With a complete stranger. “Why? Am I under investigation, too?”
“Do you want to be?” His smile widened, stretching his lips to cut across his beard. He shoveled a piece of pie into his mouth.
“What’s his charge?” she dared to ask. She had no idea where this bravery came from. As a librarian, she knew interfering with a police investigation was a criminal offense. But something compelled her to keep this guy talking.
“Lynée,” Reed interrupted, “It’s okay.”
“Lynée?” Jace’s gaze roved up and down her face, his fingers twirling the fork on the plate. “Beautiful name.” His smile faded as he glanced back at Reed across from him. “He’s charged with murder.” The words hung in the air between them, and the whole diner quieted. “Among other charges. Killing your partner, a federal agent, is the most severe.”
“I did not kill my partner,” Reed replied calmly.
“You can tell me all about it back at the sheriff’s office. Where we’ll have our little fireside chat before I take you back to Seattle, and then have you transferred to El Paso.” He pulled out his phone and started searching for a phone number.
“I strongly suggest you don’t call them.” Reed glanced at Skye, standing beside them.
“Why’s that?” the man asked, almost bored.
“The cartel has a mole in the DEA.”
Lynée held her breath. Expecting Jace to act surprised or at least pissed off. She actually didn’t like her best friend standing so close to this bad boy with control issues.
He finished the last piece of pie and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I know.”
Reed blinked. “You do?”
“I’m looking at him.”
“Puta madre!” Carlos Cabello gripped the underside of his mahogany desk and flipped it, rage pulsing through every vein. Everything on the top scattered across the study, shattering the Virgin Mary figurine that had sat in the same spot for ten years.
The messenger, Tomas, cringed and moved back several feet. Carlos’s second-in-command, Emilio, grabbed the man by the collar and yanked him back. He didn’t acknowledge the porcelain shards skittering across his boots. The monstrous man knew not to react and not to allow the messenger to leave without being dismissed.
Carlos rarely became this emotional over anything. Except where that damn boy was concerned. His nephew, Diego Huerta, had always taken delight in dancing across his uncle’s buttons. Now, despite all the cartel boss’s efforts to keep that arrogant, impatient bastard safe, Diego was dead.
“I told that pinche cabron to go to the lake house, so I could clean up his mess.” With a fiery rage in his eyes, he pulled the pistol from under his jacket, rushed over to Tomas, and jammed the barrel against his temple. The man shut his eyes and whimpered. “Why the hell didn’t you force him to go? Throw him in the trunk and not let him out until you made it to Chalapa? How am I supposed to run my business against the DEA without Diego?”
“No se, señor.”
Carlos lowered his pistol but gripped the handle with white knuckles at his side. “Tell me precisely what happened.”
Emilio let the man go and stepped back. Giving his superior the respect he deserved. He was an exceptional servant. Carlos wished he had a dozen more just like him. But now, he needed to interrogate the man who brought the news of the death of his nephew, the technical genius behind the cartel’s digital era.
The messenger stammered his reply. “Huerta went to Seattle on his own, tracked the DEA agent to a motel. There was an altercation between them, and he was shot.”
“The same DEA he’s been on the hunt for all year?”
“Si, señor. Reed Monroe. He escaped. Along with a woman.”
“What woman?”
“No se. The desk clerk said two people rented the room. A man and a woman. A bl
onde.” He pulled out his phone and held up a picture. “I took this off the security camera footage. The police now have it.”
Carlos took the phone and stared at the picture of that bastardo DEA agent, Reed Monroe. And some doe-eyed blonde woman, both standing outside the motel entrance. “Where is Diego’s body?”
“In a Seattle morgue.”
The cartel boss handed the phone back to Tomas and took a deep breath. The faint sound of the soccer game on the television in the corner helped calm him. He straightened his jacket, then holstered his pistol. “Get him. Bring his remains back here. I don’t care how.”
The man blinked. “All the way from Washington State? The body will—”
“Use a refrigerated truck! Do I have to think of everything? I will not allow my brother’s son to be cremated and scattered in the United States. That mongrel country! Bring him home. Now!”
He waved his hand, dismissing the messenger. When he and Emilio were alone, Carlos motioned him closer to the windows. Overlooking the hills of northern Mexico, his hacienda was well hidden from any local spying. The balcony beyond the windows provided the perfect spot for a warm breeze on cool evenings like this one. But he couldn’t chance anyone residing in the compound below hearing them. Though they were the family members of his henchmen—required to live within the compound walls—Carlos was still more careful than to allow prying ears.