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Take Her Breath Away (The Lincolnville Mystery Series)

By Kathryn J. Bain

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1

The rancid smell of garbage coated the Atlanta, Georgia air to the point Ty Davenport could almost taste the spoiled lettuce at his feet.
He was getting too old for this.
He stood between the dumpster and the older model Harley-Davidson, the Glock secured in the waistband of his jeans. Every nerve in his body told him this deal might blow up in his face. Lack of a Kevlar vest didn’t help, but Hector Jones didn’t deal with people who wore them for fear of coming up against a cop.
The black Lexus IS 250 pulled up. Three men inside. Hector got out of the backseat. His two comrades followed his lead, one got out from the driver’s side, the other from the front passenger door. Under all their jackets, clearly, they had Kevlar vests.
What the… Ty’s stomach knotted. Too late to change things now without looking suspicious.
The old dilapidated buildings in the warehouse district gave no sense of security. Revitalization was occurring blocks away. Of course, no one worked construction on a Sunday.
His eyes darted in every direction. He scanned his surroundings. The best escape route would be out the alley on the bike. Potholes slowed most cars. Too bad the same couldn’t be said of bullets.
He mentally shook the thought from his mind.
Instead, he turned his focus to the new guy, Michael Ware, stooped down at the corner of the building. His job was to make sure no one, like some poor homeless guy looking for a place to sleep, came along and screwed up the case.
Hector’s two comrades waited next to the Lexus. All three scrawny drug dealers looked as though they were still in their early twenties. Nothing stood out about two of the three men to get them noticed in a crowd. But the driver had a scar down the length of his left cheek.
Who’d he tick off to get such a reminder?
No one brandished any weapons, but each man knew the others were armed. The nature of the drug world. Guns and death.
“So, you got the money?” Hector asked.
“You got the stuff?” Ty pushed back a couple strands of hair that had come loose from the camo bandana on his head. He looked at Michael, whose bald head nodded the go-ahead.
“I got it.” Hector jerked his head in the direction of the car.
“Is it the good stuff?” Ty asked.
“Test it if you’d like.” Hector pulled a small plastic bag of white powder from his pocket. “Just a sample of what’s in the others.”
Ty reached for a vial of an acid compound in his shirt pocket. He inserted a tiny spoon into the bag given to him. Then he scooped a sample of the powder and shook it into the solution. From the purple color, definitely an opiate.
“Well?” The drug dealer’s smile showed perfect white movie-star teeth.
A flock of geese squawked overhead, heading home for the evening. They all looked up. Once the birds had passed, Ty reached over and flipped open one of the saddlebags on his bike. The bulky manila envelope got stuck for a second, so he had to force it out.
Hector turned to the scar-faced guy who pulled out a shopping bag from the back seat and walked over to them. The guy held the bag in a gloved hand, a sneer on his face. Ty took the package and handed over the envelope. Heroin for one hundred grand.
“Nice doing business with you.” Hector walked back and slid into the backseat of his Lexus. “Let me know when —”
Bang. Pain exploded down Ty’s leg. He hit the ground before the second shot got off.
From the sound, a rifle.
The Lexis spun a circle, spraying gravel and debris. Ty slid around the dumpster away from the gunshots. He looked over at Michael who held his position a few feet away behind the water barrier. He shook his head, and then glanced around, waiting.
Clink. A bullet bounced off the dumpster where Ty had been standing.
Who? What the…? Where was backup? Too many questions with no answers.
Sirens sounded. Loud voices followed footsteps. DEA agent Ignacio Howard stuck his head around the corner of the building. He looked in all directions. After a second, he rushed over. He pulled out a knife from his pocket and cut open Ty’s jeans.
“This is going to hurt.” Howard shoved his finger into the bullet wound in Ty’s thigh.
Ty let out a sharp yell. His breathing quickened. His mind rushed to his wife and screwed up marriage. He grabbed hold of his partner’s shirt. “Tell Rayleene I love her.”
“Quit being such a drama queen. It’s not a big hole.”
He choked a laugh as pain burned through his entire body. A shadow cast over his shoulder. Michael had moved to the dumpster, gun at the ready.
How could a little bullet hurt so much? He lay back onto the warm pavement. “Hector?”
“Got him.” Howard grinned.
Ty stared up at the sky that was beginning to dim. What dealer brought a high-powered rifle to a drug buy?

****

Rayleene Davenport put the finishing touches on the picture of the Brown’s daughter. Only three-months-old and already her personality had begun to show with those bright blue eyes and large toothless grin.
Tears blurred her vision. What would her child have looked like?
The door to her home office squeaked open behind her.
“What do you want for dinner?” Morai, her grandmother, stood in the doorway. The aroma of mentholated ointment followed her into the room.
Not one for a lot of makeup, her pale Irish complexion made her appear washed out.
Growing up, whenever Rayleene asked for makeup, her grandmother ranted on about how those painted on colors made a woman look like a tramp. Morai repeatedly quoted Bible verse 1 Peter 3:3, Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear. By the time Rayleene got to college, she had no idea how to apply makeup, so she claimed not to like it. Even today, she used very little.
Good thing she got her father’s coloring. Never meeting him, she couldn’t be sure, but since she tanned in the summer, she assumed his skin had to be darker than her grandmother’s.
Since Ty had left a month ago, Morai arrived minutes before dinner, either here at the condo or the photography studio. Rayleene wished she hadn’t given her grandmother the extra set of keys to be used in case one of them had locked themselves out. However, she saw fit to enter the condo whenever she wanted. Rayleene never asked for the keys back to avoid starting trouble.
“Are you all right?” Morai hadn’t moved from the entry. No hand on her granddaughter’s shoulder for a show of support. No soft tone in her voice for comfort.
“I’m fine,” Rayleene said. Morai didn’t care for anyone’s tears, especially from the granddaughter she’d raised. “My eyes are tired. That’s all.”
Morai could never understand the loss of an unborn child. Hers had survived only to destroy her life in a world of drugs and alcohol.
“Dinner?” she asked again.
“I’m not really hungry.” Rayleene saved the final slide and clicked off the computer screen. “What are you in the mood for?”
Her phone rang before Morai could answer. Rayleene held up a finger, indicating she’d be with her in a moment. She’d been tempted not to answer when Howard’s name came up on caller I.D. Probably wanting to let her know more of Ty’s wonderful qualities.
She didn’t need someone to spout his traits. They’d been married long enough for her to know them. But he was also the only one who could tear her heart out the way he had. She glanced at Morai. Some choice. She finally slid her finger across the phone.
“Hello, Howard.”
“Rayleene, Ty’s been shot.” A tremor of excitement came through the phone line.
Her stomach bounced into her throat. It’d only been a couple of weeks since he moved out, but being apart did little to destroy the love she still had for him. “Is he going to be all right?”
“He’s on his way to Atlanta Medical Center. I’ve called his brothers, but his parents are out of the country.”
“On their anniversary trip to Europe.” Rayleene barely realized she’d said the words. Her mind focused on the fact that Ty was being taken to Atlanta Medical Center, one of the city’s best trauma facilities.
“I suggest you come in case documents need to be signed.” Howard paused. “You’re still his next of kin.”
“All right.” Her pulse raced. Next of kin. The words sounded ominous.
She sat staring at the phone once Howard hung up. No matter what happened between her and Ty, she never wanted this. All her old concerns climbed to the surface. The one thing she always worried about during her marriage. Ty getting hurt.
“What’s wrong?”
She startled at her grandmother’s voice. “Ty’s been taken to the hospital.” She gulped down the words. “He’s been shot.”
“So?” Morai folded her arms in front of her chest. “He’s worth more dead than alive to you anyway.”
“Morai!” Rayleene jumped up, sending the chair rolling backward. “How can you say that about Ty? About anyone?”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to rush to his bedside?” Disdain came over Morai’s face.
“I have no choice. I’m his Health Care Surrogate and need to be there.” Rayleene’s voice lowered. “In case.”
“He’ll only hurt you again. Once a cheater always a cheater.”
“He’s nothing like Grandpa.” She shoved past her grandmother, trying to ignore the ugly words. Ty’s one-night stand had been something she had a hard time forgetting, much less forgiving. Morai’s constant reminders didn’t help. Walking out had done little to fix the situation. And now this.
Tears filled her eyes. She swung her purse strap over her shoulder and raced out the front door. With the back of her hand, she brushed back hot tears.
Calm down. She closed her eyes and inhaled a long, drawn breath.
Just what she needed, to get into an accident on top of everything else. People needed to be called, particularly Matthew Winters. Whether Ty was in bad shape or not, his best friend would want to know.
After inserting the key into the ignition of the SUV, she paused and looked up at the sky. “Please God, don’t let him die.”

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