Sharon Sala - Nine Lives

Nine Lives

Book Jacket

Series: Cat Dupree [3]

One

It was December in Dallas, Texas.

Cat Dupree hated winter and all that came with it. The weather made for miserable stakeouts, although stakeouts were a part of a bounty hunters life. The time of year only added to the chip she carried on her shoulder and reminded her of all shed lost.

When she was six, she and her mother had been shopping for groceries when theyd been hit by a drunk driver. It had killed her mother instantly and put Cat in the hospital for days. When she was finally dismissed, her mothers funeral was over, and she and her father were on their own.

Over the years, she learned to adjust, and she and her father grew closer. Then, just before her thirteenth birthday, and only days before she and her father were planning to leave on vacation, a man with a tattooed face broke into their house, stabbed her father and cut her throat, leaving her unable to scream as she watched him die.

After that, the Texas Social Services system finished the raising of Catherine Dupree, during which time shed acquired the nickname Cat.

Being a bounty hunter had been a job shed thought about during those long years. What better way to find her fathers killer than to work in his world? At eighteen, shed aged out of the system, then, two months later, gone to work for a bail-bondsman named Art Ball.

Art had been taken with the dark-haired, leggy teenager, and hired her to file and deliver papers to the courthouse, even though he hadnt needed the extra help. But, he would say later, it was the smartest thing

hed ever done. By the time she turned twenty-one, she had a black belt in Karate, was licensed to carry a firearm and had gone through several kinds of schooling to learn private investigation techniques, as well as the ins and outs of bringing home bail jumpers.

Also during that time, she began accumulating mug shots of perps with tattoos on their faces in hopes of finding her fathers killer. Shed been looking for him ever since, and often thought it strange that a man with such markings was so difficult to find. Logically, one would have assumed that a man with the equivalent of a road map on his face should stand out in any crowd.

Every time she left to go after someone whod jumped bail, Art would tell her to be careful. He would add to that by reminding her that she didnt have nine lives left like the cats who hung out in the alley behind the bail bond office, because shed already used up two.

The ensuing years and her cold-blooded determination had given her a hard-nosed and enviable reputation. The fact that she was tall and, in many mens eyes, very beautiful didnt matter to her. Shed grown up fast, with a whiskey-rough voice and a bad attitude. She had a fine set of boobs, which she didnt consider an asset. They were, however, nicely distracting to the men she went after. Most of the time they were looking elsewhere when she threw the first punch.

Such, she was certain, was going to be the case today for bail jumper Nelson Brownlee. Following up on a tip, Cat had located Brownlee at an old apartment building in Fort Worth. Now all she had to do was take him down and bring him in.

Nelson Brownlee was a four-time loser with a penchant for armed robbery. Hed promised himself the last time hed been released that he was going to move back to Michigan, but Nelson had never been good at keeping promises, even to himself. All the way to the Quick Stop, hed been thinking something didnt feel right. Still, hed ignored his instincts, robbed the store and then gotten himself caught on his way out the door by an off-duty cop. He figured it had served him right and never dreamed he would be able to bond out. But he had. Hed taken it as a sign from God to change his ways.

However, he and God had never been on very good speaking terms, and instead of making an appearance in court on his due date, hed jumped bail. For the past week hed been in hiding without money, hanging out at an old girlfriends apartment in Fort Worth.

Hed been here six days, and was sick and tired of the scent of boiled cabbage and bratwurst. Even the free sex from the old girlfriend was losing appeal. So when the knock sounded on the door, he ignored his better judgment and went to answer it.

Cats fingertips were numb from the cold, but persistence had paid off. Frostbite was a minor hazard of the job compared to the satisfaction of having a healthy bank account. Her badge was in plain sight, so there would be no mistaking her purpose when she confronted her perp. She checked for the set of handcuffs she tucked under the waistband in the back of her jeans, felt to make sure her handgun was in the holster beneath her coat, then ran her fingers along the taser in her coat pocket as she started up the stairs. Brownlees woman had an apartment on the sixth floor, and in a building this old, an elevator did not come with the deal.

Cats nose wrinkled as she moved from floor to floor. The compilation of scents coming from beneath the doors was staggering. She could smell everything from a backed-up toilet to boiled cabbagea disgusting combination. It didnt, however, deter her from her goal, which was bringing Arts bail jumper back.

She wasnt even breathing hard when she reached the sixth floor. Her steps were sure as she strode down the hall, pausing only briefly before doubling her fist and pounding on the door of apartment 609. She rechecked the location of her gun and taser, then braced herself.

Nelson Brownlee opened the door.

Well hell, he muttered, and tried to slam it shut.

The door caught on Cats boot as she shoved her foot in the doorway, then swung inward as she pushed her way in.

Now, Nelson, Cat drawled, as she grabbed him by the collar and slammed him belly first up against the wall. Thats no way to say hello. Its cold outside. The least you could do was offer me a hot cup of coffee.

Like hell! Nelson yelled, and bowed himself backward, then spun and took a swing at her.

She took a quick step sideways, dodging his fist. As she did, she came off one foot and kicked upward, landing a neat but lethal blow to his chin. He went down like a felled ox. She quickly handcuffed him, then grabbed him under the arms and was about to drag him out the door when she heard someone scream.

She dropped Nelsons arms and ran out of the apartment. Smoke was filling the stairwell from above, drifting downward in thick deadly fingers.

Oh, Lord, she muttered, and glanced back inside the apartment. Brownlee was still out.

She couldnt leave without him, but he weighed a good hundred pounds more than she did. This wasnt good. She glanced down the hall again, grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed 911. After giving the dispatcher the address of the building, she ran back to Brownlee. Already the smoke was so thick on the sixth floor that it was becoming difficult to breathe. Cat raced into the kitchen, grabbed a dish towel from the cabinet, doused it with water, then tied it around her face. The scent clinging to the towel was not enhanced by getting it wet, and sucking it up her nostrils came close to making her gag. Still, it was better to gag than burn.

Smoke was filling the apartment as Cat ran back to the living room and pulled Nelson into the hall. His head bumped hard as she dragged him over the threshold, but it couldnt be helped. Better a headache than dying.

Come on, Brownlee, wake up! Cat cried, but Brownlee wasnt talking.

Cursing beneath her breath, she got him as far as the landing, then bent over, and with what she would later consider a burst of adrenaline spurred by an overwhelming fear, pulled him up and over her shoulder in a firemans carry and started down the stairs, staggering slightly under the weight.