Blazing Rattles (A Harley and Davidson Mystery Book 10) Read online

  Blazing Rattles (Book 10)

  A Harley and Davidson Mystery

  Liliana Hart

  Louis Scott

  To our French Bulldog, Bacon - Your love of snacks and snuggles helped us write this book. But you’re going on a diet soon.

  Contents

  Other Books In Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Next Up: A Salt and Battery

  A Look Ahead

  You make a big difference

  Also by Liliana Hart

  Also by Louis Scott

  About Liliana Hart

  About Louis Scott

  Copyright © 2019 by Liliana Hart & Scott Silverii

  All rights reserved.

  Published by 7th Press

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The Harley and Davidson Mystery Series

  The Farmer’s Slaughter

  A Tisket a Casket

  I Saw Mommy Killing Santa Claus

  Get Your Murder Running

  Deceased and Desist

  Malice in Wonderland

  Tequila Mockingbird

  Gone With the Sin

  Chapter One

  Tuesday, February 14th

  Today was the day Hank Davidson’s life would change forever.

  He’d thought about it, worried about it, talked about it, considered it, and reconsidered it. Finally, he’d made the decision to propose to Agatha Harley. And he was almost sure he could do it without making a fool of himself.

  It had been almost three years since he’d moved to Rusty Gun, Texas. He’d spent his career as an FBI-trained serial-killer hunter, but his heart had no longer been in it, and he’d turned in his gun and badge for the lazy days of retirement.

  It had been Sheriff Reggie Coil, his long-time friend, who’d first invited Hank to Rusty Gun so he could disappear and get some much needed R&R. Never in a million years had the big city murder cop thought he’d become a permanent citizen of the sleepy, southern town. Much less fall in love there.

  Agatha was his perfect match. She’d once had dreams of solving high-profile criminal cases as a forensic anthropologist, but a stalker had changed the course of her life and sent her back to Rusty Gun. She’d persevered through more than he could imagine and still managed to become a successful author, writing about the very crimes she first dreamt of solving.

  Agatha enjoyed small town living and was content to spend her days reading, researching and writing about the career she no longer pursued. Hank had changed all of that when the two clashed while investigating their first cold case together.

  Their relationship was what some might call a slow simmer, but Hank was methodical in every aspect of his life. It’s what made him one of the best homicide detectives in the world. It was what also caused him to wait months to propose while he planned everything down to the most minute detail.

  To say he planned it without help would be a lie. Preparations for solving a crime were a lot different from preparations for romance. He wasn’t afraid to admit his skills in romance were…lacking. He didn’t understand why people couldn’t just make a decision to get married and do it, but in his experience, women tended to disapprove of the cut and dried technique. And more importantly, he wanted to make it special for Agatha.

  For that, he’d had to get Agatha’s best friend, Heather Cartwright, involved. He and Heather had never seen eye to eye on anything, and she was one of Hank’s least favorite people on the planet, but they both loved Agatha and had her best interests at heart.

  Heather’s favorite pastime was marriage and divorce, so she knew a thing or two about romantic proposals. She’d also accumulated a lot of wealth during her marriages, so she knew all the best places to stay and eat. Which is why Hank had booked adjoining suites at a luxury hotel on the Riverwalk in San Antonio, a private driver, and reservations for a seven course dinner for Valentine’s Day, where he’d eventually get down on one knee and pop the question. Just the thought had him breaking out in a sweat.

  Hank patted the ring box in his pocket that he’d been carrying around for several days. He was afraid to let it out of his sight. He’d driven to Austin and picked it out himself, finding a unique design that reminded him of Agatha—because she was definitely unique in every way.

  He knew his mind should be on the upcoming weekend getaway, but he couldn’t help but be distracted by the email he’d gotten from the FBI field office in Philadelphia—his old stomping ground. He needed to get his emotions under control before he saw Agatha. She was very intuitive, especially where he was concerned, and she’d know something was wrong.

  It was the only news that could have elicited this kind of response. His past had come back to haunt him. The only case he’d worked that had ever gone unsolved. The Copper Cove Boys had robbed banks all over the East coast. They were brilliant in their execution, like a military operation. Then they upped the stakes and added murder to their list of crimes.

  Hank wasn’t proud to say that politics and red tape had gotten in the way of bringing justice to the victims. The FBI wanted to make sure the headlines focused on the robberies and not the murders. It brought better press and looked sexier in print. And the FBI outplayed their hand, setting up a sting that never came to fruition because the Copper Cove Boys got wind of it, took the fortune they’d amassed, and went underground.

  “And now they’re back,” Hank whispered. And the FBI wanted him to help with the investigation.

  Even a year or so ago, he would have jumped at the chance to get back on board. His pride was at stake. It was the one case that got away from him, but his priorities had changed. There were other investigators who could lead the charge and bring the ruthless gang down. But not him. He was looking to the future. It was time to get engaged and start his life with Agatha.

  He’d been amazed how easily everyone had been able to deceive Agatha into taking the trip to San Antonio for the weekend. Coil’s recent suspension and reinstatement as sheriff had played into the scenario perfectly. Agatha hadn’t thought a thing of it when Coil said he’d book the trip as a thank you to both of them for stepping up to the plate and taking over while he’d been out, and also for exposing all the corruption that had been going on during the election.

  Agatha had been thrilled for the chance to get away, and hadn’t asked too many questions.

  “This is exciting,” she said, looking out the window as their plane landed. “We’re both in need of a break and this is going to be perfect. I’m going to eat my way through pounds of chips and salsa.”

  Hank chuckled. The gleam in her eyes was like that of a kid in a candy store. “And when you get too full, I’ll roll you back to the hotel so you can fall into a carb coma.”

  “That’s one of the many reasons I love you,” she said, squeezing his hand.

  Hank let out a breath when he saw the driver waiting for them at the airport. Everything was going according to plan. He owed Heather big time. Check-in went smoothly, and the concierge gave him a thumbs up out of Agatha’s view. Hank hoped that meant the champagne and chocolate covered strawberries were waiting in their room.

  Hank h
ad lived life on a policeman’s budget, so he’d never stayed in a hotel like this one before. It was built like a fort, complete with stone battlements and cannons in the parapets. The décor was lush and expensive and old, and he saw from the placard on the wall that it had, in fact, been a real fort during the Mexican-American War.

  The man who’d checked them in was guiding them to their suite in the top tower. The suite had two bedrooms and two baths, but was connected by a common living area. The temptation had been enormous, but they’d both been careful to keep separate living quarters, at home and when they traveled. He really hoped they had a short engagement.

  “Wow,” Agatha said, when their guide opened the door and let them in. “Gorgeous.”

  Hank barely noticed the open space or the balcony that looked out over the Riverwalk. The champagne and strawberries were laid out next to a bouquet of flowers, just as planned, but his throat was closing up and he started to feel the panic of what was to come.

  “You okay?” she asked, putting a hand on his arm.

  “Yeah, I’m just warm,” he said, and tipped the hotel employee before shutting the door behind him.

  “Is that a hot tub in the corner?” Agatha asked.

  Hank chuckled uncomfortably, but it came out more as a croak.

  “Everything is beautiful,” she said, smelling the bouquet of yellow roses.

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  The smile that spread across her face was worth every worry and all the hours of time spent planning for the weekend.

  “I love it,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears.

  It was then he realized how little time he spent trying to romance Agatha. He took her no-nonsense attitude and drive to get the job done for granted. She still had these hidden soft spots, and it was important for him to remember that.

  She threw herself into his arms and kissed him, surprising him with her enthusiasm. By the time she let go, they were both out of breath.

  “Wow,” she said again, blushing this time. “This really is special. I’m so glad you attacked me on your lawn the first day we met.”

  He barked out a laugh in surprise. “You tripped over the sprinkler.”

  “Yes, after you blasted me with a garden hose.”

  “You were trespassing.”

  “There’s no such thing in a small town,” she said. “I was just being neighborly.”

  “Nosy,” he corrected. “Champagne?”

  “Of course,” she said.

  He poured her a glass and made her a plate with the strawberries. “We have dinner reservations in a couple of hours. I suggest you take these, put some bubbles in the tub, and soak until you’re pruny. I’ll meet you back out here at eighteen-thirty.”

  Hank tried to nap, but he was too wired, so he turned on the TV. When that didn’t hold his attention he went ahead and showered and dressed in his dark gray suit and a pale purple shirt and tie the woman at the store helped him pick out.

  He’d left his champagne untouched, wanting a clear head, and he was pacing back and forth in their common area when he heard her door open. He turned to face her and the spit dried up in his mouth and his lungs stopped working.

  She wore a dress the color of crushed strawberries, and it skimmed her long, lean body in a way that made him want to keep her all to himself and not let any other man set eyes on her. The strappy black shoes had her standing slightly taller than him, but he didn’t mind. Agatha was simply a natural beauty, with eyes that changed between blue and green, dark lashes, and dark hair she’d been letting grow and let hang in loose curls around her shoulders. Hank loved that she was comfortable with who she was, and her confidence drew every eye to her when she was in a crowd.

  “Wow,” Hank stumbled over what to say.

  Her smile lit the room. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Their driver took them to the historic district to what looked like a renovated old hacienda turned restaurant. It was simple and elegant, and there were several well-dressed couples being let out at the front doors for the special Valentine’s dinner.

  Despite the number of couples, the tables weren’t crammed in so they were all sitting on top of each other. They were led to a corner table near the fireplace that was secluded and romantic.

  “I’m impressed,” Agatha said. “You’ve pulled out all the stops.”

  Hank just smiled, reminding himself to thank Heather again. He was even able to sit with his back to the wall so he could observe the entire room. Police habits never died.

  Wine would be served with each course, and they got lost in conversation like they normally did. But the proposal was all he could think about. When should he do it? After the appetizer? During dessert?

  He didn’t think he could wait, so he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and grabbed the ring box. He shifted his weight to slide from the chair smoothly onto one knee, and he sucked in a deep breath just before the restaurant erupted in applause.

  Across the room was another man who’d just stolen Hank’s thunder and proposed to the shocked woman sitting across from him. Hank tightened his fist in frustration and let go of the ring box so it stayed in his pocket. He’d wait until the next course.

  He’d felt more relaxed after the appetizer and first wine course, so he cleared his throat and decided to try again. He reached for the box just as the restaurant erupted in applause yet again. He growled aloud this time, causing Agatha to look at him with concern.

  It happened again after the salad course. And again after the main course. Dessert was going to be his turn, come hell or high water, and he looked around the restaurant ferociously daring anyone to contradict him.

  “Agatha,” Hank said, stopping their conversation abruptly.

  He grasped the ring box and scooted his chair back so it scraped across the wooden floor. And he moved to get down on one knee just as there was a collective gasp through the restaurant. He scanned the restaurant, looking for his nemesis, and his gaze locked on his target. The man and his new fiancée looked like they’d already had too much to drink.

  “Hank, are you all right?” Agatha asked, her attention caught between him and the happy couple.

  He was so focused on his plans being interrupted that it barely registered when his enemy shook the champagne bottle before he tried to open it. Hank saw the sommelier rush toward the man, trying to head him off before he drenched everyone around him in champagne. But it was too late.

  Hank heard the resounding pop of the cork that seemed more like a gunshot in the closed-in space, and then he felt nothing but pain as the cork found its target right in the center of his forehead. He slid from his chair, the world spinning, and then there was nothing but black.

  Chapter Two

  “Hank? You okay, partner?”

  Hank heard the voice, but it sounded muffled, as if he were underwater. It wasn’t Agatha’s voice. Maybe a waiter or an EMT? But how did they know his name? That champagne cork must’ve knocked him out cold.

  “Hank, you need me to get Doc Sutherland?” the voice asked.

  “Doc Sutherland?” Hank answered, his voice hoarse. “Who’s that? Just a champagne cork. I’ll be fine.”

  “Champagne cork?” the man asked, confused. “You got kicked in the head by old Bessie. You know she’s mean as the devil.”

  Hank rubbed his forehead, and felt the knot the size of a golf ball. His head was pounding, and his vision blurry.

  “Bessie?” Hank asked, confused.

  “How many fingers I got up?” asked the man.

  It hurt to look at anything, so Hank closed his eyes and focused on breathing. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “It’s worse than we thought,” said a different man. “He don’t even know who we are.”

  Hank tried to open his eyes again, and realized only the right one would open. The left was swollen shut. And why was the sun glaring in his good eye? It was nighttime.

&n
bsp; “Hey, Springer. How about you go get the doc? Looks like Hank is the one who got hammered this time.”

  “You got it,” Springer said.

  “James?” Hank asked, recognizing the voice.

  “Hey, you remember me,” James said. “That’s good.”

  “What are you doing here? Where’s Aggie?”

  Hank felt hands on his shoulders, trying to lift him to a sitting position, and he thought he might be sick to his stomach.

  “I work here,” James said.

  “At the restaurant?” Hank asked, confused.

  “Restaurant?” James chuckled. “What’s a restaurant? This is the livery stable.”

  “Stable?” Hank scowled. “Like a barn? With horses?”

  “That’s right.”

  “So that’s what I smell,” Hank said, gagging. “I thought it was the French cheese.”

  “Only thing French in this town is Marie Cavelier, and I don’t think that’s cheese she’s selling in those upstairs rooms. What you’re smellin’ is good old-fashioned horse manure. Got your hand right in it.”

  Hank moved his hand as far away from his nose as he could, determined not to look at the offending limb.

  “Where’s Aggie?” Hank asked.

  James pursed his lips. “You mean Miss Harley?”

  Hank nodded.

  “She’s over at the newspaper office,” James said. “Why?”

  “I need to call her. Where’s my cell?”

  “Bessie must have knocked something loose. Why would you have a cell with you? The cells are over at the jail.”

  “Phone,” Hank correcting, his head pounding even more. “Give me my phone so I can call her.”