Hit and Run (Moreno & Hart Mysteries) Read online

  Table of Contents

  HIT Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  RUN Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Book Lists and Bios Laura Griffin's Book List:

  About LAURA GRIFFIN:

  Allison Brennan’s Book List

  About Allison Brennan

  Praise for the Moreno & Hart series:

  "Two gripping stories told by a pair of amazing talents merge into one fantastic book ... Impossible to put down." — Suspense Magazine

  “If you enjoy strong women, fascinating men, and mysterious cases – then you don’t want to miss CRASH AND BURN.” — Heroes & Heartbreakers

  “Be prepared to take a RIDE and you might want to hold on tight!” — A Tasty Read

  “A fun, quick, exciting read that will keep you up late turning pages.” — RT Book Review

  HIT AND RUN

  By Allison Brennan and Laura Griffin

  Copyright © 2014 Allison Brennan and Laura Griffin

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission except for the use of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover design by The Killion Group

  Interior formatting by Amy Eye, The Eyes for Editing

  ISBN-10: 0-9897237-1-2

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9897237-1-8

  HIT

  By Allison Brennan

  Prologue

  Three Years Ago

  Scarlet Moreno thought she was dead.

  The pain was so intense she figured she’d bypassed purgatory and gone directly to hell. She was being raked over the coals, pulled by the rack, whatever inventive torture chamber the devil himself could devise.

  She spent a minute or three or ten thinking about what she’d done to land her in the eternal fire. Was it when she lied to her dad about staying at Mandy’s house when she really went to an all-night party on the beach? Or was it when she’d told her mother she hated her when she was eight ... then again at sixteen ... then again at twenty-four? Or maybe it was because she was judgmental and held grudges longer than most people. Like, forever.

  It wasn’t until she heard the sounds of the hospital that she considered that she might have been saved. That she wasn’t in Hell, at least not the eternal kind of hot spot. And then bits and pieces of the last few hours ... days? ... returned. Waking up in the ambulance, seeing Krista’s face. Worried. She was covered in blood. Scarlet asked her if she was okay, but the oxygen mask prevented her from being heard. Then waking up a couple of times to the lights and sounds of the hospital. But there had been no pain. She’d been floating. Seeing faces, familiar and strangers. A lot of badges. And the voices.

  Krista. “We got a call from Detective Stone ...”

  John. “Tell me the truth, Doc. She’s my sister.”

  Her dad. “Fight, Scarlet. Dammit, girl, fight.”

  Her dad had sounded scared, and her dad—retired LAPD Lieutenant Andy Moreno—did not scare.

  She might have moaned. Her eyes opened, then she closed them because the room was so damn bright. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was totally dry.

  “Scarlet.”

  John.

  “Hey.” She didn’t know if she spoke out loud, but her brother took her hand.

  “Thank God.”

  Slowly she opened her eyes. The room wasn’t as bright as she’d thought. It was a private room, full of machines. How’d she rate a private room? Cop shot in the line of duty? Hospital PR? She hadn’t lost her cynicism. Good.

  “Water.”

  John tipped a cup to her lips. She drank. She wanted more, but he wouldn’t give her more.

  “Slowly,” he said.

  “I’m alive.”

  “God, Scarlet, I thought I’d lost you.”

  “You always wanted to be an only child,” she squeaked.

  “Never.”

  “I was joking.” She swallowed. “More water. Please.”

  Other than the pain and a sick feeling in her stomach, the water helped her think clearly. Well, at least clearer.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “You were shot three times.”

  “I remember that part.” It had been an ambush. She knew in her gut that she was supposed to be dead. That someone wanted her to die. But for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine who. “Officer Hart. Krista.”

  “She saved your life.”

  “She’s okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “I saw blood on her.”

  “That was your blood.”

  Krista had stayed with her, called in the attack, kept her cool in a totally uncool situation. Scarlet remembered losing consciousness.

  “Don’t die,” Krista had told her. “Don’t die now.”

  “I’m not dead,” Scarlet had said, and that was all she remembered.

  “Where is she?”

  “I told her to go home and shower. She’s been here twenty-four seven for three days.”

  Scarlet tried to sit up but couldn’t. “I’ve been out for three days?”

  “Two surgeries. Heart failure. Yeah, you’ve been wrung through the wringer. I need to call Dad.”

  “Wait.” She gripped his wrist. Or, rather, tried. She was too weak. “Someone set me up. Someone tried to kill me.”

  He didn’t say anything. But he didn’t look at her, either.

  “John?”

  “Krista said Gabe had called you and asked you to check out the warehouse.”

  “Right. That’s what happened.”

  “Gabe didn’t call you.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Of course he did.”

  “He said he didn’t. There’s no record of the call. Internal Affairs is all over this.”

  Scarlet closed her eyes. Had it been Gabe who called her? It had been brief. Over the radio.

  “Scar,” he said, using the nickname only he used for her, “can you check out an address for me?”

  “Sure, where?”

  “A warehouse. I just want to know what’s going on. A favor for a friend of mine in Vice.”

  She’d written down the address and said she’d call him later.

  “I talked to him.”

  “He swears he didn’t call.” John’s words began to sink in.

  “Scarlet,” John continued, “Gabe’s been here almost as much as Krista. Waiting for you to wake up.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “There’s talk that you didn’t follow protocol.”

  She didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. She’d done a favor for Gabe. Or so she’d thought. Not following protocol, but something that cops did all the time for their partners and friends. Just a little detour.

  “Scarlet? You nearly died. You nearly got your trainee killed. What we
re you doing at that warehouse?”

  Gabe called me.

  Or someone who pretended to be Detective Gabe Stone.

  Chapter One

  Scarlet Moreno was already driving when she tried Krista’s cell for the third time. Again, it went to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message. The first two “call me back now,” were clearly urgent.

  “Dammit, Hart, where are you?”

  Two hours ago, Krista had left the office saying she was going home to work on tiling her bathroom, a project that seemed to be taking three times longer than it should. But Scarlet didn’t say anything because she wouldn’t even attempt a home improvement chore. That would, of course, presuppose that she had a home to improve. She had no inclination to dump money into her apartment over Diego’s bar.

  Scarlet considered going without back-up, but Krista lived in Huntington Beach, which was on the way to the rendezvous point outside Long Beach. She couldn’t imagine that LAPD cop Jason Jones had an ulterior motive in asking her to meet, but he’d certainly sounded scared.

  “There’s no one else I can trust, Scarlet. We need to talk. Tonight.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Someone tried to kill me. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Just promise me you’ll come.”

  Of course she’d promised.

  Jason’s family had lived down the street from the Moreno’s. Jason and her brother, John, had been close friends—the same age, the same interests—and had even gone through the Police Academy together. While John had moved up in the ranks and now was a detective in Special Operations, Jason liked being a uniformed officer. He was good at it. He volunteered at a local youth center and talked to young kids about the dangers of gangs and drugs. Twelve years on the beat hadn’t destroyed his optimism.

  Yet, something had freaked him out and he’d turned to her, not John. Why? Because John was a cop and she was a private investigator? Why would Jason need a PI? It made no sense. But Jason had sounded scared and he’d told her not to tell anyone, not even John, so she didn’t.

  If Krista wasn’t home, Scarlet would do this alone. But her gut told her she needed back-up, and there was no one she trusted more than her partner.

  Scarlet stopped her Jeep in front of Krista’s house because someone else was parked in her driveway. An all-too-familiar black Porsche 911.

  Well, shit. The slime ball was here.

  Scarlet debated with herself for about two seconds before getting out of her Jeep and striding up the front walk of the money pit Krista had inherited from her grandmother. She rang the bell—several times—then started knocking.

  Krista opened the door, both anger and worry on her face. “Scarlet?”

  Krista wore a little black dress. By little, Scarlet meant short. Sexy. Hot. If Scarlet were gay, she’d be all over the blonde.

  “Change into something that can conceal your Ruger. I need back-up.”

  R.J., the scumbag investigator with the hot turbo Porsche, stepped into view. He knew she didn’t like him and she knew he didn’t like her.

  Krista almost blushed. Almost meaning she glanced down, then at R.J., then back at Scarlet.

  “I tried calling first,” Scarlet mumbled. “I wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t important.”

  “Give me five minutes,” Krista said.

  Scarlet stepped in and closed the door behind her as Krista ran down the hall to her bedroom.

  Spencer, the chatty macaw that Krista had inherited from her grandmother along with the house, made noise in his cage.

  “Give us a kiss! Give us a kiss!”

  Scarlet ignored the bird and glared at R.J. He stared right back at her. Yeah, she could see why Krista had the hots for Drake Walker’s lead investigator. He was tall, dark and handsome with biceps to die for.

  But he worked for Drake Walker, the defense attorney whose image was used in Webster’s Dictionary as the definition of slimy lawyer. Walker certainly couldn’t be trusted, which, de facto, meant R.J. couldn’t be trusted. And Krista deserved someone who didn’t lie, manipulate, or cheat. Scarlet had been trying to set Krista up with her brother for three years, but Krista wouldn’t have it. What could possibly be better than having her best friend as her sister-in-law?

  It took Krista five minutes to return and neither R.J. nor Scarlet spoke. She’d put her hair back and had a baseball cap in the back pocket of her jeans. “Rain check?” she said to R.J.

  “I’m counting on it,” R.J. said.

  The three of them walked out and Krista locked the door. Scarlet waited until R.J. drove off before she said, “Shit, Krista.”

  “One date. Nothing more.”

  “All it takes is one date.”

  “Nope. Not having this conversation with you.” She put her hands on her ears to emphasize her point. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  “Put your keys away. I’ll drive.” Scarlet waited until they were on the road before she said, “Do you remember Jason Jones?”

  “Jones?” It took Krista a second, then she nodded. “Street cop from the Valley. Isn’t he friends with John?”

  “That’s the one. He and his sister grew up down the street from us and the four of us used to hang out together all the time. He called me an hour ago and wants to meet. Made me promise not to call John. He thinks someone is trying to kill him.”

  “If he’s calling you, he thinks the threat is in-house.”

  “That’s my guess.”

  They both knew what that meant. Three years ago, when Scarlet had been a detective and Krista a rookie cop, they’d nearly died in an ambush neither had been expecting. No one had been apprehended, and Scarlet was certain that someone in-house had set them up. If it weren’t for Krista, Scarlet would be dead.

  “Why didn’t he call John?”

  “I don’t know.” Which bothered Scarlet. Her brother and Jason had been friends since they were kids. Jason was one of the cops who regularly came over to her dad’s house for barbeques. Ever since Captain Moreno retired, his house had been the hang-out spot for cops in the Valley division. Scarlet rarely went anymore. She hadn’t made any secret of her belief that a cop had set up the ambush and that certainly hadn’t ingratiated herself with her former friends and colleagues. Even her dad had told her to stand down.

  “LAPD has its problems, Scarlet. I won’t lie to you. But I worry about you if you pursue this. Let it die down. You’re a damn good cop.”

  She couldn’t let it go. So she quit. The hardest decision she’d ever had to make. Harder even than breaking it off with her fiancé.

  “Scarlet, you’re not thinking this is related to the ambush.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “That was three years ago,” Krista continued.

  “And whoever set us up is still out there.”

  “You told me you’d put it behind you.”

  “No—I said that I wouldn’t let it consume me.”

  “Splitting hairs.”

  “I haven’t let it interfere with my work.”

  “I know, but—”

  “No buts. I’m fine. And Jason’s situation might not be related to his job at all.” Though as she said it she knew neither of them believed it. If he wasn’t scared of another cop, he’d have no need to call Scarlet.

  “What’s the plan?” Krista asked.

  “He said he can’t go home. He’s holed up in his sister’s house in Long Beach—I know where it is. I’m going in alone—”

  “How do you know this isn’t a set-up?”

  “I don’t. But why? I’m not a cop anymore. He contacted me. And you didn’t hear how he sounded. He’s freaked, and street cops like Jason don’t get scared unless they have good reason. I need you outside, hidden, watching the house. Alert me if you see anything suspicious. I’m going to listen to him, hopefully figure out what’s going on, and take him to a safe place.”

  “Where?”

  “Diego has a little rental house in Topanga Canyon,” s
he said. Diego owned the bar over which Scarlet lived. “The last residents got popped for cooking meth, and Diego needs to get the property cleared by Cal-EPA or county health or some other bureaucratic agency before he can rent it again. It’s going to cost, and Diego is cheap.”

  “He’s still paying a mortgage on the house.” Krista, ever practical.

  “Probably not much. He’s had the place for years.” Scarlet paused. “After I was shot, I lived there for a few months, licking my wounds.”

  “I thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.”

  Three years ago Scarlet wished she had just disappeared. But Krista had saved her life twice—first aid during the gun battle that had trapped them, and then by bringing her into the PI business. Scarlet still missed being a cop, but she didn’t want to go back. Being a PI was no walk in the park, but she had the flexibility she’d never had in LAPD. And she could quietly look into the ambush without making waves.

  “It’s a good place for Jason to keep a low profile if he needs it,” Scarlet said.

  “Where do you want me?”

  “Drop me two blocks away, then search for a good vantage point. It’s a quiet neighborhood, but lots of people park on the street. Grab the radios from my backpack.”

  Krista turned around in her seat and pulled out two radios. She clipped one to her belt and handed the other to Scarlet.

  “I’m hoping this will be easy,” Scarlet said. “Jason will tell me what’s going on. If he needs a place to lay low, I’ll send him to Topanga or take him there myself.” She glanced at Krista. “We might be done in time to salvage your date with tall, dark and slimy.”

  Krista glared at her. “What about ‘off-limits’ don’t you understand?”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “I’m a big girl, Scarlet. My eyes are wide open. It’s just one date. It means nothing.”

  “Really?”