Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [12]
“Agent Rush! Stop right this minute!” Kate thought he sounded like a squealing wild pig caught in a rainstorm. She kept on going but did call over her shoulder, “Don’t call me that again. I just quit. What part of that don’t you understand?”
“You can’t quit! I need you! The DEA needs you! You’re an ace in this type of case. Look, I understand you’re ticked off about yesterday, but these things happen. I said I’m willing to overlook the PMSING you’re going through. Now stop, and let’s talk this through.”
Kate’s eyes narrowed. She stopped in her tracks, dropped her go-bag, and got in Tyler’s face. “Listen to me, you bastard. I despise you. For ten long years you’ve made my life miserable just so you could make yourself look good. I’m sick and tired of watching you take credit for other dedicated agents’ work, my own included. I’d also like to know where you get all your money. That’s a Hugo Boss suit you’re wearing. I know how much a suit like that costs. You drive a Porsche. You have fancy digs. Where does the money come from, Lawrence? Daddy? The only reason you’re still at the DEA is that your daddy is the governor of this state.” She’d worked herself into such a rage she drew back her balled fist and coldcocked him square on the nose with all the force she could muster. “That’s to remember Sandra Martin by, you son of a bitch!” Then her foot snaked out and found his groin. “That’s for stealing Levinson’s hard work and taking credit for it.” She whirled around and kicked again, this time the blow landing deep in his side. He’d be peeing green for a week after a hit like that. “That was for Jacobson and how you put the screws to him.” Then her fist shot out and landed in the middle of his throat. “That’s for me and every other agent you screwed over. No witnesses, Lawrence. Now, if you’d been smart and had this meeting in some hotel or public place, you could sue me for assault and battery or have me brought up on charges.”
“You bitch!” Tyler croaked, as he tried to staunch the flow of blood spewing all over his expensive suit.
“Goddamned bastard!” Kate said as she slogged through the sand to the road. She didn’t look back.
Chapter 3
Kate strode through the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport as though she were on a mission. In a way, she was, to get home to her condo so she could shower and get some sleep. Now that she was unemployed, she had all the time in the world to do nothing but eat, plot Tyler’s death, sleep, plot Tyler’s death, dream, plot Tyler’s death.
She felt grimy, angry, and tired. The smart thing would have been to stay in Miami, clean up, and get some sleep, but it didn’t seem like an option at the time. If she had stayed, Tyler might have found her and done God only knows what. She’d opted to catch the next flight out of Miami and managed to get on board by the skin of her teeth by going standby.
Now all she had to do was pick up her bag, find her car, which she’d left in the long-term lot, and head for home. While she waited for her bag to come up on the carousel, she pulled out her cell phone and turned it on the way every other traveler was doing. She blinked when she saw the readout telling her she had twenty-seven messages. She knew they were all from Lawrence Tyler, so she snapped the phone shut and shoved it in her pocket. She felt giddy at the thought that she would never have to see or hear from him again.
Kate saw her olive green bag with the yellow ribbon on the handle. She reached down to grab hold of it, but a football type picked it up like it was a box of crackers and plopped it down in front of her. She smiled her thanks and headed for the nearest exit.
An hour later, she parked her car in the underground garage of her condo building. She took the elevator to the eighth floor and got out. The hallway smelled clean and fresh. Mrs. McDermott must have used her magic powder and vacuumed. Miss