Southern Comfort - Fern Michaels [74]
More loud knocking, Pete went to the door and yanked it open. “What can I do for you?” he asked.
“You can tell those two . . . brownnosers that their superior wants to have a word with them. Now, as in pronto,” Lawrence Tyler demanded.
When Kate heard the familiar voice, she catapulted to the door like her feet had springs mounted on them. She practically shoved Pete aside. “What the hell do you mean coming here? You’re way out of line, Lawrence,” Kate fumed. How dare this self-righteous jerk question my whereabouts!
“Apparently you’ve forgotten who’s in charge, Miss Rush. If you and your colleague will step outside, I’ll make this as painless as possible. I also want to speak to the cop when I’m finished with you two. Alone.”
Kate doubled her hand in a fist as she prepared to knock the smug look off her former superior’s face. Sandy reached her just in time. “He’s not worth it, Kate,” she advised.
“Maybe not to you, but it sure as hell is to me. What’s your business, Larry? Did big Daddy-o send you on a mission, or is this another of your fishing expeditions? By the way, next time you take that piece-of-crap boat out fishing, get some bait and a better book. Maybe one of Mr. Kelly’s novels would be more entertaining.”
Tick and Pete had told them about seeing a man in a boat spying on them. Kate had been right to send Sandy somersaulting on the beach. Blood rushed to her head as she stared at her former superior. She forced herself to step back and take a deep breath to gain control over the almost overpowering desire to strike out at him. Sandy was right. This idiot wasn’t worth busting her knuckles over. But if he pushed again, next time she wouldn’t stop to think before slugging him right upside his pretty-boy head.
“You’re asking for complete and total dismissal, Miss Rush.”
Kate stepped outside onto the small front porch, not bothering to close the door behind her. Let them all hear what a coward her former superior was.
Shoving her finger in Tyler’s face, she said, “Look, Lawrence, we both know you’ve got no business here. Sandy and I are no longer employees of the DEA, as you know full well. So what makes you think you have any business confronting us and claiming to be our superior in an organization to which we do not belong? If you want to ask us anything, I suggest you get a warrant that entitles you to ask questions. Perhaps you would like to explain to a judge why you think we are material witnesses to some crime you are investigating. Or would you prefer to get an arrest warrant for some crime we have presumably committed?
“And if you came here to rub the fact that we are no longer with the DEA in our faces, you shouldn’t have wasted your time. We no longer have the slightest desire to associate with a bunch of . . . cowards and bullies. Which, judging from your high status in the DEA, it seems reasonable to guess members of that formerly elite organization have come to. If you’re smart—whoops, scratch that—we all know that’s not possible.
“So, before I decide to kick your ass a second time, Mr. Special Agent Tyler, I suggest you stick that pretty little head of yours between your legs and run for cover. You’ve done that for most of your career, so it should be very easy for you to do it now.” Kate inched so close to Tyler’s face, their noses almost touched. “You gettin’ this, Lawrence?”
Tyler had the good sense to step back from Kate’s intense glare and balled-up fists. In so doing, he lost his footing, which caused him to fall backward. Before he fell to the sandy area below, he managed to grab onto the porch railing. If Kate hadn’t been so angry, she would’ve doubled over in a fit of laughter. From the sounds coming from the kitchen, neither Tick nor Pete felt any urge to restrain himself. Kate smiled.
Tyler brushed imaginary dirt from his shorts. “You’re going to regret those words, Miss Rush. I need to speak to the cop. If he’s smart, he’ll give me the answers I’m looking for.” Tyler stared back at Kate. For a split second, she thought he looked as though