Page 44

Chapter 43

Fun with Detective Dipshit

Big Al

A fter adjusting my earpiece, I test my connection. “Jonesy, you still got your ears on?”

“I read you, old man.”

“How’s the nest?”

“I had a nice view of the sunrise, but it’s hot as balls up here.”

I wipe my brow with the back of my hand. “It’s not much better down here. Fucking January in Florida, and it’s like being in a sauna at 0800.”

“Global warming’s gonna kill us all,” he jokes.

“Only if Lenkov doesn’t do it first.”

Mia’s voice sails through the comms. “Boss, the peanut gallery doesn’t find your joke amusing. Might want to dial back the dark humor.”

I chuckle to myself as I retrieve my binoculars from my pants. “Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t realize this was a show. Which fuckface wants a refund for their tickets?”

As far as I know, it’s only Tomer and Klein in the lair with her. Everyone else who would be inclined to watch the op is in Miami.

Then again, it could be Lettie.

Wait. Did I accidentally call my daughter a fuckface? “Mia, who’s watching with you? Is Lettie in there?”

“Yeah, she is. But, uh... some newcomers arrived about two minutes ago.”

“Who?”

Her sigh crackles the line. “Maddie and Sue are also watching with us. Sammy will be in and out as well, depending on how the babies do with Val. We’ve got a full house.”

“Tell them I said hello,” I sputter awkwardly, tamping down my urge to rage at whoever let them leave Sawyer’s house.

Although... I didn’t give orders to hold them forcibly. Even in a situation as dire as this, I wouldn’t want them held against their will. And they’re safe at Redleg.

But fuck .

Maddie’s gonna be furious at me.

More importantly, her worry over my safety will be far worse than it needs to be. Which is why I didn’t tell her.

She’s spent her entire life scared. Even when I try to spare her, I can’t seem to do it.

However, her location change does present us with a silver lining.

“Mia, if the ladies are at HQ, does that mean Henderson, Josh, and Aaron are available?”

“Affirmative. They’re gearing up,” she responds. “Tell me where you want them.”

“Send them to my location. The sooner, the better. They can enter the same way we did.”

“Wilco,” Mia responds.

I continue scanning the horizon. “We’ve got movement at the east gantry.”

“I have visual,” Jonesy says, his voice steady. “Looks like a group of crane operators. NSTR.”

“Copy that.” I roll out my shoulders and wipe my brow again. “Mia, have we picked up any chatter yet?”

“Negative, Big Al. Nothing raising any alarms. Not on the cameras either.”

Using drones last night, we dropped a network of hidden listening devices around the wharf. There’s a designated group at HQ listening for keywords and helping the intel team monitor the surveillance camera feeds from both Tampa and Miami. They can see everything.

“No news is good news, right?” I mutter, shifting my weight and twisting my waist to stretch my lower back. I’m not used to having all this fucking gear on. Forgot how heavy it is.

The morning has been uneventful. No doubt, it’s the calm before the storm.

We’re getting closer to prime time as the shipyard comes alive. Dockworkers and longshoremen have arrived to start their daily grind. Trucks are lining up in the staging area, waiting to be loaded or unloaded. Forklifts are moving into place.

I’m nestled between a long row of shipping containers, watching the gated entrance and service area on one side and the container terminal on the other. Jonesy’s overwatch position is on the roof of a cabin, perched on a three-hundred-foot-tall ship-to-shore crane. He selected a spot that provides him a view of the shipping berths we suspect Lenkov might use.

Better him than me. No fucking way you’d ever catch me up on one of those things.

The first of the berths we’re watching has had a ship in port since yesterday. It’s partially loaded, but we don’t see anyone on board at this hour. According to our intel, loading should recommence any minute now, which explains why we’re seeing some movement at the dock.

The second berth is still empty but should be filled within the hour when the next ship arrives. No sign of personnel there yet.

I’ve got my eye out for the dockmaster. He’s on Lenkov’s payroll and will no doubt be involved.

Mia cracks her mic. “Team, be advised the Miami team is seeing action. They’re returning fire.”

My pulse spikes, and I lengthen my spine. “Roger that.”

As tempted as I am to ask to be plugged into the comm link for the Miami op, it’s too risky. I’d be distracted.

However, waiting with my dick in my hand while my team is taking fire is abrading my insides.

My gaze catches on a drone flying overhead.

Jonesy hails me at the same time. “Boss, you seeing this drone?”

“Copy. HQ, we have visual of a drone, traveling to the east, approximately?—”

“I see it,” Mia interjects. “Stand by.”

After a long pause, she returns to the comms. “Port authority says it’s one of theirs, doing routine sweeps.”

“Get it the fuck out of here. If we can see it, so can Lenkov’s people. They might think it’s ours.”

“Already told them, Boss.”

Approximately forty-five seconds later, the drone bugs out. About fucking time.

Bigsby set us up with a port security contact he trusted, which helped us get in place. While much appreciated, I don’t need them to compromise the mission because they’re trying to help while lacking the skills.

Unable to bite my tongue, I ask, “How is the other team doing?”

“No casualties or injuries on our side. Gunfire has ceased.” There’s a hint of excitement in Mia’s tone. “They hit the mother load, Boss. A fuck ton of drugs and guns. So far, two large shipping containers loaded with cocaine and heroin. They didn’t even bother to try to conceal it in other products. Must have thought no one would pop open a single boxcar.”

“Hell yes,” Jonesy booms. “Let’s fucking go.”

While continuing to survey the gate and terminal, I ask, “That’s good. How were they moving the guns?”

“Looks like they were using a fleet of hollowed-out vehicles stuffed with weapons and ammunitions.”

“That was going on the auto carrier, wasn’t it?”

“That’s a big ten-four, Boss.”

“Fuck yes.” I pump my fist. “Anything else?”

“Went down like clockwork. Salgado already called all the appropriate LEOs to arrest the smugglers we’ve detained. Our team is working with the port authority to check the containers that were already moved onto the ship with the drugs.”

“Excellent work,” I rasp, my raucous emotions overpowering my speaking ability.

“Stay vigilant out there,” Mia warns before going silent once more.

I rest my back against the hard metal shipping container, taking a moment to relish the victory.

Fuck, that feels good.

After three seconds pass, I slip back into action mode, reattaching my game face.

Fifteen minutes later, there’s no change here. Periodically, Mia provides updates on activities in Miami. Looks like they haven’t seen Lenkov yet, but two of his brigadiers were disarmed and detained in the melee. Getting such high-level bratva officers is a huge fucking win and will help ensure that no one else takes over for Lenkov when we take him down.

And we fucking will.

Jonesy’s voice rustles through my earpiece. “Boss, you’ve got incoming. Vehicle on your five-o’clock position, coming in hot.”

I swing around, my weapon extended. “Copy.”

An unmarked Chevy Impala screeches to a stop between a forklift and a row of containers about thirty feet away. I recognize the vehicle immediately.

Patterson places one foot on the ground and sticks his head up through the cracked driver’s side door. “We need to move. Come with me.”

I check over both shoulders, crouch low, and approach him briskly. Before I leave my post, I need to know why, so I pause a few feet shy of his vehicle. I stay hidden between the shipping containers so I’m not sticking out like a sore thumb. Like him. Dumbass.

“What is it?”

“It’s Lenkov. In the flesh. He just boarded a private yacht in a nearby marina. Guess he heard about the busts in Miami and is fleeing. Or maybe this was his plan all along. I called in SWAT to meet us there. We need to hurry. Talk on the way.”

“Jonesy, come down. We need to roll out.”

Patterson holds his palm out, his head shaking vehemently. “All due respect, but I suggest he stay here to keep an eye on the port.”

“Why?”

“Aside from not having time to wait for him to climb down, our intel came from Katia. She finally got a message to her father. While the chief believes her, I’m less confident. What if she’s intentionally pulling us away?”

I forcefully exhale while rushing my decision.

“Lancaster, I don’t have time to wait for you to decide. Katia was only able to contact her father once she was already on the yacht. She said they’re loading some of his inventory and personal belongings. Once that’s on board, they’re gone. Katia and her baby are in danger, assuming she’s still on our side. If you aren’t coming, I’m leaving without you.”

He taps the side of the car door and lowers back behind the wheel.

Fuck .

“I’m coming.” I dash around the car while barking out an order. “Jonesy, stay in position and continue monitoring for Lenkov’s people.”

“Wilco. Be careful,” he responds.

Mia adds, “Boss, your three-person backup team is en route. Should I redirect them to tail you or proceed to Jonesy’s twenty?”

Trusting my gut, I make an instantaneous decision. “On me.” Then I duck into the passenger seat.

As I close the door, Patterson floors it. The tires squeal and kick up dust. My spine slams into the seat from the force.

I hate leaving Jonesy alone. But he’s safe in a nest.

Lenkov must have a contingent of guards with him, and we’ll beat SWAT to the marina, given we’re already so close and the amount of time it takes to mobilize a tactical team.

As we barrel down the road, I grow more confident in my decision. It’s more likely that I’ll need the backup. However, I still don’t like leaving Jonesy behind.

Patterson whips us around a sharp corner, then accelerates down an access road.

I place my hand on the dashboard to brace myself as we jostle around like the fucking Duke boys outrunning Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane. “What are we walking into, Patterson?”

“Other than what I told you already, all I know is he’s in slip eight. We can expect a big-ass yacht, and he’ll probably have tons of goons with him. No clue where he’ll have stashed Katia and the baby. Obviously, getting them out safely is a priority. In addition to arresting Lenkov before he can flee.”

“That’s all the intel you have?”

“That’s it.”

“I don’t fucking like this one damn bit,” I mutter to myself.

In my ear, Mia informs me she’s accessing camera footage at the marina.

“Copy,” I respond.

“Huh?” Patterson asks, jerking his face toward me.

“Watch out!” I yell, pointing at the red light he’s sailing through.

A work van blares his horn at us as we drive past him.

“Shit. Sorry.” Patterson waves toward the driver. “Look at me, driving like I’m running lights and sirens. But if I used them, we’d give away our approach.”

“Sounds like the only advantage we have is the element of surprise.”

“Exactly.”

When we turn into the parking lot of a tiny marina, there’s no question which boat we’re headed for.

“That’s got to be it,” he says, his chin pointing at an ostentatious monstrosity.

I shake my head and scan our surroundings. “Surprised they’re letting him dock that thing here.”

“Arrogant prick,” Patterson seethes under his breath. “It’s a superyacht.”

“Yeah, and he can suck my superdick if he thinks he’s leaving today.”

He laughs as he parks the car behind a service building.

We exit the vehicle, and he quickly retrieves his vest from the trunk of the car, along with an AR-15 rifle. Since I’m already geared up, I sprint across the small parking lot, staying low to the ground.

“I have visual on you, Boss,” Mia announces. “Your team is five minutes out.”

“Excellent. Find us a way in.”

“Stand by.”

I take cover behind a power station, and Patterson eventually catches up.

“Follow me,” he instructs.

I hold him back by the forearm. “Not a fucking chance. We’re waiting for intel.”

Despite his sunglasses, I catch the outline of his eyes widening. “What intel? There’s his yacht. It could leave any minute.”

I point at my earpiece. “Mia’s searching for an ingress point as we speak via the security camera feed.”

“Oh.” He twists to the side, darting his head out for a better view of the ship. “I don’t see anyone loading anything. We’ve got to be running short on time.”

“Mia, what do you see?” I ask, my head weaving so I can get a glimpse of what’s happening near the yacht.

“Boss, I hate to say this, but Patterson might be right. It looks like they’re almost done loading. I count six tangos carrying boxes up a ramp on the starboard side. The pallet they’re emptying on the dock only has three boxes left. I don’t see any more cargo nearby.”

“What kind of weapons do they have?”

“I’m going to assume they’re carrying handguns,” she answers. “Hold on. We’re scanning the deck. Klein found a camera with a better view.”

I recite the information to Patterson. By the time I’m done, Mia’s ready with more intel. She describes the layout of the main deck and a possible entry on the opposite side of the boat. Again, I relay the info to Patterson.

As annoying as it is to be a middleman, I don’t regret keeping him off our comms. My guard is still up, and while my gut isn’t throwing any major signals, it’s not calm either.

Besides, he annoys the fuck out of me. I get why Tomer’s always been irked by him. Totally relatable.

“Boss, we count three guards with rifles near where they’re loading the boxes. Scratch that. Make it five. They’re all patrolling that side of the deck and an interior section under some awnings. If we add those five to the six probably armed tangos loading the last boxes, I count eleven on this side of the boat alone.”

“Any on the other side?” I ask, not holding much hope.

“Huh. Just one guard with a rifle.”

My head kicks back with a hit of shock. “That’s our play, then. Is the team close?”

“Still about three minutes out. I’m connecting you now.”

“We need to hurry,” Patterson urges, clearly losing his patience. Not that he had much to begin with.

He attempts to stand, and I drag him back down.

“We’re holding.”

“That boat could leave any minute. We can’t wait for SWAT.”

I shake my head. “Not for them. My team is close.”

“Your team?” Patterson jerks free of my hold. “What part of we cannot wait are you not hearing, Lancaster?”

This is why I don’t work with amateurs. I need to save him from himself and Lenkov’s henchmen.

If he runs in there half-cocked, we’ll all get killed. I’m about two seconds from zip-tying him to the railing or locking him in the trunk of his car.

While maintaining my hold on the detective, I tell Aaron where to park in reference to our position.

I cast a stern glare at Patterson. “We’re gonna be smart about this. You need to stay by my side so I can keep you safe. If you can’t follow my instructions to the letter, you can wait in the car.”

His already-wrinkled forehead crumples like a newspaper. “I’m the one with the badge.”

“When’s the last time you stormed the fucking Bastille? This isn’t a crime scene where the suspects have already fled. There are twelve armed men on that boat who will shoot to kill on sight. And those are only the ones we can see. With Katia, the baby, and a crew on board, he’s also got hostages. Your fucking badge means jack shit right now.”

Mia interjects, “Boss, you just lost your preferred entry point. They reeled in the gangway on the port side. Only the one crawling with guards is still accessible. They still have mooring ropes to bring in. However, they’re working fast. I don’t think you can wait for the team. If you intend to get on that boat before it leaves, the time is now.”

Fuck . We’re out of time.

Aaron’s voice comes through the comms. “Driving as fast as we can, Boss.”

Before I can spring into action, Mia says, “Hold up. We just got a better view. You can board from the stern.”

“In English,” I snap. Although I own a small boat, I’m not a fucking sailor.

“The rear of the yacht. There’s a platform and a staircase leading to the main deck. It looks low enough for you to climb on from the dock.”

“Copy.” I crane my neck and meet Patterson’s gaze, still hidden by the sunglasses. “Keep low and stay right behind me.”

“Finally,” he huffs.

I lead him swiftly through the parking lot to the dock, heading for slip eight. His steps aren’t as silent as mine, but I don’t have time to teach him how to be stealthy.

Un-fucking-fortunately.

Once we pass the sixth slip, I kneel behind a large white supply box bolted to the dock. Now that we have a closer view, we should reassess our approach.

Like a fucking dipshit, Patterson doesn’t stop when I do.

Under my breath, I grit out, “Fucking hell.”

After giving our path a quick check, I proceed to the next slip. Fortunately, Patterson stops behind a tall piling. There’s no way we’re hidden from view down here. The yacht towers over us, and it’s broad fucking daylight.

I trail my gaze around the curve of the piling, catching sight of the platform Mia pointed out. Nobody is guarding it, which makes my gut twitch.

Why aren’t they securing an entrance?

I glance to the right, catching several of Lenkov’s men grouped near where they’re rolling in the second gangway. Aw shit. There’s officially only one way onto the yacht now. The back. Or whatever Mia fucking called it.

Our infil point seems unmanned, which should be a good sign. It doesn’t feel that way, though.

Patterson meets my eyes, then sweeps his fingers toward the rear of the ship. He raises his brows in silent question.

Keeping my volume low, I ask, “Aaron, where are you?”

“I have visual on the marina entrance. Forty-five seconds.”

Addressing Patterson, I whisper, “They’re less than a minute out. Here’s the plan. On my go, we’ll advance closer to the vessel. You crouch behind the white box at the edge of the dock. I’ll take the one on the left. We’ll wait there as long as we can. If the boat starts to leave, we’ll jump on it at the last minute. Otherwise, we wait for my team.”

“We need to get Katia and the baby out. I promised Bigsby.”

“Where’s his fucking SWAT team then?”

“This isn’t CPD jurisdiction. That’s why I haven’t gotten regular updates on when they’ll be here.”

I roll my eyes. “Mia, do you have anything else for me before we rush this fucking yacht?”

“Sorry, Boss. Klein’s piloting a drone your way. If Lenkov leaves, we’ll follow him. Aaron’s team is fifteen seconds to the marina entrance, so it might be another minute before he can get down to you. As for the yacht, all the moor lines are rolled in and the engine’s been running this whole time. He could leave any second. I don’t know what to tell you. It’s your call.”

It’s always my fucking call.

So damn tired of this shit.

I don’t want to get on this yacht with Patterson. I want to be on my boat with Maddie. Nobody else. No decisions. No schedules to make. No emails to reply to. No budget to review. No lives to save.

But I can’t do any of that because Lenkov decided to assault Lettie and shoot Maddie.

And hurt countless others.

Fuck it.

He’s not getting away with this.

“We go on two,” I tell him.

Deep breath.

“One. Two.”