Page 53

Jack

“Would you like a cigarette? There’s a smoking area outside, and I’d like to take a break before we’re trapped inside.” The charismatic senator projects confidence, gesturing for me to proceed without hearing my answer.

“Certainly,” I answer, although he’s not really giving me a choice.

With his hand on my shoulder, the senator guides us out of the hotel lobby, as if we’re the best of friends.

His snakeskin cowboy boots tip-tap on the marble as we head outside into the night.

Only in the south do men pair cowboy boots with tuxedos, and I suspect this man at my side wants to remind all the attendees he's a hardcore Texan.

Outside the hotel, we wordlessly weave through a battalion of drivers and security officers until we reach the narrow path that runs to the side of the building. Gold stands holding red velvet rope mark the area where smokers can dispose of ash and cigarettes.

The senator offers me a cigarette, and I accept, even though I hate the things.

But I suppose it’s all part of building his trust. I haven’t smoked a cigarette since seventh grade, and back then, on my one experimental try, I coughed and my eyes watered.

If my novice smoking status rears its head again, my cover will be blown.

He offers a lighter, and I wave it away.

“No, thanks. Actually, I don’t smoke.” He raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t want to turn down the chance for some time to talk.”

With a wide smile he drops his lighter back into his inside coat pocket, but he holds on to the unlit cigarette.

“I can’t stand the things either. But they are a nice excuse to leave the crowd. Wish we’d thought to pick up a glass of bourbon before we came out here, though.”

“I can get you a glass.”

“Nah. We’ll be quick. Don’t have much time before the dinner bell. Mark talks a lot about you. A whole lot. He loves you something fierce.”

“That’s good to hear.” I keep my expression as neutral as possible while my fingers dent the unlit cigarette.

“I’d like to get to know you better. Would love to have you sometime at my family place. Do you like quail hunting?”

“I like all kinds of hunting.” There are people, mostly men, nearby, but none within listening range.

If he’s going to say anything that will make wearing this wire worthwhile, this is the place.

“Last time I went quail hunting was years ago. In Idaho. But I’m always game.

And you know, if you’re ever in San Diego, I’d love to have you over. ”

“Will do. I’ll get my assistant to get on scheduling something. You know, I’ve heard all about your mega yacht. I’d love to go out on that sometime.”

“Name the time and place.” My CIA training kicks in, and I strike a comfortable pose, look him in the eye, and do a casual smile, all the while controlling the urge to scratch the hell out of my jaw. “Just recently docked back in San Diego.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. Got back, I believe… yesterday.” The ship unloaded approximately five hundred pounds of cocaine, four hundred pounds of fentanyl, and fifty pounds of heroin.

The DEA made the call to follow the shipment and not bust them at the private harbor.

I haven’t heard an update since, but ballpark math on drugs that were smuggled in is close to twenty-five million dollars.

The DEA suspects this was a conservative run, and they’ll transport more as they gain confidence in my ship.

Current theory is the Morales Cartel operates a fleet of ships with different owners to avoid drawing attention from any country.

“Nice. Since it’s not quail season, let’s take advantage of your yacht first, then we’ll have you out to the family place in Arizona.”

“I’d love that.”

He tosses his unlit cigarette into the trash. “Let’s go get that bourbon.”

Damn it. Nothing. We got nothing. I told them this entire effort would be fruitless.

Back in the lobby, suits and gowns immediately flock to the senator. He shoots me with his hand, thumb to index finger, and says, “Talk soon, son.”

Politicians are a unique breed, but that man is as slimy as they come.

With that part of the night behind me, I stride into the banquet hall to search for Ava. Ryan sees me and meets me ten feet inside the ice sculpture room.

“You okay with switching seats with Ava?”

We can’t really talk here, but I’d prefer her seated with me at my table. Then as soon as I receive the blasted award, she and I can escape. I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.

“No problem. She’s back in the far-right corner.”

I survey the room and locate her. Patrick’s head bows low, and the two of them appear to be having an intense conversation.

“Anything good out there?” Ryan asks.

“No. More of the same.” I’m so sick of barely moving forward.

“You look pissed.”

“Not even enough to get a wiretap.”

Men like the senator don’t go down easily.

They’re slippery like eels. I’m just so damn tired of playing this slow game.

This hunt has gone on too long. I feel like I’ve been tracking wolves for years with absolutely nothing to show for it.

They’re thriving and, the worst part is they’ve been flourishing in my neck of the woods.

Ava and Patrick step out of the banquet room through a side door. I tap Ryan and jerk my head.

“I’m going after her.”

“I’ll stay here. If you head outside, remember Fisher and his team are out there. Just don’t go anywhere they can’t follow.”

“Yes, sir.” If my nerves were settled, I’d salute him in jest. The nerves could be a side effect from actually being wired, from having everything I say tonight recorded, or from the thrill of a hunt. Even a boring hunt with a nothing five-second conversation with a US senator stimulates.

But right now, this undercover op has the feel of a multi-year, multi-agency effort.

That’s exactly what I don’t want. My contact promised me they wouldn’t let the drugs onto the street.

Said they just need to get a better understanding of the players in a newly identified drug ring.

They didn’t want to bust them on my yacht, as it would close that tracking avenue.

All the guns we sold to Mexico… well, they’re out there.

Probably being used to kill Mexican law officers in the decades-long drug war.

We can’t stop that. But we sure as hell can prevent the siphoning of drugs onto American streets.

Or will the desire to build a concrete legal case against as many participants as possible win out?

Ava trails Patrick. He’s charging out of the building.

“Ava,” I call, and a few heads turn my direction, but not hers.

I catch up to her and she calls, “Patrick.”

He turns around, and my gaze fixates on the tears streaming down the big man’s face.

“I gotta get outta here. You got her?” he asks, and I nod in the affirmative.

With a protective surge, I sidle up to Ava, claiming her with my arm around her lower back.

“Everything okay?” Obviously, it’s not, at least not with Patrick, but she’s back by my side, so in my world, one of the most important parts has righted. Operation bullshit be damned, she’s important to me. And Sophia.

Ava’s glossy, painted red lips turn down on the ends. Her brow crinkles. A line forms between her eyebrows, and I lower my lips to it. She places her hand on my chest, and her touch over the crisp white shirt soothes me. God, I missed her so much more than I realized.

“Patrick is leaving Mark. I think this time, it’s for real.

They’ve broken up before, but I think this is going to stick.

” My thumb caresses her smooth cheek. She’s thoughtful, and the concern for her friend is touching.

“I’ve tried so many times to get him to leave Mark.

I’ve always said he deserves more.” Those irresistible eyes flash up to mine, seeking understanding.

“But he wouldn’t listen?”

She shakes her head with an emotional heaviness.

“It can be hard when a man loves someone,” I say. “Hard to get them to listen to reason.”

“It was pretty easy for your uncle to persuade you.”

And there it is. She’s right to be angry with me. “When you’ve been betrayed by people you love, it becomes easy to believe a loved one will betray you.”

She twists in my arms, and her body presses against me. My hands fall to her waist, and I hold her there.

“I would never betray someone I love.” She fixes me with a heartfelt stare, simultaneously accusatory and possibly promising.

“I know that now. You’re one of the good ones.”

“The money you paid me, I only used it for the center.”

The pad of my thumb lightly brushes the diamonds circling her wrist.

“Gifts from your uncle's Black card via Patrick. They aren’t real, but they are expensive.”

“Money well spent.”

“Patrick spent it. He spent a lot of money getting me glammed up so I would fit in.”

“Ava, it doesn’t matter what you wear. You’re better, stronger than anyone else in this room. You’re stunning. His money wasn’t wasted. But it wasn’t necessary. You could have walked in here with your combat boots and any outfit you own, and I would have wanted you by my side.”

“I would have spent time with you, slept with you, done everything with you, without the money.”

“And I only paid you as an attempt to keep you at arm’s length.

The moment I first saw you, thick eyeliner, an armory of silver, and clad in black, I was drawn to you.

I couldn’t figure it out. My reaction to you was a puzzle.

On a base level, my reaction terrified me, because the last thing I need is to fall for someone.

I thought with you in my home I would see your flaws. The attraction would fizzle.”