Deadly Cargo

by Jodie Bailey

  “A marshal named Maldonado asked us to look into some emails. He thought our cases might be connected. I should have figured out then that he’d already talked to you. How else would he know?”

  “Know what, Eli?”

  Eli’s exhale was loud enough to hear over the phone. “Darrin is clearly all about the money. Keith followed along. It’s all in his email trail and internet histories. He’s greedy enough to be dangerous, and I found evidence he’s been trolling the Dark Web for moneymaking opportunities.”

  Will’s feet froze to the tarmac next to the main hangar. He already knew where this was going. “Anton Rogers put out a hit on Jasmine and Darrin found it.”

  “Worse.”

  Will broke into a run, already headed for his vehicle. Whatever Eli was about to reveal, it meant danger for Jasmine. “What?” He motioned for Sean to follow as he sprinted past his teammate.

  “Rogers was beaten to death this morning. It was a coordinated hit.” Eli’s voice was heavy. “Dasha Melnyk, the cartel leader Anton and Jasmine are responsible for taking down, is alive. She’s the one Darrin reached out to on the Dark Web. And, Will? Intel says she’s in Alaska.”

  * * *

  Jasmine paced from the kitchen table, past the bar and into the open living room, running her hand along the back of the sofa as she passed. When she reached the stairs, she pivoted on her heel and headed back the way she came. She had a vise grip on a coffee mug that had been drained dry half an hour earlier. Her body really didn’t need any more caffeine, but she had no idea what to do with her hands if she set the mug aside, so she kept it close.

  From her seat at the dining room table near the kitchen door, Trooper Poppy Walsh watched with an amused spark to her expression, then turned back to the laptop she’d been glued to since this morning’s operation began.

  Jasmine proceeded into the kitchen and paused in front of the window. The blinds were closed. This was exactly like the caged animal feeling of her initial flight into WITSEC. Or maybe she was restless because Will was in harm’s way and she had no idea of his status. She wanted to ask Poppy, but as a civilian, that probably wasn’t information she was allowed to know.

  Lord, keep him safe. Keep Sean safe. Keep all of the men and women at the airfield safe. The same plea cycled through her head with every step.

  She poked the blinds and headed into the living area again.

  Poppy looked up and raised one eyebrow. “Will’s buddy might expense us for the groove you’re wearing in his hardwood floor.” A gentle smile erased any censure. She bent down and scratched her Irish wolfhound partner behind the ears.

  The massive dog rolled onto her back, ready for a tummy rub, but Poppy petted her on the side and straightened, cocking her head as she listened to the radio in her ear.

  Jasmine froze as the trooper’s expression shifted. Her grip on the coffee mug grew tighter. The thick ceramic just might give way soon.

  With a nod, Poppy found Jasmine’s gaze. “They have Darrin and Keith in custody. Everybody’s safe.”

  Exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, Jasmine sank into a chair across the table from Poppy and settled the empty mug in front of her. Thank You, Lord. It was over. The supply line had been cut. She was safe from anonymous shooters and bomb makers.

  It was over. The relief evaporated in a new kind of tension. Her job was gone. Her friends had betrayed her. Will would leave with his team as early as this afternoon.

  “Will filled me in on some of your situation.”

  Jasmine’s head snapped up. Surely he hadn’t told his team that she was living under the government’s protection. “How much?”

  “You’re close to Darrin and Keith, and they put you in danger. Will hinted that there was more he couldn’t tell.” Poppy chewed her lower lip, then slid the laptop across the table. She adjusted her earpiece, seeming to stall before she spoke. “He also hinted some things about himself.”

  “Is he okay?” Suddenly, her life wasn’t so important. Will’s was. If anything had happened to him...

  “He’s fine.” Poppy smiled, but then she winced. “He wouldn’t talk to me for a week if he knew I was saying this.”

  Jasmine leaned forward. Whatever Poppy was about to reveal, she had a feeling it was going to change everything.

  “I’ve known Will for a while. He’s a cynical guy who doesn’t trust easily. He was wounded pretty badly in his past. I know part of the story, but I don’t know all of it.”

  “He told me.”

  Poppy’s eyebrow arched over green eyes. It seemed she was going to speak, but then she scanned the laptop screen. When she looked up, her expression had reset to neutral. “Will’s not a big talker.”

  Could have fooled her. He’d talked a lot and had managed to get her to open up as well.

  “I’ll just say this. Will trusts you.” Poppy tapped her index finger on the table, as though she was trying to put words to her thoughts. “We’ve partnered on cases. Trained our dogs together. The whole team has. It took months for him to trust us.” When she looked straight into Jasmine’s eyes, there was a hint of warning. “I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, but don’t take Will’s trust for granted.”

  “I won’t.” Poppy had handed her a gift. Jasmine wouldn’t take that for granted either.

  “I know. You don’t seem like the type.” The other woman smiled and started to say something else, but then she tilted her head as though she was listening. Her gaze shifted from Jasmine to the laptop, then to the ceiling, as though she could read the words being spoken into her earpiece. Furrows deepened around her mouth and along her forehead. She tipped her head and spoke into the mic at her shoulder. “Do you have an ETA?”

  Jasmine watched her carefully. Something was wrong.

  When Poppy closed her laptop, Jasmine blurted out, “Tell me Will’s okay. Did something—” A crash came from the rear of the house, on the far side of the kitchen. Heart leaping into double time, she jerked toward the sound.

  Poppy and Stormy were on their feet before the echo faded. “It’s probably a critter in the garbage cans. Take cover in the stairwell and wait for me to come back.” Although the trooper’s words were light, one hand went to the gun on her hip while the other went to the radio mic on her shoulder.

  There was no way Poppy believed the sound was an animal.

  Time slowed. Jasmine’s limbs felt as though her clothes were soaked in concrete. Moving across the room was the stuff of frequent nightmares, of being chased but not being able to move fast enough to get away. Somehow, she made it to the stairwell and dropped onto the fourth step, hugging her knees to her chest.

  Maybe she was overreacting. Poppy had said it was an animal, and why would she lie? Any second, she would be back and they could continue their unexpected girl chat. Please, God.

  Outside, Poppy shouted something, but the words weren’t discernible. There was a chaotic rumble of noise, almost as though a fight had broken out. Stormy barked then yelped.

  Then silence.

  Jasmine jumped up as footsteps sounded in the kitchen.

  Lord, let those footsteps be Poppy’s.

  But they weren’t. She would have strode in with authority. These steps were slow and deliberate. Methodical.

  A predator stalking its prey.

  She’d been found. The rocket shot of adrenaline from her heart to her fingertips left no doubt. Without stopping to consider her actions, Jasmine ran up the stairs, desperate for shelter, her mind screaming prayers for safety. For Poppy and for Stormy. She couldn’t bear the idea of the heroic trooper and her partner lying dead because of her.

  Jasmine slipped into the master bedroom, furious with herself for panicking. She should have made a run for the front door and the residential street. Instead, she’d effectively trapped herself on the second floor.

 
She surveyed the bedroom, desperate for a place to hide. Every space was a dead giveaway. In a closet, under the bed, in the bathtub... The killer downstairs would search those places first.

  “Jasmine?” From downstairs, a woman called up.

  Poppy? Jasmine turned toward the door but stopped. No. That wasn’t the trooper. This voice had a faintly European accent and held a taunting lilt.

  “Jasmine? We can make this easy, or we can make this hard.” The voice grew louder, as though the woman stood at the bottom of the stairs. “Or should I call you Yasmine?”

  Yasmine.

  She hadn’t heard that name spoken for two years.

  Jasmine’s breath caught, and she nearly whimpered. She’d been found. Anton Rogers knew where she was and had sent a killer.

  No matter how this day ended, she was a dead woman.

  But she wasn’t going to run this time. She was not going to die easily. She whirled and searched for anything that could be used as a weapon. There was nothing. No vase like in the movies. No letter opener. Just scattered change on top of the dresser.

  “Let’s not drag this out,” the voice called again. “Anton failed to finish you, so I’ll have to do it myself.”

  Jasmine’s knees threatened to drop her to the carpet. This was no hired killer. It was so much worse. Dasha Melnyk was alive, and she was determined to carry out revenge. No assassin for hire would be as determined as the woman Jasmine had helped to ruin.

  Will needed to get here. Poppy needed to rush in. Sean needed to save the day. There had to be someone coming to get her.

  But Will and Sean were at the airfield. And Poppy had gone outside and hadn’t returned.

  Jasmine was alone.

  Maybe there was something in the closet.

  “Jasmine?” The voice came closer, calm and almost playful, as though they were playing hide and seek. From the sound of it, the woman was halfway up the stairs now. “Come out, come out wherever you are. I’ve waited a long time to find you.”

  Carefully, she crept toward the closet. There had to be something in there that would—

  A grim, triumphant smile edged the corner of her mouth up. A polished cypress stump with a ranger tab carved into the wood rested proudly on the floor at the end of the dresser. A little over two feet long, it was wide at the base and narrow at the top. It was a familiar souvenir. Her brother owned one just like it, the proud symbol that he’d survived swamp phase of ranger school and hadn’t been taken down by the broken off cypress trees that hid in the water.

  From experience, she knew the polished wood was about the weight of a baseball bat. It would make the perfect weapon.

  Jasmine hefted the stump and made her way to the door, taking up a position that would give her a slight edge of surprise.

  She wasn’t going to lose her life without a fight.

  Not this time.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Poppy?” Will tried to keep his voice level as he called into the radio for his teammate, but there was no answer. His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, and he glanced in the rearview, where Sean and Grace were trailing close behind. “Walsh? Answer me.”

  Silence. There hadn’t been another word from Poppy in the two minutes since she’d radioed that she was headed to the back door to check on a noise outside.

  Will’s foot pressed the accelerator closer to the floor, and he navigated the turns in the neighborhood as quickly as he dared, Sean keeping pace behind him.

  Dasha Melnyk was at the house. He had no doubt. They’d called for backup from Fairbanks PD and nearby troopers, but the combination of the airfield bust and a massive accident at the Johansen Expressway and University Avenue had tied up local resources.

  His muscles were tense, and hot fear blew across his skin. He was thirty seconds from the house and he had no plan. No intel. Nothing.

  Only the deepest gut feeling that Jasmine’s time was ticking down faster than he could drive. If Melnyk had reached Anton in prison, there was no doubt she would kill Jasmine as well.

  He slowed when the duplex came into sight, resisting the urge to blast up in front of the house in a screech of smoke and tires. That would only alert Melnyk.

  Or it would send Poppy out with her weapon at the ready if this was just a radio glitch and she was on high alert.

  As much as he wanted to rush in, he let the SUV roll to a stop a couple of houses away from duplex. He slipped from the vehicle with a reassuring word to Scout, who he left secured in his climate-controlled kennel. There was no need to drag his partner into a situation he wasn’t trained for.

  Silently, Sean parked his SUV behind Will’s and exited the vehicle, meeting Will at the small space between the two SUVs. He, too, left his partner secured.

  “Poppy’s not communicating?” Sean’s voice was low. He surveyed the front of the duplex, and his eyes scanned the side yard as well.

  Will followed his gaze. Nothing moved. There was no indication as to what was happening behind those drawn blinds and closed curtains. “Nothing since she went to investigate a noise out back.”

  “So we’re going in without intel.”

  Will’s thoughts matched his teammate’s somber tone. They had no way of knowing what was happening on the other side of those doors. “Poppy’s last known location was the exterior kitchen door. I say circle to the back yard. If there are bad actors in the house, they likely went in that way. We’ll either find Poppy or a way in that brings us up behind the threat.” Providing a better chance to protect his fellow troopers and the woman he loved.

  Will’s step stuttered. He did love Jasmine. He’d once thought he’d never trust again, yet she’d managed to find her way not only into his head, but into his heart. If anything happened to her today, he had no doubt it would change the course of his future as well.

  Sean slipped his weapon from its holster. “Let’s rock and roll.”

  Will stepped onto the curb, reaching for his sidearm, then stopped, something Jasmine had said circling in his spirit. God’s always there, you know. Maybe if you broke free of your six o’clock appointment, you’d see that. Her heart laid out for him the truth he’d half considered then never bothered to ponder again.

  I guess I believe God doesn’t want us checking boxes. He wants all of us. All of the time. We live life walking beside Him, not live life with occasional side trips to Him. He’s always listening. And I always need Him.

  He might have failed to consider the truth before, but it was the wisdom he needed now.

  Jasmine was right. Without God beside him at all times, he was doomed to fail. Maybe not today, but eventually. His first turn should always be to the One who created him and saw all of his days before he was ever born. It should never be to himself and his strength. He couldn’t do any of this alone, and he’d been trying to for far too long.

  Sean was eyeing him, waiting for a next step, but Will wasn’t going to take one without giving this situation to God. Because this time, he absolutely could not fail. Without a word to his teammate, he dipped his head, feeling the heat of embarrassment at the base of his neck. He’d never prayed in front of someone else, and it was different. Awkward.

  Necessary.

  Lord, I’ve been running the show for too long. Trusting me instead of You. Today, I need You. No matter what. But please, bring Jasmine and me and the team out of this alive.

  When he lifted his head and drew his weapon, Sean was looking at him with curiosity, but he said nothing.

  Now wasn’t the time to talk. It was time to move, and the backyard was the right entry point. Motioning forward with two fingers, he crept along the front of the house next door until he could cross the narrow side yard without being seen from the windows. With Sean close behind, he kept close to the side of the house, the vinyl siding brushing his shoulder.

  At the gate, Sean slipped in
front of him and eased the massive wooden structure open with a slight squeak that made Will wince.

  Weapon ready, Will eased through the opening, scanning the yard.

  Poppy lay motionless near the patio. Stormy stood over her, facing the back door of the duplex.

  Adrenaline raged, firing Will’s feet toward his teammate and her K-9 partner.

  While he stood guard, Sean knelt, reaching for Poppy’s neck to feel for a pulse.

  Everything in Will wanted to kneel beside his teammate, too, but he kept his focus on their surroundings, ensuring no one appeared to finish what they’d started.

  He wrestled with the dueling needs to protect his teammates and to round the corner and find Jasmine. Every second could be her last.

  Poppy groaned, then gasped. “Where’d you come from?” Her words came slowly, but she was alive.

  Stormy offered her an enthusiastic lick in the face that seemed to rouse her partner fully to consciousness.

  Will exhaled his fear. His teammate was going to be okay. “What happened?” He kept the words low, not wanting to alert anyone to their presence.

  “Came out and struggled with an assailant. Female. She was ready for me. Choke hold.”

  Female. Almost definitely Dasha Melnyk. Lethally dangerous if she had caught Poppy off guard. “Inside?”

  “Likely.” Poppy moved to stand. “Let’s go.”

  Sean eased her down. “We’ll go. Are you okay to stay here?”

  Nodding slowly, Poppy stood with Sean’s help. She wavered, trying to find her balance, but she braced against the siding and drew her weapon. “I’ll call for medical and watch the back door. You go in. Get Jasmine before someone else does.”

  That was the goal. It would kill him to know he’d missed saving her life by seconds, had changed the course of his future because he hadn’t moved fast enough. He headed for the door. “Sean, take the front.” He passed a house key to his teammate, gave Poppy a final once-over, then edged along the patio and peeked around the alcove where the door was recessed.