Mile High

by Ophelia Bell

  We both sigh when we part, and she laughs. “I will never get tired of that. But for real, you need to go rip off the bandage. I need use the restroom. Then we can head back and see how Wyatt’s doing, okay?”

  I grunt a reply, the dread returning as I watch her walk away and I turn back to head toward the SAC’s office.

  What I want is to get into a room with those two fuckers and interrogate them myself. Am I correct in my assumption that they follow Gustavo’s lead, or is Amador pulling their strings directly? It’s only ever been a gut feeling, but something has never sat right with me about the level of autonomy Gustavo has. Even when he worked for Flores, he tended to make his own rules. Because if Amador is indeed in charge, I actually have some hope that they’ll give up on coming after me. I’ve never even met the man, and he has to have realized killing me won’t solve anything.

  If it’s Gustavo, on the other hand, the bastard no doubt still wants my head to save face for letting me get away after that botched gun deal three years ago. Arturo Flores helping fake my death only gave me a short reprieve after he found me the first time, but now he’s hunting me again.

  I’m wording my speech when I walk into Special Agent Dawson’s office and find not just one, but two women seated across a big desk from each other. They both turn and look at me, but only one makes me pause and silently curse when I recognize her.

  “Welcome to DEA Denver, Mr. Black,” Katherine Longo says, standing and nodding. “Looks like you’ve had an eventful visit since you arrived.”

  My spine tingles, because at first I’m sure she’s referring to the filthy sex I had with her daughter just this morning, but she doesn’t look pissed. In fact, she looks impressed as she sits again, tilting her head toward the chair beside her.

  “Glad to be of service.” I nod back at the senator, then redirect my attention to the red-haired woman standing behind the desk. “Mason Black,” I say, reaching out to shake her hand.

  “Meg Dawson. Glad to have you on the team, Mr. Black. I’m only peripherally involved, but the senator’s an old friend. She told me how invaluable you’ve been at gathering intel against our target. I’m hoping there’s more I can do to help.” Her businesslike expression softens incrementally, the lines at the corners of her eyes fading. “Whatever influence I have I will leverage in your favor. Getting your daughter out of Mexico is as much a priority as securing the data Zavala has to offer.”

  “I appreciate it,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “I don’t suppose you’ll give me a shot at interrogating the two men we brought in, will you? There are a few things I need cleared up.”

  Her bland smile is only meant to appease me, because she shakes her head. “We have someone who’s been briefed on the case taking point here in Denver, at least until Agent Booth is back in action. But if you have any insight you’d like to share, I’m sure it would help.”

  “Just that you need to ask them who they answer to directly. If it’s Amador’s lieutenant, I want to know. He and I have history.”

  Senator Longo turns and gives me a pointed look as Dawson leans back in her seat, eyes narrowing. “Gustavo Delgado, who we suspect has been a double agent, working for Arturo Flores but answering to Amador for at least a decade. Do you suspect he has aspirations to take over?”

  “I just don’t trust the motherfucker. He’s always had his own agenda, which at the moment includes wanting me dead. I’d like to be clear on where that buck stops. Did the order come from Amador or not? If this operation succeeds—when it succeeds, if Gustavo’s still standing, I need to know if my life is fucking over.”

  She tilts her head, studying me. “But if Delgado’s loyalties were split before, we may be able to turn him. Use him against Amador.”

  “Delgado’s a ruthless son of a bitch. He wants power and money. Self-preservation is a strong second, but he’s no pussy. He’s like a wild animal—he’ll only run if fighting’s more likely to get him killed. I’m pretty sure that’s why he ran back to Amador a few years back. Flores would’ve killed him for risking his daughter’s life.”

  I lean forward in my chair, looking at both women in turn. “He may be playing multiple sides, but I know the asshole. Whatever he’s doing, it’s aimed at leaving himself an out that secures as big a piece of the pie as possible. He might sell out Amador, but that would burn too many bridges he needs intact to take over, if that’s his plan. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty—to kill whoever’s in his way to get what he wants. He’s less likely to take the easy way out and turn.”

  Dawson nods and picks up her phone. She gives a handful of terse commands to guide the interrogation about to happen, then hangs up again. “We’ll find out what these men know. They’re locals, so it may not be much, but that’s all very valuable intel you just gave me. You really know Delgado, don’t you?”

  My neck prickles and I turn to meet the senator’s intense stare, a little put off by how much she resembles Callie.

  “Yeah,” I say, returning my gaze to Dawson. “He put my older brother in the hospital when we were in high school. He gets off on doing his boss’ dirty work. Always has. But lately I’m wondering if the lengths he goes to aren’t geared toward his own ends.”

  “Why do you think he’s changed?” It’s Longo who asks this time, so I look at her again.

  “Because Amador doesn’t know me from Adam. His conflict is with Flores. And while I don’t personally know how he works, I know what Flores has told me. He’s a single-minded bastard, and I’ve got to be far down his list of people to kill, if I’m even on it at all. I was responsible for one bad gun deal. So why the fuck am I still a target after that?”

  She finishes for me. “Delgado’s pride was hurt when the deal failed and he’s taking it out on you.”

  “He did take it out on me. The fucker caught and tortured me. I almost died. Of course, it gave Flores a good opening to suck me into this, but I gladly took the opportunity to turn things around for myself. Especially if it gives me a chance to get that fucker back. But now that he knows I’m alive after all, he’s trying to finish the job. It isn’t about preserving my own life anymore. I need him off my goddamn back once and for all before I bring my daughter home.”

  I get a strange, giddy rush actually saying the word in mixed company for the first time, and both women give me understanding looks. Longo’s expression darkens, though.

  “Is there any chance you can help us place Delgado’s whereabouts six years ago? There are pieces to an older, related case we’re trying to put together that will help ensure he’s taken down with Amador when the time comes.”

  I shake my head. “Sorry, I was overseas. I had zero contact with him for about ten years straight. But I’m pretty sure Zavala’s intel shows all the fun drama going on between Flores and Amador. It’s as if Zavala got off on watching those two implode over the years and held onto every little piece of the story he could. He only let me see a handful of details beyond the sample he sent for me to deliver, but it goes back decades. If there are answers to your questions, they’ll be in there.”

  “Then I have my work cut out for me this week.” Longo stands, and I take it as a cue that our discussion is over. “I have a late flight back to D.C. tonight and meetings scheduled first thing in the morning. I’ll get your answer as soon as possible.”

  I glance at Dawson, who stands as well and comes around her desk. I follow their lead, a step behind as they exit the office and pause just outside.

  “What happens next?” I ask, directing the question to Dawson. “Do I need to give a statement, or fill out forms or something?”

  She waves a hand. “The agents on your detail can handle that. They saw everything and will reach out for statements from you and the others. I’ll oversee the interrogation myself. We don’t want to leave any stone unturned when it comes to Amador.”

  She shakes Longo’s hand, then mine, and walks off.

  I turn to the senator, meeting a pale blue gaze
that strips me bare in a very different way than Callie’s does. It’s as if she reads my mind before I even voice my question.

  “What can I do to speed things up?” I manage to get out before she holds up a hand.

  “I know this is hard, but please understand I’m doing all I can. Negotiating with politicians is a convoluted process, and we don’t want to leave any wiggle room for Zavala if we make this deal. Which I’m confident we will, when it’s all said and done. There is a lot riding on this operation being a success.” She leans in and rests a hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Trust me. I’m a mother, so I know what kind of turmoil you must be in.” Her jaw flexes as if she’s about to say more, but in the end she just sighs and shakes her head.

  At that moment, I look up and catch a glimpse of Callie standing across the open space at the bank of elevators. She sees me and smiles, but her smile falters when she catches sight of her mother.

  “Shit,” I mutter. I hadn’t counted on how it might look to her to discover my association with her mom. But I redirect my attention to the senator to tell her I understand and when I look for Callie again, she’s gone.

  “Do you have proof she’s being taken care of?” Longo asks. I rein in my distraction enough to nod and fish out my phone.

  “Zavala’s hired a nurse who is texting me a photo every day.” I swipe and tap to get to today’s text, which arrived at some point while I was pounding my fist into one of those asshole’s skulls. Zoe’s bright-eyed face looks back at the camera, more serene than before, but with tiny lines creasing her forehead. There isn’t a hell of a lot to see, but the daily photos are helping to keep me from going out of my mind with worry. Those and Callie’s presence.

  “Oh, she’s a little doll,” Longo says, her serious facade dropping instantly. She stares at the photo for a few seconds, then sighs and squeezes my shoulder again. “I have one more thing I have to do in town today, then I’m on my way to help get your precious little girl back to you. You have my word.”

  26

  Callie

  Why is Mom talking to Mason? Holy shit.

  I could understand why she might stop by to visit. She and Dawson are old friends. But ever since Chris died and she shifted into politics, I thought she’d cut ties with the Agency. Not once in the years since has she mentioned the DEA or her work having anything to do with it. As far as I know, her focus as a senator has mainly been on human rights and universal healthcare.

  I admit I’m out of touch with the inner workings of her life, though. I’ve been in my own little bubble for so long, and we haven’t exactly remained forthcoming beyond the bare necessities about our respective careers.

  But there must be a reason why she’d be in a meeting with him. Could it have just been a coincidence? Or is there something he isn’t telling me? Maybe he doesn’t even realize who she is.

  It’s a struggle to talk myself down off this ledge. Surely he has a good reason, but I still manage to pace the lobby for the next five minutes worrying about it until the elevators ding and I whip around, only slightly calmed by his appearance.

  I have questions, but I’m afraid if I ask them, they’ll raise even more on his end. Like why I didn’t tell him who my mom is.

  He gives me an inscrutable look for two seconds before asking, “Ready to go?”

  “Yep!” I chirp perhaps a bit more enthusiastically than I should as I pull out my phone to summon a ride share. “Nina texted that they’re at St. Joseph’s. We can head straight there if you want.” I dart a questioning look his way.

  Mason frowns. “Did she say how Booth is doing?”

  “Oh, he’s fine, but they’re keeping him for a couple days. The bullet shattered his scapula, so he’ll need surgery and then physical therapy once it heals.”

  I’m hoping my dismissive response conceals the true level of anxiety I have over Booth’s shooting. It’s irrational of me to be so worried, but the whole ordeal has started to feel a touch too real for me to stay calm. Summoning my usual icy constitution that I rely on to be a good surgeon isn’t helping.

  He lets out a breath, some of his coiled tension easing. “If you don’t mind, can we head back to your place and change? All that snow you shoved down my pants melted, so I’ve been stuck sitting in damp skivvies all afternoon. I wouldn’t mind getting some grub before we head over too.”

  “Sure,” I say, switching the destination of our ride. “They’ll be here in ten minutes. Want to tell me how your meeting went?”

  The DEA lobby is vast and empty except for the lone reception desk in the center, but I spy a bench in a far corner and head toward it. As someone who spends the majority of my day on my feet, I always appreciate an opportunity to sit.

  Mason follows, but pauses to stare down at me when I park myself on the uncomfortable wooden bench. My neck prickles with the intensity of his gaze, like he’s looking for something specific.

  “I’ll tell you what: I’ll tell you how it went as soon as you tell me the real reason you didn’t want to go in with me. You were a witness, so you had every reason to be there too. Not to mention knowing the SAC personally.”

  “I told you . . .”

  He snorts. “You told me some bullshit story about something that happened more than a decade ago. What happened to sharing all our secrets?”

  He’s as relentless as I am with the need to uncover the truth, but the prickling sensation up my spine only intensifies. My face heats and I grit my teeth. The fact that he’s fishing is telling.

  “You already know, don’t you?” I flash a glare at him and stand again so I can be at his level for this.

  “What do I know, Callie?” He crosses his arms, rocking back on his heels as he continues his intense stare. I don’t particularly like this version of him, but only because of the shame that creeps in over my deception. But I only let it stew for a second. If this is going to go anywhere, I don’t want to start off with any lies between us. He’s already been so forthcoming, and about some very difficult things too.

  I sigh and raise my hands in surrender. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that my mom’s a senator. I didn’t think it was relevant, okay? People treat me differently when they know. But what I’d like to know is what the hell business you have with her. Please don’t tell me it’s top-fucking-secret.”

  “You really don’t know, do you?” he asks, forehead furrowing. At least his glare of mistrust has disappeared.

  “What the hell am I supposed to know? Mom and I don’t talk, and we pretty much only see each other once a year at her party.”

  “Callie, your mom’s committee manages the task force in charge of this operation I’m involved in. She’s pretty much my goddamn boss. She’s also the only person who can get the approval for the deal Zavala wants before he’ll let Zoe go. She’s the reason I’m still in Denver. I can’t leave until she gets that approval.”

  I’m floored by the revelation that Mom is still so tangled up in DEA and I never had a clue. I always thought she left the Agency and ran for office to put distance between herself and the memory of my brother’s failed operation.

  Mouth open, I plop back down on the bench, shaking my head. “I can’t believe she never told me.”

  “Well, you did just say you two never talk.” He sits down and takes my hand, squeezing it. “Do you want to go up and say hello or something? She’s still up there waiting to see how the interrogation goes.”

  I grimace. “Coming clean to you about her is one thing. I don’t think I’m prepared to explain to her what I’m doing with you. She has a history of not approving of the men I date.”

  He snorts. “Well, if the others were like the last guy, neither do I. Not sure I’d approve of me, for that matter, so I think the senator and I would get along great on that count. But I’m pretty sure she already likes me. I’m good at earning points with moms.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m not sure I want to dig into what that actually means. Let’s just take it slow
on coming out about this to my mother, okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m more than fine with that. I’d rather not get on her bad side, given the circumstances.”

  I peek at my phone to check the progress of our ride. Three minutes out. May as well go wait by the doors. But as we stand, the elevators ding and two figures begin to cross the lobby. My heart stops when I recognize Mom and her assistant, Anton. In a clumsy rush, I spin and push Mason toward the wall and out of sight. He glances over his shoulder with a quizzical look.

  “Mom,” I say under my breath. He makes an “oof” sound when I press him against the wall at the corner where I still have a view of the lobby as they pass by.

  Once they’re both out the door, I heave a sigh. It takes a second for me to register the squeeze of his fingers at my hips and the warmth of his breath at my ear.

  “Is the coast clear?” he whispers in an amused tone. “Or should we sit tight to make sure they’ve driven off?”

  He dips his head, and my blood heats when he grazes his lips over the sensitive skin beneath my ear. I keep my eyes on the windows facing the parking lot, watching the pair of figures grow smaller, then climb into a car and drive away. But I’m too distracted by the way Mason is kissing my throat to tell him it’s safe.

  At my next sigh of pleasure, he chuckles, then places a tender kiss on my mouth. “I could do this anywhere, any time, but we do have places to be. How long until our ride gets here?”

  I blink, then curse and scramble for my phone. “He’s here now. Hurry!”

  The streets have been plowed, but our driver still takes his sweet time on the drive back to LoDo. For some reason I’m agitated, glancing at my phone every so often as if hoping a new text from Nina will materialize in response to mine letting her know we’re stopping at home to change before heading over to the hospital. I even asked if she wanted us to pick up food, but she still hasn’t responded. I wish I knew how to shake this irrational sense of dread, of feeling like the situation is spinning out of my control.