by Nina Pierce
Deirdre mopped at her sweaty face with the hem of her T-shirt.
“So, you take the pickup, and I’ll follow behind in the one-ton.” Deirdre guzzled from the water bottle Rachel handed her. “Six trees pruned, and the flowerbeds on the east side mulched. Not a bad day for two hot chicks.” She handed the bottle back to Rachel and swiped at the water dribbling down her chin.
“Not bad at all. Might actually have this job finished by the end of next week even without Mark and his students,” Rachel said before finishing the water. “Listen, Dee, I hate to cut and run, but I’m going to be late if I don’t get a move on.” Rachel looked down at her watch. “It’s nearly four now. I still need to shower and do a little prep work before I head out to Duane’s. I’m planning on breaking a law or two on my way home. You probably should go easy with the one-ton. Wouldn’t want to upset the Cutler police.”
“Very funny. No problem. I’ll just dump the refuse at the high school and park it at the house for safekeeping.”
Rachel climbed into the truck. “Probably not a bad idea.” Pulling the door closed, she hung out through the open window. “I’ll meet you here tomorrow around eight-thirty. Don’t bother going to the shop in the morning. I’ll load up the mulch and the gear and come straight here.” She turned on the engine.
“Sounds like a plan. I’m not taking any pity on you if you show up here with a hangover.”
Rachel laughed and waved out the window as she drove away.
“Deirdre,” Jameson yelled from the front door. “Wait up a moment, will you?”
Deirdre stared at the pickup disappearing around the bend of the driveway, wishing she were in the cab with Rachel, not left to fend for herself with Jameson. Up until this moment, they’d managed to avoid him.
Jameson strolled to the garage with a sense of unhurried ease. Deirdre knew underneath the calm exterior lay a lion ready to eat her alive. The hairs on the nape of her neck tingled with apprehension. Heat rose from her chest to her face, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears. Deirdre inhaled, trying to settle her jangling nerves. She could do this.
“Mr. Jameson…”
“Shawn.” In a voice coated with honey, he corrected her.
“Shawn, of course.” Deirdre cautiously lifted one corner of her lip; when it remained steady, she forced the rest of her mouth to smile.
“I wondered how your father was doing.”
“Getting better. Thank you for asking.” Their conversation was clipped and unnatural. “They transferred him to Bangor.” Hooking her thumbs in the front pocket of her cargo pants, she tipped back on the heels of her work boots, trying to look more casual than she felt. “I’m glad you came out. I wanted to thank you for what you did on Monday at the police station and for having your men repair the wood chipper and empty the one-ton. Please deduct the cost of the parts and labor from my bill.”
“That’s not necessary. I was glad to help on both accounts.” He waved his hand in the air.
“That’s kind of you,” Deirdre’s voice squeaked out. She cleared her throat, trying to dislodge the lump of anxiety pressing there. “Looks like, even with all that’s happened this week, we’re only slightly behind schedule. We should be able to finish by the end of next week. The gardens aren’t as bad as I’d originally thought.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” He smiled down at her, but there was no joy in his expression. “Deirdre, I was wondering how you know Austin Shaeffer.”
“Who? I’m afraid I don’t recognize the name.” Her belly flipped her lunch.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” He waved his hand again, and one of the goons from Saturday’s festivities appeared from behind the one-ton. He moved so fast she had no time to react. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her.
“This is not how I hoped it would go for us, Deirdre. I like you, I really do. But I need to know how you know Austin.”
“Mr. Jameson, I only met him in your garage on Monday.”
Monkey man forced her arm high up her back, and pain shot through her shoulder and out her mouth in the form of a yelp. Tears welled in her eyes.
“Yes, well. I think that’s not the case.” He motioned to the house. “Shall we?”
* * * *
Ayden leaned over the computer guy’s chair. He had the headset cupped to his ear. “Tell me again when this happened.”
“About an hour ago, a little before four.”
“And they’ve all gone dead?”
“Ayden, I tried to recalibrate the mics, but there’s nothing. Not even static.”
“Fuckin’ A.” Ayden threw the headphones onto the table next to the computer. “We are this close to nailing the fucking bastard.” His thumb and forefinger waved in the air only an inch apart. “Why the hell has he decided to clear them all out now?” His feet moved about the floor and traced the same path they’d been following since he arrived thirty minutes ago. He had a pretty good idea why Jameson had cleared the mansion. He knew something was going down. He’d had him followed.
The guy in the chair looked up at him. “Delmont?”
Ayden had told the whole team what he’d done in the early hours of Tuesday morning. He figured he owed them the truth. Well, the truth as far as they were concerned.
He’d told them the facts about one of Jameson’s bimbos he was boffing; the same one who was arrested for possession, bailed out by Jameson, and needed a ride home. He hadn’t bothered to mention his emotional involvement with Deirdre or that he’d told her everything about his undercover work.
“Jesus H. Christ. How did I get so sloppy?” Ayden raked his fingers through his hair. “It will not happen again. This asshole will not slip through my fingers. This is not Miami.”
The faces of the two men at the computers knit in confusion. They were too new to the DEA to know about what went down in Florida.
“Forget it. We have a scheduled meet with Jameson tomorrow. We need to be ready if he changes anything. I think that’s his plan. That’s why he’s pulled all our surveillance. I’m sure we’ve been careful enough that he won’t suspect it’s us listening in.”
Actually, he wasn’t sure about anything. Not the assignment, not his men’s safety, and definitely not about how deep his feelings ran for Deirdre.
“Call everyone in. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, gentlemen.”
* * * *
Deirdre opened the bathroom door and let the steam of the hot shower filter into the bedroom. Swiping at the mirror, she was surprised the woman staring back at her didn’t look as bad as Deirdre felt. Fear and apprehension clawed at her insides, turning everything to a gelatinous mass.
Despite the sleepless night and endless day, there was no bruising under her eyes. She hadn’t shed any tears. She wouldn’t give Jameson the satisfaction. Her skin remained unblemished. Deirdre ran her finger over her lips; if only Ayden had found her today.
But like Rachel, he’d come and gone. She’d been only able to watch from the bedroom window in muted agony as their vehicles had driven away without her, both of them unaware Jameson held her prisoner. He’d threatened to kill them if she tried to make her presence known. She remained silent, having no doubt he would do it.
Jameson had fed Rachel some lie about Deirdre’s father. He’d hidden the one-ton somewhere, and Rachel had left believing Deirdre had never shown up for work this morning. He didn’t need to tell Ayden anything. They’d agreed to have no contact until Sunday, so he wouldn’t know she was gone.
Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since yesterday. Deirdre filled her belly with water from the tap as she’d done all day. It kept her hydrated, but did nothing to quell her voracious appetite.
She would be joining Jameson in the dining room for dinner, as she had every meal, but she wouldn’t eat anything tonight, either. Despite assurances to the contrary, she didn’t believe her food wasn’t tainted. The dizziness from lack of nourishment was nothing compared to a drug-induced fog. She needed to have h
er wits about her if she was going to be any help to Ayden.
Padding over the luxurious carpet, she opened the closet and blindly rifled through the assortment of clothing, searching for the blue dress and matching heels Jameson insisted she wear tonight. She held up the hanger. The flimsy material shimmered in the waning light filtering through the windows. The bodice was cut too low, the hem too high. She sighed and threw it on the bed, resigned to let this play out Jameson’s way, praying Ayden knew what he was doing.
* * * *
“Really, Deirdre, you insult me by not eating the food my chef has prepared.”
“I’m not hungry.” But as if on cue, her insubordinate stomach rumbled.
Jameson smiled and sipped his water. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Since my schedule is changed, tonight it will all be over. You will either go home with Shaeffer or be dead. If Austin is the man I believe he is, it will be the first. But really, I don’t care either way. You’re just a little insurance policy, Deirdre. I like to have loose ends tied up nicely.”
One of Jameson’s henchmen appeared in the door.
“Ah, Anthony, your timing is flawless. Please show our guest in.” He turned to Deirdre, his hand reaching down to caress her thigh. “Speaking of loose ends.”
Pushed by the other henchman, Mark tripped into the room. Deirdre gasped. His face had been pulverized to the texture of raw meat. One eye was swollen nearly shut. Blood dripped from his mouth, and he held his midriff as if several ribs had been cracked or broken.
“Mark.” Deirdre tried to go to him, but Jameson’s firm grasp on her leg held her in place.
“It seems, my dear, there is a thief in my organization,” Jameson said.
“Screw you.” Mark spit blood in Jameson’s direction and was rewarded with a fist to his battered torso. The sound of his knees slamming into the wood floor made Deirdre gasp.
“Gentlemen, please. Not in front of the lady.” Jameson clasped his hands under his chin and rested his elbows on either side of his plate. “It seems Mr. Pearson wanted to help himself to some extra merchandise without paying.” He turned to Deirdre. “You see, he’s been helping me distribute my product for several months now. He and some of his former students.” Jameson made ticking sounds with his tongue. “The only problem was his soft spot for you, Deirdre. It appears he set you up for the arrest by putting heroin under the seat and calling the police himself. He thought I’d fire you and get you out of harm’s way. Quite selfless on his part. But he didn’t count on my compassion or thoroughness.”
Deirdre couldn’t hide her confusion.
“He tried to stash away an extra kilo of heroine in the yard debris. My men found it when they emptied your truck.”
“Mark? I…”
“Oh, don’t judge the man. A teacher’s salary is hardly enough to retire comfortably on these days, Deirdre. Especially when one’s wife is in the last stages of cancer, and the medical bills keep mounting.”
Mark shook his head. She saw so much pain there. Deirdre didn’t know if it was from Jameson’s revelation or the physical agony of the beating.
“Get this man out of my sight; he’s ruining my appetite. We’ll deal with him tonight.” Jameson picked up his fork. “And since Deirdre’s decided not to eat, escort her upstairs as well. Lock them in separate bedrooms. We don’t need to have them chatting.”
* * * *
Adrenaline coursed through Ayden’s veins, heightening all of his senses. Ryan sat in the front seat of the Jag, his knee bouncing nervously. Ayden hoped he’d picked the right guy. Dave had been so nervous, he’d been vomiting since they’d left Jameson’s this afternoon. He was sitting with the backup team, ready to storm the estate when his computer guys made the bogus money transfer and the drugs were in Ayden’s possession.
The headlights of the Jag cut a large swath through the gloom of the pine trees lining the deserted road.
Ayden checked his wire by running each team through their paces. One group of men was positioned to stop any plane that landed at the Wesley airstrip. He had a second team sitting on a Coast Guard cutter, out of visual range of Jameson’s estate. But the bulk of manpower was poised to move on the mansion and bring down everyone there. That’s where Ayden would be, right next to Jameson, putting the cuffs on the slime-ball himself. Revenge was in his grasp. Nothing would go wrong tonight.
When it was finished, with Jameson in police custody and the drug shipment in DEA hands, he’d head straight over to Delmont and Deirdre’s arms.
He loved her.
Two days away from her had erased any doubts he might have had. He would make a life with her away from the lonely streets of Boston. The DEA had offices here in Maine. A desk job would suit him just fine. A husband and father couldn’t be taking chances with his life. And that’s what he intended to be.
He hadn’t seen Deirdre’s truck at the mansion today, but it had only lightened his step knowing she was tucked away with her family and not anywhere near that asshole. Now, he could focus completely on bringing down Jameson’s drug cartel.
* * * *
Deirdre didn’t need to see the gun to know there was one trained on her. She felt it the same way she felt Jameson’s hand sliding up and down the inside of her thigh. His pinky stroked her sex with each pass. She wanted to throw up.
Mark sat across from them in the limousine. His battered body was slumped away from the muscled man leering at his boss’s hand on her crotch. Mark’s breathing was shallow, but steady. She thought probably he’d passed out again from the pain. He’d been slipping in and out of consciousness since they’d been reunited an hour earlier. She wondered how much internal damage the beatings had done to the man.
The limo stopped. They’d left the mansion less than fifteen minutes ago. They must still be on the property, but the tinted windows made it difficult to see anything outside the vehicle.
“Do stay here, love.” Jameson brought his finger to his nose and inhaled. “Ah, Deirdre, such a shame to waste a prime piece of real estate. But sacrifices must be made. If only you’d chosen me instead of Schaeffer, things would have turned out so differently.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “And do be a good little woman and keep your mouth shut. Anthony, you’re with me.” The two men climbed out of the limo. The snick of the locks followed their shadows into the darkness.
* * * *
“You understand we can’t be too cautious, Austin.”
Jameson’s man tore open his shirt. He’d expected it. There was no visible wire, it was in his watch. The Jag was parked next to the scrub brush, the GPS in its chassis telegraphing their position. Ayden could see the lights of the mansion far up on the hill. He’d guessed right. They were coming in via the ocean. The sliver of moon hanging in the starry sky did nothing to illuminate their surroundings.
“He’s clean. This is his only gun.” The hulk of a man walked over to Jameson, waving his regulation Glock.
It wasn’t his only weapon. Only a fool would come armed with only one gun. There was a second one in the small of his back, but the bulk of the regulation shoulder holster had kept the thug from finding it.
“I don’t see any lights, Jameson,” Ayden said. “Are you trying to pull something over on me? We had a deal. You promised thirty kilos tonight. I have men ready to move on this shipment.”
“My, you are an impatient one, aren’t you, Schaeffer?”
Ayden heard the low rumble of vehicles approaching from the beach.
Jameson looked over the shoulder of his man clicking the keys of the laptop propped on the hood of the limo. The evil squint of his eyes was made more ominous by the blue glow of the screen. “Right on time.” Jameson turned back to Ayden. “Don’t look so confused, Shaeffer. Amphibious assault vehicles. I have men on the beach erasing evidence of their arrival as we speak.” With an absent wave of his hand, Jameson motioned to the computer. “Now, if you don’t mind, those account numbers, please.” He turned to his man standing in the shadows of the
limousine. “And, Anthony, if you’d do the honors at the same time.”
The mountain man moved to the door of the limo. Ayden had all he could do not to grab the gun at his back.
“Hold it right there. I don’t know what you’re playing at Jameson. No one moves, and no money changes hands until I see my merchandise.”
“Oh, but I think you’ll like this little surprise I have for you.”
The man he called Anthony had opened the backdoor. Without any effort, he hauled a struggling woman from the car.
“Schaeffer, you remember my landscaper, Deirdre.”
At the sound of her name, Ayden lost focus and grabbed his gun, aiming it at Jameson. The night filled with the rolling clicks of guns being cocked. In the blink of an eye, Jameson had Deirdre positioned in front of his body, his gun pressed against her temple. For a brief moment, Ayden wondered if anyone else would materialize from the limo. When no one else moved, he focused his attention and assessed their situation.
Ryan and the thug had their guns pointed at each other. Even the computer geek had come armed, his gun sweeping between Ayden and Ryan. Three to two; not good odds. Even if Ayden called in his men, Deirdre would be dead before they hit the estate. How the hell had Jameson kidnapped her? Ayden’s stomach rolled, and he worked to swallow the panic leaping into his throat with his heart.
“An unfortunate standoff, I’d say. Wouldn’t you?” Jameson ran his tongue up Deirdre’s cheek. “Umm, good enough to eat. But you already know that don’t you, Schaeffer? Or should I call you by your real name, Ayden Scott?”
Ayden didn’t know if the rumble in his ears was from the approaching vehicles or the blood pounding.
“It’s been a while.” Jameson’s cackle rolled through Ayden’s clenched gut. “You almost had me in Miami, Scott. Almost. But just like then, I’m going to disappear tonight, and you’ll be left with nothing but a body. Even the DEA won’t take you back this time, Scott.” He rubbed his face through Deirdre’s hair.
Deirdre struggled in Jameson’s arms. “Shoot him, Ayden. You can’t let him get away with this. Don’t let him go.”