by Jana DeLeon
I wore jeans and a light turquoise tank over to his house. I wasn’t about to admit that I was wearing that tank because the color looked good against my tan skin and blond hair or that it brought out the color of my eyes. And if my jeans had gone through a hot-water wash cycle and were fitting a little snug, well, accidents happened. Especially when Gertie was around. The tank had been her idea as well, but I’d drawn the line at lip gloss. That was just asking for suspicion as soon as he walked in the door.
I took a look at myself in the rearview mirror of my Jeep and sighed. Who was I kidding?
One look at my face and Carter would know something was wrong. I was a highly skilled undercover operative and a professional liar, but the deeper my feelings for Carter became, the harder it was to get things by him. It was both frustrating and somewhat comforting to know that I had the ability to care deeply enough to break down my brick wall facade. It was also scary. Caring about people put me in a position of vulnerability that I wasn’t used to and hadn’t been trained for. In so many ways, a CIA mission had been easier.
But all that was moot. This was my future, or at least, I wanted it to be. Which meant putting on my big-girl panties and learning to be a normal woman. Well, as normal as a former assassin turned potential private investigator with two former spies as sidekicks could manage.
I’d just pulled the burgers off the grill when Carter walked into the living room and saw me coming in from the patio with the steaming patties.
“That looks good,” he said.
“Let me get you a cold beer and I bet it will look even better.”
I put the patties on the counter and grabbed a beer. Carter had sunk into his recliner and looked completely beat. I immediately felt bad because I was about to make an already less-than-stellar day even worse, but it couldn’t be helped. Now that Director Morrow was on board with my bait plan, things would move quickly, so I needed to inform Carter as soon as possible. And even though I could probably wait until tomorrow, what would be the point? What I had to say wouldn’t change and neither would his reaction to it. Might as well get it over with.
I handed him the beer and sat on the coffee table in front of him. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“I kinda figured that.”
“Was it the cooking? Too much?”
He shook his head. “You like to eat. The cooking was bound to happen sooner or later. It was the fancy bra.”
“It’s not fancy. It’s just not a sports bra.”
“Your boobs are twice as large as normal. From where I sit, that’s pretty fancy.”
So much for subtlety.
“You might as well spit it out,” he said. “Whatever Gertie has got you in the middle of this time can’t be any worse than what I’ve dealt with before.”
“Yeah, well, this time it’s not Gertie.”
He studied me for a couple seconds, then blew out a breath. “Ahmad?”
I nodded. “They lost him in Miami.”
“Damn it!” He slammed his hand on the recliner, and I could see his jaw flexing. “There is no way he’s slipping through the CIA’s fingers without help.”
“I know. I figure it has to be someone on the takedown team in Miami.”
“Unless someone on the team blabbed to someone else.”
“That’s possible too, but either way, the leak had to start with someone in Miami because they were the only ones informed of who the target was.”
“So what now?”
“Well, the CIA’s plan was to locate him again and repeat but with a different team.”
“Because they’ve been so successful with that plan thus far.”
I couldn’t blame him for the sarcasm. I was more than a little frustrated with the situation myself, and I knew firsthand how slippery Ahmad was.
“I feel the same way,” I said. “So that’s why I decided to push the issue.”
“Push how?”
I was silent for several seconds, trying to decide exactly how to phrase what I had to say next, but apparently, it was broadcast across my face. He jumped up from his chair, knocking his beer off the end table, and threw his hands in the air.
“Have you lost your mind?” he yelled. “Don’t answer that. It’s clear you have.”
I stood as well, refusing to let him have the dominant position of height, which still wasn’t completely effective since he had a good four inches on me to begin with.
“I’m not crazy,” I said. “What I am is done. I’m done waiting on them to locate Ahmad. I’m done sitting here, pretending to be someone else, while I hope other people do the job I’m best trained for. I’m done worrying about the fact that summer is almost over.”
I could tell he was working up to a round of argument, but my last sentence stopped him. He stared at me for a while, his frustration and fear so apparent. Finally his shoulders relaxed a tiny bit and he sighed. Then he reached for me and pulled me in close.
“I get it,” he said. “But I don’t have to like it.”
I wrapped my arms around him and placed my face on his chest where I could hear his heartbeat. I was twenty-eight years old and had completed eighteen successful CIA missions, but this one was different. This time I had something to lose. Something big and important. Something that I never imagined I’d have or was even capable of.
“I don’t like it either,” I said. “But I hate the alternative even more. You know better than most how this works. If I wait on the CIA to do this without my help, it could be years or never. As much as I hate to admit it, I am aware of a couple people who were in protective custody for decades. I can’t do that. I can’t bounce around from one place to another, pretending to be someone else and waiting for Ahmad to be captured or killed.”
“I know. I’d do the same thing.”
He pushed me back just a bit so he could lower his lips to mine.
“So do you think he’s still in Miami?” Carter asked. “Do you plan on trying to draw him out there?”
I drew in a breath, bracing myself for the second round of yelling that was surely coming. “No. I want home-field advantage.”
“You want to bring him here? To your home?”
“Not to Sinful, but to Louisiana.”
“New Orleans?”
“It’s the most likely. I know the city some, and there’s something about doing it here that just feels right. Like it was always meant to go down this way.”
“I want to be involved. I know the CIA will have a fit, but I’m insisting.”
“Don’t worry about the CIA. I’ve already strong-armed my boss into doing this because I told him I’d do it with or without resources. I can’t promise you anything in particular, but I’ll make sure you’re involved.”
He frowned. “Speaking of resources who want to be involved…”
“They know and are just as insistent as you, but don’t worry. I’m not about to put them in harm’s way. I don’t mean to diminish their skills, which are numerous and varied, but Ahmad is a criminal many generations younger than their prime.”
“They’re not going to sit home and knit while this happens.”
I nodded. “I’ll find them something to do that keeps them out of the line of fire.”
“I’m sure you’ll do your best.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
“Oh, I’m convinced that you’ll make the attempt. I’m also just as convinced that those two are slippery as eels.”
“There is that. If it becomes necessary, I’ll put a protective detail on them.”
“Good. But no pulling that crap with me. Unlike the two senior James Bonds, I am trained for exactly this sort of thing. I want to be there with you when this happens. To be honest, I want to be the one to put a bullet through Ahmad’s head, but if the opportunity is there, I’m happy to defer to you on that one.”
I smiled. “That whole new-age closure thing?”
“No. Just good old-fashioned revenge. He put a price
on your head.”
“I did kill his brother.”
“You killed a human-trafficking pedophile. You’re a hero, Fortune. One of the good guys. Don’t ever forget that.”
I leaned against him, not wanting him to see my eyes getting all misty. He never talked much about his service with the Marine Corps. I knew he was Special Forces and he’d given the barest of details about one mission that went bad, but no one became a great assassin without being a keen observer. I had zero doubt that Carter had been a complete badass, and that he’d done and seen so much that he’d spent three months roaming the country after leaving the military simply to get his head back round to civilian living.
So when someone like Carter LeBlanc called you a hero, you were allowed to cry a little.
Carter and I talked late into the night. Sometimes about Ahmad and the takedown. Sometimes about how my life would change after leaving the CIA and all the little things that you never thought about while you were neck-deep in the middle of a war. Things like taking a vacation. I’d been all over the world, but viewing it through a riflescope wasn’t the perspective I wanted to take to the grave. Not to mention, the places I’d been weren’t exactly a trip to Disney.
I’d always seen pictures of white sandy beaches, with clear turquoise water and drinks with little umbrella thingies. Back then, I would have rather had a root canal or maybe even a small bullet wound than sit around on a beach like a lump, doing absolutely nothing. Now it seemed like nirvana. I’d definitely changed, and sometimes those changes woke me up in the middle of the night, fearful that I was making a mistake. That I couldn’t be normal people. Or at least as close to normal as Ida Belle and Gertie managed.
Carter seemed to manage normal very well, but then, he’d had a nice childhood right here in Sinful, with a loving father and mother, to give him that foundation that he could return to. I, on the other hand, was learning how to be a regular joe for the very first time. I had to admit that some of it had been a lot easier than I’d imagined. Like making friends. And having a relationship with a man, although that one still had a bunch of questions surrounding it. Still, when I remembered those things, I thought maybe, hopefully, it wasn’t going to be as difficult as I imagined.
We talked about so many things, except the one thing that we’d been avoiding for a while—us. A couple times, I started to bring it up and something stopped me. A couple times, I thought Carter was about to go there, but then he’d get quiet and never start down that line of conversation. The last time he went silent, he looked away for a moment, but when he looked back, he hadn’t completely gotten his emotions under control and I saw what he’d been hiding.
Fear.
And that’s when it hit me. He didn’t want to bring us up because he knew there was a chance I wouldn’t make it out of this alive. He was right, of course. Why put ourselves through a difficult conversation that might not ultimately matter? Why waste what might be our last days together at odds with each other? Everything Carter and I needed to say, needed to find equal ground on, could wait.
When we started yawning more than talking, we called it a night and went to bed. Carter had work the next morning, and had to be out early. No matter the time I retired, I rarely slept late, so I got up when he did, had a hot shower with a hot man, then headed to my house for breakfast and some morning contemplation.
Setting a trap for someone of Ahmad’s caliber required three different elements—a location for the takedown, a team that could execute the takedown with extreme efficiency and prejudice, and a way to filter the location to the target without him suspecting a setup. I had no doubt that the team Morrow and Harrison put together would be first-rate. It was the location and the filtering that required more thought.
Fortunately, I had an idea for both, and that idea sprang from the same place.
I made myself a protein shake, grabbed the keys to my Jeep, and headed out the door, shake in hand. Breakfast on the go. It was only 8:00 a.m. but I needed to have this conversation without Ida Belle and Gertie there, and that meant cutting out before they were up and going. I just hoped the people I was going to see didn’t have a problem with my early-hour arrival. Just to be sure, I sent a text.
Need to have emergency meeting. Can you meet me in twenty?
I sent the text, expecting a delay for the reply. After all, people had to hear the signal, get up, check their phone…heck, I might be there before they even got the message. But the reply was almost instant.
We will be there.
I pulled up to the warehouse that served as the office of Big and Little Hebert, the local mob connection, and as weird as it sounded to people who didn’t know our history, people I considered friends. I saw their Hummer out front and one other vehicle that I recognized as belonging to their right-hand man, Mannie.
The front door was open so I entered the building and waited. I knew their security system had alerted them to my presence and they were watching me on one of the many screens housed in a room upstairs. It wouldn’t be long before Mannie arrived to escort me to the office on the second floor, where I’d been before. Sure enough, about ten seconds after I walked in, Mannie got off the elevator and headed my way.
He gave me a huge smile and extended his hand for a shake. “Ms. Morrow. This is a surprise, but a nice one.” We started for the elevator. “Mr. Hebert was excited to hear about your text but anxious about the content itself. Is everything all right? Ida Belle and Gertie?”
“They’re fine. And so am I, at the moment. But I have a situation that I think Big and Little are specifically suited to helping me with, and I’m really hoping they’re willing to.”
“Big and Little are very fond of you, and they are rarely fond of anyone. I’m sure if what you need is within their ability to provide, they’ll be happy to help. And please, let me know if there’s anything I can personally assist with. You get involved in the most interesting situations. Really perks things up around here.”
“Thanks, Mannie.” I knew very little about the Heberts’ top security guy. He was probably a stone-cold killer, but he was a very polite one. And for whatever reason, he’d taken a liking to me, Ida Belle, and Gertie, along with Big and Little. I wasn’t quite sure what that said about any of us, but I figured that could be considered at more depth once this was all over.
“How’s the leg?” I asked. The last time Mannie had helped us out, he’d gotten shot.
“It was just a scratch.”
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be scared. A bullet wound could hardly be called a scratch, but Mannie sure didn’t show any signs that he’d taken a hit. Maybe he was a superhero. It would make as much sense as anything else in Sinful.
Big was in his usual place, on a park bench behind his desk. Even though the desk was massive, his sizable physique made it look more like a desk in a college student’s dorm room than an executive’s office. Little was standing behind the desk, conferring with his father, and approached with a smile and an extended hand as I walked inside. He gave Mannie a nod as he greeted me, and the bodyguard slipped silently from the room.
I was pretty sure Big rose from the bench only when leaving the room, but he gave me a huge smile that I returned. I knew that technically they were the “bad guys” but I couldn’t help liking them. Plus, a while back, I’d formed a theory about their somewhat duplicitous behavior. I had no doubt they were indeed in charge of the region and that their distantly-related cousin Sonny Hebert, Louisiana’s biggest mobster, was pulling the strings from Baton Rouge, but there was an undercurrent of something else. Something I thought I’d guessed and really hoped I was right, because it would make a difference in what I was about to do.
“Ms. Morrow,” Big said as he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk where I took a seat. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, although your message has me a bit concerned. Your stealthy sidekicks aren’t here with you?”
“Not this time,” I said. “I didn’t want them to hear wh
at I want to discuss, and if you agree to help me, I’m guessing you wouldn’t want them to be aware of our discussion either.”
Big leaned back. “Now I’m both intrigued and a bit worried. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“Yes. But that’s been the case since my arrival in Sinful.”
Big laughed. “You can say that again. Your arrival has prompted the most entertainment that Little and I have ever witnessed in these parts.”
“I’m sure it has, but that’s not what I meant. I’m about to tell you something—something that could get me killed. And despite who you are, I am placing my trust in you to keep my secret. At least for now.”
Big looked over at Little, who gave him a knowing nod, then he looked back at me.
“Little and I have had quite a few discussions about you,” Big said. “Your hidden talents never seemed to align with your résumé. At first, we thought you were FBI, sent here to infiltrate the family, but as time passed, it was clear that wasn’t your agenda.”
Little nodded. “It was Mannie who suggested you had military training, and that made a lot of sense, both from an ability standpoint and from your desire to insert yourself into situations that a librarian would normally hide from.”
If I was being honest, I wasn’t really surprised. They were criminals. If anyone could spot my training, it would be the people whose future depended on flying under the radar when people like me were around. But hearing them lay their thoughts out was a relief.
“I suspected I might not have fooled you,” I said. “For many reasons, I’d prefer not to go into details. But you’re right—I’m not Sandy-Sue Morrow, and I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in a library except for the time I was pursuing a target through one.”