by Joyce Lamb
Cole said, “So Ramsey must have followed you to the park after he saw Austin take the picture. He couldn’t tell you he wanted the photos that were taken at Kincaid’s because then you might have made a connection he didn’t want you to make. So he said he wanted the ones from the park, which he would naturally assume were on the same roll of film.”
“And it worked,” Bailey said. “We didn’t even look at the pictures taken at Payne’s.”
“When our guys couldn’t find anything in the photos from the park, they went over all the negatives you gave us,” Kathleen said. “This one caught their eye for obvious reasons.”
“It’s a transaction,” Cole said.
Bailey sat straighter, pulling her hand away from Cole. “Is Payne in some kind of danger?”
Kathleen and Sark exchanged a glance. She gave the other agent a curt nod, then looked at Cole. “This is off the record.”
“Fine,” Cole said.
“Seriously, Cole. If this ends up in the newspaper, a huge, federal investigation is screwed.”
“I said fine.”
Bailey was more focused on Kathleen’s words: a huge federal investigation. That involved men who worked for Payne?
“The federal government has known for some time,” Sark said, “that Mr. Ramsey is part of a smuggling operation that encompasses Naples, Fort Myers and Kendall Falls.”
Bailey felt her jaw drop.
“What kind of smuggling?” Cole asked. “Drugs?”
“Whatever anyone needs smuggled, actually,” Kathleen said. “Basically, he’s what we call a mover. If you need something transported into the United States—illegal immigrants, aborted embryos for stem-cell research, rhino horns, illegal poisonous animals, weapons—he handles all the details. For a hefty price, of course.”
“Payne ships artwork for his customers all the time,” Bailey said. “Is Ramsey using Payne’s shipments to smuggle this stuff for other people?”
A beat went by where no one said anything, the only sound the gulf waves outside the doors.
Cole sat back. “Holy shit.”
Bailey glanced at him, alarmed. “What? Tell me.”
Sark said, “Ramsey isn’t the top guy. Payne Kincaid is.”
Bailey gasped and shook her head. “No. Absolutely no way.”
Silence reigned again. Unable to sit there with three pairs of eyes watching her, she pushed back from the table and got up. Pacing to the island in the center of the kitchen, she braced her hands on it. A warm, moist breeze blew through the sliding glass doors, stirring the hair on her forehead and carrying the scent of rain.
This was wrong. All of this was so very wrong. Not the Payne Kincaid she knew.
“I’ve known Payne Kincaid my entire life. He’s no criminal.”
Cole got up. “Bailey—”
“I don’t understand why Ramsey is so adamant about getting these from me,” she said, gesturing at the photos on the table. “He and the security guy both work for Payne, so there would be no reason for me to think something wrong is going on here. We wouldn’t even be here if he hadn’t come after me.”
“Thugs like him aren’t known for being the smartest people on Earth,” Sark said.
“Is it possible you would have shown the photos your nephew took to Kincaid?” Kathleen asked. “They are his first.”
Bailey’s shoulders sagged. “Oh. That’s a good point.”
“But if Kincaid and Ramsey are working together on an illegal operation, why would these photos make Kincaid suspicious?” Cole asked. “Wouldn’t the security guy be a part of it?”
“Possibly,” Sark said.
Cole’s brow furrowed in confusion. “This doesn’t make sense. You said you already knew that Ramsey works for Kincaid and what they’re doing, so the photos don’t help you nail anyone. So why are you sharing so many details if this is such a top-secret case?”
Sark’s light gaze fixed on Bailey. “We need your help.”
A terrible sense of dread drilled through the center of her stomach. “My help? How?”
Kathleen suddenly rose. “I’m going to make that coffee now.”
Chapter 36
The wind outside the beach house picked up, along with the sound of waves that tumbled more violently than before. Cole turned and slid the door closed with an angry thunk and latched it. Kathleen running water into the glass carafe of the coffeemaker seemed deafening in the quiet that followed.
Bailey watched as Cole leaned back against the glass door and folded his arms, his expression fixed in pissed-off mode. Lightning flashed in the distance behind him, as though the weather reflected his mood. When he met her eyes, though, his expression softened.
Sark got up and gestured at the chair Bailey had left. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine how I can help.”
“Please, Miss Chase. I can explain everything, and I’d prefer that you sit down.”
Cole moved toward her and gave her arm a gentle, reassuring squeeze before he settled on the chair he’d left earlier.
Bailey followed suit, figuring if he could sit still as ticked as he was, so could she.
Agent Sark resumed his seat as well. “Before Dixon Ramsey, there was James Chase.”
Bailey felt as if he’d punched her in the chest with his fist. “My brother?”
“Shit,” Cole said under his breath.
“Like Ramsey, your brother was Kincaid’s right-hand man,” Sark went on. “We already knew about Kincaid’s smuggling operation, but we couldn’t prove anything. He dots all his i’s, crosses every t, so trying to get anything on him that would stick was extremely difficult. After the accident that killed your father, we were prepared to let James walk on the involuntary manslaughter charge if he rolled on Kincaid. He wouldn’t do it.”
Bailey mind reeled. Everything she thought she knew about her father’s best friend was wrong. And not only was Payne Kincaid a smuggler, but he’d dragged her brother into his world. That’s how James made the money that bought the drugs—and the car—that led to their father’s tragic death. All of it—everything that had made the Chase family’s life hell for the past five years—could be traced back to Payne Kincaid.
And James. God, James. What had he been thinking?
The scent of brewing coffee began to fill the kitchen. So normal and mundane when nothing was normal or mundane.
When Cole slid his hand over hers again, his touch had a grounding effect.
Sark cleared his throat. “We need your brother’s help, Miss Chase. We need his testimony to put Kincaid and Ramsey away for a long time.”
As if the statement had opened the floodgates on her memory, Bailey remembered what James had said to her on the phone just before the attack at the pool.
“I’m working on something, a plan. But I might have to go away.”
“To prison?”
“Witness protection.”
She snapped her head up. “Jamie will talk this time.”
Sark’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
“I was on the phone with him when … by the pool. He said he had a plan that might involve witness protection. I had no idea what he meant at the time, but he must be planning to turn on Payne.” She glanced between Sark and Kathleen. “I can call him on his cell.”
Kathleen immediately unhooked the smartphone from her belt and handed it over. “Just tell him you want to meet with him so you can talk.”
She dialed and waited for the call to connect. When the call went straight to James’ voice mail, she disconnected. “He’s not answering.”
Sark pulled out his own cell phone. “Do you know if he’s contacted the police or the FBI?” His features looked animated for the first time as he punched buttons on his phone.
“He didn’t say,” Bailey said. “He wouldn’t tell me anything more.”
“Do you know where he might be?” Kathleen asked.
Bailey blinked at the federal ag
ent. Their urgency was freaking her out. Make that, freaking her out more. “No.”
“You need to tell us where we can find him, Miss Chase,” Sark said. “His life could be in danger.”
Bailey’s stomach plunged into the abyss. “When I talked to him, he was at home. I don’t know where he was when … when Payne called his cell to … tell him I was … I was … okay.”
She looked at Cole. Hot tears welled too fast, emotion like a demon inside her, clawing its way up her throat. She couldn’t breathe. Her head felt light, as if all of the blood had drained out of it. Payne Kincaid, the man who’d been like a second father to her, was in charge of a large smuggling operation. James had been his right-hand man. And now her brother’s life could be in danger.
Bailey had to get out of this room, away from these people.
Her chair made a deafening noise as she scooted it back and rose. “Bathroom?”
Cole was watching her, his eyes sharp.
Kathleen gestured. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”
Bailey concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Right, left, right, left.
By the time she reached the first door on the right, her muscles had begun to forget how to walk. She’d just gotten the door closed when her legs gave out, and she slid down the wall until her tailbone met the floor.
In the dark, she leaned her forehead on her knees and took deep breaths to fight off the powerful urge to throw up.
Chapter 37
“Do you think you should check on her?” Kathleen asked. “She didn’t look so hot.”
Cole glanced toward the hallway, tamping down the urge to go after Bailey. She needed a couple of minutes, some space. But staying put took all his willpower.
Sark stood and headed for the living room. “I have some calls to make.”
“So she’s the one.”
Cole registered Kathleen’s considering look. His anger at her returned full force. He got up and went to the coffeemaker where he poured steaming coffee into one of the bright red mugs Kathleen had set out. “She’s the one what?”
“Daniel said you punched him out over a woman. I suspected earlier today, but I wasn’t sure until now. You do remember that she broke his heart, don’t you?”
Cole clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached in protest. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what that asshole has to say.”
“Believe it or not, he admitted he deserved the decking.”
Cole snorted. “Right.” He sipped too-hot coffee and grimaced at the sting. When he felt as though he could look at her without snarling, he turned to face her. “You know what really pisses me off, Kath?”
“What?”
“My friends are turning out to be not all that great.”
“Cole—”
He cut her off by setting aside the coffee mug and walking away. He paused in the hall outside the bathroom door and listened for movement, crying, running water, whatever. The silence made him wonder how much time he should give her.
Hearing Kathleen behind him, he turned. “You sent me to get her so you wouldn’t risk tipping Kincaid off that the feds are onto him.”
“Like I said before, I had no way of knowing—”
“You knew that Dixon Ramsey works for Kincaid. That means he has easy access to Kincaid’s property. That’s why he was able to skirt security. Bailey was a sitting duck there. Completely unsuspecting and vulnerable. And you knew it.”
Kathleen raised her chin. “Why do you think I told you it was imperative that you get to her quickly?”
“You should have stormed the place with a team of federal agents. A woman’s life was in jeopardy. Jesus. What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Cole, I’m sorry. I thought at the time I was making the right decision. Sending feds in would have blown the whole investigation, which incidentally involves several federal law enforcement agencies. Isn’t the important thing that Bailey is all right?”
Disgust churned through his gut like nausea. She had no idea what she’d risked. “Bailey’s not all right. Not only was she almost killed, but you and your CBP buddy jerked a huge freaking rug out from under her. Not only is her brother in danger, but a man she’s trusted her entire life is a crook. She’s not going to be all right for a long time.”
Kathleen arched a haughty brow. “She’s got you, doesn’t she?”
He glared at her, appalled that he had at one time thought he could have loved this woman. “You and Mr. Sark should go.”
Dropping her gaze, she had the decency to look contrite. “We’re going to need her help to keep her brother on track. He might be willing to testify now, but he’ll probably waffle somewhere along the line.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should work on arresting somebody before we get to that. Until that happens, Bailey’s a target.”
Kathleen’s lips tightened, as if she held back a biting retort. “There are agents in front and in back. No one’s getting anywhere near this place.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. He thought of Bailey in the pool, unmoving and still, and wondered how long it would take to get that horrifying image out of his head.
Kathleen shifted her stance and released a soft sigh. “Look, Cole … I’m sorry. I made a bad call. I thought we had time … I certainly never meant for Bailey to get hurt. You have to know that.”
He nodded, suddenly exhausted beyond reason. “I know. I’m just … God, this night could have turned out so horribly wrong … it scared me, and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She gave him a small smile. “Friends?”
“You need to catch these guys, Kath. Bailey and her nephew have been through too much already.”
“That’s our number one priority right now. I promise you.”
“Good.”
She started to say something more then paused, as if to rethink her words. “We’ve notified all law enforcement to be on the lookout for James. We should have him in custody by morning. Could you let Bailey know?”
He nodded. “Of course.”
With a tight smile, she gave him a curt nod. “I’ll head out then. I … I hope …” She gestured toward the bathroom door. “I hope she’s okay.”
“Me, too.”
Cole stayed where he was until he heard the front door close and the lock engage. Then he stared at the bathroom door, torn about what to do. What if she was crying in there?
He stepped forward and knocked lightly. “Bailey?”
No answer. Damn it. Should he leave her alone? But, God, he didn’t want to. He wanted to be there for her.
He tried the knob, grateful that it turned. At least she hadn’t locked him out. He eased it open just a crack. Damn, she hadn’t even turned on the light. “Bailey?”
“I’m okay.” She sounded muffled and hoarse.
As the light from the hall filtered in, he saw her sitting with her back against the white porcelain tub, her legs drawn up to her chest. Her forehead rested on her knees, hiding her face from view.
Cole sat beside her and maneuvered an arm around her shoulders, surprised when she curled into him, sinking her fingers into the front of his shirt.
He released his held breath and enfolded her in his arms. “It’s okay,” he murmured, stroking a hand over her hair. “It’s going to be okay.”
Chapter 38
Bailey curled in a comfortable wicker chair in the dimly lit living room, wrapped in a blanket to combat the chill she couldn’t shake. Rain kept up a steady patter against the windows while weakening gusts of wind hit the side of the small house and thunder rumbled faintly overhead.
Her body felt bruised from head to foot, her head aching and stuffy, her eyes burning from chlorine and tears. She still couldn’t grasp what the federal agents had told her about Payne and her brother. Would this disassociation eventually wear off? Would her life ever be anything but surreal again?
Cole walked in from the kitchen with two coffee mugs, one of
which he handed to her. “It’s decaf laced with liberal amounts of alcohol to warm you up,” he said.
“Thanks.” She accepted the cup with both hands and brought it to her lips. She grimaced as she swallowed. The heat of the alcohol seared all the way down. “You’re not kidding. What is it? Four parts whiskey, one part coffee?”
“Close.” He settled on the adjacent sofa.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?”
His lips curved a little. “Am I so predictable?”
She leaned her head against the chair back. In the dim light, he looked even hotter than usual. The sleeves of his borrowed shirt hugged his biceps, his skin smooth and tan. His hair looked as if he’d dragged a towel through it rather than a comb.
It would be so easy to be reckless with him. She’d almost died tonight. Weren’t people who came that close to dying supposed to have a strong need to celebrate life? Her need was definitely strong, but she figured it had less to do with almost dying and more to do with the way he looked into her. And the way he’d held her on the bathroom floor while she’d cried. And the way he’d fought for her with the federal agents. And the way he’d saved her life. And the way he kissed … God, the way he kissed.
But starting something with him, or rather, continuing it—since whatever this was had started a couple blistering kisses ago—seemed foolish. If James entered witness protection, she would, too. She couldn’t let Austin go. Not for anything or anyone.
Besides, this wasn’t love. Lust? Sure. The events of the past week had been so intense that everything she felt was magnified. When it was all over, maybe Cole would go back to being aloof and uninterested. And she would go back to being … what?
Alone.
“Oh,” Cole said, setting aside his coffee. He dug into his front pocket then pulled out a tiny plastic bottle with a blue label. “I found these in the medicine cabinet.”
When she accepted the eye drops, their fingers brushed. No electrical current passed between them. Just a heat that she wished would chase away the chill in her bones.
“Thank you.” She set aside her coffee cup and fumbled with the tiny cap with trembling fingers. How frustrating that she couldn’t make herself stop shaking. God, she hated being so weak.