by Geri Krotow
“You’re in luck, Agent King. I happen to have a very good working knowledge of the resources and consumer goods that come in and through Silver Valley, as the graduating senior high school class participated in a nationwide survey on local economies.”
“And?”
“These spreadsheets are set up in exactly the same way. Except instead of having every single train, container load and where it’s from, this lists what each container will have.” She skimmed over the countless processed food, raw grain and other miscellaneous commodities. “We know they’re including their heroin shipment in with regular goods, but it won’t all be on one train. Which is smart, when you think of it. This way, if they get caught, they won’t lose it all.”
Kyle’s expression morphed to reflect his enthusiasm. “Can you tell which trains will have the drugs in them?”
Portia stared at the data, then smiled. “For sure. If you look at this column, it’s the pounds per container of whichever good is being shipped. This column next to it, though, doesn’t have a header like the others.” She pointed at the container rows, and then the train, time of arrival, gross weight and commercial value columns. “This column header has a summation sign, and look at the numbers—they’re all close to the same amount. The rows with summation numbers match certain trains.”
“Ten kilos.” Kyle’s eyes flashed as he scrolled through the long list, pages long, in fact, of the shipments. “If they’re adding ten kilos of pure heroin to each of these containers as marked, then it looks like...” He scrolled through the pages of lists. She sat quietly next to him, thinking about whom they could contact at the train depot and the other industry leaders for where the tracks ran. “That’s a shipment of just over eleven million, street value.”
“And that’s just one.” She couldn’t keep from thinking about Lani and how her OD was just an inconsequential statistic to ROC, meaningless to the drug runners and dealers, except that it meant one less user to give them money. She felt Kyle’s gaze on hers and looked at him. “I lost a high school classmate, someone I kept in touch with up until two or so years ago, to an OD. Her heroin dose had been laced with fentanyl.”
“I know—Annie knew her, too, right? Claudia told me. I’m sorry, Portia. I have a former Marine buddy from the war who gave in to it, too.” Quiet words of compassion that didn’t match his tough-guy demeanor. Another reason to fall so damn hard for Kyle.
“I’m sorry for your loss, too.” She sighed. “It’s all over the news as an epidemic. It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone how deeply entrenched opioid addiction is in our culture. And yet...”
“And yet it still leaves a hole in your gut?” He looked at her with complete comprehension. “Yeah, I get it, believe me.”
“Kyle.”
“Hmm?” He was scribbling on a notepad with a tiny pencil as he scrolled through the data.
“I will do whatever I can to help you catch these awful people.”
“I appreciate that, but you’ve already done it. It would have taken me hours to figure out this is a train manifest.”
“You can thank Silver Valley High and their research assignments.” She smiled at the memory of when she’d first learned how to use a spreadsheet.
The power from the generator flickered, indicated by the warning alarm from the refrigerator that the power had gone out.
“Kyle, I think we should back up all of this to the cloud ASAP, while there’s still a working generator to keep the Wi-Fi stable.”
“I’m on it.” The circling symbol in the middle of the screen confirmed his claim. As they sat there, Portia realized ROC was waiting it out now, too. No trains were moving anywhere from Virginia up through Maine. For all they knew, the drugs could be offloaded in another town or state, far from the madness that was bound to be Silver Valley while the snowstorm raged.
“This is very specific, Kyle. I’d imagine if you are able to compare these with the bills of loading from the matching corporations and the railroad, you’ll figure out the dates of the first deliveries.”
“I’ll pass what we—what you—figured out to Josh as soon as this backup is done.” He looked relieved.
“Could it be this simple?”
His eyes widened slightly. “What’s that?”
“That you capture the shipment, prevent the bad guys from getting drugs into the hands of users and in turn apprehend Markova?”
A soft smile etched in his handsome face. “It could be.” He didn’t say anything more and she didn’t press it. It made sense that he’d seen so much that she only could imagine, or read about in a spy novel.
“And that’s that.” He clicked the spreadsheets back open, the digital backup finished. “I’d be happier with a hard copy, but this will do.”
“There’s a printer in the home office, and if you have the right cable, we can make it happen. The Wi-Fi’s out, so we can’t do it wirelessly, but the old-fashioned way works.”
“Good idea.” Within minutes they’d hauled the printer from the office, plugged it into a working outlet and attached his laptop. Page after page printed, making the dark intent of ROC undeniable.
As the last pages printed, she caught Kyle fighting to keep his eyes open.
“Since we seem to have a bit of a reprieve thanks to the storm, I’d suggest we get some rest. The last reports indicate we’ll be stuck here for at least the next two days.”
“I can’t risk missing something.” His frown deepened.
She closed the laptop, plunging them into darkness, save for the gas fireplace, which they’d left on to give the living area some heat since the furnace wasn’t keeping up with the cold.
“You stand a better chance of overlooking an important detail because you’re exhausted.” She stood up and carried the laptop to the coffee table, where she had her portable charger. “I’ll plug this in so it’s ready to roll in the morning.”
“I don’t know if I can sleep, Portia. The storm could mask an intruder.” He’d walked up to the fireplace, where he stood and leaned against the mantel, looking into the flames.
“It could, but did you see the same weather report I did? The gusts are up to seventy-five miles an hour, and look out the window—visibility is what, a foot or less? The governor’s declared a state of emergency for the entire state, as has New Jersey and New York. Anyone who ventures outside is subject to arrest. I know I’m not law enforcement but it seems to me that if I were working for ROC, I’d keep a very low profile. Going out now is too risky. No matter how trained they are.”
There. That should mollify him. She watched the shadows flick across his face.
“Markova is driven by a need to win. To her, murdering someone in cold blood means nothing if it gets her the prize. Right now her goal is to make sure ROC’s plans to distribute heroin through Silver Valley remain intact. She’s not going to allow anything to screw it up, including a possible witness. And she won’t stop until she knows you’re silenced.”
Kyle didn’t have to tell her how she’d be silenced. By death. Portia knew the woman she was just a little over two weeks ago would have balked at the thought of being targeted by a trained assassin. That woman had changed, though, had faced death twice, survived and also met a once-in-a-lifetime man. A man she couldn’t claim, no matter how much she wanted to. They were two different types of people, she and Kyle. He needed to be on the go, constantly in the midst of a mission that somehow involved him saving the world.
All Portia wanted was to make the world more livable. In her library career, she opened worlds to people through books, film, the internet. Her community service work made life a little easier for those who struggled, she hoped.
And she wanted to get back to her life as soon as she could, wanted Kyle and all the involved LEAs to take Markova and any of her pals off the streets. But as she stared at the same flames and Kyle, Portia realized sh
e wasn’t afraid. Next to Kyle, she felt invincible, able to tackle anything.
Although the thought of using a gun against any living thing still troubled her, she knew that she’d do what she had to do to stay alive.
“I think it’s okay to sleep now. Do another check of the inside perimeter if you want, but I need to get some sleep.”
Kyle’s gaze sought hers in the dim light and she read weariness, fatigue in the silver depths. “I’ll do just that. You haven’t considered something else, Portia.”
“What now?”
“The house is going to be damned cold once we shut down the fireplace—we can’t keep it going all night, if we want the heater to stay decently powered.”
She’d seen the thermostat—even with the heater going full blast, the inside temperature of the house was well below a comfortable room setting. “So you want to conserve body heat together? How gallant of you.”
He laughed and the warmth that spread through her was all she needed. Nothing delighted her more than to see the serious agent he was 24/7 lighten up.
“It’s in my job description.”
“Being naked with a civilian?”
He sobered. “No. Not naked. We’ll wear our pajamas.” His focus on the mission was back full-force.
She scoffed in an effort to help him chill. “Do you even have sleepwear?” She hadn’t seen him in anything but his work clothes and naked.
“I have long underwear. It’s the only thing that made it bearable to do the long stakeouts I’ve had to.”
Portia felt stupid that she hadn’t considered something as simple as long underwear as part of his gear. “I thought you were literally freezing your butt off on the streets, in that awful homeless disguise. By ‘awful’ I mean it looks really, really authentic.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that from you. You’d know right away if someone was a poser in the shelter, I’m sure.”
“We’ve had a few, for sure. One couple dragged their poor kids in with them, said they’d been evicted by an unreasonable landlord.”
“And?”
“They’d been evicted, all right, for making meth in the living room. It was a miracle the kids were still healthy enough to walk in with them. The neglect, it—” She broke off, suddenly overcome by tears. “Geez, I’m not usually this emotional.”
“You’ve been under a lot of stress.”
“Trust me, there’s nothing stressful about this house. And I have all the time I want to work on the gala, so it’s been kind of a win-win that way.”
“But you’re isolated, away from the people and town you thrive on.” Kyle rubbed his scruff, shut the fireplace down with one flick of the switch. “Let’s do this. We’ll use your bed, as it’s bigger.”
“And has the balcony. So we can escape if we have to. And you can make sure no one climbs onto it. If they do, you’ll take care of it then and there. Am I right?”
She couldn’t see his face but swore she felt his grin. “You always are.” His voice was closer. “Can you follow me back?”
“Yes.” She’d follow him anywhere. She’d even looked up the town in California where he’d mentioned he’d grown up. Her job as an information specialist added to her natural curiosity about things in general. Where Kyle was concerned, it could quickly become an obsession. He still hadn’t solved the ROC case, Markova remained at large, Portia still had a target on her head, and yet she already felt the pain his departure would leave in its wake.
So much for keeping her defenses up.
Kyle slid into the bed next to Portia right after he rechecked every single ingress and egress route the large home had to offer. It was a sturdy enough building but even the custom slate roof tiles sounded as though they creaked in the gale-force winds. It was the wind barreling through the eaves, and the way it gusseted the large expanses of lumber and river stone that made up the edifice. He’d been through some dicey weather situations during his military and Trail Hiker time, but this was his first full-fledged blizzard.
He knew it wasn’t Markova’s. The ROC operative had the advantage of growing up in Russia, where tonight’s storm wouldn’t have been unfamiliar. Kyle took solace in the fact that Markova was on his turf now, and one thing he knew for sure was that the woman wouldn’t be able to just take out Portia DiNapoli. Markova would want to ask Portia how much she knew about him, including whom he worked for. Before she killed Portia.
He wanted Markova to know with zero doubt that he was as dedicated as she. He’d pull a trigger whenever he had to, to stop the threat she brought.
Portia had fallen into a deep slumber—if her light snores were any indication. He watched her sleep for a bit, the soft glow of a night-light his only way to see. True to what he’d promised, he stripped down to his long johns and kept to his side of the bed once in it. Aww, what the hay. He wrapped his arm around her slumbering form and pulled her back up against his front, noting that she, too, was in long-sleeved pajamas with full-length bottoms.
It was impossible to stop the flood of memories at the nearness of her, the scent of her hair and skin. He inhaled deeply, then forced his eyes shut. The sooner he could drift off, the better for both of them. He had to keep her safe and she was right—this portion of the storm gave them the most protection. The greatest chance to play house would be another perspective, but he reeled his musings back from the danger zone.
He was Portia’s protector, and the agent on the case that had the potential to stop ROC in its tracks. Or at least on the train tracks, with the heroin shipment intact and out of the hands of potential users. And victims.
He closed his eyes again, tried to let the constant howl of the wind and the snow battering the house soothe him.
Because if he couldn’t sleep, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist his body’s insatiable need for Portia.
Chapter 15
Portia slept deeply, awaking to a soft sound that didn’t match the rhythm of the wind.
Kyle.
He snored softly next to her, his body warm and hard against hers. She’d moved to her back and he lay on his side, his arm across her waist, his face snuggled into her shoulder. She slowly stretched, pointing and flexing her toes, allowing reality to sink back in.
Someone wanted to kill her. It made her think about how comfortable her life had been before, how naive she’d been, in many ways, to go about her business and not even consider what others sacrificed so that she could live in a relatively safe town.
Until ROC showed up. But as she thought about it, Silver Valley had faced its demons these past few years. A cult had almost infiltrated the town, its obsessed leader trying to take several innocent children down with him. Fortunately SVPD had stopped them. With a start, she acknowledged that Trail Hikers must have been a part of that, too.
And now she knew TH was actively fighting ROC, and had no doubt played a big role in the recent apprehension of several criminals involved in a human trafficking scheme. Not wanting to wake him, she inched out of Kyle’s hold, reaching for the floor with her bare feet. The contrast of the cold air with the warmth she was leaving made her have to force herself to get out of the bed.
“Where you goin’?” His arm tightened around her waist and she hung in limbo, one toe on the throw rug next to the bed frame as her leg dangled.
“I thought I’d make coffee, get another look at the spreadsheets.” Since he was awake, she reached for her phone, still charged. Using her cellular connection, she checked the weather reports. And groaned.
“What?” He was propped on his elbow, watching her. She loved the energy he gave off when he did this, making her feel like she was the only woman in the world, and the most beautiful.
“Four feet have fallen already, with up to another foot expected. The below-zero temperatures are going to make for up to ten-foot drifts. And it’s going to last for at least another two
days.”
Two days stuck in the house she’d been basically exiled to didn’t seem so bad, not with Kyle next to her.
“Put your phone away, Portia, and get naked.” His huge hand playfully batted at hers. As soon as her phone hit the nightstand, he pulled her ass up against his pelvis.
“Oh.” His unclothed erection pressed insistently against her cheeks. “You’re fully awake, I’d say.” She turned onto her back and looked at him. His silver eyes shone through slits and his nostrils flared. “I thought we were trying to keep our distance. To be professional.”
“That was before we survived a night in a blizzard together.” He leaned in but remained a breath away from her lips, allowing her to make the choice. It was going to hurt like hell when he left town, but her regret would be even deeper if she didn’t make the most of the present. With Kyle.
“It’s a good idea to maintain a good working relationship, right? Since we’re going to be stuck together for at least another forty-eight hours.”
“Kiss me, babe.”
She pulled his head down and let his mouth work its magic. In the morning light, which was made paler by the storm’s blocking of the sun, she reveled in every touch, every caress as he took his time, kissing her until she was breathless, and then moving his mouth to her throat, her breasts, her stomach, making her quiver with want at each juncture. As he gently sucked on the skin inside her thighs, her need rose and she sat up, pushing him onto his back.
“Let me make you feel just as good, Kyle.”
“Babe.” He actually looked pained, as if going down on her had been all he’d ever wanted to do. Something deep and lasting tugged inside her but she didn’t want to take any time or space away from right here, right now.
She pushed on his shoulders, made him lie back and mirrored what he’d done to her, not stopping when she got to the dip of his belly button in his taut, chiseled abs. Her tongue led the way down the hair that led to his erection, hot and hard. For her.
It was so easy to make love to Kyle. As she took him in her mouth, heard his gasp, inhaled his very essence, she’d never been more complete. This was what a true partnership was about. Not waiting for someone to see that you were just as important as their job, not always wondering if you measured up to their last love.