by Sarah Curtis
The car’s headlights click off, submerging the alley in near darkness.
A small door to the right of the rollup one opened, and a scrawny guy stepped out. He raised a hand.
That must have been Ray’s cue because he opened his car door. “Follow my lead.”
Dean got out of the car and rounded the hood, standing at Ray’s side.
“You got the package?” the guy by the door asked, directing his question to Ray. Dean was surprised by the deep timbre of his voice. The dude couldn’t weigh more than a buck-thirty soaking wet.
“It’s in the trunk.”
The guy nodded curtly. “Get it. Then come inside.” He disappeared behind the closing door.
Ray turned to him. “You ready?”
“Just tell me what you need me to do.”
“Nothing much. Stay silent and have my back if things go south.”
Ray hit a button on the fob to pop the trunk. He reached inside under a flap and pulled out a Glock 9MM.
Dean took it and gave it a once over. Popping out the magazine, he checked it for rounds before pushing it back in and adjusting the slide. The gun was ready for use.
Ray raised a brow. “Smooth.”
“Will we be checked at the door?”
“Not likely.”
Dean nodded and tucked the gun in his back waistband.
Ray picked up another gun and did the same before grabbing the handles of a small duffle, pulling it from the trunk.
Ray slammed the trunk closed. “Let’s go.”
The interior of the warehouse was gloomy.
Dean didn’t like it.
Anything—or should he say anyone—could be lurking in the shadows. He took comfort from his gun pressing into the small of his back and within easy reach.
He trained his eyes into every nook and cranny that he could see. It appeared as though the place did legit business alongside its illegal one, but who the hell knew if there were actually electronics—as the brand names suggested—in the stacks of boxes that lined the walls.
The echo of a slamming door reverberated through the room, and a moment later, a tall, slender man came into view. From the expensive cut of his suit and fine leather shoes and the fact he was flanked by two beefy men, if Dean had to guess, he’d say he was looking at the drug boss, Andre Matas.
“Ray. You brought a friend. You know I don’t like strangers.” Matas’s tone was smooth and cultured yet devoid of personality.
“He’s cool.” Ray was quick to reply.
“You’re an authority all of a sudden?” Matas raised a brow. “Search him.” He directed his statement to his goons without taking his eyes from Ray and Dean.
“I’m telling you he’s legit. Bet my life on it.”
Matas raised a staying hand, and the goons stopped in their tracks. “So sure? Because that’s what it will come down to, you know… Your life if you’re wrong.”
Dean glanced Ray’s direction and saw him visibly swallow and hoped like hell the action had been lost from several feet away. “I’m sure. This is the guy I was telling you about. He’s moved a shit-ton of product.”
Matas’s eyes bore into Dean for a long, tense moment before a small, wicked smile formed on his lips. “Very well.” He slapped his hands together, rubbing them. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get down to business, shall we?”
Dean and Ray followed Matas and his two henchmen to a long assembly table, and Ray tossed the bag onto it.
“What was the take this month?” Matas asked, all business.
“Sold the full kilo—280K.” Ray took a step back from the table so Goon Two could unzip the bag for Matas’s inspection.
“And it’s untraceable?”
Ray nodded. “Yep. As far as anyone’s concerned, did a custom job on a ’69 Mustang last week. It’s all accounted for.”
“Good.” Matas directed his next words to Goon Two. “Take it in the back and count it.” He turned to Goon One. “Get him his next month’s supply.”
The guy moved to the boxes that lined the side wall. He pushed a few aside, reached into a box, and came out holding a white brick. Back at the table, he tossed it into the duffle.
A few minutes later, Goon Two made a reappearance. “It’s all there, boss.”
Matas smiled. “Looks like our business is concluded, gentlemen. See you next month.”
With those final words, all hell broke loose. A team of agents came pouring through the door, guns raised, shouting, “DEA, freeze!”
Dean pushed Ray behind him at the same time drawing his gun. Shouts exploded from both sides. The long table was flipped over, creating a shield that Matas and his people ducked behind.
“Find cover!” Dean yelled over his shoulder at Ray. He didn’t check to see if Ray listened, too busy weaving and ducking bullets as he made his way around the side of the table. He took aim and shot Goon Two.
Matas turned, and they locked eyes. Matas was faster, already having his weapon trained. Dean dived as Matas fired.
A bullet whiz by his head, but he was already rolling to his side, aiming, and firing.
Once.
Twice.
The first shot went wide, but the second found a mark, hitting Matas in his shoulder, the gun falling with a clatter to the floor.
Agents swarmed.
Dean sat up and turned his head toward the door in the back. No one came out. It appeared that avenue was clear, but to be on the safe side, he’d have someone check it out.
Agent Mark Sanchez came to his side, squatting. “You okay?”
It was then Dean felt the burn at his temple and a tickle on his cheek. He swiped at it, his fingers coming away bloody.
Sanchez’s gaze followed his actions while pulling out his walkie-talkie. “Need a medic. Agent’s been shot. I repeat. Agent’s been shot.”
Dean sat in the rear doorway of the ambulance, watching as a cuffed Matas and Goon One were hauled into the back of a cruiser. Goon Two would be leaving in a body bag.
A field test had been run verifying the drugs in the warehouse were, in fact, street-grade cocaine, and agents were busy filing the evidence. Between that and Ray’s testimony, Matas would be going to prison for a very long time.
Dean moved his eyes to Ray who was cuffed and standing off to the side, being interviewed by a fellow agent.
“Son of a…” Dean hissed, glaring at the medic as he slathered something that stung like a son of a bitch on his wound.
Done getting patched up, he pushed off the ambulance’s tailgate and made his way over to Ray, Agent Denoly eyeing his bandage as he walked up. “Can I have a word with our witness?”
“You’re going to the hospital.” Denoly crossed his arms over his chest ready for a fight, but Dean didn’t plan on being stubborn.
He tipped his head in affirmation. “As soon as I talk to Ray.”
Nodding, Denoly took a few steps away to talk with an agent who’d exited the building.
“You okay?” Ray asked.
“Just a graze.”
“So, in other words, your head was almost blown off.”
Dean chuckled. “Not as bad as that.” A few seconds of silence passed between them before Dean said, “Thanks for your help. Not sure this would’ve gone down as smoothly if I hadn’t had your cooperation.”
“It was a sweet deal you got me. I appreciate it, man. Knew this shit would backfire at some point. Just wasn’t sure how to dig myself out of the hole I’d gotten buried in. You made it possible for me to get out alive.”
In return for Ray’s cooperation, Dean had been able to work out a deal for him. It still came with a two-year prison term, but at least he’d still be young enough to start a new life once he got out. “Just don’t waste it. You’ve got a lot going for you, Ray. Apply that with a little hard work, and I have no doubt you’ll do okay.”
Ray bowed his head and stared at the toes of his boots. “Lost my
way when I left the service.” Lifting his head, he speared Dean with his eyes. “Won’t lose it again.”
Dean clapped him on the shoulder. “Good.”
After another moment of reflective silence, he asked, “What are you going to tell Sadie?”
“The truth,” Dean firmly stated. “And hope like hell she forgives me.”
Ray nodded. “She’ll be mad for a while, but if I know my sister, she’ll come around. You’re a good guy. She knows that.”
Denoly came back over, and Dean knew his time was up. “I’ll see you soon,” he said to Ray.
Ray acknowledged that with a nod and added, “Go have that wound checked out. Get a pretty nurse to sew you up.”
Dean chuckled, continuing the joke. “I’ll find the prettiest one.”
He walked back to the ambulance. His team would be there a while, bagging and tagging evidence, but his job was done. His head hurt like hell. It was time to have it looked at.
And time for him to look for his girl.
Chapter Twelve
Sadie
“Transport called. GSW. DEA Agent. They’re coming in hot. ETA two minutes,” Inga called from her seat at the nurses’ station.
Dr. Easton turned to Sadie. “You’re with me.”
“On it.” She followed him to the rear ambulance bay.
In the years Sadie had worked for the hospital, she’d treated a lot of law enforcement but never a Fed. She wondered what they were doing in their neck of the woods.
The ambulance pulled into the lot, stopping as it reached the open bay. A paramedic opened the rear doors just as the driver swung into view around the side.
“What have you got?” Dr. Easton asked as the gurney lowered to the pavement.
Sadie stopped in her tracks, and a buzzing filled her ears, preventing her from hearing anything the medic said.
Dean lay propped up against the back of the gurney.
Her eyes did a scan, looking for injury, coming to rest on the bandage at his temple.
Gunshot wound.
Her eyes caught on the flash of gold clipped to his waistband.
Realization slowly sank in.
Dean was the Federal Agent.
Her eyes flew up to find him watching her. His lips compressed into a hard slash at what she was sure he saw written on her face.
Her bewilderment. Confusion. Maybe even a touch of anger.
The gurney started to move, spurring her into action. She moved with it, finally tuning in to what was being said.
“…BP 122 over 80. Heart rate within normal range.”
“Take him to room three,” Dr. Easton said.
Sadie pushed aside the emotions warring in her head and followed the medics as they wheeled Dean down a hall and into the room. She went straight to the cabinets, grabbing supplies.
“I’ve got it.”
She heard Dean’s voice, sounding raspier than usual followed by the clatter of the gurney leaving. By the time she turned, Dean was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Dr. Easton had taken off the bandage and was examining the injury. “Looks like a surface laceration but I want to order a CT to be sure.” He turned to Sadie. “Reapply a new bandage.” With those parting words, he left the room.
And then it was just them.
Alone.
Dean was the first to break the silence. “I tried to call. I wanted to explain things before I got here.”
He had. But she’d ignored it and let it go to voicemail. “To tell me you’re really a federal agent?” She placed the tray of supplies on a rolling steel table and brought it to the side of the bed. “And let me guess,” she eyed him through narrowed lids, “you’re working undercover.”
“Yes.”
She grabbed a bandage, tearing it from its package. “Did you also explain that you’re not really a piece-of-shit drug dealer but that you are an accomplished actor and a very convincing liar?”
His jaw tensed. “No.”
She shook her head, disgusted with herself for being fooled.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
She snorted. “You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
He continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “You think I used you to get closer to your brother.”
She stopped what she was doing to stare at him. “And did you?”
“No.” He tried to take her hand, but she pulled it from his grasp.
“And you expect me to believe that when everything you’ve told me has been a lie?” She took a step back, dread filling her stomach at a horrible thought. “My God. Was the whole thing a setup? Was our meeting planned?”
“Fuck, baby, no.” He reached for her hand again, this time capturing it in a grip she couldn’t pull away from. “You and me, none of that was a lie.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he got in first. “Sadie, please, baby, listen to me.” He tugged her until her thigh hit the mattress. “The first time I laid eyes on you, you crashed into me like a Mac truck I didn’t see coming. When Ray introduced us, told me who you were, I knew I should have stayed away. Knew I was putting my job on the line. Knew this whole thing could blow up and bite me in the ass.” He cupped the side of her face, his thumb skimming the apple of her cheek. It was such a typical action—he’d done it hundreds of times—that she didn’t even think to pull away. “But I couldn’t take the chance of missing out on you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“What would you have done if I’d waited to take my shot with you until after I busted your brother? Would you have given me a chance?”
“Is that what you did tonight—bust my brother?”
“Sadie—”
“Did you?” she demanded.
He hesitated for the barest of moments before letting out a harsh breath. “Yeah.”
Pain, from the sharpest blade, sliced through her chest. She knew Ray was the bad guy in the situation and that Dean was only doing his job, but it still hurt. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d been betrayed by the two most important men in her life.
Heartache weighted her limbs and it was an effort to keep standing. She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “He’s okay? He’s not hurt?”
“He’s fine. Being held at HBPD city jail until we’re ready to transport him.”
Any second now, she expected to wake up and find out it was all just a bad dream. Or that she’d been sucked into an alternate reality and the real Sadie was out there somewhere living a life free from the mess she was in now. “Can I see him before that happens?”
He nodded. “I’ll take you tomorrow.”
She contemplated the floor, trying to process everything.
“Sadie, look at me.”
She didn’t—couldn’t. She was holding on to her emotions by a thread. Her eyes burned and she swallowed thickly, fighting back tears.
Dean placed his thumb under her chin, forcing her head up. “No more lies. Straight up, I’m telling you now. When I was with you, I gave you the real me.”
Anger long gone, lost in a sea of dejection, all she felt now was hurt. “I guess I don’t understand why you couldn’t tell me. I even told you about my suspicions. I trusted you with that.”
Pain flickered across his face as if her words were a whip that lashed him. “If you think it’s a matter of me not trusting you, get that out of your head. I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, wincing from the pull on his scalp. He dropped it back to the table. “I wanted to tell you, so many times, but I couldn’t risk putting you in danger. And Darlin’, if you think I would ever let that happen, you don’t know me very well.”
“I wouldn’t have been,” she pleaded her case.
He grabbed the nape of her neck and touched his forehead to hers. “Even if you did one thing out of character because you knew, not only would your neck be on the line, but mi
ne and those of my team, too.”
Okay, that she could understand. “I wouldn’t want to put anyone in danger.”
He squeezed her nape. “I know, baby.”
“I’m just so confused.” He let her escape his hold, and she took a step back. She needed some space to think. “Everything was so clear when I thought you were a drug dealer pretending to be a good guy. That made it easy for me to play the martyr—to sacrifice my feelings for you—because, in my heart, I knew what you were doing was wrong.
“But now,” she threw out a hand, “Knowing you’re the good guy pretending to be bad…” She shook her head. “You see how messed up that is, right? You said everything about our relationship was real, but how the hell do I know?” She threw her hands in the air. “Do I take a leap of faith and trust you?” Could she even do that?
“Sadie—"
The door opened, and an orderly came into the room, wheeling a chair and cutting Dean off.
“I’ve got orders to take you for a CT scan.”
Dean stood from the bed, but he didn’t move to leave. “We’re not done here,” he told her.
She nodded. “I know.”
“You’ll still be here when I get done?”
“Yeah, I’ll still be here.”
“Okay.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead.
She realized she still held the bandage. “Wait.” She carefully covered the wound, her hand shaking by the time she was done. She’d been so overwhelmed by everything, the ramifications of his injury hadn’t set in. “You could’ve been killed.” Her voice shook and those damn tears she’d been keeping at bay threatened to spill.
“But I wasn’t.”
She nodded, swallowing thickly.
He brushed a thumb along her cheek. “We’ll talk more later, yeah?”
She nodded again. “Yeah.”
He stepped back and eyed the wheelchair. “I can walk.”
“Sorry, sir, hospital policy.”
Sadie decided it was best to interject before she had a fight on her hands. “Dean, please. You could get dizzy.”
She knew the moment he gave in. His eyes got soft, and a small smile tipped his lips. “Anything for you.”