by Diane Kelly
Christina looked beautiful, as always, in a high-necked lavender sleeveless top and matching palazzo pants. Ajay sported a bright blue blazer with matching bow tie over a white dress shirt and black pants, looking like a game show host. Only he could pull that look off.
Brett and Ajay did that half-hug shoulder-pat maneuver that men do. “Hey, Ajay.”
“Dude,” Ajay said, eyeing me over Brett’s shoulder with a cocky grin. This was the first time Ajay had seen me and Brett together since the LovLub fiasco.
I narrowed my eyes at the doc, giving him a look that said If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut.
Brett gave Christina a hug next.
“Haven’t seen Eddie and his wife,” Brett noted, his gaze traveling around the room, searching for my partner.
Uh-oh. “Um … something came up. A … family emergency.”
“Oh.” Brett looked taken aback. “Is it serious?”
Eddie and his family running for their lives? Yeah, I’d call that serious.
Before I could respond, Ajay interrupted. “What the…?” He stared at the entrance behind me, his mouth gaping.
I turned to see the Lobo standing in the doorway wrapped in a half-dozen yards of gold lamé that formed a long flowing dress and cape. Her gold platform shoes sported ribbons that laced in a crisscross pattern up her meaty calves. She wore her usual false eyelashes with even more blue eye shadow and orange lipstick than usual. Her strawberry-blond hair had been teased and coiffed into a series of distinct spikes atop her head. She looked like a cross between Cleopatra and the Heat Miser.
“That’s my boss,” I informed Ajay.
Lu made her way over to us. A discreet, knowing look passed between the two of us before she forced a cheerful, orange-lipstick-rimmed smile on the group. She nodded at Brett. “Good to see you again.”
“Congratulations,” Brett said. “A hundred million dollars is a lot of money to collect.”
“Thank you,” Lu said. “I couldn’t have done it without my talented group of agents.”
Lu’s remark was like a knife in my gut. I was talented, sure. But apparently not talented enough to take down Marcos Mendoza.
The Lobo had met Christina several weeks ago at my internal affairs hearing on my first firearm discharge. Fortunately, the hearings officers had deemed my use of my gun justified and I’d been allowed to keep my job.
Lu greeted Christina. “Nice to see you again, too.” She turned to Ajay next. “Who do we have here?”
After I’d introduced Lu to Ajay and we’d engaged in several minutes of small talk, she excused herself to mingle with the rest of the crowd. Brett, Christina, Ajay, and I took places in line for the buffet, loading our plates with food as we made our way down the table. When we reached the mermaid ice sculpture, Ajay cut his eyes to her frozen breasts. A drop of water dripped from one of her nipples onto the bed of cocktail shrimp below. “If I lick her, do you think my tongue would stick?”
Christina gave Ajay a playful shove. “Behave, you perpetually horny man.”
“It’s not my fault,” Ajay said. “I blame it on all the curry my mother forced me to eat as a child.”
When we reached the end of the line, I looked around the room for a table with four available chairs. There was only one. Josh’s. In fact, he was the only person seated there. Not surprising, yet a part of me felt sorry for him. Surely he had to get lonely on occasion.
I led the way over to the table, introducing everyone as we took seats. The others dug into the delicious food, but I had no appetite. Without Eddie here, the party felt incomplete. He’d been with the IRS for years, worked his ass off, brought in hundreds of thousands of dollars for Uncle Sam. He deserved to be here enjoying this celebration, dammit. But thanks to Mendoza, Eddie was missing all the fun.
As soon as I could, I snuck away from Brett’s side and found Lu chatting with some of the administrative staff near the dessert table. She held a small plate bearing a slice of raspberry cheesecake, but she’d only picked at it. Not like Lu at all. I chatted briefly with the group.
“I’m going out for a smoke.” Lu set her plate aside, her eyes seeking mine and issuing a silent invitation to join her on the patio.
I followed, trailing her out the door and onto the terrace. A few couples had wandered outside to enjoy their drinks and dessert in the mild evening weather. As soon as we were out of earshot, Lu turned to me, flicking her lighter and holding the flame to the end of a cigarette. She took a long, deep puff then shot the acrid smoke out through her nose. “Eddie and his family have been moved to a safe house with round-the-clock protection.”
Taking no chances. Good. But if I knew Eddie, and I did, he’d go nuts being cooped up. So would his active girls. Sandra, no doubt, would be worried to death.
“About the investigation, Lu—”
She pointed her cigarette at me. “There is no investigation, Tara. Not anymore.” She took another deep drag. When she spoke again, her voice was resigned, disappointed, but firm. “This case is over. Now. Stop whatever you’re doing. I’ve already lost two of my best agents to that bastard. I’m not about to lose another.”
Stop the investigation? We’d spent weeks on this case with nothing to show for it and now Eddie’d be out of commission indefinitely. Still, I didn’t want to admit defeat. Failure was not an option, at least not an option I wanted to accept.
I couldn’t stomach the thought that Lu had trusted me with such an important case and I’d let her down. And not only Lu, but the Pokornys and Lauren Sheffield, as well. Wait, had Lu just implied that I was one of her best agents?
“But Lu—”
“No buts, Tara. If you and Eddie couldn’t get this guy, no one can. Besides, if something happened to one of you, George Burton would have my ass. He gave me strict orders to stop the case.”
“What if he hadn’t, Lu? What if it were up to you?”
She took another pull on her cigarette and narrowed her eyes at me, assessing me through the fringe of her false lashes. “There’s no point in discussing what-ifs. I’m in charge of the Dallas office but Burton is in charge of the national operation. What he says goes. This case is officially closed.”
“But I don’t think I’ve been compromised.” Mendoza hadn’t acknowledged me when I’d passed him in the lobby this morning and there’d been no flicker of recognition. “There’s no need to call it off. I could continue on my own.”
She flicked the ashes from the end of her cigarette. “If you and Eddie couldn’t bring the guy down together, what makes you think you can do it by yourself?”
Tenacity?
Insanity?
Self-delusion?
I decided to go with, “Determination.”
Lu snorted and threw her cigarette to the ground. She stomped the butt with her gold platform, crushing it with brute force as if it had personally offended her. She shot me a pointed look. “What part of ‘this investigation is officially closed’ do you not understand, Holloway?”
Now I was the one stomping my foot, like a petulant child who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Before I could open my mouth again, Lu sliced the air with a bladed hand, letting me know the discussion was over. “There’s no more to say. Now get your skinny little butt inside and give me a toast, tell everyone how I’m the best goddamn boss you’ve ever had and it’s a rare and special privilege to work for me.”
I emitted a final huff of frustration and forced my words out through gritted teeth. “Yes, ma’am.”
Inside, the waiters passed flutes of champagne. I returned to my table and stood to make the first toast, tapping a dessert spoon on my glass to gather the crowd’s attention. I raised my glass high into the air. “A toast to Lu ‘the Lobo’ Lobozinski.” I forced down the lump of discouragement that had formed in my throat. “A boss with smarts, gumption, and a unique sense of fashion.”
A chorus of chuckles and “here-here” sounded around us, followed by t
he clink of stem glasses. Several other toasts followed, growing gradually more slurred and absurd as the champagne kicked in. One special agent toasted Lu’s ability to apply lipstick while barking orders, while another toasted her for single-handedly keeping the beehive hairdo from fading into extinction.
The final toast was from Lu herself. She glanced around the room, raising her glass and nodding as her eyes met those of her staff. “To my team of special agents. The smartest, toughest, and best looking in federal law enforcement.” She downed the last of her champagne and set her glass on the table. “Come on, you smart-asses. Let’s dance!”
The overhead lights dimmed, the mirrored ball hanging from the ceiling began to spin, and the deejay cranked up the first song, a danceable disco number. Brett grabbed my hand and led me onto the dance floor. Ajay and Christina followed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Lobo grab Josh by the collar and pull him out of his seat. His lips flapped in protest, but Lu wouldn’t have it. She needed a dance partner and Josh needed to lighten up.
Lu was surprisingly agile for an older, large-bottomed woman. I’d given the deejay a playlist including a number of hits from the sixties and seventies, Lu’s heyday. The woman could still hustle as well as she had forty years ago and her bump nearly sent Josh airborne.
As we danced, a heat began to build inside me, not solely due to the physical exertion. An image of Mendoza played in my mind, with his dark silver-streaked hair, his sharp widow’s peak, his insincere yet sincerely evil smile. A fury as hot as molten lava flowed in my veins.
“How about some drinks?” I suggested to Brett when a song ended. If I drank enough, maybe I’d forget Mendoza had threatened the lives of my partner and his wife and children.
Once Brett and Ajay set off for the bar, I pulled Christina close and told her about Eddie.
Christina’s brown eyes grew wide. “What now?”
What now? Now Mendoza could go about his business unhampered, living in luxury in his penthouse and Monterrey mansion while Eddie and his family would be forced to hide out God knows where for God knows how long. At the thought, the fury in me grew hotter than lava. Hell, hotter than the burn of the LovLub. “Lu says the case is officially closed.”
Christina watched me for a moment, taking in my clenched jaw, the rabid resolve in my eyes. Her lips slowly curled into a sly smile. “And unofficially?”
I put one defiant hand on my hip and waved a red-tipped finger in the air. “It’s on, bitch.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Going Rogue
Brett glanced my way several times on the drive home but said nothing. He pulled his Navigator into my driveway, shut off the engine, and issued a one-word command. “Spill.”
I’d already defied direct orders by planning to continue the investigation, so what did it really matter at this point if I told Brett about the case?
So I told him.
Everything.
From the body parts in the Dumpsters, to the attack on the Pokornys, to the threats Mendoza had made to Eddie.
Brett’s mouth hung open. When he finally spoke, his voice was enraged. “My God, Tara! I knew you were working on something big, but I had no idea it went this far.”
“Look, Brett. If we don’t get this guy now we never will. Maybe if I keep the pressure on, he’ll screw up.”
My heart pounded in my chest and I felt warm. Too warm. This was too much. Too much responsibility, too much stress. I was just a rookie agent. How the hell was I supposed to bring this guy in alone?
But I couldn’t let Mendoza get away with cheating the government, killing people, threatening my partner. If I didn’t bring the criminal down, Eddie would spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, worrying about his wife and girls.
Angry, frustrated tears welled up in my eyes. “I have to bring Mendoza down if it’s the last thing I do.”
Brett emitted a mirthless chuckle. “Well, let’s hope it’s not the last thing you do.” He gazed out into the dark of the night for a long moment before turning back to me. His voice was softer now. “This scares the hell out of me, Tara.”
“It scares the hell out of me, too.” I looked into his eyes. “But I really need your support right now, Brett.”
He stared at me for a few moments, a mix of emotions playing across his face as he tried to come to terms with the situation, to figure out what to say. Finally, he pulled me to him, clenching me in a warm, strong embrace, and whispered in my ear. “Go get the bastard.”
* * *
I knew encouraging me to do something so idiotic, so dangerous, was the last thing Brett truly wanted to do. But he’d set his feelings aside and given me exactly what he knew I needed.
I rewarded him in the bedroom that night and awoke surprisingly refreshed and with a newfound sense of purpose. That and a stiffy poking me in the back.
Brett nuzzled my neck. “How about a quickie before you head out?”
“I really should save my energy for the investigation,” I teased. “And don’t you have some more azaleas to plant today?”
Brett emitted a sad, resigned sigh.
He’d given me his support. But for the first time I wondered if I gave him what he needed from a relationship. I knew he was intrigued by my butt-kicking skills and respected my work with the Treasury Department, but I also realized I caused him a lot of worry and, with my crazy work schedule, wasn’t able to be the consistent companion he wanted.
Was I being fair to him? Would he be better off dating someone with a less demanding, less risky job? Someone who could give him what he wanted, what he needed?
Oh hell no. I was not going there. At least not right now. I had enough on my plate at the moment without worrying about my relationship with Brett. Things were fine, right? Or at least fine enough. Once this case was over things would be different, better.
I turned to face him, taking in his rumpled T-shirt and mussed hair. The guy was freakin’ adorable. Without further ado, I gave him the quickie he so deserved.
* * *
An hour later, Brett headed off for his charity work. I took a shower, threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and sat down at my kitchen table with a pen and notepad to formulate a plan for bringing Mendoza down single-handedly.
Now that I planned to go rogue, my options were wide open. I made a list of the alternatives, comparing the pros and cons.
Option #1: Head shot with hunting rifle. Pros—quick, easy, untraceable. Cons—jail time if caught.
Option #2: Place explosives in Mendoza’s car. Pros—bastard gets his due. Cons—no clue how to rig explosives, potential for collateral damage, jail time if caught.
Option #3: Poison. Pros—slow, agonizing death. Cons—possibly traceable, difficult to administer, jail time if caught.
My eyes ran over the list. Had things really come to this? Was my only remaining option to kill the asshole?
I sighed. As much as Mendoza deserved to die, I simply couldn’t bring myself to kill him. I couldn’t risk spending the rest of my life in jail. And what would it say about my crime-solving skills if I had to resort to violence to resolve this case? I was a smart, resourceful girl. Somehow I’d find a way to take the evil bastard down without having to give in to my baser instincts.
But until I figured out what that way would be, I might as well continue the surveillance, see if I could learn anything new. I called Enterprise and had them bring me another rental car. I opted for a silver Mustang this time. If I were going to perform spy duty solo, at least I’d do it in style.
Off I went, now a rogue federal agent.
* * *
The house where Brett was working with the Habitat for Humanity crew was more or less on my way to Crescent Tower. Only a short time ago I’d vowed not to worry about my relationship with Brett, but apparently I wasn’t too good at keeping my vows. He’d supported me and I should return the favor, right?
I stopped by a 7-Eleven and picked up an ice-cold sports drink for Brett
, planning to run by the worksite and surprise him, show him how much I cared. I turned the Mustang onto the street and slowed, looking for the house. Brett’s Navigator was parked in a driveway up ahead, the back hatch open, a flatbed trailer attached to the hitch. Large plastic bags of garden soil, compost, and cedar mulch were stacked on the trailer. A handful of people milled about, pulling bags from the stacks and carrying their loads to the flower beds.
Although a few of the workers were women, none of them had butterscotch hair or oversized breasts. Maybe Trish wasn’t volunteering today. It wouldn’t break my heart if she’d moved on to some other worthy cause. Maybe Trish had gone to save the baby seals up in Canada or the endangered dung beetle in South Africa. A girl can dream, can’t she?
The newly completed house was modest but cheerful with fresh yellow paint and green shutters. Though the yard was bare dirt now, no doubt Brett and the rest of the volunteer crew would transform the plot into a virtual Eden by the end of the day.
I pulled to the curb behind an SUV parked across from the construction site. Just as I was about to hop out of the car, my cell phone bleeped. I checked the readout. Alicia. I hadn’t talked to my best friend for days. Brett and my cats weren’t the only ones I’d been neglecting. I hadn’t been much of a BFF to Alicia lately, either.
I flipped my phone open. “Hey, Leesh.”
“So you haven’t fallen off the edge of the earth. I was beginning to wonder.”
“Sorry I haven’t returned your e-mails or texts. I’ve been slammed at work.”
She launched into her usual updates, recounting the latest happenings at Martin and McGee, sharing the office gossip. As she chattered on, I kept an eye on the activity across the street.
Brett emerged from behind his SUV pushing a wheelbarrow full of smooth gray river rocks. He rolled the rocks over to the flower bed next to the front porch and upended the wheelbarrow, dumping the rocks into a pile next to the bed. He returned to his car, disappearing behind the open door.
When he emerged a second time, he once again had a full wheelbarrow. But this time it was filled with a bosomy butterscotch blonde.