Marcie lifted her head and caught something in his eyes that made her pause.
“So how many gardens were missed?” he asked.
Marcie hesitated. “Nineteen. So is the bud I cut ready to go?”
“All trimmed and dried, but I need all of it.”
“Did Sandra trim it while looking after those disabled kids?”
“Look, Marcie, I was as mad as you when I found out those kids were there. I laid into her pretty good. It won’t happen again, or she’s out of there.” He sliced his hand through the air. “I’m totally on your side, but let’s stay focused and finish. Forget Sandra, all right?” He smiled a devilishly lopsided grin in his unique way that lit up his entire face, snagging another hook inside her. He pulled a folded rural map of the Gardiner area out of his back pocket and flattened it on the slatted wood table behind her. “I need to get someone out there now.”
“Do you think the gardens are still there?”
“They’d better be. My buyer’s waiting. After we get back from our little vacation, we can move on, get another one started indoors. But, you know, for next year, let’s do it all here. We can fence it off, make it secure, and we’ll have more control. Don’t forget it’s closer and easier for you, too, Marcie. With all the military sweeps around the state park, it’s getting way too dangerous on the mainland. And just think of all the cash we’ll make.”
Marcie sucked in her lower lip and nodded. “So, if we start it here, you’ll help?”
“Oh, for sure.”
“Because, you know, that’s a lot of water to haul every day. Does that mean you’re going to move in?”
He touched her cheek with his thumb and forefinger, and his face softened. “That’s what I’ve been saying to you. You and me, Marcie—it’s time.”
“So we’re going to make a lot of money?”
“We will, especially from the trade.”
“What trade?”
“Well, this time, my buyer’s trading straight across for something even better. And it’s already been sold.”
Chapter Forty
“You did what?”
Marcie limped back and forth through the kitchen, stopping by the stack of shoes by the front door and slipping on a sandal. She felt completely off kilter, as if she’d gone two rounds on one of those rides at the fair that was filled with spins, twists, and turns and then dangled you upside down. She couldn’t stand still and gave no thought to the persistent ache in her ankle.
“Maybe they can catch him getting the marijuana from your gardens,” Maggie said.
Marcie shook her head as she continued to pace. “I don’t think so, Maggie. Dan won’t get his hands dirty. He’ll get someone to do it for him.”
“Mom, can I go outside?” Ryley walked in with a challenging nine-year-old attitude.
“No, you can’t. Go back in the front room and read that bone book you brought.” Maggie jabbed her finger in the air.
“Where’s Dan? Can’t I hang out with him?” Ryley didn’t move.
Maggie’s face pinched as if she’d lose it at any moment. But, to her credit, she shut her eyes for a second and swept her shoulder-length hair back while tapping her foot in one of her nice new runners. Marcie could tell she was counting down. “No, you can’t go and see him. He’s gone. Right, Marcie?”
Maggie’s fingers were still locked in her hair, but Marcie could see the slight shake and recognized the fear behind this sharp reaction with Ryley.
“Your mom’s right. Dan left. Listen, bud, go in the hallway closet and grab one of those jigsaw puzzles. Work on it in the front room—just for a little bit. I know you’re bored, but we’ll have some lunch and then after we’ll head outside and check out the lake.”
He was ready to argue but must have sensed his mother’s rising temper. He frowned and left in an unresponsive huff, irritated and mumbling. Marcie smiled a little when she heard a few clunks and clatters in the hall closet.
“Maggie, it’s going to be okay.…” The distinct churn of gravel sent Maggie and Ryley bolting to the door. Marcie struggled with her cast as she glimpsed her truck pulling in. By the time she reached the doorway, Sam was on the porch, walking through the screen door with Ryley dogging his heels, boisterously announcing that Dan had just left.
“Dan was here? What did he want?”
“He wants me back.”
“You’re kidding.” Sam ground his teeth and scowled at Marcie. “And when does he want you to get the rest of the marijuana?” His response was unusually abrupt.
“He doesn’t. Someone else is going to handle it for him.”
Sam lifted her chin with his finger. “Well, too bad for Dan, because we found out his brother, Greg, will be here tonight with the cocaine. By this time tomorrow, it’ll all be over, and that scumbag will be locked behind bars.”
Chapter Forty-one
“When he makes the exchange, you need to be in position,” Diane ordered her handpicked team: Green, Winters, Mercer, and Craig. They mobilized at the old fire hall, now used for storage at the north end of Las Seta. Donaldson was noticeably absent.
Their boss, Dexter, and the rest of the team arrived with the Coast Guard after sundown and were in position at Scotty Bay, waiting for Greg to arrive with the cocaine and Dan to arrive with the marijuana. Dexter radioed once in place. This was expected to be the largest cocaine and marijuana bust in Washington history. These dealers were organized and well financed, and, until now, luck had been on their side. Then, this morning, Diane had snuck into Lance’s compound and planted a listening device outside of his study. Sam, Richard, and Jesse had camped outside of the estate, in the rugged forest, using the thick foliage as their hideout while they listened. That was when they had hit the pot of gold. Tonight, they’d nail all of the players with enough evidence to put them all away and seriously dent this west coast trail of drugs and all the way down Interstate 5.
Sam closed his eyes to curb his worry for Marcie when her sweet, bruised face snuck into his thoughts. He couldn’t relax. He was too wired, and it didn’t help that adrenaline pumped through his system at a ferocious pace. His hands started to shake, more like a twitch, as if he’d drunk a gallon of coffee, all because he’d left Marcie alone. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out hard, helping to steady his hands, but this did little to comfort his unspeakable need to keep her close. Every morsel of decency stabbed him in the gut—how could he have left her unprotected around this predator? If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
“Sam, Jesse, we have a problem.” Diane raised the palm of her hand to gain their attention as she pushed through the few agents, dressed in full Kevlar vests, to where Sam and Jesse leaned against the back wall. A radio buzzed and crackled behind her.
“I said to keep radio silence,” Diane shouted, letting loose her constantly controlled temper.
Sam pushed off the concrete wall. Every nerve ending jumped as beads of sweat danced down his spine. “What’s going on?”
“We got a situation off the main dock. Some locals have taken to policing the island and took matters into their own hands. They have some young thug in a boat about a mile off shore. An arsonist, he’s apparently been lighting fires, vandalizing property. They radioed ahead to the Sequim detachment to come and get him. As soon as they reach the halfway point, they’re going to dump him in the ocean whether the sheriff’s there or not. They won’t wait. Sequim doesn’t have a boat tonight. They tried to rent one, but…”
“Fuck, you got to be kidding. No, don’t you dare say it,” Sam roared, pounding his fist into the creamy paint-chipped wall.
Jesse narrowed his dark eyes. His heavy brows appeared to knit together. He said nothing, crossed his arms, and looked around as if trying to figure out what was really going on.
The agents in the room cleared out. “The Coast Guard has the closest boat available. They’ve been dispatched,” Diane said as Sam fell in beside her. The pit of his stomach dropped, shooting a
n icy chill down through both legs, pinning his heavy feet to the ground, making it an effort to move.
“Diane, we need to be in place now.” His blood churned to a pulse that echoed deep and slow.
“Sam, we don’t have a choice. These people will dump this kid and leave him to drown. The Coast Guard needs to be there before they drop him in. I’m sorry. The boat’s already been pulled. I’ve been instructed to send three of my agents along in case there’s trouble with the locals.”
“Diane, the Coast Guard’s going to be seen pulling out. This is un-fucking-believable. How could this have happened tonight, of all nights? They knew, God fucking dammit. That son of a bitch knew!” Sam followed Diane out through the double doors.
“Look, Sam, I know, but we need to go. As soon as the team’s grabbed this punk from the locals, they’ll be back.”
Jesse hurried past them in the same blue jeans and black windbreaker he’d worn for the past couple of days. “It’s a setup to pull our people out so the exchange can still happen. Should have smelled this coming.”
Sam knew to trust his gut, and by ignoring it, as he’d done, Marcie could be in danger. A well-honed man like him was rarely cold. Right now, he shivered under his warm, dark jacket as if his blood had turned to ice. He bolted behind Diane and Jesse in his thick-soled black boots. Three agents appeared as a shadowy outline, hurrying to the obscure dock behind the fire hall. Lights blazed from the forty-five-foot response boat as it swooped over the rough waves to the dock, where the agents waited.
“Sir, I’ve got a truck waiting.” Sam jumped and reached for his gun.
“Green, fuck…” Sam splayed his hands toward the remaining agent.
“Sam, get in here. Move it. I have a really bad feeling,” Jesse yelled as he climbed in the back of the pickup truck.
“In about thirty seconds, we’re going to find out if our cover’s been completely blown.” Sam jumped in the front, shoving Diane in the middle, while baby-face Green fired up the engine.
“How quick can you get us there?” Sam asked.
“With or without being noticed?”
Sam groaned. “Just get us there.”
“Ten minutes, tops,” Green said, and he floored it.
Chapter Forty-two
Marcie killed the lights on her truck when she turned onto Glynn Road, a half mile from Scotty Bay. Her damp palms slipped, so she tightened her grip around the wheel. This isolated part of the island was camouflaged with heavy brush and many old trees so even tonight’s bright moon couldn’t penetrate the pitch black. Branches and overgrown brush scraped the side of her truck. Bumps and ruts in the packed dirt road squealed and rattled her suspension, bouncing her old Land Cruiser up and down. It was awkward driving with a cast. Her plastic splint had stuck under the gas pedal twice while she used her left foot to stomp on the brake. It was a wild challenge and not one of the brightest things she’d ever done.
The back road trail opened into a large clearing. Marcie yanked the wheel left until a faint outline of an old slanted shack appeared. “Close enough.” She shoved the truck in park. “Okay, okay, calm down.” Her insides shook so hard she had trouble breathing.
Marcie opened her door. She could hear the waves crashing against the big rocks below. The moon was waning. The lunation tide would be extremely high. What a great night for bringing a boat in the cove. Wearing one hiking boot, dark pants, and a black sweatshirt, she stepped down with her left foot, crunching the leaves and grass, keeping all weight off her injured ankle.
Shadows and darkness made her feel vulnerable, and so did soft, distinct footsteps whispering through the brush. She turned when a tall, shadowy outline, cloaked in a dark hood, approached under a glistening silver moon.
“Right on time. I could always count on you,” Dan said.
“I’m here. Did you find the gardens I marked?”
“It’s done.”
“So now what?”
“We need to make the trade. The barge is in.”
“Barge? I thought it was a boat?”
“Change of plans.”
Her breath fled as if someone had jammed a fist in her gut. “You told me a boat would be here at eleven. You’d have all the marijuana, and we’re trading it for cocaine. Are we still delivering it to your friend on the island? And what about leaving? You said we’re leaving tonight for some exotic beach. Has that changed, too?” She rapped her knuckles against the open door. Now what?
Dan stepped closer, shoving her door closed, resting his hand on top of the truck. “Stop worrying. We’re still leaving, just doing things a little bit differently. Come on, trust me, Marcie.”
Why hadn’t she expected this? He was famous for last-minute changes, keeping her out of the loop and constantly off guard. How many times had he done this?
“Something wrong, Marcie?”
She willed the shaking inside her to stop, then reached out and touched his arm. “No, nothing’s wrong. So where’s this barge?”
“It’s waiting for us down at our yacht club’s prestigious pier.” If this were another time, she’d have warmed to his sense of humor. Las Seta yacht club was an eight-by-eight clubhouse made with rotted wood and a door with two rusty hinges thrown together by a group of renegade Las Setans ten years ago. From there, a dirt path led down to a rickety pier, hammered together by homesteaders who had inhabited Las Seta in the early fifties.
“So what about the marijuana, is it ready to go?” Her leg ached and her stomach cramped, so she rested against the truck. Dan leaned just out of reach. Something about him pulled away. Why?
“It’s all taken care of—packaged and ready.”
“Where is it?”
“It’s in the yacht club.”
“What’s going on, Dan? Come on, let’s finish this,” someone said. A voice Marcie didn’t recognize sent a cold chill purring up her spine. A shadowy character appeared out of the darkness and stood just below Dan’s shoulder. Next to Dan, he resembled a short, squat man, but then most men didn’t reach Dan’s height of six foot four.
“Okay, let’s get this over with. Marcie, you need a hand?”
“Huh? No, I’ll just follow right behind you.” Marcie reached out, grabbed Dan’s sweatshirt, and pulled him back.
“Who’s that?” she whispered, panicked.
“That’s Donny. He’s helping out.”
“Are you crazy? You can’t bring in new people. Who else is involved? What are we walking into?” This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. A twinge of fear escalated, and so did the fight or flight instinct pummeling up her back.
“Marcie, you’ve got to stop this. I told you to trust me. I’ve known Donny for years. He’s good. I thought we worked all this out. Do we go and finish this, or are you going to bail? Come on, Marcie, trust me.” He cupped her cheek with his entire palm. There was something different about his touch.
She knew then what she needed to do. She reached up and touched his freshly shaven cheek. “All right, but I think I need your help. Can you walk slowly so I can hold on to you?”
He leaned down and kissed her hard; his breath minty fresh. “You got it, babe.”
Dan’s strong confidence reeked with cocky sureness. He held his arm out, and Marcie slid her hand under it. She could feel the muscles turn to steel as he led her down a steep path. He paused for a moment, looking around. She was positive he smiled in victory when he covered the hand gripping his arm and squeezed lightly. Something rustled up ahead. She couldn’t see anything in the bushes lining this part of the path. She could only sense someone moving in front of them.
They stepped onto a small, shaky pier nicely lit by the soft glow of the moon.
“Hey, Donny, you got it?” Dan stopped beside the sixty-foot steel barge.
“Yeah, we’re done.” Donny stood on the flat deck, with a second person of medium build, wearing a baseball cap and smoking a cigarette.
“Dan, how’s things?”
“Couldn’t be
better. So I heard there was some activity earlier in the cove, the Coast Guard loitering about.”
Dread turned her blood to ice, and it spiraled like tiny threads through her veins. Oh, shit.
“You okay, Marcie? You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine. Cold, is all.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know why the Coast Guard was here?”
Where’s Sam? “No, why would I?”
He flashed a harsh smile, his bright white teeth reflecting nicely under the hint of moonlight. He looked away. He knows.
A beam of light flashed. Pandemonium reigned all at once. The roar of a boat surged toward them. “Freeze! DEA! Everybody, get your hands up!”; the deep voice boomed over the loud speaker, and then a horn blasted. Caught up in the chaos, Marcie didn’t know where to look, where to stand.
“You bitch, you think I didn’t know that you backstabbed me?” He ripped his arm away and backhanded her across the cheek, knocking her into the cold, inky darkness of the ocean. She hit something hard, lost her footing, and went down deep into the freezing water.
A bright, golden light rose above, surrounding Marcie like a soft blanket protecting a baby. A slender pale hand extended out of the light, followed by a willowy, graceful face. The woman’s silky blond hair swam all around them. When she spoke, it was with sweet determination, crossing through the thin veil of worlds that separated them.
“Over here. Come on. You’re safe, Marcie. Sam’s waiting for you. He needs you. Do you finally understand? You’re the victim of a vicious, ugly cycle. You broke free from the darkness by refusing to be a victim. You stood tall, taking back your power, and you stood for truth. Dan won’t have you now. You destroyed his plan, and you embarrassed him with the one man who controls him. No woman has ever done that to him before. The darkness he covets is part of him. Because you’re strong. You ended his familiar hold on you.”
Chapter Forty-three
Sam, for the first time in his life, felt rage and then terror slice so deeply that it penetrated his bones. The instant Dan struck Marcie and knocked her into the water, he’d swear that agony crippled his heart, and for a moment, he’d left his body. Pure instinct had him racing out of control from their deep cover in the trees, a hundred feet from the yacht club’s rickety shack. He lost sight of the objective—bringing down Dan McKenzie and Lance Silver.
Danger Deception Devotion The Firsts Page 99