Above Protection (Imperfect Heroes Book 1)

by C. J. Pinard

  “Fuck, that’s what I thought. Okay, any others?”

  “No. Just the wife and that one.”

  I blew out a breath. “Okay write down the prepaid number for me and send me the audio on those calls.”

  Smith jotted the prepaid number down on a sticky note. “Anything else, Knight in Shining Armor?”

  I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Are you Jack-N-Jill?”

  “Maybe, big guy.” He laughed and went back to whatever he’d been doing on his phone.

  I went to my desk and hung my jacket over my chair. I picked up the desk phone and dialed the agent’s number who was watching over Rayanne to check up on her. I couldn’t help myself.

  The agent didn’t seem to bat an eye at my call, and I realized that this particular agent did witness protection detail almost all the time. I guess some people actually liked it. When I thought about it, if you really had no family around and liked to travel, I suppose it would be for you. And while I fit those categories, I really had no patience for babysitting details. Especially after what had happened with Rayanne. As strong as I thought I was, it was clear I was weak when it came to beautiful, helpless women.

  But she really wasn’t that helpless. If I recall, she had resisted our help, but after a while, death threats and scary phone calls will whip anybody into submission and accepting help.

  “Dockins,” he answered.

  “This is Hawthorne. I’m just checking on the vic. She good?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did she have to testify today?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I breathed a silent sigh. “Cool. You tell her about Shane Watson?”

  “Yes.”

  One word answers, awesome. The vic was probably in the room.

  “You flirting with her, Dockins?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  Two words this time. Sweet!

  “Good, ‘cause I’ll fuck you up.”

  He chuckled. “Noted.”

  “See you in court tomorrow.” I hung up.

  I loved fucking with that guy. He was like 50 and looked more like an accountant than an agent.

  Then I dialed the prepaid cell from my desk. We had no caller ID so the screen always read “unavailable” when I called someone. The phone rang three times and someone answered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Who’s this?” I said.

  “Who the fuck is this?” he said back.

  I bit back a smile. “This is Orange.” I thought of the stupidest street name I could.

  “What the fuck you want, Orange?”

  “What do you got? Just looking to score, you know.”

  He sniffed and said, “Well you got the wrong dude. I ain’t no dealer.”

  “Yeah?” I said, mustering up more bullshit, “Well I ain’t interested in getting high, dumbass. I need you to take care of a guy.”

  That seemed to get his attention. “I ain’t doin’ this over the phone. We gotta meet.”

  I chuckled. “I agree. Name the place.”

  “The docks, 11 tomorrow tonight, Mr. Orange.”

  “It’s just Orange. And I need your name so I know who the fuck to ask for.”

  “Ace. See you tomorrow.” He hung up.

  I smiled and powered up my computer, knowing I needed to type my report from today. Then I had some more phone calls to make.

  Chapter 28

  Rayanne

  I pushed my food around on my plate. I was back to being sick to my stomach and ill with nerves. I can’t believe that asshole had escaped. What the hell? A tear dropped into my mashed potatoes and I shoved the plate away and stood up. I went into the kitchen to clean the dish and utensils Agent Dockins had used. I liked having him here, he was sweet and reminded me of my daddy. But he didn’t make me feel safe and protected like Duke did.

  Nobody did. Not even that Agent Diaz.

  “I’m going to bed.”

  Dockins, remote in hand, gave me a sideways overhand wave and continued to channel surf. “Goodnight, Rayanne. Sleep tight!”

  Okay, Mister Rogers.

  At least his gun was next to him. I really needed to get me one of those. My dad had plenty, and after this shit was over, I was so going to go over there and talk him into giving me a handgun to keep at home.

  You won’t need one if Duke is sleeping next to you, silly! my subconscious teased.

  “Piss off,” I told it.

  Talking to myself. Yeah, that’s healthy.

  I yanked off my clothes, threw them in the hamper in my closet, and tossed on a night shirt. Making sure my window was locked and there was nobody lurking outside, I climbed into the cool sheets alone. A glance at my bedside clock told me it was only 9:22 p.m. I fumbled around the nightstand for the remote and turned on the TV.

  The flickering lights from the program gave me no comfort. I rolled onto my right side and stared at the empty side of the bed with my hand under my head as warmth and comfort. The bed was pristinely made, flat and empty as I stared at it. Past the bed was a sliding glass door that led to a small balcony where I had a perfect view of the downtown baseball stadium – and on a clear day – the gulf waters. I wondered what life would be like if Duke Hawthorne were lying beside me, his chest heaving up and down in exhaustion as he’d just made love to me.

  My body would be trembling beside him, my legs made of gelatin from having been spread open for so long, my head on his chest. My short blonde hair would be splayed above my head while he stroked his fingers through it in appreciation of the ride I’d just taken him on.

  I felt a familiar yet foreign heat press down from my lower belly to the core of my body. It was scorching now, needing to be touched, doused, released. My fingers found it before I could analyze whether or not I should be doing it.

  Duke’s body materialized in my mind. His massive broad shoulders that bunched and moved as he lowered himself onto me. His hot kiss seared me all the way down to my very soul. His hard body pressed onto me, and as I raised my hips to meet his, he didn’t disappoint.

  My fingers found the spot that could release my pent-up frustrations. My demons. I worked the spot faster as if I was being paid to do so.

  The climb was excruciating and wonderful. It brought me up, then down, then up to a crescendo of screaming violins, then back down to the peaceful waters of a piano lullaby lulling me to sleep. After that – sleep sounded damn good.

  My head burrowed into the soft down of the pillow and I tried to think of Duke’s rare softness instead of his usual hard edges as I drifted off to sleep.

  Day three of court. Since Shane was on the loose again, they’d doubled my detail. I was now escorted by 4 agents instead of 2. Even though they did not think Shane would come after me since I’d already testified, and that from what the hospital staff had told them, Shane was in no position to hurt anyone, as he was still very sick. He did obviously still have people working with him so they weren’t taking chances. Plus, I now ran the risk of him trying to kill me for no other reason than revenge if his father and uncle get convicted. What a nightmare. I stared unseeing and unhearing at more expert witnesses on the stand. The only happiness I got was knowing Duke was again sitting next to me, his hand intertwined around mine. The way his thumb stroked the top of my hand gave me comfort. The four agents were strategically placed around me. Duke had taken the place of one but the other sat on the opposite side. If he had seen us holding hands, he didn’t seem fazed. Two were seated in front of me, and one behind me. I had to admit I felt safe and loved. The only thing I didn’t like was the way Elmo had turned his head and smirked at me a couple of times. Evil bastard. I know why he was doing it, too. He somehow knew Shane had escaped. Both times Elmo had looked at me, Duke’s hand squeezed mine tighter and I could feel him tense and hear his breathy gasp. I didn’t have to look at the sexy man who was comforting me to know he wanted to kill Elmo Watson.

  The judge speaking captured my attention as she addressed the jury. “I think we all nee
d a rest until tomorrow. Court is adjourned.”

  I looked at my watch, it wasn’t even noon yet. Turning to the agent next to me whose name I didn’t know or couldn’t remember, I said, “Is it all right if Agent Hawthorne takes me home?”

  His shiny black head reflected the lights of the now noisy courtroom as he shook it back and forth. He had kind, dark brown eyes as he said, “No, ma’am. I’m sorry but I cannot abandon a post until informed by my supervisor.”

  We were standing now, and Duke put his hand on my arm. “It’s almost over. I trust these agents with my life, you will be okay.” His stormy blue eyes looked straight into mine, an unspoken promise that we’d be seeing each other again real soon dwelling there.

  I relaxed a little and said, “Okay.”

  I left with the four agents, but the only one on my mind was the fifth one who wasn’t allowed to be with me.

  When we were back to my condo, it was just Agent Dockins and the other guy, Jones. I made them lunch simply to keep myself busy and they were happy when I served it to them as they watched TV. I had made myself a grilled cheese sandwich and managed to eat about half before I wasn’t hungry any longer. I couldn’t stop the nerves in my stomach. Anxious about the danger my life was still in. Anxious and frankly lovesick over Duke. The longer we spent apart, the more I felt drawn to him like a magnet. There was no way, when this was all over, that I was going to be able to stay away from him. I wanted him so badly. I needed to fall asleep wrapped up in his big, protective arms every night. I needed to look into his eyes and know that I’d broken through that hard shell of his. I wanted to feel proud that I had been the one to do it. I laughed to myself as I collected the dishes and washed them. I had no idea if Duke had been in love before. Maybe he’d been married before. Oh, my God. Did he have any kids? I didn’t know any of that. I was dying to find out, though.

  Please, jury, find a verdict by tomorrow. I can’t take much more of this.

  Chapter 29

  Duke

  After getting back to the office after court, I knew I had to come up with some bullshit plan before the meeting with “Ace” tonight. I also believed I was back in good graces with Jeffrey because the look on his face when I had told him I had a lead on the suspect who I believed had lifted Watson from the hospital was priceless. He was completely onboard with whatever we wanted to do to catch this piece of shit. In the end, we made a simple decision. One of our undercovers would meet with Ace and pretend to be Orange, while another three agents, myself being one, would follow the dirtbag after he met with the undercover. Seemed simple enough.

  When the workday was over, I again called to check on my girl.

  My girl. Holy shit.

  “Dockins.”

  “How’s the vic?”

  “Alive,” he answered.

  “Who’s on detail with you?” I asked.

  “Jones.”

  I chuckled. “Motherfucka Jones?”

  He gasped and said, “Not funny.”

  “If the FBI had wanted you to have a sense of humor, they would have issued you one, right?”

  “Right,” he replied without missing a beat.

  “You eyeballin’ the vic’s tits, Dockins?” I asked.

  “Never.”

  “Are you gay, Dockins?”

  “I do not believe I have to answer that,” he replied.

  I chuckled again. “I’ll take that as a yes. Sweet. Where’s the vic now?”

  “Barefoot in the kitchen where she belongs.”

  I ignored the dig. He was trying to rile me up. “Put Jones on.”

  I heard the phone get passed.

  “Jones.”

  “Motherfucka, you flirting with the vic?”

  “No, sir,” he said right away.

  “Good, ‘cause I’ll fuck you up,” I said, trying not to let the smile seep into my voice.

  “Fuck off, Cowboy.”

  I gasped. “Why did you call me that?”

  “Vic’s been talking. I know alllll the shit.” He hung up, but not before I heard him laugh.

  Damn.

  Agent Black, whose skin matched his name, was a super cool dude from the field office We sat in the parking lot of the docks in a late model jet-black, fully-loaded Cadillac which was about to be auctioned off, thanks to the douchebag drug-dealer who’d had it confiscated by the feds. Thankfully, there weren’t many cars around. I knew kids came out here to fool around, but because it was a Wednesday, the lot was mostly empty.

  I used a pair of high-powered binoculars to watch the exchange between “Ace” and our undercover agent.

  I loved this undercover. His name was Derrick Swanson and he could look like whoever the hell he wanted. He had tats all over his arms but not on his hands or neck, so whether he wore a 3-piece suit or a white wife-beater T-shirt and some sagging jeans, he was like a fucking chameleon. Tonight he was a street thug through and through. Of course he was wearing a wire. It was attached to his cell phone and it looked like earbuds. Most ingenious invention ever. The “earbuds” hung lazily out of his pocket and the audio was set up in Bluetooth fashion, so the other agent and I listened to the exchange through a 2-way radio.

  I’d quickly typed up a script earlier today and Derrick had said he’d memorized it. We both watched as he stood on the docks of the gulf water.

  “I got a guy I need you to take out,” Derrick said, his eyes shifting around as if he was nervous.

  “Ace” was a tall white guy with his flat-billed hat on sideways. It was red with a fancy white “A” sewed into the front. Damn Alabama fans. Do they ever not represent? I laughed to myself that maybe this dumbass had just bought the hat because it had an A on it.

  “Who’s the guy you need taken care of?” Ace asked.

  “Dirty cop –”

  Ace’s face became despondent, angry. “No, man. Fuck that. I don’t off cops.” He turned and walked toward the parking lot.

  “No, wait,” Derrick said. He then looked toward our car and winked.

  Ace didn’t stop. He just kept walking and shaking his head.

  “So you’re not gonna help me?” Derrick shouted to Ace’s back, his arms in the air.

  Ace kept walking and put his middle finger up behind him. Then he tossed his cigarette into the water and got on a motorcycle parked on the dock.

  Derrick walked slowly away from the docks and toward us but as soon as Ace had taken off on his bike, he sprinted toward the Cadillac and hopped into the backseat.

  Over the two-way radio, we heard the voice of the fourth agent, Medina was his name – he’d been hiding on his own bike ready to follow the suspect. “He’s heading back over the bridge toward Tampa.”

  Agent Black pushed the button as he drove and said, “Stay with him. We’re right behind you.”

  “Copy that.”

  We finally caught up with the two motorcycles, staying far behind. The suspect veered the crotch-rocket over the bridge to St. Petersburg Beach and then turned right down a side street that would eventually lead to a state park-run beach area.

  “We arrest him on federal land, we really won’t have to deal with the local cops at all,” Derrick said from the backseat, a smile in his voice.

  I observed the brown State Park sign as we passed it. Ace veered his bike around the yellow striped arm barring entrance into the beach. Because of the late hour, the semi-private beach was closed. We were far enough back that the suspect hadn’t seen us. The agent on the bike, Medina, stopped next to our car. Agent Black rolled the window down. “Want me to go in after him?” Medina asked.

  I opened the passenger window and spit a stream of chew onto the sidewalk. “Hold on.”

  I lifted the high-powered binoculars to my eyes and watched Ace’s bike stop near a small brick building. It was surrounded by wooden picnic tables and showers. I lowered the binoculars and said, “Let’s go on foot. He’s gone into some buildings.”

  Black pulled the car to the side of the road and Medina parked his
motorcycle behind it. The four of us began walking quickly on foot until we reached the small, beige brick building. It was nothing more than a set of public restrooms and the suspect was nowhere.

  “What the fuck?” Black said.

  I looked into the distance and squinted. “Look. He’s left his bike here and headed on foot to those homes over there.”

  We’d just made a big fucking circle. I had no idea why this guy had gone through the state park just to head back to a part of the beach that was littered with what looked like extravagant personal homes, but he did. Maybe he knew we were tailing him and decided to try to lose us. Maybe he didn’t want his bike parked near the home. Either way, we stayed in the shadows as much as we could, our weapons out, and followed him until we reached a huge beach house that looked like it had been recently built.

  “Text your IRS and ask him to run the address on this place,” I said to Black. He nodded and began typing into his phone and then asked, “What’s the address?”

  I used the binoculars to look at the front of the house. “1150,” I said. “No idea what the street name is.”

  He nodded and pocketed the phone. “Smith’s on duty tonight. He’ll find it. Uses Google Earth or some shit to pinpoint stuff. Dude’s a genius.”

  “I agree. He helped me today. I liked him the minute he opened his mouth.” I spit more chew into the sand under our feet. “And I don’t like a lot of people.”

  Derrick chuckled. “I get that.”

  “Fuck you, hood rat.”

  He chuckled. “Nah, I get enough pussy, thank you very much.”

  I bit back a smile. Asshole. I liked him too.

  Agent Black put his finger to his lips for us to be quiet and pointed at the lights burning in the house.

  Derrick, Medina, and I nodded.

  “I’m gonna go look in a window,” Black said. “I’m the darkest, won’t be seen as easily as you glowing boys.” He smiled.

  “Yes, but your bald-ass head is reflecting the light from the moon,” I said, pointing at it. I swear to God, it looked like he polished the fucking thing with shoe polish and a microfiber cloth.