by Radclyffe
“I’ll follow your lead on this, Chief. No one’s had any luck turning anyone in La Mara—at least no one who’s lived very long. That’s why no one leaves. This girl’s not only smart, she’s brave.”
“Send your detective. Then we’ll talk to Mica Butler.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the cooperation. Detective Mitchell will be on the next plane up there. Ought to get there in a couple of hours.”
“We’ll be waiting. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Appreciate it, Chief.”
“Good talking to you, Lieutenant.” Reese disconnected and wrapped her arm around Tory’s shoulder. “I have to go in.”
“I heard. It sounded pretty serious.”
“It could be. Mica Butler is in a lot of trouble.”
Tory trailed her fingers back and forth over Reese’s chest. “The assault last night, that was no random event, was it?”
“No, and I doubt very much it will be the last.”
“What can you do?”
“Wait for the detective from Philadelphia, and then bring Mica in and talk to her.”
“Talk to her.” Tory shook her head. “Sounded like a lot more was planned. Using her as bait seems dangerous.”
“I don’t like it much myself.”
“Mica could get hurt.”
Reese sighed. “Unfortunately, Mica isn’t completely innocent in all of this. She’s a gang member, and not just a peripheral one at that. She’s a high-ranking member of a vicious gang. I don’t know what she’s done, I don’t know what she might be guilty of. I suspect they’re going to squeeze her with whatever they have on her to get her to talk.”
“She’s just a girl, Reese.”
“Children are not incapable of violence or criminal behavior. I’ve seen eleven-year-olds cut down soldiers with IEDs.”
“I know. And I know that the streets of some of our inner cities are as violent as the places you fought in over there and just as cruel. But we should be better than those places. You’ll look out for her, won’t you?”
“I will. Now she’s one of ours.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Allie paced in the small terminal of the Provincetown airport, waiting for the eleven a.m. Cape Air flight from Boston. When Reese had told her Philadelphia PD was sending up a detective to work Mica’s case, she’d had the good sense to say, “Yes ma’am,” and nothing else. But she didn’t like it. They didn’t need a hotshot guy from the big city coming up to tell them how to do their jobs. The sheriff made it clear they would cooperate, and in not quite so many words, she’d also made it plain that Provincetown was their town, and it was their job, no matter what other agencies might be involved, to keep the town safe. Allie took that charge very seriously.
When she’d taken the job in Provincetown, it had been just that, a job. When she’d first enrolled in the academy, she’d thought about going back down south after she graduated, to Charlotte, where the weather was better and the pace was slower and the people had a certain charm. Then she’d met Bri. Back then, Bri’s relationship with Caroline had been having some growing pains, and a short stay in Provincetown for a shot at Bri had seemed like a good idea. She’d grown up since then, and the things that mattered to her now were different. She had Ash, for one thing. If she wanted to relocate, Ash would come, she knew that, but this place was home to them both. These people were her people. Reese was the best boss she could ever have—she could learn to be a better cop from her, and she could grow. She belonged here. This was her territory.
She walked to the glass doors that looked out on the single runway as the small twin-engine plane descended and taxied around to stop in front of the outdoor luggage racks. The ten-seater was usually full. She waved to the pilot, who jumped down to open the doors and escort the passengers off. The first few people to climb out she knew, locals. Then the tourists, several looking a little pale and shaky. Probably their first trip in a plane that rattled and shook and appeared to be skimming the tops of the waves. None of them looked like cops.
The last person off was a lean guy in jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. Slicked-back black hair, dark eyebrows, and a swagger that said he knew he was hot. At first glance he looked a little like Bri, but not when you really knew Bri. Sure, Bri looked just as tough, just as sexy, but she still had a little tenderness along her jaw that Allie knew from experience softened when she kissed. Bri’s soft side wasn’t as well hidden as she liked people to think, but Allie would never tell her that. Everyone needed their armor—young studs like Bri maybe most of all.
Reese had said to pick Detective Dellon Mitchell up in plain clothes, which had seemed odd but she didn’t question the chief, not on this detail for sure. She still had the lead, but things were getting complicated fast, and she didn’t want to get pushed aside—especially not for bucking the boss’s orders.
Detective Mitchell, ’cause that’s who this guy had to be, grabbed a canvas duffel and headed to the door. Their eyes met through the glass and Allie smiled. Well now. Detective Mitchell wasn’t all he wanted people to think either. He was good, really good, and she doubted anyone who lived anywhere in the world except Provincetown would ever know. Another time, another life, and she would’ve wanted to peel off Detective Mitchell’s armor and find out what was underneath. She knew what was underneath his jeans, and she liked that idea too. Interesting detective the Philadelphia PD had sent up.
Mitchell grabbed the door and pulled it open, and Allie held out her hand. “Allie Tre—”
Mitchell swung an arm around her waist, pulled her against his tight hard body, and kissed her on the mouth. Allie had one second to curb the reflex to plant her knee in his nuts and her fist in his face, and then she went with the kiss. She bet Mitchell could kiss when he wasn’t faking it. Even closed-mouthed, his lips were smooth as silk. Allie pressed a palm to his chest and pushed away.
“Easy, boy.”
Mitchell grinned. Brilliant blue eyes swept over her. “Long time, Allie.”
“Yeah,” Allie said, aware of eyes on them. Curiosity was a fact of life in a small town, and there’d be speculation with a greeting like that. She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, and she hoped there was a damn good reason for it. “What’s it been—three years?”
“More like five.”
“You got anything else?” Allie said, tilting her head at the single carry-on.
“Nope. I travel light.”
Allie didn’t detect a weapon, but she knew there was one. Probably his regulation piece was in his bag. “Okay. Let’s go, then.” They walked as they talked, and in seconds, they were outside. “Nice entrance. Next time give me a sign before you head off trail.”
“Sorry, I guess the bosses were still refining the game plan while I was flying up here. Got a message just as I was leaving Boston that we were supposed to have history.”
“History.”
“As in exes.”
“Great.” No warning about that little item. Reese probably tried to call and couldn’t get Allie on her cell phone. She wasn’t in uniform and didn’t have her radio, and the Race Point airport was a dead zone half the time. Well, the plan was in motion now after that kiss. She had driven her own car and pointed to the black Camaro. “That’s me.”
“Nice ride.”
“Uh-huh. Yours?”
“Harley.”
Allie snorted. “Figures.”
Mitchell slid into the front seat as Allie got behind the wheel. “How so?”
“The boots.”
“They could be for show.”
Allie started the engine and turned to face him. “It’s no show, though, is it?”
“How much do you know about La Mara?”
“I’ve been briefed.”
“Then you know just how tight we have to run this. You can call me Mitch, by the way.”
“You always work this way? Undercover?” Allie backed out of the lot and headed toward town.
; “Depends on the case, who I’ll be talking to, how I’m most likely to get people to talk to me. Mitch is a friendly guy.” Mitch smiled. “And legit. I’m a member of the Front Street Kings. I manage backstage stuff for the drag show when I can.”
“They tour up here?”
“They’d like to. The Boston guys have it kind of sewn up, but you never know. I’ll be asking around about bookings as part of my cover.”
“And when we talk to Mica?”
“I thought I’d get your take on that,” Mitch said, easing back in the seat, wanting to appear laid back. He stretched his legs out into the wheel well and draped an arm along the window. Officer Tremont wasn’t at all sure about him, that was pretty clear. He didn’t blame her. All cops were territorial, if they were any good. Right now, he was the lone wolf in more ways than one. Tremont was a few years younger than him, but she had the looks of an alpha female. Smart sharp eyes in a face that wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a magazine. She was in plain clothes, but she was carrying like any good cop would be under the circumstances, and her weapon rode easy on her hip. No doubt she knew how to use it. He wasn’t packing anything except his dick at the moment, and as soon as he could get to his duffel, he’d have his weapon on too. But he understood the rules. He was on Tremont’s turf, and he needed to show her the appropriate respect. “I’d like to give Mitch a chance to be seen around town with you in a friendly fashion. Establish my cover right away.”
“When we talk to Mica, she needs to know you’re Philadelphia PD. You ought to meet her that way.”
“That works for me. Once Mitch gets settled in a room somewhere, I can call you and meet you at the department more formally.”
“I think that will work. Even if Mica bumps into Mitch in town after and makes you, she’s not going to blow your cover. Why would she? She doesn’t gain anything by putting a cop’s life in danger or by even letting anyone know she’s talking to one.”
“That’s what I thought too.” He glanced out the window, trying to get his bearings. Bradford Street.
“You ever been here before?”
“A long time ago, when I was…in college.” Actually, Dell had come up with another cadet when they’d had a three-day furlough. They’d been looking for a place to have sex where they wouldn’t risk being discovered. They hadn’t seen much of the town, they’d been too busy discovering each other. In the long run, their caution hadn’t helped. But none of that mattered now. She wasn’t in the army. She was a cop, she had Sandy, and that was everything she’d ever wanted.
Allie crossed Bradford and turned down Commercial. “A few people just saw me pick you up, though.”
Mitch grinned. “We’ve got that covered. Remember, I’m an ex-lover.”
“Huh. I don’t know how believable that’s gonna be.” Tremont smiled, a smile that suggested Mitch would’ve been lucky to ever have gotten over on her.
He laughed. “If anyone asks, you can always say I didn’t measure up.”
“I have a feeling you would, but I can work with that.” Tremont parked. “That story might just be believable. I guess we’ll find out, because I’m taking you to breakfast at Café Heaven. A lot of townies eat there, and trust me, there will be questions. And talk.”
“Good. Go ahead and let them know what a jerk I was to let you get away.” He didn’t doubt for a second she’d left a string of worn-out women behind her. She was too hot not to have broken a lot of hearts. No ring. He wasn’t wearing his either. He didn’t when he was undercover. He thought about Sandy, how good she looked in uniform. How great she looked out of it. He thought about the send-off she’d given him early that morning after the lieutenant had called and said she had a job for Mitch. Sandy liked to make sure Mitch knew where he belonged, seeing as he often had to get close to women when he was undercover. He didn’t mind her staking her claim—he liked knowing the rules, liked knowing where the line was. “Unless you think it would be more credible for me to come crawling back. I’m willing to play if you are.”
“Sorry, everybody in town knows I’ve got a girl. And you know, she’s got a temper.”
Mitch laughed. The line between him and the beautiful officer Tremont was really clear. Good to know. “I’ll be just the ex in town fronting for the Kings, then. Work for you?”
“Fine. Let’s go have some breakfast and really give the town something to talk about. Then I’ll take you to your room—where are you staying?”
“Nowhere yet.”
“I can recommend a place. It’s crowded this week, but they’ll find you something for me.”
“Good enough.”
“When you’re settled, you can send Detective Mitchell over to meet the rest of the team, and we’ll have a talk with Mica Butler.”
*
Bri Parker leaned with her back against the wall in the chief’s office listening to Allie lay out the game plan for convincing Mica Butler to provide evidence against Hector Guzman. Dellon Mitchell, in an open-collared white shirt and black jeans, sat relaxed and confident-looking next to Allie in a chair facing Reese, occasionally adding some new intel about Mica or MS-13.
Bri was only half-listening. Allie had run the case by her earlier that morning to make sure she wasn’t overlooking anything. She and Allie graduated from the academy at the same time, but she’d had a lot more field experience working with Carter on a big case not long ago. So this was Allie’s shot. This case meant a lot to her for a lot of reasons. It was her first lead, and Flynn was mixed up in it to her eyebrows. So Bri didn’t mind riding shotgun on this one for Allie, but she wasn’t about to take the backseat behind this detective from Philadelphia. Mitchell knew her stuff, that wasn’t the problem. Bri didn’t even mind that Mitchell was a little cocky and a lot good-looking. She just minded somebody else getting between her and Allie. Until Reese started assigning them different partners to give them more experience, they’d been together, and they were still a good team. She could give Allie all the backup she needed.
“Anything to add, Parker?” the chief asked.
Bri resisted the urge to straighten to attention. She didn’t want to look like a rookie in front of the detective. “What do we do if she lawyers up?”
“Good question,” Reese said. “If that happens, we have to go with it. Then,” she looked at Detective Mitchell, “it may be necessary to bring charges in order to assure her cooperation.”
“We could threaten that,” Mitchell said, “but I don’t think we have anything that would stick in the long run. We know what Hector has done, but we can’t prove it. She has to know about his illegal activities, but we can’t prove that either.”
Allie said, “But if she thinks you’ve got more than you really do, that could be persuasive.”
“True,” Mitchell said. “But she’ll be a better witness if she’s not hostile. If she comes over to our side voluntarily.”
Bri said, “What about Flynn? Maybe Flynn could talk her into it.”
“I don’t think—” Allie said.
“Who’s Flynn?” Mitchell asked.
“A woman Mica has been seeing.”
“Romantically? That’s good to know. Definitely something we might be able to use.”
“If we have to,” Allie said sharply.
“Of course,” Mitchell said smoothly. “It’s always best to leave civilians out of it if we can.”
“Anything else?” Reese asked, looking at Allie.
“No ma’am.”
Reese nodded. “Bring her in quietly. We don’t want to send up a flag to whoever might be watching her.”
Bri said, “Allie and I could pick her up in plain clothes. People around Flynn’s place know us both. We’re friends of hers. If we bring a cruiser, we might as well take out an ad.”
“Good idea. Can we take your SUV, Chief?” Ali asked. Reese nodded and Allie looked at Mitchell. “You’ll want to stay here.”
“No problem.”
Bri pushed away from the wall an
d Allie joined her.
“Let’s go change into street clothes,” Allie said, “and then let’s go get her.”
*
Mica tensed at the sound of footsteps outside the partially open bedroom window. Two people. Not trying to be real quiet, but not announcing their approach either. She slid away from Flynn and pushed back the covers. That morning she’d collected her clothes and piled them by the bed, as she’d been doing since she’d left North Philadelphia. She couldn’t run very far naked. Careful not to wake Flynn, she leaned over and grabbed her jeans. If she could get the window open quickly enough—
A knock sounded on the door. Two sharp raps. She relaxed a fraction but kept dressing. Hector’s men would not knock. Beside her, Flynn sat up.
“I’ll get it.” Flynn scooped up a pair of sweats and stepped into them.
The knock came again.
“Look first.” Mica pulled her pants up and yanked her T-shirt over her head. “If you don’t know them, don’t open the door.”
Flynn hesitated, a shirt in her hand. “What will they look like?”
Mica shrugged. “Probably Hispanic, unless he’s recruited some associates up here. And they won’t necessarily be men. Look, Fly—”
“Stay here,” Flynn said quietly, buttoning the shirt. “If I don’t know them, you’ll hear me say I’m busy and to come back later. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”
“Don’t worry about me. Just be careful.”
Flynn kissed her. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Sure.” Mica waited until Flynn disappeared into the living room to ease up the window. She didn’t want to go through. If she did, she knew she’d never come back. If she stayed, Flynn was likely to get hurt. She swung a leg over the sill.
Chapter Twenty-five