“Great,” he muttered under his breath and shut the door.
“I brought a peace offering.” Her voice was so cordial and cute. She set the food and coffees on top of a box since all the dresser space was full.
How was he going to get through this? He leaned against the door and crossed his arms. “This should be interesting.” In his previous relationships, normally, he was the one expected to apologize for something.
“We got off on the wrong foot yesterday. I’m hoping this can help us start fresh. And perhaps set some ground rules.”
He could feel his own eyebrows hitting his hairline. “You have rules?”
She moved to the other side of the room, careful where she stepped around the boxes. “I understand as a law enforcement officer, you have a certain amount of power and responsibility. You’re used to doing things your way and are all about controlling the situation. I will concede to your authority in matters of this case and respect your position, as long as you remain professional and use appropriate manners.”
He cocked his head the other way this time. She was so bright and optimistic, she probably had no clue she looked this damn adorable. “Have I not been professional so far?”
She paused, pursing her lips. “No.”
He bit back a smile so hard, his tongue hurt. “How so?”
“You’ve been brash, forceful, and aggressive, with absolutely no manners. Yes, you have a job to do, but please understand I’m here to help you. Not be your slave.”
Oh, God, help me. The image of her as his personal slave flitted through his mind, and there’d be no way for him to focus on the task at hand now.
“So, to be clear on what you’re asking, you would like me to use my pleases and thank yous more often?”
Her smile never faltered, but the coldness in her eyes from last night returned for a few seconds. “And to lose the condescending tone and attitude for the foreseeable future. One catches more bees with honey than a salty demeanor.”
“I’ll keep that in mind if I start hunting bees. But today, I’m catching criminals and dirty agents. I’ll use whatever salty vinegar I can get my hands on to finish the job.”
“Fair enough. So long as you realize I’m not the criminal. I don’t respond to salty vinegar. If you want the job done faster, keep the peace with the research assistant.”
Now he couldn’t hold back his smile. “I’ve never had a research assistant before.”
Her bright eyes returned at that. “Well then…” She grabbed a coffee off the tray and handed it to him. “Allow me to enlighten you.”
“You did say research is what you do best. Am I right?”
She winked. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
Hours later, Lynée’s back started aching. Perusing paper after paper while sitting on the double-sized bed without any back support was going to cause horrendous issues with her posture. She looked up from her stack and noticed the entire case that she and the mountainous man worked on seemed to have expanded in this tiny motel room.
He occupied the flimsy roller chair by the small desk in the corner. She doubted that thing would hold his weight for much longer.
“We need more room.” She pulled her glasses off her nose.
Jace looked up from the screen on one of the laptops he’d confiscated from Reed’s bags. As the hours had drawn on, his eyes had started to squint tighter and tighter. “Do what you can with what we have.”
“You can’t properly investigate without the appropriate space. The chat sessions from that game alone I’m reading could fill half a filing cabinet. I need to spread these out on a timeline.”
Jace huffed, then rubbed his eyes. “We should stop for lunch anyway.”
“I’m on a roll here, so we’ll just get takeout. But first, let’s move all this back to my house.” She stood and rolled out the tension in her shoulders.
The federal agent froze. For some reason, that intensive stare he fixated on her seemed to elevate the temperature of the room a good ten degrees.
She swallowed, worried she may have said something off-limits. “There’s so much more room. I have comfortable chairs to save our backs, and we won’t be crawling all over each other just to get a file.”
He tipped his head and lifted a brow.
“Do you have a better idea?” she asked.
“These aren’t just library books you can check out at your convenience. This is all evidence. Which must remain in my custody until I can secure them back at the DEA. You want me to leave all of this stuff at your house, an unauthorized person to mess with as you please, which could compromise my entire investigation?”
She waved away his concern like an impatient mother to a toddler. Reminding her that he wasn’t supposed to have outside help on his case just wasted time in her mind. In one morning alone, she’d learned just how far back Reed’s investigation into the cartel had started. He and his former partner, Joe, had been viciously outnumbered, outmaneuvered, underfunded, and ultimately outgunned. Despite all their disadvantages against this cartel’s digitally advanced organization, Reed and Joe were still able to cause so much havoc to their supply chain. Most of it just from behind a computer screen. And all of that just skimmed the surface. Lynée hadn’t even seen any of the financials that Jace was researching. That was one area the DEA investigator was adamant she did not see.
“Think of it this way,” she urged. “You won’t have to keep walking to the lobby and ask the manager to borrow his printer. We can use mine.”
The side of Jace’s jawline twitched. Like he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Fine. But we’re stopping for food somewhere. I’m starving.”
Emilio sat in the driver’s seat and lit up a cigarette. The form lying on the ground outside the Seattle motel was obscured by the drizzle on his windshield. Lovely Seattle weather.
The rain would help cover his tracks. The office manager in the lobby sported a new hole in his head as well. Both he and the housekeeping lady had seen his face. They couldn’t remain alive. But he got what he came for.
At least now, he knew who he was following. With an image of both Reed Monroe’s face and the blonde gringa he traveled with, Emilio was a step closer to fulfilling his boss’s orders. Only a few hours before, he’d been at the morgue, stealing Diego’s body and hiding it in a refrigerated truck bound for Mexico, driven by a trusted henchman.
A fruitless effort, in Emilio’s opinion. Not that he would ever share that with Carlos Cabello. He knew better than to have an opinion when it came to the cartel boss’ family. Even though Diego wasn’t worth all this effort. Sure, the kid had been smart with all his fancy computers, servers, and new online game to hide their organization’s supply chain. But he was cocky. Too sure of himself and greedy. Not ready to face the brutalities of the cartel’s organization, despite what the man had claimed. Clearly evidenced by having his head blown off in this shoddy motel only a few days ago.
Emilio took an extra-long puff on his cigarette and let the smoke billow around his head inside the car. He wasn’t here to think or have an opinion. He was here to carry out orders. Only one thing left to do before he continued on in his quest. Any second now.
He checked his watch.
A small boom burst out from the front of the motel.
Emilio glanced up.
The windows busted out of the front doors, and thick flames terrorized inside the building. Black smoke billowed into the gray skies.
The bodies would be charcoal in a few minutes. Thanks to a simple bomb using the microwave in the employee break room. The effect accelerated nicely with a few portable propane tanks from the maintenance closet.
He always loved a good bonfire.
A chime sounded on his phone. Emilio checked his text messages.
An address from his boss.
Cascade Creek, Washington.
Time for another road trip.
The second Lynée stepped into Rock Road Diner after loading up her
car with all of Jace’s evidence from his motel room, Skye’s absence hit her full force. It was the first time she’d ever walked into this place without seeing her best friend behind the counter. Her brilliant smile, her infectious laughter, even the smell of her mouthwatering apple pie was missing. Lynée’s heart ached from the hole inside it.
The only way to fill it was to finish this case so she and Reed could return to Cascade Creek for good.
Jace tapped his fingers on the linoleum countertop.
No one was there to take their order. Nayanna, one of the other waitresses that Lynée had always liked, was busy talking to a group of customers at a table in the far corner, who all appeared to be complaining about the food.
Ralph yelped from behind the order window, and a large sizzle filled the air behind the wall. Followed by a bunch of curse words that hurt Lynée’s ears.
She pressed her lips together. Maybe coming here was a bad idea. Without a decent cook, the diner’s owner was forced to man the stoves. Ralph’s food was known to drive customers away faster than a quarantine sign.
Jace chuckled. “Having a little trouble back there?”
Ralph poked his head behind the order window and scowled at the lawman. “Oh, it’s you.”
Jace shook his head as Ralph came around to the front counter. He grabbed a chunk of ice from the bin with his bare hand, then wrapped a rag around the fist. “I’m missing a chef, once again. Because of you.”
Nayanna returned from the table, the caramel-colored beauty looking frazzled. She gave Lynée an apologetic smile. “Sorry about the delay. Booth or a table?”
“To go,” Jace answered. “Preferably not poisoned.”
Nayanna gave him a doubtful look. “No telling with this one in the kitchen.” She gestured her head toward Ralph. “I know you’re swamped, but Gloria and Victor said their chicken was undercooked. Can you whip up another plate?”
Ralph shot her a horrified look. “Don’t say that in front of other customers! And I have half a mind to refuse service to this clown.”
Jace raised an eyebrow. He glanced around the diner with considerably fewer tables full than the first time he’d walked in. “You look like you could use the business right now.”
The owner shook his head and flounced off back into the kitchen.
“What can I get for you?” Nayanna asked with a sigh and pulled out her paper pad.
“The clam chowder and a side salad please,” Lynée replied.
With a discerning look, Jace crossed his arms over his muscular chest. “Gloria and Victor’s chicken…was that fried or grilled?”
“Fried,” Nayanna answered. She shifted in her feet.
“Is the boss better on the grill?”
The waitress shrugged. “I’m sorry to say he might burn yours on purpose.”
Jace shook his head with a laugh. “Gotta love small towns. I’ll take steak and eggs. Scrambled. Fries and a side salad with a tall glass of milk.”
“Are you sure about that?” Nayanna paused. “A BLT and coleslaw might be safer.”
“I’ll take my chances. He wouldn’t want to deliberately sabotage a federal agent’s lunch over a grudge.”
Nayanna closed her ordering pad, then glanced at Lynée. “He sure is new around here.” She left to start their orders.
Lynée leaned in close to Jace so no one else would overhear. “Ralph is the kind of guy to hold a grudge a long time. If he had an ornery customer, I wouldn’t put it past him to drag their hamburger buns on the floor first.”
Jace took a seat on an empty stool at the counter. “I like to live on the edge.”
His phone shrilled through the diner. He pulled it from his pocket and answered gruffly. “Ivy here.” As the person spoke on the other end, Jace’s expression lost its playful edge. “When?” The lines across his forehead deepened. “Send me the details.” He ended the call, and more dings sounded on his phone. He scrolled through notifications, his eyebrows drawing together tighter as he read.
“What’s going on?” Lynée asked. “Looks like you lost your appetite.”
He shoved the phone back in his pocket. “Not at all. But we need to speed this up. I have to make a trip to Seattle.”
She dug around in her purse for her wallet. “Right now?”
He pulled his wallet out of his other pocket. “After we drop off all the evidence. I got this.”
Nayanna returned with the check, which he paid with a credit card.
“Am I allowed to ask why?” Lynée asked quietly.
“Sure.” His smile was short, clipped, and disingenuous. “You can ask.”
Nayanna came back the last time with their lunches in plastic containers.
The gruff DEA agent opened his and swore a little too loudly. “Ooh, Ralph’s one vindictive son of a bitch.”
Lynée cringed. “What did he do?”
He turned the container around for her to see.
His beautifully cooked steak soaked in ketchup.
Lynée surveyed her kitchen table, covered with boxes, bags, and computer equipment. More boxes on the floor. All the evidence from Jace’s motel room. He’d left only seconds after they’d unloaded everything at her house and scarfed down his ketchup-covered steak. Something pressing in Seattle, which he still refused to tell her about. Nor did he give her a timeframe when he’d return.
“You picked a fine time to leave, Agent Ivy,” she said to the scattered equipment.
But something inside her glowed. She loved research. Even more, she loved learning new things.
This DEA case, as monotonous as the details would be, would give her a new experience outside her safe little routine. Something she would never have a chance to see otherwise if it weren’t for Jace. Federal investigations and international crime syndicates. To see how these masterminds operated to hide their money and evade oversight would probably cause others to groan in agony over the tediousness. But not her. This world fascinated her.
With her sticky notes and highlighters ready, she dove into the first box. Dividing the files and papers into some sort of identifiable category was the first step. It shouldn’t take her that long before she would tackle the computer files. That would probably be the most tedious work. The multiple hard drives and backups all probably held several gigabytes of data each. But at least she had the piece of paper where Reed had written down all of his passwords. Jace had left it on the table at the motel, and she grabbed it to make sure it wouldn’t become lost.
She wanted to call Skye so much. The story of Ralph exacting his revenge on Jace by ruining his steak with ketchup would have her laughing for a week. Then they would’ve spent a decent chunk of time coming up with ways to pull a similar prank back on him. Instead of pulling off the prank, her friend would’ve brought something to the diner to cheer up the place, like new fresh flowers or a recipe for new pies, which would cool Ralph’s jets in the process.
More importantly, if Skye could see all the evidence sitting around Lynée’s house at this moment, she would smile broadly with a wink, and say “Only you would call this seventh heaven, Lynnie.”
A few hours later, she finally made it to the hard drives and mentally cataloged the various files to sort through. They were even more full than she originally suspected. So many random files, not sorted as well as she’d hoped for a federal agent. A whole folder marked as Follow-Ups, another named Lexi Code, whatever that meant, and one named Christmas List.
“Wow. They either didn’t sort things well, or Reed really was in a hurry to copy his stuff and run.”
Three coffee pots later, her eyes started to hurt, and a slight headache threatened her temples. With a glance at the clock, she realized five hours had gone by, and daylight faded quickly outside.
Water. I need to hydrate. Maybe dinner, too. “Guess I’m eating alone tonight.”
What in the world was keeping Jace stuck in Seattle for so long?
Jace hunkered down in his leather jacket against the brisk wind.
Seattle was somehow colder than Cascade Creek but much busier. Walking through the charred rubble of the tiny motel room, the smell of smoke still lingered heavily in the air. Jace coughed several times, his eyes filling with water. He hoped like hell to find any evidence still viable for his case.
The fire department had given him clearance to enter, even though the roof and walls were mostly missing, and only a few metal fragments remained of the supports and furniture. The police detective had given him a brief rundown of the events as they knew them, including a witness’s account of seeing a dark sedan leaving the scene just after a large explosion.
Apparently, some kind of homemade bomb had gone off in the break room using the microwave and a few propane tanks as accelerants. All meant to cover up the two bodies in the lobby littered with bullet holes. Now also charred to a crisp and beyond recognition. The coroner would need dental records to identify them. But they were more than likely hotel employees.
Seeing their mutilated remains and the accompanying burnt-flesh stench didn’t bother Jace anymore. Years of investigating brutal homicides and arresting the truly psychotic and evil criminals of the world as part of his job in the DEA numbed him from all that. Which was the part that bothered him. That he wasn’t affected by all of that anymore.
What he was affected by was all his evidence sitting in that woman’s house without him in it. Trust was not one of his fortes. And dammit, this woman had forced him into trusting people he never would’ve considered before. A damn suspect, among them.
He slowly turned in the small space. The mattress and furniture were all burned away, and only the metal frame remained, twisted and warped against the blackened toilet and bathtub. Large black spots marred the sheetrock. Any evidence they could’ve used against Monroe, or the cartel, was destroyed.
According to his DEA agent currently in hiding, this was the room in which Diego Huerta was killed. Where he’d first attacked Skye and Reed, and the cartel assassin subsequently died of a gunshot wound to the neck. Monroe also claimed this guy had been the technological genius behind Carlos Cabello’s new digital era of drug distribution and human trafficking. A lofty and unlikely allegation, considering this Huerta guy wasn’t on any DEA radar.
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