“Great.” He turned on his heels and left me to the hustle and bustle of being a Fed.
When I spotted Miles across the room, smiling in the face of Natasha, this other agent, it didn’t even bother me one bit. As a matter of fact, I hoped she’d get his focus off me. Instead, he was eyeing me while he whispered in her ear. Pretending not to see him, I opened Donavan’s file and got acquainted with the man that I was going to take down.
Chapter Fifteen
Catherine
It was the day that would start the rest of my life. My adrenaline was pumping as my Uber driver pulled up at John F. Kennedy International Airport. After passing him a tip, I jumped out of the black Altima and grabbed my luggage. I had one carry-on and a huge rolling suitcase. Not knowing how long I’d be in Jamaica, I had opted to overpack. Hopefully, I’d be able to crack the case and get enough dirt on Donavan in a small amount of time. I’d been to Jamaica once before, and I’d loved it, but that had been as a tourist. This time, it would be totally different because I would be indulging in plenty of things that could endanger my life. Jamaican criminals were on a different level of crazy than American criminals.
Before I could get inside the airport, my phone buzzed in the back pocket of my jeans. I reached back to pull it out with my free hand as my carry-on dangled from my shoulder, and I managed to answer the call. It was Special Agent Morris, and I wondered why he was calling me after I’d already been briefed on everything I needed to know. I’d read the entire file on Gaza and his men over and over, to the point where the details were drilled into my head. One of the members of his criminal organization had gotten caught trying to smuggle cocaine into the United States a month ago. He’d had over fifty kilos in his possession. Instead of closing down the drug deal, the Feds had allowed it to continue, and the culprit had returned to Jamaica as if nothing had even happened. The thing was, to avoid taking the rap by himself, he had decided to be a rat and had snitched. Now he was a federal informant and would be working with me and Miles when we got there. We had to keep a close eye on him, just in case he decided to turn the tables and no longer cooperate.
“Agent Reed, who in the hell did you use the FBI’s GPS to track, and why? You know that you are not to access any federal computer programs for anything other than federal cases.”
Damn. He’d found out about that shit already? “I’m sorry, sir. It was . . . Well . . . it is personal, sir. Although I know that it was against protocol, it was for a good reason, sir.” With a sigh, I vaguely filled him in on what had happened between Anya and Trayvon.
Special Agent Morris was livid as he reprimanded me. “You, your friend, or her kids could have been hurt, Reed. You must be aware that the whole situation could have gone left. You had a duty to call the local police and let them handle it.”
“I’d do anything for my best friend and goddaughters, sir. It was handled, and the police didn’t have to be involved. I know you’re pissed at me, and I understand why. I need you to do me a favor, though.”
He didn’t refuse on the spot, but he didn’t say yes, either.
“Uh, I need you to pull some strings to get someone to do surveillance on Anya’s house and the girls’ preschool, but keep it confidential. I have a feeling Trayvon isn’t done with her. The only thing is, whoever you get to do it can’t let her know what’s going on. She doesn’t want the police involved.”
Special Agent Morris cleared his throat, and then there was silence, as if he was thinking about it. “Okay,” he finally said, relenting. “Send me her address and the address of the school. I have some officers on the NYPD who owe me a few favors. I’ll get them on it. I wish I had a best friend like you, Reed, but promise me you won’t be so impulsive while you’re on assignment in Jamaica. You’re one of my best agents, and I’d really love to see you get that promotion. Don’t fuck it up.”
“I promise I won’t,” I assured him with conviction.
“Okay, Reed. Have a safe flight, and I’ll be in contact soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
After ending the call, I was relieved to make it in time to grab my ticket and head toward security. That was a breeze with my federal agent badge, and soon I was seated on the aircraft well before takeoff.
“Cathy, come sit with me,” I heard a familiar baritone voice say behind me. Of course, it was Miles. Rolling my eyes in annoyance, I looked back at him.
“Nah, I’m good. I have plenty of time to spend with you,” I threw over my shoulder before looking straight ahead.
It was a good thing he left me alone after that. After putting my earbuds in my ears, I found the music that was on the memory card I’d inserted in my laptop, and hoped it would hold me throughout the flight. There was a new book on my Kindle that I was dying to read. Now was a better time than any, because once my flight landed, I’d be too preoccupied and anxious to read.
Though it was a little muggy out, the pure, clean air that greeted me once I was off the plane in Jamaica made me take in a deep breath. Damn. The smog and pollution in New York City didn’t smell so bad until I had the scent of paradise in my nostrils to compare it to. The feeling of someone gently nudging me in the side got my attention.
“Let’s grab the rental car and head to the villa,” Miles told me, with an irritated look on his handsome face.
Ignoring his funky attitude, I grabbed my luggage at the baggage claim and followed him without saying a word. Instead of a hotel room, we had been given access to an ocean-side Spanish-style villa to pull off the front that we were members of a crime syndicate. We’d be there under the guise that Miles was my brother from Jamaica. His attempt at a Jamaican accent was so on point that he could fool the natives. I was his American-born half sister. We supposedly had the same father, who had died and left the family drug business to us. Our ruse was that our connect, Knox, had been murdered, and we needed someone else to get the product from. The thing was, Knox was an infamous Jamaican kingpin who had been shot multiple times execution-style a few months ago, and we could get away with that story because he wasn’t alive to contest it. The plan was for me to play the part of seductress and get Gaza to trust me enough to do business.
Soon Miles and I had our things inside the rental car, which was a flashy-ass cocaine-white BMW with the pipes on the back. We figured it looked like the type of car that drug dealers would drive, and we had to play the part convincingly.
“You ready for this?” Miles asked as he glanced over at me. He was behind the wheel.
I slid on a pair of dark Ray-Bans. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” Avoiding his smoldering, sexy eyes, I looked out the window.
“You know, we got a luxurious villa and an ocean view all to ourselves,” Miles mused. “There’s no telling what kind of trouble we can get into. I keep daydreaming about making love to you right there on the soft white sand by the turquoise water . . .”
“Well, you might as well stop, because it’s not going to happen. I’m here for one reason and one reason only, Miles. Besides, I told you that part of our relationship is over, so I don’t care if we are forced to share a romantic villa by the ocean. We are here to do a job. Getting a promotion is the best thing that could ever happen to me, and I won’t let your horny ass ruin it. Get your mind out of the gutter for once.” With my arms across my chest, I huffed in frustration. There was no way I was going to be able to deal with constantly being around Miles if he kept on flirting and trying to get me to fuck him.
“Well, damn, I guess you’re serious about that shit. I’m sorry if I can’t just stop my feelings for you.”
“Oh really? Are those feelings in your heart or your balls? Stop pretending like we had more than a sexual relationship. It was nothing other than that. We are here to get Gaza and his men, not to get naked and fuck. Do you ever think of anything else?”
“Of course I do, but damn, you literally threw yourself at me and now—”
“Threw myself at you?” Letting out a sarcastic laugh, I shook my head
in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. You literally ate my pussy without my consent on our first date.”
“What?” He chuckled. “You wanted it.”
We’d got a private table at a restaurant in New Jersey, and after he got me tipsy with a few glasses of wine, he’d dropped down on his knees under the table and eaten me out. That shit had had me fucked all the way up, and after that, I’d been at his mercy. Now I finally had a grip on reality, and the pleasure he’d bestowed upon me didn’t have me like that anymore. You could say that at this point, I was over it.
“Well, I don’t want it now. Let’s just keep our relationship on a professional level only. You might as well get used to playing the part of my big brother.” Letting out a sly laugh, I glanced over at Miles.
His jaw was all tight, because he was so arrogant and cocky. He just knew he’d be able to get my thighs to spread for him while we were there, but I had other plans. First of all, I wasn’t going to drink anything with alcohol in it. Not only that, but I was determined to keep my distance from him, because, to be honest, Miles was irresistible. As his jaw twitched, he kept his eyes on the road.
“You know what? You’re right. We have to focus. This shit could be dangerous, and we have to think with our heads and not our genitals. But since you ain’t trying to give me none, don’t think I ain’t gon’ get some pum pum while I’m here.”
Shrugging, I told him, “Do what you want to do, Miles. Just keep your head in the game. I’m not trying to get killed out here, and I hope you’re not either. We gotta have each other’s back, regardless of what happened between us. At the end of the day, we’re all we got while we’re here.”
With a nod, Miles agreed. “Okay, I feel you, Cathy. No matter what, I got your back. That’s my word.”
“And I have yours too. That’s my word.”
* * *
When we got to the villa, Miles and I unloaded our luggage, and then he headed out to the market to get some groceries and other necessities. While he was gone, I took a time-out to get settled in. The tranquil sound of seagulls and the scenic beauty of the ocean were way to peaceful. As the palm tree fronds swayed in the wind, I stared at the view as if I was in a trance. If only I could live somewhere like this on a regular basis. Don’t get me wrong. I loved New York. I was born and raised there, and although I’d traveled to a few places, there was no place like New York City.
A few hours later Miles was back with some much-needed supplies and some authentic Jamaican takeout. The smell of jerk chicken filled the kitchen, and my mouth watered.
“Thank God you got something that’s already cooked. I’m way too tired to cook anything,” I told him as we filled paper plates.
“No problem. I figured you could use something hearty to put in your stomach.”
We carried our plates into the living room, sat on the sofa, and chatted while we grubbed, and thankfully, Miles kept the conversation tame. In no time, I was full. I returned to the kitchen and put the leftovers in the fridge for later.
“Now, that was delicious. You can’t get Jamaican food like that at home,” Miles said when he came into the kitchen a few minutes later.
“You got that right.”
Miles had finished off his food, and now he rubbed his belly as he stretched. “Well, I’m going to turn in, since it’ll be all business tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I told him with a nod. “I think I’m gonna take a quick shower and then take a dip in the pool.”
“That sounds like a plan. I would ask if I can join you, but I’d hate to get kicked in my balls for coming on to you. I promised I’d be tame, so I guess it’s best for me to keep my distance.” Letting out a good-natured laugh, he threw his empty plate in the garbage and headed up the stairs.
After my shower, I put on a black one-piece bathing suit and headed out to the infinity pool. The scene was something straight from a postcard. As I stared off at the horizon, I couldn’t help but admire how simply gorgeous the island was. After swimming a few laps, I felt my body immediately relax. After a few more, I decided to call it a night. When I lifted my wet body out of the pool, I looked up to see Miles standing on the second-floor balcony.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm. You are too damn scrumptious. You sure you don’t want to join me in my room? I got a bottle of—”
“Hell no, Miles. Good night.” Grabbing a fluffy white towel from the back of one of the lounge chairs, I rolled my eyes at him. Then I dried off and headed inside.
* * *
The next day I spent most of my time getting into character. I had to sell the part of a streetwise chick who was heavily involved in the drug game. Although I hadn’t been raised in the hood, I wasn’t naïve about what went down in the streets. After my father died, I’d got caught up in that world and had a thing for thugs. Once I was reminded of how the gritty streets seemed to love you one minute and then chew you up and spit you out the next, I’d focused on my goals again. After I’d graduated from Columbia with a degree in criminal justice, I applied for the Feds. My test scores got me into Quantico, just like I’d dreamed of since I was a little girl. After breezing right through the training, I emerged at the top of my class of recruits.
For the time that I was in Jamaica, I’d be going by the name Indica, which was a strain of weed. Miles would be going by the name Sway. The premise was that the informant, whose alias was Royal, had met us in New York and had put Gaza and his boys on game that we wanted to meet up with them. It had taken a while for Gaza and his boys to agree to a meeting, because they’d been skeptical at first. However, one thing about ambitious dope boys was they’d often take a chance to expand business. If we could gain Gaza’s trust, we’d have enough raw evidence to get him convicted and locked up for life.
We’d all be meeting up at a nightclub in Kingston that was the front for Gaza and his crew’s business headquarters. It was after ten o’ clock at night, and I was getting dressed for the occasion. The dress code for me was sexy and sensual, since I had to be that boogie, that hood bitch who enticed Gaza and his goons. Gaza was the fish I really wanted to hook, though, but something told me it wasn’t going to be easy. I was sure he’d already snatched some ratchet chick who would be ready to ride or die for him. That nigga’s mug shots showed that he was fine, so I could imagine what he looked like in person. His one feature that had captured my attention was his eyes. They were cunning and alluring. A man like him was trouble, and that was without a doubt.
The sound of Miles whistling interrupted my thoughts, and I realized that I hadn’t seen him all day. Well, honestly, I’d been avoiding him on purpose. Having to spend every waking hour with him was uncomfortable, to say the least. Yeah, I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, but the setting we were in was a recipe for disaster. My physical attraction to him hadn’t gone anywhere just because I’d gathered the strength to try to leave him alone. I was only human, so that was easier said than done.
“So, you ready . . . ? Damn!” Miles’s eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. “Wow! You ain’t never dressed like that for me.”
“That’s because I don’t dress like this. Indica does.”
“Ohhh . . . yeah . . . Well, if I must say, you are killing that dress and those heels.” Shaking his head, he added, “If only I’d met you first.”
“Well, you didn’t. Why do I have to constantly remind you that nothing’s going to happen between us again? Stop with the damned hints, and let’s go catch the bad guys. That’s what we both became Feds for, right?”
“I didn’t say anything was going to happen between us, and I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. I’m just saying that what we had was more than just some fuck shit. You might not believe me, but I mean it. Now, I know that once we get to the club, we have to pretend to be family, so let me get my eyeful now. No disrespect.” Looking me up and down like I was a buffet and he was obese, he had the nerve to lick his lips and shake his head.
“Does your wife know how s
orry you are?” I asked him right before I walked off. He followed me.
“First of all, you’re the only woman I’ve ever had an affair with—”
Pretending I was having a laughing fit, I cut that lie right the fuck off before he could finish. “I don’t know why you think you gotta lie to me, Miles. I’m not your wife.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Miles, you’re a ho. Straight up. You flirt with every chick you see with a pussy between her legs. I see you all up in every woman’s face at work. You even do that shit with those ugly bitches. You don’t care, though. Pussy ain’t got no face.”
Rubbing his chin, he said, “You got that shit right.”
When I frowned up at him in disgust, he laughed and shook his head. “I’m kidding. I’m just a friendly person. Just because I talk to women at work doesn’t mean I’m trying to get some pussy.”
“All right, whatever you say. Let’s go . . . We want to make a good first impression with Mr. Gaza.”
Chapter Sixteen
Catherine
Gaza’s security was on point. Not only did we have to be searched by Gaza’s men before we could enter the club, but we also had to be searched a second time by them once were inside.
“There’s no way she could hide anything in that tight li’l dress,” some chick said, with her top lip turned up. She was clutching Gaza’s arm like she was his lady or something. From the way she was eyeing me, I was sure that she was.
Gaza was even finer in person, and I tried my best not to stare. His exotic bedroom eyes, high cheekbones, and thick lips were just a few of his facial features that caught my attention now. His girl was cute, but she seemed to be a little too naïve to fit into his world. It seemed that she was trying, but just like me, she was acting. But the fact was that we were putting on a show for different reasons. She was doing it because she wanted to be with Gaza, and I was doing it because if I wanted to move up in the Bureau, I had to get her man locked up.
“Babe, dis is the peoples mi was tellin’ yuh about. Simi?” Gaza gave her a look like he was telling her to stay in line. “Dis is a club, so if di lady wanted to wear a li’l dress, dat’s her business. Irie?”
Carl Weber's Kingpins: Jamaica Page 13