by Pj Fiala
Rubbing her forehead with her fingers, she stifled the litany of colorful words at the ready and remembered that this was her SAC she was talking to. Lifting her coffee from the center console she thought perhaps she needed to get caffeinated and soon. Drinking as much as she could due to the temperature of the coffee, she silently waited her boss out.
"Al, I know you're seething right now. I wouldn't ask if the Chicago Office didn’t order it. And, since you'll be up for promotion next month, which will keep you home more, it's important that you do this. And, shut that drug operation down."
"Yeah. Got it." She'd better get that damned promotion this time. Last time they gave it to that whiner, Steiner. He was a pain in the ass for certain.
"Thanks, Al, be nice."
"Yeah."
She ended the call without another word, then took a couple of deep breaths, turned around in the parking lot, and headed back to Lynyrd Station and the police department, where she'd no doubt run into Rory again. Today was really beginning to blow.
3
Dragging his feet into the station, he hadn't even bothered to put his jacket on this morning, opting for carrying it in case he needed it. Lack of sleep and thoughts of Beggs filtered through his mind all night. He should have called her all those years ago when she'd left, it was a young dumb-ass thing to do. But he’d found out the day after she left that she could have stayed. All it would have taken was a word from her to her commanding officer. She chose to leave, which he took as wanting to get away from him. But he didn't want to settle down anyway, and at the time and they were on opposite coasts. Long-distance didn't make sense then. He'd gone out three days in a row after she left to drink her away. One week turned into two and then he met Debra. At first, they were just having fun. She'd been like Beggs in that she gave him shit when he needed it and she was strong and confident. That was his kryptonite. Strong women when they needed to be, saucy in bed.
Flopping into his desk chair, he rested his elbows on the desk and swiped his fingers down his face.
"Long night?"
Removing his hands and looking at the man speaking, he sighed at Captain Jason Peters. "Yeah, Captain. A lot of them lately."
"Well, then I have good news. DEA is sending us some help. I guess some hotshot Special Agent from Indianapolis named Al Tucker. All I know is Tucker is good and we need the help."
Sitting back hard in his chair he looked his Captain in the eye. "I don't know if that's good news, Cap. I'm dog-ass tired, we all are, and training a new guy on our procedures and town sounds like a monumental task right now."
Captain nodded. “Maybe it’ll only be a day or two, then Tucker should be up to speed. This is the first time we’ve worked with DEA, but they help police departments like ours all the time. The sooner we get these drugs off the street, the sooner we can stop burying our town's children. I've been to my share of funerals these days."
"Yeah." The feeling of defeat fell over him like a wet coat. More hours and now a "hotshot", which to his ears sounded like a cocky, self-centered bastard.
The Captain left his doorway and he shook his mouse to wake up his computer. Starting with the DEA Chicago Division database he wanted to satisfy himself that Beggs was far, far away hopefully in Chicago. He typed in her name Alice Beggs and half-assed chuckled. He'd only called her Alice once while they'd been together, always referring to her as either Beggs or Red.
He watched the little circle turn as it searched. Then, the chatter outside of his office stopped. Eerie silence fell as all eyes were trained toward the front door. Curiosity got the better of him. He stood and made his way to the door of his office and looked in the direction of all the other detectives.
There she was. Beggs. Her shiny red hair spilled over her shoulders in waves. The freckles that were abundant on her face seemed to stand out more just now, he'd always thought they were cute. Then, her intense green eyes looked up and focused on him. He felt it. The minute she realized he was watching her. Her eyes bore into his and the beginnings of a grin formed on his face, then her eyes narrowed and the look she leveled on him would have made a boner droop. She was not happy to see him.
It took his brain a few minutes to grasp the situation, and if he thought he could have run and hid in his office, he would have; but then she began moving toward him and his damned feet betrayed him and refused to move. He felt like a deer with his eyes caught in the headlights and his brain sent off warning signals that this was not going to be good. But there he stood anyway.
She stopped just in front of him, her eyes no longer squinting but the stiffness in her face said she was not happy.
"Special Agent Al Tucker at your service." Her smooth sexy voice floated over him and his brain screamed, "NO!"
"Al? Tucker? You're Al Tucker?"
"Problem with that?"
"No. It's just I thought your name was Beggs."
She inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. The fresh aroma of coffee swirled around, and he watched as she took a drink from the paper cup in her hand.
"My married name is Tucker. My first name, as you know, is Alice. I go by Al to my friends."
Swallowing the large lump in his throat, he heard snickering around him and knew he was going to have to answer a ton of questions this week.
Nodding once, he said, "Nice to see you again, Al."
"Alice."
"I thought you said Al..."
"I said my friends call me Al. You. Are. Not. My. Friend."
That earned her chuckles from the men sitting around observing this interaction and she bestowed a fantastic smile on them.
"Right. Well, please come into my office and we'll go over the information we have on file with this drug problem."
He stood back a step to let her pass, but she cocked her head and waited for him to move in front of her. Feeling sheepish and knowing the guys were all watching, he took her cue and preceded her into his office. Walking around the desk to sit in his chair, he waited for her to sit down as he pulled a couple of the files he'd been working on out of his desk drawer. Remembering his search, he quickly minimized his screen and was relieved to see her head had been down as she looked at the chairs.
Laying the files on the top of the desk, he watched as she leaned forward, her long trench coat still cinched at her narrow waist, her body still slender, her long fingers still caught his attention as she opened the first file and began reading his reports.
"I'm sorry. I should have called. Or I shouldn't have promised to call, however you have decided to look at it."
Her eyes flicked to his and held. His stomach knotted but he waited for her.
"I guess it worked out for both of us the way it was supposed to. I heard you got married."
He squirmed in his chair a bit, then cleared his throat. "Yes. But I'm widowed now."
He saw an emotion flicker across her face, then she swallowed, her soft voice came back. "I'm sorry."
Nodding he ventured further. "How long have you been married?"
"Four years."
His eyes flicked to her ring finger. Not only was there not a ring there, there wasn't an indentation either. Curious.
"Tell me what we have going on here so I can go home."
4
Sitting in this small office, she could smell him. That same after shave, after all these damned years, she'd never forget it. They hadn't dated that long, just a couple of months, but he’d left a mark on her. More than just the hurt at how he had forgotten about her. More than his scent. She sat here now, listening to his voice and her body responded. Her nipples puckered and when he glanced up to see if she were listening, he'd smiled a couple of times and dammit, that had an effect on her.
"Tell me what questions you have." She looked up to see him watching her.
Clearing her throat lightly, she flipped the file on top to another section. "So, if I'm clear on all of this, you've had two kids die in the past couple of weeks of overdoses and one of a gunshot which you b
elieve to be part of a drug deal gone wrong. Then we have the events of last night. This is escalating."
"Yes. We had a crime family move into town last year and set up business, the Santarinos. Not only were they smuggling illegal weapons, they were art and jewel smugglers and thieves. We suspected they were involved with bringing in drugs, but we didn’t confirm it until around the time the family’s legitimate business was taken down and the brothers, Victor and Mangus, who ran the legitimate and illegal operations were dead. The family is gone now. Sofia Santarino, who lives in Italy, and is Mangus’ widow who still owns the property in Lynyrd Station, where Limitless International, the legitimate business was located, before law enforcement shut it down. We thought we were done with the Santarinos, but now we’ve got this issue going on and I can’t help but wonder if they had something in the works before they died. Someone is still bringing drugs into the area and distributing. We've been watching all known employees of their legitimate company, Limitless International, as well as all known cohorts of the Santarinos. So far we can't pin anything on them."
He flipped the page in the file and photographs, stacked neatly and clipped into the folder came into view. "This is Mangus Santarino and this is his brother, Victor."
He continued flipping pictures, his thick masculine hands mesmerized her. "This is Giovanni Santarino, their father. He's in his nineties now, living in Italy, not sure of his health. It’s doubtful he has anything to do with the drugs here, though he could carry a grudge since both sons died in Lynyrd Station. But we can't get any information on whether he's capable of running the family over there. And this is Francesca Santarino, daughter of Mangus. She's in federal prison."
He flipped to another photograph. "This is Chibs, he was one of the black-market gun distributors. He's incarcerated in federal prison now as well. And this is Xavier Creed, also a gunrunner, also in federal prison. The only local not in prison is Butch Ariens who owns a pawn shop, Black Gold Pawn, in town. He was the middleman exchanging money for art, jewels or drugs to work off a debt he owed the Santarinos. He left town and the shop is closed."
"Okay. So, of these men you have in your file, do any of them have family who would take up the job of running drugs?"
"We're checking into everyone, but we don't have the resources to watch all of them, hence here you are! And speaking of, how is it we weren't informed until this morning that you were coming and yet you happened to be here last night? And, why were you here last night?"
She sat back, her coffee cup now empty and she needed another one. The beginnings of a headache were starting as she sat here fighting her attraction to Rory and trying to process the info dump that she just went through. Trying to decide how much she should tell him, she felt exhausted already.
"I was here on a lead I got from an informant. I'm thinking he has more information than he let on and I believe it was a bit of a setup last night. I got an email this morning from another agent that while I was here chasing my target, which by the way, you screwed up for me, a major drug deal went down back home. Then, this morning as I was packing to leave, my SAC called to tell me you needed an agent and since I was already here, I’m now stuck here, literally."
"I didn't screw up your bust last night."
"Really?" She leaned forward and locked eyes with him. "What the fuck do you call tossing me against the building and blocking my view to his direction?"
"I didn't toss...."
The instant he faltered, she stood, "Where's the coffee here?"
He shook his head quickly as if to clear his thoughts, then stood and walked toward her. "I'll show you the coffee and introduce you to the guys."
He stopped just before her and held his hand out as if to tell her to go on ahead of him. She pulled her trench coat off and lay it in her vacant chair. She walked in front of him because she wasn't as pissed as she had been, and she rather liked keeping him off-kilter. One time she wouldn't precede him, another she would. She might as well have a little fun while she was here. Stepping out into the work area, she saw a couple of the guys stop and look up from their computers.
Rory stepped out from behind her and a couple of the men grinned shit-ass eating grins, which in her experience working mostly with men, told her they thought she chewed his ass out but good and they couldn't wait to get the rest of the story. That could be fun, too.
"Coffee's over here."
She followed him as he turned left and around a corner. There was a small galley kitchen with barely enough room for both of them, so she warned herself not to get too close, but the aroma of fresh coffee, even police station coffee, sent her thoughts racing to the need for another cup.
Rory walked to the coffee machine, and she watch the muscles in his broad shoulders move and bunch as he reached up into a cupboard to pull two clean coffee cups down. They were Styrofoam but still clean. He looked over his shoulder as he poured, "Still take yours black?"
Her heartbeat kicked up. "You remember how I take my coffee?"
He froze, the coffee pot mid-air before beginning to pour again. It was brief, but noticeable. "Yeah, I guess I do."
"What else do you remember?" Dumb, dumb, dumb. Why in the hell did her mouth say that?
He set the pot on the burner, reached into the cupboard for lids for each cup, snapped them on the cups, then turned to hand her a cup before answering. Her heartbeat kicked up ten beats per minute waiting for his answer. It seemed important for some reason. He looked her in the eyes, those light blue orbs she'd fallen for so flipping long ago, were still beautiful. Intelligent and captivating. The dark lashes that matched his dark hair were thick and full, giving his eyes the most envious frame. He waited a few beats before responding.
"I remember everything."
Angry with herself for loving that answer, she snapped, "Except to call."
She turned and stormed from the room and headed to the detectives who seemed interested in what was happening in the kitchen.
5
He'd been silently beating himself up about why he didn't stay in contact with her when she’d been transferred. Why he didn't try harder to have a long-distance relationship with her? Life may have been so different if he had. Of course, it would have, it would have been worlds apart from his lonely life here. But, just then, that snap of anger and sass that popped out of her mouth, reminded him of why, at least one reason why. When they were so much younger, he’d had this strange feeling that she'd run right over him. That all of his life he'd be cow-towing to her. She’d had a temper; it had come in spurts and dissipated almost as quickly as it had started. And, as a young twenty-year-old, he wondered about marriage. But it seemed like there was so much life left to live single. Then he found out she could have stayed, and his hurt feelings and pride told him to move on. If she wanted to be with him, she would have tried to work it out. Note to self, steer clear of Alice Beggs Tucker, ‘cause now, he found himself excited about her sass. He enjoyed her confidence.
Exiting the kitchen, his gut knotted when he entered the detective work area and there she was, her red hair shining in the sunlight from the window, shaking hands with each of the guys he worked with. By the looks of them she was enchanting each of them and for some reason that irritated the shit out of him.
"Well, it's very nice to meet you Detective Sam. I'm sure we'll be working together while I'm here." Her smoky voice flitted through the air and all the men seemed captivated by her.
"Nice meeting you to, Al." Samuel Bowers, looked up at him with the biggest fucking grin on his face and he knew what that was about. She'd told them all they could call her Al. But he wasn't her friend. He'd see about that.
Taking a drink of his coffee, he walked past the group of them and snipped, "When you and your friends are finished wasting time, we need a task meeting to discuss what each of us knows about the murder last week and the other open cases of the past two months, where these drugs are coming from and the progress we’ve made. I'll be in the conference room
."
Probably a bit childish. Probably a bit unprofessional. But he'd had three hours of sleep last night and not much more the previous couple of weeks and he wasn't in the mood. At all.
Turning the corner, he stopped in his office to grab his files, then exited and went to the conference room just two doors down.
Setting his files on the conference room table, he set his coffee down, pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat down. Opening his files, he pretended to be reading but he was mentally chastising himself for letting his feelings get in the way of his work. He wasn't going to get involved with Beggs again anyway, besides, she’s married, so it didn't matter if she thought he was her friend. His goal was the same today as yesterday, solve the murder and get the drugs off the street. If she could help with the drugs, perfect.
"Everything alright?"
He looked up to see Detective Callan Waters enter the room, his always perceptive gaze scrutinizing everything and right now he was looking closely at him.
"Yeah. A bit of a history in case you couldn't tell. Ended badly. This is going to be tough."
Cal pulled the chair next to him away from the table and sat down. He was a big brawny man and the ladies usually swooned when Cal walked in the room. More than once, he begrudgingly used Cal to get an uncooperative female suspect chatting. They loved his attention and he was fantastic at making them feel like he was on their side.
"Yeah, it's a tad noticeable.”
Before he could say anything more, Sam Bowers, Anderson Tyler and Alice entered the room. Their chatter subsided and they quickly took their seats.
"Okay, let's start with the murder of Justin Tully. Ty, you were handling that case, fill us in."
