by Lucy Quinn
Cookie reached to pick up the pages, and Stone slapped her hand. “Ouch!” she cried, her skin stinging from the smack.
“Did you not hear a word I said? The pages stay on the counter.”
Dylan’s body shook with silent laughter as Cookie imagined that Stone was taking Dede’s directions a bit too literally. She turned to Dylan. “Just for that, you get to find the excavation permit.”
He reached over and slid the pages over one by one, making sure they stayed in contact with the surface of the counter until he found what they were looking for. The pair hovered over the document to read it. Dylan said, “This allows them to dig a standard basement depth of eight feet.”
“That’s about what you’d expect to see in a traditional home these days. But River said the basement was dug much deeper than normal.” Cookie said.
“Looks like we need to go back to the site to make sure.”
She looked up. “Stone, could you make a copy of the excavation permit for me please?”
“Did you bring any paper?”
“What?”
Stone let out a sigh. “I can tell you don’t come here often. If you did, you’d know that if you bring your own paper you get a discount on printing. Otherwise it’s a dollar a page.”
“A dollar! Why—”
Dylan nudged her with his elbow. “That’s fine, Stone.” He pulled out his wallet and handed the man a bill.
When Stone walked away Cookie grumbled, “A dollar. That’s highway robbery.”
“I don’t know. He’s kind of got us over a barrel since we can’t even lift the page from the counter.” Dylan chuckled. “He’s quite the businessman.”
“The word shyster comes to mind.”
“Hey, it’s Dede’s rule. Maybe she’s the shyster.”
Cookie began to do a little mental math, her mind rushing to the unlawful, but quickly decided the few extra dollars the town hall pulled in wasn’t worth it. When Stone returned, he handed the copy to Cookie, and she found a way to speak in a polite tone. “Thank you, Stone. You’ve been a big help.”
As Cookie turned and started to walk out, Stone said. “And just where do you think you’re going, Cookie James?”
Cookie stopped, first wondering how Stone even knew a chiding tone, and then she looked back at him, puzzled as to what he was reprimanding her for.
“Would you leave your house in such disarray?” Stone asked as if he were scolding a child. “I think not. March yourself right back here and put these papers back the way you found them.”
She glanced at Dylan, and he raised his eyebrows at her as if Stone was right in his lecture, but mischief danced in those blue eyes of his, letting Cookie know he found the situation quite funny.
Knowing Dede’s strict sense of order, and the fact she may have suffered the same tongue lashing with the official town clerk in place, Cookie obliged and carefully slid the pages of the documents back into place before closing the folder and giving it a pat, awaiting Stone’s approval.
“Thank you,” he said. “You have a nice island day, now. Take care.”
When she got outside, she said, “Jeez, now I remember why I never come here. Dede was just as harsh. You should have seen that process with Rain when we wanted to expand our septic system. At least we didn’t have to put on the white gloves for archival purposes.”
Dylan chuckled and said, “Who knew Stone had missed his calling all these years? He’s got the makings of someone who could end up having a long and fruitful career in government red tape.”
“That he could.” She gave Dylan a sly smile. “Dede might not get her job back.”
“Should we stop by the Holey Donut to see?”
Cookie frowned. While she was just as curious as Dylan was about how Dede was handling the people flocking to the donut truck, she was more worried about Rain. “Let’s do that on the way back. I’d really like to crack this case, and this is the best lead we’ve had so far.”
Dylan agreed. They returned to the inn to grab his truck and head on over to the other side of the island. The wipers swished intermittently over the windshield as they drove in the misty rain. When they’d gone to see Hank yesterday, he’d been pacing around the building site on his phone and waving his hands as his voice boomed angrily. They hadn’t had anything to warrant searching the place and opted to pass until they had some documentation for their search, and this time they were armed with a permit.
But this time, Hank wasn’t anywhere in sight and neither were any vehicles. When they got out of the truck, Cookie pointed to a window where there was a light on. It was in one of the finished sections of the main floor of the building. “Lights are on in his office,” she said. “Looks like he stepped out for a bit.”
“I think you’re right. Let’s go take a look around the back where it’s still just framing and see if we can check out the basement.”
Cookie’s hair was the best indicator of humidity around, because as moisture in the air increased so did the volume of her locks. She took a moment to tame her hair by tugging her thick strands back into a ponytail as they walked around the condo building to the back. She noticed a series of bright blue tarps had been stretched out over a large section as wood framing stood tall around it. Since there was nothing to keep the area secured, Dylan and she walked over to see what was hidden.
The tarp rustled as Cookie lifted an edge to reveal what looked like a steel floor. Dylan peeled back more tarp and gave the floor a knock. Metal thudded under his fist as if it were thick and sturdy. Dylan got up and went to the end of the framed-out unit to pull back the covering on the neighboring unit. He whistled long and low when he saw it appeared to encompass a lot more space. “That’s a serious-looking bunker.”
“Let’s see if we can find a door,” Cookie said as she tugged on a section of the tarp to uncover more. Sure enough, in the middle of the metal floor that spanned the space of two units, they uncovered a hatch-like door.
Dylan treaded softly over to it. “What are the odds it’s unlocked?” he asked.
“Slim to—”
The hinges creaked as Dylan lifted the door, and he winked at Cookie, pleased with himself. “It’s not breaking and entering if it’s not locked, right?”
“Got a flashlight?” Cookie recalled being locked in a walk-in freezer the previous year by a crazy baker and wrapped her arms around herself. The memory caused her chest to tighten as panic started make her sweat. She said, “I’m not too keen on climbing into a dark unknown space. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to trap us in there.”
“Not to worry,” Dylan said as he produced a pocket-sized flashlight. “I’ve got other tools that will assist us out of any precarious situations, too.” He winked at her and tilted the light down into the bunker. He took his time, shining the light around the enclosed space, and then he let out a low whistle and handed her the flashlight. “You better take a look down there.”
“What is it?” she asked, even as she clutched the light in her hand and peered into the space. “Holy Smith and Wesson. I’m not hallucinating this, am I? Tell me you also see an obscene amount of handguns and rifles.”
“Yep. That’s what I saw. Lots of AR-15 style semi-automatics and a pile of pistols,” Dylan confirmed.
Cookie carefully closed the steel door and sat back on her heels. The mist had turned the day gray and slightly chilly due to the wind coming in off the ocean, but Cookie didn’t feel a thing. She was in shock, but her mind wasn’t. It was racing as ice flooded her veins. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“Yeah. Either someone on Secret Seal Isle is planning to lead us all into battle or we’ve got a gunrunner on our hands,” he said.
Cookie’s eyes met Dylan’s. “Gunrunner.” She gulped, trying and failing to tamp down her fear. “That means the mob.”
Dylan’s hand tightened on Cookie’s, and his jaw was tense as he said, “We don’t know that for sure.”
Cookie stared at his handsome fa
ce, her heart sinking. He was right. They didn’t have the proof yet, but she knew in her gut this couldn’t be anything other than the mob. They were the only ones who dealt with that kind of volume. Her past was coming back to haunt her again, though she had to admit that she had no way of knowing if it was actually the DeMasi mob who were behind the guns.
She’d find out soon enough, though. Not that it mattered. Not now. There was nothing she could do about it. If the mob came for her, she had no choice but to stand and fight because Rain was still in jail., And running while her mother was locked up was completely out of the question. First things first, though. Cookie had to do whatever she could to get Rain free. She took in a deep, fortifying breath. “Come on. Let’s go. If Hank doesn’t have paperwork on these, and I’m sure he doesn’t, we can arrest him.”
Dylan hesitated. “You don’t want to call Hunter?”
“I will. But not until we have Hank in custody. We don’t have time to wait for Hunter, because if Hank gets wind we know something, he’ll either skip town or we’ll both be the subject of suspicious accidents.” She reached behind her back just to brush her fingers over the handgun tucked into her waistband. It relieved her mind a bit knowing she wasn’t unarmed.
“Okay. But, Cookie?”
“Yeah?”
Dylan shook his head, the misty raindrops visible in his hair. “Never mind. You know how to handle yourself. Let’s go arrest Hank. Peaches, River, and Julie will be beside themselves with joy.”
Cookie’s insides turned to goo. Even Hunter, her former partner at the FBI, hadn’t always treated her as if she was fully capable, due to her unfortunate luck of being a woman. He’d trusted her and never left her behind when an investigation came their way, but he had acted like he was in charge, and it was always his instinct to think she needed to be protected. Dylan had no such problem.
She leaned over and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. “Thanks. Lead on.”
Chapter 22
“Can you see him?” Cookie asked, peering out of the window of Dylan’s truck from their stakeout point near the condo development. The windshield had started to fog the minute they’d hopped inside. They’d gotten the arrest warrant for Hank Romero and were back at the condo site to take him into custody.
“No… I don’t think—” He adjusted the binoculars he’d fished out of the glove box and said, “Oh, there we go.”
“What’s he doing?” Cookie asked. They needed to know before they barged into Hank Romero’s office and arrested him. With the mob, you usually only got one chance to take someone down.
“He’s watching something on the computer,” Dylan said, still adjusting the binoculars. “I’m having trouble figuring out what it is.”
“Porn?” Cookie asked with a sigh. Perfect. Just what she needed when they barged in. “Please tell me his hands are where we can see them.”
Dylan was silent for a few moments. Then he dropped the binoculars and shook his head, and his lips curved into an amused smile. “It’s definitely not porn. Not unless you think your mother has a new profession.”
“My mother… what?” Cookie grabbed the binoculars out of his hand and zoomed in on Hank and the computer screen. Her eyes nearly bugged out of her head when she saw her mother lying on the mattress in her cell and shoving Pringles in her mouth. Her hair was still a matted mess, and there was another stain on her shirt. Chocolate filling maybe? The brown stain was smeared diagonally from the top of one breast to underneath the other one. Her mother had completely given up. But Cookie didn’t have time to worry about that. She had bigger concerns.
Dropping the binoculars on the seat, she turned to Dylan and gasped out, “Someone hooked up a Raincam!”
“It appears that way. Don’t worry, Cookie. She doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to flash anyone at the moment. The biggest scandal she’ll be able to cook up is if she breaks a record on how many donuts she can eat.”
“Dylan!” Cookie gave him a pained look. “I don’t care if she flashes anyone! Do you really think there aren’t already sexts of her out there by now?”
Her boyfriend blanched. “You know what, Cookie? It’s not something I’ve ever even thought about.” He shuddered. “I sincerely hope not. Porn surfers will be in for quite the surprise.”
Cookie ground her teeth, angrier at the situation than anything else. “She’s on a webcam, which means we’ve got a much bigger problem. If the DeMasis are involved in this, they already know where we are.”
“Oh hell,” Dylan said, his shoulders slumping as realization dawned. “We need to shut it down.”
“Start the truck. We have to get back into town now,” Cookie ordered.
“What about Hank?” Dylan asked.
“We’ll come back for him later.” Cookie pulled out her phone and called Scarlett. No answer. Then she worked her way down through Winter, who had no idea about the Raincam. She’d been… uh, busy with Blake. As Dylan’s truck splashed through puddles she made her next call to Hale, who said he thought the cam was a good idea. It meant he could see his sweetheart at all hours of the day even when he wasn’t at her cell.
To be fair, it’s not like the Posse knew Rain and Cookie were undercover, but this development was frustrating just the same. “Did you set it up?” Cookie demanded of her mother’s boyfriend.
“Oh, no,” Hale said, sounding unconcerned. “I think that was Cari. She said it would help with the donations.”
Finally, she’d found the source. “Right. Gotta go.” She called Cari. The other woman finally picked up on the fifth ring.
“Cookie. Hi. I’d ask if Rain had been sprung yet, but I’m watching her right now on the Raincam. She’s curled up in her nest eating. The amount she can put away is quite something. I bet she’d rock a food—”
“Cari!” Cookie interrupted. “Hale said you set up the Raincam.”
“Yep.” She giggled. “Rain doesn’t even know. I figured it’d be better this way, so we could catch her authentic self. Don’t you think it’s genius? It will go viral and put the pressure on June Loon to set her free since there’s no evidence against her.”
“You didn’t ask her permission?” Cookie asked incredulously. At least that was a point in her mother’s favor. Rain knew they couldn’t give up their location like that. It was too dangerous.
“Of course not. That would ruin the magic. Everyone wants to know what it’s really like in prison, right? Now Rain will have the number one livestream on the internet. Think of what it will do for the Pussycat Posse once we get back to performing.”
“How did you—” Panic in the form of bile rose in the back of her throat. “Where is the webcam?” she practically shouted.
“Wow. Relax,” Cari said. “I think you need a massage. I heard Stone—”
“Cari,” Cookie found the calmest voice she could. “I need to know where the cam is set up and how you got it past Rain. It’s imperative that you tell me.”
“Well… gee, Cookie. You sound upset.” She let out a small whimper as if she were a small child being scolded. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
The truck bounced over a pothole, jostling Cookie, and she dropped the phone on the floorboard. When she picked it back up, Cari was rambling about Rain’s chances as a reality show personality.
“Listen. I think we’re both sure Rain would be great,” Cookie said, cutting her off. “But I need to know where that camera is. If Loon finds out, Mom could be in even bigger trouble.” That last bit was likely a lie, though Loon would abhor any attention that Rain received and might take it out on her.
Cari gasped. “Oh, my gosh, I’m so sorry, Cookie. I had no idea. It’s in the sexified teddy bear I handcuffed to the corner of the cell. You can’t miss it. She’s wearing fishnet stockings, high heels, a corset and no underwear.”
“No underwear? The stuffed bear?” Cookie clarified.
“Right. I guess Winnie the Pooh set the standard. None of them were wearing pants.” Cookie could almo
st see the other woman shrugging.
“Okay. BDSM stuffed bear. Got it. Thanks for your help.” Cookie ended the call and stared out the window at the dreary day, trying not to scream. She loved Rain’s friends, but there were times when their ulcer-causing antics were more than she could handle.
“Did I hear that right? Is the camera in a BDSM nanny-cam bear?” Dylan asked.
“Yep. You heard right,” Cookie said with a sigh.
He shook his head. “Wow. That’s something else, even for your mother’s friends.”
“Yeah,” Cookie agreed, but she wasn’t really paying attention. A knot had formed in her chest, making it hard to breathe. If the Raincam had already gone viral, her mother’s life, and hers, were in danger, and their life on the island was over. They’d have to run as soon as she managed to get Rain released. If she could manage to do that in time.
“Hey,” Dylan said, reaching for Cookie’s hand. “I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve got you. We’ve dealt with near misses before. If we have to go, then we’ll go.”
We, Cookie repeated to herself and felt a tiny bit of her anxiety ease. “You have no idea how much that helps.”
He brought her hand up to his lips and brushed a kiss over her palm. “Just a reminder you’re not in this alone.”
Cookie undid her seatbelt, scooted across to the middle of the seat, refastened herself in, and snuggled up against his chest. He draped his right arm around her and pulled her in close. It wasn’t often that Cookie felt so vulnerable, and for a long time she would’ve denied her feelings. But things had changed somewhere along the way. Now she was accustomed to leaning on Dylan when she needed him. And for once, it didn’t make her uncomfortable. She tucked her head against his chest and whispered, “Thanks.”
“Anytime, Cookie. You know that.”
Chapter 23
When Cookie and Dylan arrived at the jail to see Rain, Cookie walked quietly over to her mother’s cell, scanning the area for the Raincam. She spotted the BDSM bear cuffed to the bars and carefully unzipped the back of the bear to remove the camera before finding the switch to turn it off. The last thing Cookie wanted to do was appear on the Raincam or raise suspicion, and this way it would appear the connection was dropped.
