“More later,” she whispered in my ear. “Do you want to finish your beer? Or come up to the room?”
I could see she clearly favored the latter.
As did I. The beer was left behind.
I followed her to the elevator. She used her key card to access it.
Once the elevator doors closed, she pulled me to her and kissed me, holding it until the doors opened on our floor.
She led me to a corner room and keyed us in.
It was a suite, with a small living room and bedroom. The outer area had a large TV, plush crimson couch, coffee table, and desk with a chair.
She kissed me again when we were inside, a deep passionate one.
“Let me show you the bedroom,” she whispered.
“Yes, I want to get to that,” I said. “But I have something I need to tell you first.”
“What? That you missed me?” Her hands slid inside my jacket, then under my shirt.
“I did miss you,” I said, enjoying the feel of her hands. “But this is important.”
She pulled away, took off her coat, and tossed it over the sofa. “Okay, what?”
“How well do you know Jack?”
“Jack?” The question surprised her. “Well enough, I guess,” she said offhandedly.
“He’s working for the traffickers.”
“Really?” she said, but she didn’t seem as shocked by it as I had been. “How do you know that?”
“He was the patron who threatened one of the women working for the place in the French Quarter.”
“Can you be sure?”
“They have video surveillance in the front area. It caught him.” I took out my phone and showed her the picture.
She looked at it, bit her lip, but said nothing.
“I know this is hard to believe, but the corrupt cop is part of your team, not the FBI,” I said as gently as I could.
She finally looked up at me. “Yes, I know.”
“You know? How long have you known?”
“Look, this is one of the things that I couldn’t talk to you about.” She took my hand. “Much as I wanted to.”
“But you kept implying the informant was part of the FBI.”
“Please understand, I couldn’t be honest with you.”
“Can you be honest now? Has he been arrested yet?”
“No, he hasn’t. Not yet. It’s not time yet.”
“Can you be honest with me now?” I asked again.
“Yes, I’ve always wanted to be honest with you. I just…couldn’t.” She brought my hand to her cheek and nuzzled it.
“The FBI agent in New Orleans said that ICE wasn’t involved in this case.”
“You believe her over me?” Ashley put her arms around me, looking searchingly into my eyes.
“You just said you haven’t been honest with me,” I pointed out.
“Couldn’t be honest. There is a difference. I wanted to, but couldn’t be.”
“So what are you doing about Jack?”
“We’re going to use him to lead us to the people in charge.”
“How?”
“I can’t really tell you our operational plans.” She kissed my neck.
“But how did he get to be an ICE agent?”
She sighed. “I desperately want to make love to you. Can we hold the questions until later?”
“I want to make love to you. You’ve gotten me caught up with this. I need to understand what’s going on.”
“I know. I feel guilty and selfish for getting involved with you. I should have waited until this was all over. Except…I’d be back here and it would be too late. Can you forgive me?” She rested her head against my shoulder.
“Yes, of course. It’s not about forgiveness, it’s about you being safe, okay?”
She lifted her head to kiss my neck, then my chin, the corner of my lips. My lips, soft, then not so soft, then firm and demanding. A hand went down my pants, teasing me.
I couldn’t think of any more questions to ask.
We made love for hours, until hunger drove us to get dressed and go out before everything closed.
Ashley was happy, laughing easily. So was I. We were perhaps not so young, but falling in love, in a magic city. We deliberately didn’t talk about work or the case. I didn’t mention my fight with one of the Guidry brothers. That could come later. Right now, I wanted the ease of being together with all our cares aside for the evening.
After dinner we grabbed a cab and went to a lesbian bar downtown. Being a weeknight, it wasn’t very full, but we had a few drinks and, more importantly, danced a few slow dances.
Then back to the hotel where we again made love until we both were too tired and needed sleep.
Chapter Twenty-three
In the middle of the night, I woke up—no, it was closer to almost dawn than deep night. I needed to go to the bathroom. Alcohol, wine with dinner, and drinks afterward do that.
And it had been a while since I’d been this sexually active. Cordelia and I had simmered along nicely, once or twice a week, until she got sick, then only on the rare occasions when she felt well enough and interested enough.
That was something else I might have done, shown more physical affection. I’d left it to her to take the lead; she might have read it as my withdrawing from her, unwilling to touch a sick woman.
Too late. It’s broken and can’t be fixed and I’m in bed with another woman.
I looked at Ashley as she slept, her hair flung across the pillow, her lively eyes closed and at rest. I watched her for a moment more, then quietly made my way to the other room. The late dinner and alcohol made my stomach feel unsettled. Sitting upright for a few minutes might help things move along as they were supposed to.
Enough light came through the window that I didn’t need to turn any on. The city that never sleeps also always keeps lights on.
Ashley’s purse was sitting on the coffee table. It looked like the same leather as her coat and boots. I ran my fingers against it. Then rubbed the coat still flung over the coach. Yes, the same, a very supple leather. I picked up the purse. It was heavy. A gun? That would make sense. I reached in to see if I could touch the heavy metal.
I felt a barrel. I’m not a gun fanatic. I carry one because every once in a while it comes in handy. But I do have a professional interest. I carefully lifted hers out. The safety was on. It was a Sig Sauer. Nice. The Feds clearly had a better ballistics budget than I did.
I hadn’t brought my gun. They’re a pain to check and I know that New York has sane laws about carrying guns. Not to mention I wanted to give it a very good cleaning before using it again.
Just as carefully, I put it back in.
My hand brushed against a heavy leather case. Her badge?
Curious to see what an ICE badge looked like, I lifted it out. It wasn’t a badge; instead it was a leather portfolio with several IDs in it, credit cards, frequent flier cards, hotel cards. I looked at one.
Janet Fielding.
I looked at another. Denise Fisher.
I closed the case and put it back, trying to leave it exactly where I found it. I put the purse back on the table. Why did she need cards with different names on them?
Yes, I do it. I have several fake business cards, with personas that help me accomplish what I need to do. But it’s just cheap business cards. My credit cards are all in my name.
Doubt began to creep. How well did I really know Ashley West?
Well enough to have verified she really was an ICE agent. Well enough to sleep with her, well enough to think I might have a future with her. There’s probably a reasonable explanation. It’s not hers, it belongs to a coworker, or is part of evidence, or something I’m not thinking of because it’s late and my stomach is upset.
I found my phone and played the latest stupid game for about ten minutes. My stomach felt better and I went back to bed, curling around Ashley and thinking how good she smelled.
I woke in the morning to the aroma of c
offee and Ashley’s voice in the other room. I started to pick up my watch to see what time it was but remembered it didn’t survive being doused in gas. I rolled the other way to look at the bedside clock. Just after nine a.m.
I got up and went to the bathroom. There were bags under my eyes. It had been a long, late night.
When I came out I heard Ashley say, “It’s not what it seems. I’ll handle it, I told you. You need to trust I know what I’m doing. I haven’t let you down yet.” A pause as if someone else was talking, then, “I’ll be there. I said I would. About two hours, depending on the trains.”
She saw me, smiled, then grimaced at the phone. She repeated, “I told you I’d be there, okay? Yell at me when I’m not there, not before I’ve even left. I have to go. Room service is at the door.”
She was still in a robe, her hair tousled from sleep.
“Good morning,” she greeted me. “Coffee and pastries.”
A room service tray was on the coffee table. Her purse had been moved to the floor.
“Yum. Caffeine is necessary today.” I poured a cup and took a bite of a croissant. Bread might help my stomach. I sat down beside her. “Did I hear that you have to be somewhere soon?”
She looked at me. “Oh, you did listen to that? Yes, there’s always more work to do. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You have a job, an important one. I’m just happy you didn’t need to be there at the crack of dawn.”
“You and me both.” She took a long sip of coffee.
I considered being honest and bringing up that I’d dug in her purse last night, but I chickened out. Instead, I picked it up as if to move it out of the way of my feet and accidently upended it.
“Damn, I’m sorry. Clumsy without my coffee.” I dropped it away from her so she would have to reach over me to help put things back.
“Careful,” she said. “I can do it.” She stood up.
I was quicker. I picked up the leather case, flopping it open as I did. “Who’s Janet Fielding?” I asked. “Or Martha Fleming?” Another name.
“Please give that to me,” she said, coming around to take it out of my hand.
“Sure.” I did. “Ashley, what’s going on here?” I handed her the gun.
She stuffed everything back in the purse, then sat back down.
“I shouldn’t tell you this. I’m undercover. That’s why I know who Jack is. He thinks I’m part of the gang.”
“What? Are John, Cara, and Sandy agents or are they also part of the gang?”
“I really can’t tell you much more, okay? I shouldn’t have told you this.” She bit her lip.
“Tell me what I need to know to know you’ll be safe.”
“I’m safe. Watched every step of the way.”
“Like now?”
“No, I can have some privacy. Don’t worry, our activities of last night aren’t on tape. But it’s one of the reasons I didn’t call you yesterday, only brief texts. They monitor my cell phone calls.” She cupped my face between her hands. “This will be over soon and we can go away somewhere, okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” She gently kissed me, coffee and mouthwash.
“That’s why I have those different cards. I got them through the gang.”
“But you’re really Ashley West, an ICE agent?”
“Yes, you know the real me. The woman who adores being with someone as smart and brave as you are. Not to mention sexy.” Another soft kiss.
I felt like an asshole for not trusting her and for the dumped purse ruse. If she was being honest with me, even when she shouldn’t be, I should be honest with her. Not that I confessed, but in the future, if I had questions, I would ask them.
“Hey, you’re the sexy one,” I said, “I’m just responding to you.”
She smiled, then glanced at her watch. “I have to get moving.”
“Yeah, I overheard that part of your call.”
“I’ll try and get back this evening,” she said, standing up.
“What should I do in the meantime? Can I help in any way?”
“No, not that I know of. Just enjoy a free day.”
She went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. I followed her.
“Can you call me and let me know what’s going on?”
“That might be hard,” she said as she stepped under the streaming water. “They monitor my calls.”
“Just text me to let me know what time you might be back.”
She nodded and started washing her hair.
I put on one of the hotel robes, left her to her showering, and continued my caffeinating.
When she emerged, she quickly dressed, gave me a lingering kiss good-bye, and left, taking her purse with her.
I took my time showering and dressing, having another cup of coffee and finishing a second croissant and a blueberry muffin.
My day felt unanchored. This was a whirlwind trip; my only purpose here was to see Ashley.
But obviously she was in the heat of an investigation and limited in her free time. I was touched and happy that she needed to see me enough to say the hell with the usual practicalities. We should have waited for the plane fares to be cheaper, until we could actually schedule time together, instead of these small windows available now. I gave her the benefit of the doubt on asking me to come here while she was working undercover. It might be that she knew the arrests were imminent, it might be done today and we could celebrate tonight. Or at least she could rest in my arms and we would celebrate tomorrow.
I left the hotel room around eleven without much of a destination in mind. I did replace my watch, eschewing the great deal on Rolexes from a sidewalk vendor and settling for a cheap one at the drugstore. I debated buying more clothes in case we stayed here longer but decided to hold off. More clothes would require another suitcase, which was more money.
Ashley had said she’d pay for the airline ticket. I would take her up on half of it so we shared the cost equally. Plus I hadn’t yet been paid for the work I’d done for her. But had I been working for her and the Feds or her as part of the gang? Even if it was the latter, I trusted that she would make it right.
But until that happened, better to err on the frugal side.
I wandered around Times Square for about half an hour but quickly got tired of the tourists. I headed over to the High Line, the new elevated walking path. I had to zip my jacket up and shove my hands in my pockets against the cold wind from the Hudson River but enjoyed the walk, floating over the streets and the traffic below.
I walked all the way to the end, despite how cold my nose was. It was interesting and didn’t cost anything and would pass the time until Ashley could rejoin me.
I hurried to the subway stop and the warmth of underground. It was close to one o’clock and I was getting hungry.
Once I exited the subway near the hotel, I contemplated my options for lunch. Just when I had decided to hit a grocery store and go back to the room, my phone rang.
Ashley.
“Hey, what’s up?” I said as I moved to a quieter part of the street.
“I need you to do me a really big favor.”
“Sure, whatever you need.”
“I need you to join me up here and drive a truck to another place.”
“Um, sure, I can do that. How big a truck? I’ve only got a standard license.”
“Not a problem,” she said. “It’s about the size of a typical moving truck.”
“Where are you?”
She gave me directions to one of the wealthy communities to the north of the city. I could catch a train from Grand Central. She even had the train schedule for me. I had about an hour before the next one.
I had a lot of questions, none I could ask over the phone. I settled for, “Should I bring my stuff? Or will we come back here?”
She paused for a second, then said, “You can bring your things. It might be hard to make it back.” She added, “I have to go. See you soon.”
I could hear voices in th
e background. Then they were gone as she hung up.
Abandoning my lunch plans, I headed back to the hotel to pack. Given how little I’d brought, that took about five minutes.
I hiked across town to Grand Central, getting there with enough time to grab a sandwich to eat on the train.
The train ride was about an hour and I got there just before three p.m.
Ashley was waiting for me on the train platform.
Jack was standing behind her with another man I didn’t recognize.
I would take my cues from her.
She smiled when she saw me, so I smiled back.
When I got to her, she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for agreeing to do this. It means a lot to me.”
“No problem.”
“You remember Jack?” she said, turning to him.
I am enough of a Southern girl to do polite and do it well even when I want to spit in someone’s face. “Yes, of course. How are you? How does Yankee food compare to New Orleans?”
“Makes me miss it,” he said easily, shaking my hand in a friendly manner.
“And this is Luke,” she said about the other man.
“Hi, Luke, good to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand.
He just nodded and returned the handshake as briefly as he could. He looked like a central casting goon, heavyset, two days of dark beard, small beady eyes.
I had to do everything I could to resist the urge to grab Ashley and run back on the train.
Luke and Jack were both carrying guns. Their winter coats hid the bulge well, but I was looking for it.
I had to trust Ashley, that she knew what she was doing. In a perverse way, I was gratified she had enough confidence in me to know I’d play along.
I followed them out of the train station and to a black SUV, the gangster’s vehicle of choice.
Luke and Jack got in the front, Ashley and I in the back.
Once we pulled out of the parking lot, she took my hand, then said very softly, “They know about us.”
I squeezed her hand to let her know I’d heard, but didn’t do anything else. Luke, the driver, could see us in the rearview mirror.
She continued, “So I said you were cool and could help. All you need to do is drive a truck for a couple of miles and park it. Then it’s all over.”
The Shoal of Time Page 28
