“Not sure about tonight, Detective.” He pulled Gina to his side. “But tomorrow works. Have a nice night. ’Night, Daisy,” Armando added as he gave her a little wave with his fingers.
Outside, Gina was impatient for information. “Who is she?”
“Daisy? She’s, well, she was Cooper’s girlfriend for a bit. Before he met Libby.”
Gina was noticing the difference between the two women. Daisy was covered in tats, tall, and had work done. The Libby she met yesterday at the housewarming was a classic beauty. Auburn-haired and with one-tenth the makeup Daisy wore. They were from two different worlds.
“I’m having a hard time seeing Cooper with Daisy. Cooper. The tall dude you introduced me to yesterday?”
“The very one. Nebraska born and bred.”
She shook her head. Did Armando’s tastes vary as much? Did these guys pick up girls depending on their mood swings? It worried her.
“Daisy is the one who does all our tats for Team 3. He showed her his forearm with the frog footprints extending from wrist to the inside of his elbow. “This is one of hers.”
“Even the wives?”
Armando stopped. “Ah, no. Not the wives. They use someone else.” He gave her a wise-ass smile.
“The wives have lots of tats?”
“Some do. Don’t know one who hasn’t had a couple, from what I could tell.” He winked at her. “They do kid’s names, occasionally something more serious.”
“Like what?”
“Like the date he didn’t come home.”
She understood. She’d seen the wives of slain officers, the children who had to face a future without their father. She’d been to too many funerals in her short career.
“That breaks my heart,” she said. “Does this happen often?”
“Often enough.” Armando went off somewhere else. Gina could tell he wanted to change the subject. She was going to make another comment, but he added. “No, tats are mostly a guy’s thing. Especially the newbie SEALs, the young ones. I’ve seen some crazy stuff. When they’re young and first on the Teams, they don’t have anything else to spend money on, so they get all painted up like a warrior. Just part of the culture, I guess. We get pretty inked up, but then you’ve already noticed that, haven’t you?”
She gave him a coy smile. Indeed she had.
“It does seem like you wear a lot of ink, but then, I don’t have much experience to compare it with.”
“And that’s a very good thing,” he said as he wrapped his arm around her waist.
Chapter 24
Sergeant Kozinski knew exactly who he wanted picked up based on the detailed account on Gina’s CD. He spent most of Saturday filling out paperwork and lining up a grid showing who was responsible for what and whom they reported to. They’d had some undercover information before they’d decided to go after Carlos. What Gina provided were the strong ties that bound everything up in a bow.
He was surprised how clear Gina’s recording was, how detailed, as well. That’s why he was fairly sure there had some foul play with Sam and the first audio recording. Gina was a smart cop, and a capable team player. Kozinski didn’t think she’d be dumb enough to give him a blank recording.
So now he was acting on that information, not waiting for Monday. Of course, it was possible he wouldn’t be able to get the arrests approved, but he knew he’d find someone to sign off on it, and he wouldn’t stop trying until he got it. He felt time was of the essence.
The Scorpions had been involved in a skirmish at Babes on Friday night, and they’d arrested two of Carlos’s minions who’d had a minor spat over one of the dancers. They were so smart with their operation, Kozinski thought, and yet they’d get themselves into trouble over a dancer. Sometimes the girl was helpful, especially if she had something to lose, like her probation. But most of these were young girls who cruised through town and were gone before his cops could profile them.
So part of his Saturday was finding a judge who would sign off on a search warrant. He had to gather together the manpower so several could be performed simultaneously. Each planned search had to have a backup in case no one was around or got complicated. And it always got complicated. But that’s what Kozinski was good at: planning for the unforeseen to get the task done. It was important to catch them with goods of some kind: guns, drugs, illegals, or girls. For the best chance of conviction, he wanted to catch them in the act.
Tito, the youngest courier, who was all of twenty, was the most cooperative. He’d been Sam’s snitch for nearly a year, and it had been helpful in building the case against the gang. Tito had been promised extra consideration when the sweep occurred. A very smart sister who was studying criminal law negotiated his situation. God bless her soul, she’d advised her brother to cooperate completely with the police hoping to keep her brother out of jail. He’d had some run-ins with the juvenile authorities, but nothing that would permanently taint his record like this. Even though under age, a stint in lockup would only introduce him to a more seasoned criminal element, she said. Tito had a fake ID that said he was twenty-five. The kid looked fifteen, and Kozinski knew he’d be one of the early casualties of war, if it came to that.
Tito told him that Carlos was doing a cruise up the coast and back with a couple of his lady friends and wouldn’t be returning until Sunday late afternoon. That gave them just enough time to start picking up people Saturday and Sunday, and then meeting Carlos at the pier when he returned. The sergeant doubted Carlos would dock a two-million-dollar boat in just any pond. He’d have to come back to his berth in San Diego.
The warrants were issued and shortly afterwards they released Tito to the care of his sister. Kozinski had wanted to release him to Sam, but he hadn’t been able to reach the man all afternoon. And with what he was beginning to suspect about Sam, it was probably better—no, safer—for Tito anyway. All Kozinski had to do now was wait for the phone calls to come in telling him how the teams were coming with the arrests.
Which is why it concerned him that Sam was nowhere to be found. Finally he got the call that the warrants had been executed.
Then he got three urgent calls and text messages from Sam and knew something was wrong. He agreed to meet the officer at Ducky’s rather than the station, because it was closer. And, based on his suspicions, Kozinski felt he’d better have a few witnesses to this meeting with Sam.
He hoped Sam would get it together fast so Kozinski didn’t have to fire the man. That was a bureaucratic nightmare, trying to get rid of someone who had been on the force nearly twenty years. He halfway hoped the man would retire before he learned the truth of Sam’s involvement with some of the complaints he’d had from a couple of female staffers lately. And there was that one prostitute that claimed she was one of Sam’s regulars, until she broke it off for “personal reasons.” Kozinski wondered if Sam’s wiring was starting to fry. He hoped he was wrong.
But his intuition was usually spot-on accurate. That intuition had saved his life a couple of times over his career. He wasn’t going to abandon his hunches just yet. Certainly not just so he wouldn’t have to do something tough like put an officer out to pasture. When it came to right and wrong, the public was to be protected at all costs.
The squealing espresso-maker startled him. He took another sip of his plain coffee and prepared himself for the meeting. He slowed his breathing and settled his nerves.
Sam appeared in the doorway and Kozinski was shocked to see the normally well-groomed officer looking so disheveled. He had a day-old beard, and his hair looked like it had been run through with his fingers instead of a comb. His brown kaki shirt was wrinkled and dotted with several grease stains from a meal.
But his eyes were what worried the sergeant the most. He had a distinctive alcoholic red ring around both eyes, and his lids were puffy, reacting to the allergy that booze definitely was for him. The shit-eating smirk Sam wore tore at Kozinski’s heartstrings. Nothing worse than seeing a man going through a breakdown and having
the man know you’ve seen it. No amount of covering up could hide that fact. Both of them had seen enough of it to know what was going on.
But Kozinski decided to pretend anyway. “You look like shit. Whose couch did you sleep on last night, or did you try to make up to the Mrs.?” He decided bringing up something they both acknowledged as painful would be a helpful start to some truth talking.
Sam chuckled. His belly was flabby and his breathing labored “That woman’s already got a bedmate. Didn’t take her long at all. Another cop, can you believe it?”
“Where?”
“Not here, thank God.”
“So then, what is it that you need to talk to me about so urgently?”
“I’m worried about Gina.”
You dumb fucker. You honestly believe I’d fall for that?
“Well then, I’m worried about you,” Kozinski answered. “I asked that you two bury the hatchet. She’s done some really good police work, Sam. I’m kinda proud of her, taking on this job with no real experience.”
“So you can make your female quotas?”
“That was originally part of the decision, of course. But she’s earning her stripes, Sam. The girl is solid. Gotta give her credit where credit is due.”
The sergeant could see it hit Sam right in the chest like it had been a .45 at point-blank range. The surprise in Sam’s face was replaced with deep lines showing hatred as he plastered on a crazy-assed smile of pure evil. Now Kozinski was worried for his own welfare and wondered about the safety of the public. He’d have to do something about this. Today. Things had deteriorated too far.
“Mia doesn’t trust her anymore. Doesn’t consider her a friend, either. Decided to screw the brother instead of doing her job, sir. She’s more or less AWOL.”
“And you know this how?”
“I’ve stepped in to help clean this shit up. I’ve gotten friendly with Mia Guzman and she’s been telling me things about Gina…kinky things you wouldn’t want to know. Like how she wanted to do a threesome with her and her brother. Can you believe that?”
Kozinski leaned back and took another sip of coffee. Evaluation was always better than leaping to a response. The story didn’t add up. And Kozinski knew that meant that part of the story was Sam’s and not Gina’s.
“And if Mia were here, she’d tell me the same thing?”
“Of course not, sir. But I’m warning you, sir, things aren’t what they seem. She’s not right in the head.”
Someone’s not right in the head, Sam. I think it’s you.
“Sam, I think this operation is nearly concluded for now. We’re taking steps. In the meantime, why don’t you just stay away from Gina? Take a couple of days off, and then we’ll talk, say, Tuesday or Wednesday. You’ve been working hard, pushing this thing from the beginning, and I think it’s time to sit back and enjoy the fruits of your labor.”
“No, sir, I want to see this thing through to the end.”
“You got a fishing cabin somewhere you can head to for a couple of days?”
“Nope.”
“Take a day or two in Mexico, then. Just get out of town and clear your head.”
Sam returned a murderous stare. He got the message. He was being taken off the case. “You can’t do this to me, sir.”
“Sam, it’s already done. You’ve been part of what I hope will be a very satisfactory operation. You and Gina did the dangerous part, the cooking over the flame. We get to do the cleanup.”
“You’re making arrests?”
Kozinski decided not to tell him everything, so, he nodded. “Yup. Starting Monday,” he lied. “Then you can come back Tuesday or Wednesday, and we’ll start helping the DA put together their case against Carlos and all those scumbags.”
Sam’s face clouded in darkness. “How? The bookkeeper’s information helped you that much?”
“Yes. It was very helpful, Sam. That and the things Gina gave us. I think we have enough to put these guys behind bars for a long time. We’ll need your help doing that, with your snitches, of course.”
Kozinski could see the realization dawn on Sam that Gina had somehow given the sergeant details contained in the recording Sam had erased. And now the erasure was becoming a red flag.
Come on, Sam. Give it up. He hoped the man could. Then maybe all this could just go away.
Not that it was likely.
Chapter 25
Armando parked in his garage. She waited while he came around to her side of the Hummer before she emerged, opening the door further, helping her with a firm hand in hers. The pink and black plastic bag containing their sexual goodies made a rustling noise as she transferred it from the floor to his other hand. He laced his fingers through hers while he led her to the rear entrance of his bungalow, her overnight bag tossed over his shoulder. They passed by a bright, azure blue pool and grounds meticulously maintained.
With gentle hands on her shoulders, he dropped her bag, positioned her against the rear door and stood behind, pressing himself and his arousal to the back of her legs, holding her still so he could rub himself against her. He kissed the top of her spine and she began to see stars. Everywhere he touched her she ached for more.
Stepping back, he unlocked the door and showed her inside the kitchen area. She almost forgot her bag on the doorstep, but dumped it just inside. They stood before each other, both of them breathing heavily. She took stock of the man she was about to have sex with, knowing she would miss him with all her heart afterwards if this was the last time.
Am I up for this? She hoped to God her heart would forgive her.
Armando stepped toward her, hands to her face, in a gentle pull until their lips met. She felt savored.
“I’m going to take it real slow, okay?”
“Yes,” was all she could manage to say before his mouth fully claimed hers.
He whispered in her ear, “Baby, I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”
She nodded as he nuzzled her neck. “You tell me to stop, and I’ll stop. Be honest with me. No more secrets, okay? If it doesn’t feel good, you just say the word and we end it.”
She pulled away, holding his head between her palms. The little crescent-shaped scar under one eye and the pulsing vein in his beautifully tanned forehead reminded her of how fragile life was. How she needed to seize the moment and take what she could. She gently leaned against the solid wall that was his chest, filled the space between her legs with the bulge in his pants, traced his lips with her thumbs and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she could give this man everything.
“I trust you,” she whispered.
“And I trust you,” he repeated.
She had to look away. But damn if he didn’t tilt her chin up towards the ceiling, “Hey, like I said, we’ll take it slow,” he murmured against her neck.
She whimpered inside. He obviously thought it was her fears about the sexual play she was hiding from.
Armando’s cell phone rang. “Damn.” He examined the screen and swore in Spanish. “It’s Mia.”
Gina could hear Mia’s frantic voice on the other end of the line. Then the unmistakable sounds of Carlos’s clipped Spanish.
“You fucking hurt her and you’re a dead man,” Armando screamed into the phone as he stepped back from Gina. He paced across the kitchen, giving orders in Spanish, swearing and tugging at his hair with his left hand.
“I don’t care anything about that. You don’t lay a hand on her, hear me?”
The line went dead. Armando looked like he was going to throw the phone at the wall, but thought better of it. Gina could see there was a deadly cat and mouse game going on.
“Tell me,” she begged. “I might be able to help.”
“No. You don’t want me involved in your stuff. You can’t get involved in this.”
“Armando, I’m—” she almost told him. “I’m so sorry, but you need to call the cops. They need to get involved right away. I have connections who might be willing to help.�
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Armando looked at her as if she had three green heads. “Cops? Thought you didn’t like cops.”
The phone rang again before she could answer. He listened and then searched the kitchen for a tablet and pencil. He wrote down an address. Without looking up at her, he added, “I’ll be there in a half hour to forty minutes.”
He stood up straight and eyed her. “I guess our little party will have to wait.” His expression was flat and intent. He was not the same sex machine she had held in her arms just a few minutes before. His focus was on a mission, and she could see there wasn’t anything she could do to deflect him.
Gina realized that was what was different about the two of them. He had a mission in life. Nothing in the world would keep him from achieving it.
And she? She had a vision of a life that could have been. If she’d not been a cop. If she’d never lied to him about the reasons for her involvement with his sister. If she’d only had the strength to just stay away in the first place. Because, unlike him, she lived in a fantasy world, playing a part, acting tougher than she really was, pretending she was whole enough to be loved fully.
And he was the real deal.
“I’m going to take you back to your place, and then I’m going to be gone for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be back.” He handed her the bag she had so quickly packed and had expected to use tonight.
“Don’t do this, Armando,” she said as she slung the bag over her shoulder.
“You think I can just sit back and let them take Mia?”
“It’s a trap.”
“I know it’s a fuckin’ trap, Gina. I’m not a kindergartener.” His irritation sent a spear through her chest. “I gotta get out of here.”
“I can stay here, wait for you.”
“No baby,” at last he softened. “I can’t have you here alone. God knows what’s going to go down, and I got stuff here you don’t want to know about. Besides, I’m not allowed.”
He raced down the hallway to the back bedroom. His room. He spoke to someone on the phone, then heard doors opening and knew the unmistakable sounds of equipment being stowed in zipped duty bags. The familiar mechanical clicks and noises she’d heard during her training told her he was loading up ammunition, checking gear created to cause deadly harm. And he was comfortable with it.
SEAL Under Covers (SEAL Brotherhood #3) Page 19
