“He’ll sleep like a baby,” Smoke said. “He might even forget the whole thing.”
I’d like to forget this whole thing.
Sidney sat on the basement couch while Smoke started up the gas fireplace in the corner. The warm light was soothing. Too soothing. She yawned again.
“If you’re going to stay over,” Smoke said, taking a place on the recliner, “you might as well catch some z’s.”
Sidney sat up and toggled through her phone. She’d downloaded all of Baltimore Rod’s information from his burner before she returned it. There were a few nuggets that were useful. Times. Locations. A month’s worth of data. It was a stroke of luck that he hadn’t pitched it by now. She covered her mouth and yawned.
I need sleep. I need to be sharp tomorrow.
She was heading into a twenty-four-hour day, and it had been a while. At least a year. She’d gotten used to six hours of sleep during the week—eight on the weekends. In the Air Force, when she was law enforcement, there had been days that lasted forty-eight to seventy-two hours. There were long stake-outs with the FBI, but they weren’t so bad.
I’ve gotten soft.
She rubbed her blurry eyes and took a glance at Smoke. He sat rubbing the grizzle on his chin, with the fire’s flame reflecting in his dark eyes.
Well, look at Mister Bright-eyed and Bushy-tailed.
“This reminds me of my grandmother’s place,” he said. “She had a basement I’d stay in whenever Mom and Dad took trips out of town.” He started to rock a little in the recliner. “It was so easy to start a fire with a gas line built in. I’d play with the flames all night. Huddle in front of the TV and play Nintendo. And Nanny, she fed us hot chocolate with ice cream.”
Sidney rose up off the sofa. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“You’re leaving? Why?”
“Because you’re ruining my image of the Navy SEALs.”
“Because I like Nintendo?”
“No, because I don’t want to know what your favorite ice cream is.”
“It’s—”
“See you tomorrow,” she said, heading up the steps.
“What time?”
“Morning time.” She stopped at the upper stoop. “And don’t you go anywhere until I return.”
She made it outside through the rain and into her car, thinking about the long drive home. If the house had a few beds, she probably would have stayed. FBI idiots. They could have rented a furnished house at least. She backed out of the drive and roared down the street. The good-looking image of Smoke sitting in the recliner was branded in her mind. Hot chocolate and ice cream. She shook her head in self-defense. Don’t warm up to him.
CHAPTER 16
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Sidney pushed her face out of her pillow and checked the clock on the nightstand. 5:34 a.m. Not even four hours’ sleep. With a groan, she sat up. Her eyelids were heavy. She rubbed her neck, stretched out her arms, and yawned.
If that’s you, Jack, I’m going to kill you.
Rubbing her eyes, she checked her text messages. There weren’t any.
“Great. Phantom buzzing in my sleep now.”
She toggled through her features. There was a red update on the tracking app. “What’s this?”
She opened it up. Smoke’s beacon had moved. It was no longer sitting safely at Benson Park Estates. It was on the move. Miles away. Sidney jumped to her feet.
“Sonuvabitch!”
She stubbed her toe on her bed post.
“Dammit!”
She limped to her closet, grabbed a pair of jeans and a pullover shirt, and slipped them on. She holstered up and tied on her shoes. Inside of two minutes she was squealing out of her parking spot and then back on the road.
She tied her hair back in a ponytail, then rubbed her puffy eyes. It wasn’t raining, but the window was frosted up. She rubbed it with her hand and turned up the heater.
“Piece of crap car.”
She shivered and checked the beacon. Smoke was moving. West. Toward Annapolis. She laid on the gas.
I’ll intercept him in the Interceptor. She laughed. It was a long-standing joke that cops and agents made about the old cars. Then I’ll kill him.
Hankering for coffee and listening to the moan in her stomach, she plowed down the road. She was angry. Jack. Cyrus. Smoke. They all made her mad. Each was unreliable. Unpredictable. She didn’t like it. But she didn’t mind the excitement that came with it.
I’ll show ‘em.
She eased back in her seat and turned on some talk radio. The aggravating conversations were certain to keep her alert. Awake. Promises and failures. A chronic rinse-and-repeat cycle of wasted taxpayer dollars.
Clear your mind, Sid. Focus.
There were a lot of things to take in. Change was one of them. She didn’t like change. She liked routine. She liked a plan.
“Some things you just can’t plan for,” her father often said. “Always assume everything is out of your control, aside from yourself.”
She hated it when he said that, right along with the smile that came with it. It made her feel like she was doing something wrong. She did things right. She saw to it others did things right as well.
Cruising down the road, she regained her focus. She’d been off her game.
Too much time behind the desk.
She had yelled and cussed. It showed a lack of self-control.
No more of that. You’re a pro, Sid. Be a pro. No surprises. No letdowns.
She unholstered her Glock, ran her fingers over the barrel, and stuffed it back in the holster.
I need to get to the range.
She felt jumpy. Edgy.
I don’t like feeling this way.
The frost on the windows cleared, revealing the moon’s bright glow. An eerie haze hung in the sky, concealing parts of it. Up ahead, a pack of animals darted across the highway. She squinted.
“What the heck?”
The dogs were big dark silhouettes padding across the concrete and vanishing over the guard rail and into the woods. A chill went through her.
Those were wolves.
She shook her head. Maybe coyotes. No, coyotes aren’t that big. She slowed the car down and eased onto the berm. No. Get after Smoke, Sid. No time to fool around. She laid the gas back on and zoomed up the road. Those were wolves, though. I know it. Ted’s words came to mind. Extraordinary caution.
Cruising at ninety, she closed in on Smoke’s beacon, which had come to a stop off somewhere south of the John Hanson Highway. She took the machine up to ninety-five before slowing for the next exit, then followed the beacon down the greenway beyond the condos and plaza to a lonely stretch of road miles from the nearest highway.
What on earth is he doing out here?
That’s when another thought crossed her mind. What if it wasn’t him at all? What if one of his crew was leading her on a wild goose chase? It had been at least twenty minutes since his beacon stopped moving.
Erase your doubt. Follow your leads.
The beacon led her down a grave stretch of road that ended in a grove of tall trees. A gravel parking lot greeted her, accompanied by a lone warehouse lit up with neon signs. One sign read Chester’s in bright orange and green flames. There were a few motorcycles and muscle cars on the scene. Beer cans and broken glass littered the parking lot.
What is he doing here?
Sidney checked the beacon. She was on target. She brought the Interceptor to a halt a hundred feet from the front doors. Fog was lifting into the early sunrise. A man in jeans and a leather vest lay face down in the parking lot. Fresh blood from a broken nose dripped on the ground. There was a gentle rise in his chest. She took out her weapon and crept to the doorway.
What have you gotten into, Smoke?
Inside the bar she could hear loud hillbilly rock playing.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.
She pushed the door open and peeked inside. A gunshot cracked out.
CHAPTER 17
Sidney crouched down outside the door.
Blam! Blam!
The shots were coming from inside the warehouse, somewhere above her head. Adrenaline pumped through her veins.
Crash!
Glass rained down into the parking lot from above her head. A man fell onto the hood of an old white Camaro. Groaning, he rolled off the hood and onto the ground.
Sidney peeked up and around the corner. A figure stood looking out of the oversized window pane. It was Smoke.
“Freeze!” she said. He vanished. She turned her attention to the other man, who was stumbling away. He hopped onto a motorcycle and started it up. “FBI! Freeze!”
He revved the engine.
“Don’t make my day,” she said, pointing her weapon at him. “The first hole goes in your gas tank. The next hole goes in your head.”
He raised his hands over his head. His sagging face was skinned up, and his chin was bleeding.
“Sure thing, lady. Sure thing.”
“Aiiyee!” a man screamed.
Sidney turned just in time to see another man flying through the window. He crushed the roof of the Camaro.
Vrooom!
The biker revved up his engine and started to speed out of the parking lot.
Blam! Blam!
Sidney put a bullet in his tank and another in his back tire.
“Get on the ground now!” she said.
The man obeyed.
She bound his legs and wrists with flex-cuffs.
“You didn’t have to shoot my bike,” he said. “Stupid bi—”
She shoved his face in the ground and rubbed it in the gravel.
“What was that?”
“Nothin’.”
Smoke landed on the Camaro’s hood, a tall figure in a dark shirt and jeans. He dragged the man who had crunched in the roof to the ground.
Sidney trotted over. “What are you doing?”
Smoke had a dangerous look his eye. He punched the man in the face. Whap!
“Taking care of unfinished business.”
“Stop!” Sidney said, holding her weapon on him. “Stop now!”
Smoke let go, and the man sagged to the ground.
“Who is he?” Sidney watched the man gather himself into a sitting position.
The man was in his forties, shaven head and black bearded. Dusky skinned. Tattoos covered his naked arms. He was thickset. Formidable. Valuable rings dressed his fingers below all of the knuckles except for two of them. His trigger fingers were missing.
“Ray Cline?”
“Sting Ray,” Ray interrupted, spitting blood. “You’re going to die, Smoke. Die in a horrible way! Oof!”
Smoke kicked him in the gut.
“What was that, Ray? Say, how did that hit that you put on me go down, in prison? Not so well, did it?”
“Back off,” Sidney stepped between them, keeping her eyes on Ray. She had become familiar with his file when she studied up on Smoke. He was a killer. A drug lord. A career criminal. For some insane reason, the system had let him out. “I’ll handle this.”
Ray started laughing.
“You want to handle me, Pretty?” He winked at her. Blood dripped off his chin. “Help yourself then.”
She handed Smoke another pair of flex cuffs and covered Ray with her weapon.
“Secure him.”
Smoke slipped the flex cuffs around Ray’s neck.
“No, no, no!” Ray said.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Smoke replied.
“No,” Sidney said. “Just the wrists.”
“I can make it look like an accident,” Smoke said.
“The wrists,” Sidney said. “Take care of it while I call this in.”
“Wait,” Smoke said, cuffing Ray’s wrists behind his back. “Before you do that, let me show you something.”
“Yeah,” Ray said, “let me show you something too, Pretty.”
Smoke rabbit-punched Ray’s ribs and hauled him up to his feet.
“Not another word, fiend,” he said in his ear. “Not another syllable.” He shoved Ray back toward the warehouse bar.
“Are you coming or not? You need to see this.”
Sidney followed. The intensity in Smoke’s voice compelled her. He was angry. It stirred her.
Inside, there was a long bar, a band stage with instruments, high tables scattered about, and a checkered dance floor. Smoke pushed Ray toward a metal stairwell that led up. Two goons were knocked out cold by the threshold.
“Watch your step.” Smoke banged Ray’s head into the doorframe. “I’d hate to see you get hurt more than you already are.” He banged his head into the door frame again. “No, I wouldn’t.”
At the top of the stairs they entered an office with a large one-way mirror overlooking the dance floor. The furnishings were fine leather and well-crafted oak. A kitchenette. A bar. An apartment of sorts. Bags of cocaine and cash were on a black velvet pool table, along with dozens of small bottles full of pills.
At least a million worth of dope and cash.
Sidney stepped over another prone body, one of three more men whose blood had been spilt on the floor.
“He has a nice little empire here, doesn’t he?” Smoke said to her.
“I’ve seen bigger,” she said, “But without probable cause there isn’t a case here.”
“That’s right, Smoke,” Ray said with a sneer. “You don’t have a case with me, you frigging renegade. You’re toast, Smoke.”
Smoke shoved Ray onto the sofa and tied his legs to the sofa’s foot with the man’s belt. One by one, he tore open the cocaine bags and slung them out the window.
“I’m going to kill you, Smoke! Stop doing that!”
“That’s evidence,” Sidney added.
“Whose side are you on?”
“The law’s.”
“Yeah, the law’s, you stupid bastard,” Ray added.
Smoke chucked bundles of cash out the window.
“That’s enough,” Sidney said, “I’m calling this in.”
“Just one more minute,” Smoke said, “You haven’t seen anything yet.” He tilted his head toward another door. “Check there.”
She eyed him.
“It’s clear. Go ahead.”
“Something you want to tell me, Ray?”
The drug lord looked away.
Butterflies started inside her stomach. Smoke’s tone. Ray’s feverish look. What was on the other side of that office door? She grabbed the brass door knob and shoved it open. A short hallway, maybe twenty feet long, greeted her. A heavy door stood at the end. On the left, or the front side of the warehouse, was an open office with computers. A black man in a biker vest was laid out on the floor. She walked up to the door and glanced back. Smoke stood just outside the doorway.
And behind door number 1 we have …
She pulled open the door and gasped.
CHAPTER 18
Children were inside. Six in all. They wore aprons and masks. Wide-eyed, frail and skinny, their hollowed eyes froze on her.
Sidney’s heart sank. Blood drained from her face.
The children kept working. Scales. Baggies. Small piles of pills and cocaine. Latex gloves stretched over their little hands. Not a one of them could have been more than ten. Girls and boys. Eyes weak and glassy.
Her knees gave a little. She swallowed. “It’s okay. I’m here to help. I’m the police.”
A little Latino boy dropped his utensils, ran over, and hugged her. Within seconds, they had all closed in and embraced her. Tears streamed down their faces. Her own eyes watered. Her heart ached. Their lithe bony bodies pressed against hers.
“It’s okay. It’s okay. Let’s find you something to eat.” She picked two of them up in her arms. The others hung on her legs and waist. She gently yelled down the hallway, “A little help please.”
Smoke picked up a few of the children and took them into the office. He peeled their tiny fingers off Sidney
and set the children down at a table. There was a refrigerator that had some sodas inside. Some Doritos were in the cabinet over the bar. He filled their hands and said, “Eat.”
Their fear-filled glances fell on Ray’s hard eyes.
Sidney’s temperature rose. Her cheeks turned red.
“You’re going away for a long, long time, Ray.”
“Am I, Pretty? I don’t think so. You see, those kids … heh, heh, well, they’re all my kids.”
“I’m sure that isn’t so,” she said, stepping between Ray and the kids. “I’ll see to it this all sticks.”
“Good luck with that, Pretty. The only thing that’s going to get stuck, though, is you.”
Her fingers danced on her gun. She wanted to wound him. Shoot him. Make him pay for all that he’d done.
“You won’t shoot me.” Ray chuckled. “You have a career. A pension. Hah. You wouldn’t want to lose all that, would you.”
“True,” she said. “But that’s not why.”
“Really, why is it then?”
“It’s because I don’t want to set a bad example for the children.” She looked at Smoke. “Do you mind removing him from our sight so they can eat in peace?”
“As you wish.” Smoke undid the belt, picked Ray up by the scruff of the neck, shoved him toward the outside window, and leaned him over the edge. “Time to fly Smoke Airlines again.”
“No! Wait! What are you doing?”
Smoke, much bigger than Ray, hoisted him up over his shoulders.
The whine of police sirens cut through the air.
Sidney rushed to the window.
Three police cruisers pulled into the parking lot. It was the county sheriff.
“Ah ha ha!” Ray laughed. “My cavalry has arrived.”
A nagging feeling crept between Sidney’s shoulders.
Smoke started to heave Ray out anyway.
Sidney grabbed his shoulder. “No, don’t. Put him down.” She messed with her phone. “We have to let the law sort this out.”
“Amen to that,” Ray said. “Amen to—ow!”
Sidney elbowed him in the nose.
***
The scene was ugly. Sidney had called in her colleagues at the bureau. Ray had called in his the moment Smoke arrived. The two parties fought over jurisdiction. Possession. The children. Smoke was handcuffed in the back of a bureau SUV. The only thing going for them was that nobody had died.
Smoke Rising Page 7
