Deep Cover--A Love Over Duty Novel

by Scarlett Cole

  He thought about their conversation four hours later, when, for the forty-second time that week, he was running through every possible way to keep Amy from getting on that boat.

  They could stop the men in port, but they would have no proof of wrongdoing if the women were boarding voluntarily.

  They could try running the op without Amy on it, but without a dealer there might not be any gambling. And they couldn’t be certain there was a backup dealer. Plus, Amy had balked at that. She was most definitely not down with the idea that someone else, someone less trained, would take her place.

  His third idea was that if he was unable to prevent her climbing on board, he should climb on board too–sneak on and hide somewhere. Except there was nowhere to hide on a serviced yacht that was being prepped for a big game.

  It had also occurred to him on more than one occasion that he should pack her up into the back of his truck and drive off somewhere safe until this was all over. As if she’d let him.

  By now Eagle was a hub of activity. Members of the FBI, the Coast Guard, and the Navy were all involved with plans that ensured coverage for the three miles of U.S. waters off shore, and the twelve miles of territorial waters beyond that. Different rules for engagement were required for each. Even though they had been planning for days, they were still trying to iron out the last-minute details. Everyone’s best guess was that the boat would leave the harbor and go south, heading straight down the coast to Mexico. The sooner the boat hit Mexican water, the harder it would become for the team to do anything without creating a political incident.

  Plus, as the representative from the Coast Guard had said, despite the current president’s claims, all the deadliest stuff headed south from the United States to Mexico. Weapons and sex-traded women.

  Six was on the phone to his contact over on Coronado, who was currently watching the twenty-eight-foot-long, rigid-hulled inflatable they were going to use to trail the boat.

  Their airborne intel showed that the boat, Katie, was a hive of activity, being readied for the night’s event.

  Amy slipped out of the room, and Cabe looked at the clock. She was going to get changed, having spent the afternoon in jeans and a blue hoodie she’d stolen from him that simply said Navy in white letters. It had made it even more impossible to stay away from her, but it was nondescript enough so no one need know it was his. Except Six and Mac, who’d hidden their smirks when Amy had arrived in it ten minutes after Cabe had made his entrance.

  He checked his phone, hoping he’d get a call from Sokolov to join the game, but it appeared he’d failed to build a strong enough relationship with the guy to make it into his inner circle. Cabe pushed away the feeling of failure and gave her a minute to get ahead of him before he grabbed her security kit and followed. He heard the patter of her footsteps across the concrete floors of the main training space. She must be headed for the medical room, where she’d laid out her clothes.

  After she disappeared inside, he looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody saw him, then dipped into the room after her, closing the door behind him and locking it in one swift move. His heart calmed at the smile she sent him. It reached her eyes, eyes that told him she was pleased to see him without her having to utter a word, and the panic that had cycled through him periodically throughout the day stilled.

  Without saying a word, he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. “I like you in my hoodie.”

  “It smells of you, of your detergent,” she said, bringing the cuff to her nose and inhaling deeply.

  Trying to ignore his fear at the thought of her leaving, he leaned in and kissed her. “We need to get you ready.”

  Amy stepped away and smiled. “Did you volunteer?”

  Cabe raised an eyebrow in humor. “You wanted one of the other guys to see you semi-naked while they strapped you up?”

  She slapped his arm playfully. “Of course not,” she said as she slipped his hoodie over her head to reveal a white lace bra.

  It would take nothing to slide the strap down her arm, reveal those perfectly pink nipples of hers and—

  “You going to tape my GPS on?” Amy asked with her hands on her hips. Both of her eyebrows were raised, but she grinned.

  “Does that mean I have to stop thinking about how good those breasts of yours would feel in my hands right about now?”

  Her mouth opened. “Cabe,” she gasped.

  He laughed and began the process of taping the credit-card-sized GPS to her hip. When he was satisfied that there was no way anybody would feel it, even if they patted her down, he slipped a second device into the cup of her bra. The skin above the lace flashed with goose bumps, and he ran his fingertips across her skin. “Be careful, Ames. Don’t go looking for trouble.”

  Amy placed her hands on his wrist and gripped tightly, the action grounding him. “I have three tracking devices on me … and I know whatever happens you’ll find me.”

  Cabe sighed. “I need you alive when I do, Ames. I need…” Doubt crowded his mind. He hadn’t been fast enough to save Brock, his childhood friend, from drowning. He hadn’t been able to save Jess. The thought of losing Amy was—

  “We’ve got this,” Amy said resolutely.

  Taking courage from her words, he kissed her. Kissed her like it was the first time. Kissed her like it was the last time. Kissed her … until he felt strong enough to stop. And when he was done kissing her, when her lips were red from their moment of intimacy, he held her while their heartbeats slowed.

  Hours later, sitting in the foggy water off the coast of Coronado with six of his team members, listening to Buddha’s update, he had an uneasy feeling. There was something they hadn’t considered, a piece they hadn’t planned for. But he didn’t know what it was.

  On his phone, he watched the live feed of Amy leaving the building and driving to the meet-up point. Every twist and turn she took once she left the highway took her farther away from him, an extra mile from his reach, but he pushed back against the negative thoughts creeping in.

  There was a car and a van, lights on, in the parking lot as she pulled in. A woman stepped out of the car as Amy came to a stop. Cabe recognized the hair … she looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her.

  “You seeing this, Noah?” Cabe asked through his comms unit. The SDPD were patched into the feed. “Who is she?”

  The woman smiled at Amy, and the two of them shook hands. From her body language, Amy didn’t seem to be in any kind of distress.

  “We’ve captured her face, running it through the system now,” Noah replied. “But, bro, I got news you’re going to like.”

  “What is it?”

  “You were right. There is a link between Woods and Sokolov. But it’s deeper than you know. Woods Senior divorced his first wife, Woods Junior’s mom, because she had an affair … with Sokolov’s father.”

  That snapped Cabe’s attention into focus. “They’re related? Tell me they’re brothers.”

  “Not that we can tell. Birth certificates claim different, but we’re trying to find the first wife now to confirm. But there was a period from the age of eight until the age of ten, when Woods Junior would have spent time with Sokolov.”

  Fuck.

  The knowledge yielded three times more questions than it answered, but he tucked the information away for when the night was over.

  Faulkner Woods stepped out of the van and waved to the women. Two men followed him. Damn. What he wouldn’t give to be able to hear what they were saying. But a bug on Amy had been too risky, they were too bulky. Thank fuck for the GPS and the emergency beacon which were well hidden. Otherwise, he’d lose his mind.

  Amy and the woman each handed something over to Woods, their car keys most likely. Woods handed them to the men who then walked toward the two cars.

  If they were abducting the women, they’d need to get rid of the vehicles. Thankfully, Amy’s car was tagged. “Buddha, you’ve got to tell us where those cars go,” Cabe instructed.


  “The GPS is active,” Buddha responded.

  “We can get SDPD vehicles mobile immediately,” Noah added.

  Cabe breathed deeply.

  They had everything covered. He needed to chill out. Years of practice had him exhaling as he rolled his neck from left to right. “Keep the drone on the car with Agent Murray in it,” he told Buddha.

  “You know we’ve got this,” said Mac from the opposite side of the twenty-eight-foot rigid inflatable. They’d picked it for its seventy-knot top speed, which could easily catch the Katie’s thirty-knot maximum.

  Cabe nodded curtly as he watched the van pull out of the parking lot. Any minute now she’d be on her way to the harbor and … damn it. Something was off. He looked at the screen as the van pulled toward the exit onto the highway.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Cabe said, his voice cold and calm.

  “What is it?” Mac replied.

  “They’ve headed north. They aren’t going to the marina.”

  * * *

  “Can you believe we get to do this?” Sonya, a leggy brunette who’d started work in hospitality on the casino day shift two weeks previously, said as the van headed out of the city. She applied her lip gloss in a small mirror before dropping it back into her purse.

  Amy forced a smile on to her face, but it was an almost impossible feat, given they should have headed south on the I-5 but were now heading north. There was no way this path led to the Katie. She reminded herself that Cabe knew where she was and that she had three GPS trackers on her. Well, two that were active now plus the personal locator beacon tucked into her bra. “I know, right? It should be a lot of fun.”

  Sonya leaned toward her while glancing forward to the front of the car. When she slid her long hair behind her ear, Amy caught a better look at her. Up close, she looked much younger than the makeup and clothing would suggest. “I only moved here a month ago. My mom said I was stupid to try and make this work, and I only had enough savings for a few months. I thought I’d lucked out getting a job at the casino, but this kind of money will definitely help me stay here.”

  Amy was torn. She needed to keep up the act—excitement, energy, enthusiasm, and curiosity a young woman offered a large sum of money would have. But she couldn’t. She knew Sonya’d be crushed to find out when this was over that there wasn’t going to be a single cent paid out, but hopefully what they’d saved her from would more than make up for it.

  Woods sat in the front with a driver she didn’t recognize. In the rear of the van were two large leather overnight bags. They were filled to capacity, their zippers stretched by what was inside. Everyone was acting completely normally. No sideways glances, no body language that signaled lying and subterfuge.

  Her hands rested steady in her lap while her heart raced and thoughts rushed through her brain. Had they drawn the right conclusions from the information they had? Did they have the strongest plan in place? Would the backup plans be effective? Details they’d spent hours poring over started to slip away from her.

  She took a deep breath.

  They were fine. She was fine.

  After twenty minutes, the car pulled off the highway and entered a private marina where a large boat of similar size to the Katie was waiting. When she opened the car door, the cool damp air hit her. Though the midnight blue water was smooth as glass, there was a soft sound of ripples lapping the edges of the boat. The lights of the lower deck were off, but the upper deck was fully illuminated and a handful of people milled about. Two men stood guard on the dock, one of whom she could see was blatantly armed with what looked horrifyingly like an M16. No wonder the boat was in a private dock.

  She so badly wanted to look up to confirm that the drone was still above her or search back along the coastline to find a second pair of headlights, but she didn’t. Not least because Cabe’s men were experts and wouldn’t leave headlights on to draw any attention.

  Two men hurried over to the vehicle. “Mr. Woods,” one of them said. “We’ll be leaving shortly and should get you and the ladies on board.” They grabbed the bags from the back and carried them toward the boat.

  Amy plastered a smile on her face. “It’s a beautiful yacht. Is it Mr. Sokolov’s?”

  Woods turned to her. “It isn’t. This is a last-minute replacement. His usual boat was incapacitated. Engine problems or something.”

  They stepped onto the wooden deck and were submitted to a pat-down. Woods first, then Sonya, whose purse they also checked. The excitement that had been so apparent in Sonya’s eyes in the van had been replaced with apprehension. On autopilot, Amy formulated a joke to ease Sonya’s obvious fear, something about how there had been no mention of guns and pat-downs in the non-disclosure, but then kept it to herself. If she was closer, she’d reach for Sonya’s hand. Amy’s heart raced, and she thought about the flat beacon taped to her hip. What if they found it? What would she do?

  Again, she forced herself to breathe.

  A large bald man with heavy-set eyes motioned for her to step forward, and she did as he requested, opening her arms out to her sides as if passing through airport security. The man’s hands were rough, paying too much attention to the flat of her stomach. His palms, closed in prayer, slid between her breasts. She prayed the device in her bra stayed exactly where it was. He had the audacity to wink at her when he was done, and she bit down on the urge to jab three fingers into his throat.

  A chill wrapped around her the way the low fog crawled through the reeds opposite the dock.

  Voices sounded from the deck above as they walked into the main lounge. It was opulent. She’d expected it to be gaudy like Sokolov’s home, but the ivory leather and soft gray fabrics furnishings were classy. Splashes of teal in the form of cushions and modern art paintings brightened the space. Carefully, she watched Woods’s reactions. There seemed to be an air of uncertainty she couldn’t quite put her finger on. His eyes had scanned the room to find the poker table. If she had to guess, they usually used the Katie, and this was a new boat for him too.

  She didn’t believe the engine-failure excuse. Cabe and the team had been fired at. That meant Sokolov knew the boat had been made. It made sense that they’d switch. It had always been a risk for the op. And Sokolov was a savvy criminal.

  But she knew, with all the surveillance eyes on her, that they knew where she was.

  “Sonya,” he said, pointing over to the contemporary bar area with a bowl of lemons and limes on the counter. “Please go and set yourself up. I’m sure our guests are getting thirsty.”

  Something felt off. If they were there to provide hospitality, why would the guests arrive before the staff? And why was food still being brought on board? How long ago had they decided to make the switch in boats? Perhaps that was why things were still being set up.

  “Okay,” Woods said. “Let’s get the table set up, Ms. Reynard.”

  Maybe it was from her jitters about the op, or maybe her senses were on the fritz, but the way he drew out her last name felt ominous.

  Within another thirty minutes, the boat lifted its anchor and the steady drone of the engine kicked in as they steered out of the harbor. Amy watched from her position by the table, trying to keep herself oriented in the dark and fog as to which direction the boat was heading, but it was impossible.

  Woods lifted one of the bags from the car onto the table. “Does it need to be explained to you, Ms. Reynard, that this isn’t completely legal?”

  Amy shook her head. “The non-disclosure and paycheck made it pretty obvious.”

  Woods slid his finger down the side of her face, and nodded before opening the bag to reveal it was filled with cash, stacks of money she could only assume had come from the casino. He tugged on a pair of cotton gloves before he began to pull the pre-bundled hundred-dollar bills onto the table.

  Men began to filter into the room. She recognized two of them, from the night at Sokolov’s; the other four she didn’t. One carried an equally large bag and handed it Sokolov, who o
pened it and began to speak in Russian. She had no idea what they were saying, but it was obviously something positive by the way the men would in turn slap each other on the back and cheer. Sokolov handed each of the men a bundle of bills from the bag and then gestured to Amy.

  “You are going to count them,” Woods said. “Verify the amount, and then I will replace those bills with these bills.”

  Amy looked away from Sokolov quickly to face Woods. This was how they were doing it. Bringing in dirty money and using Woods’s access to clean funds to switch them out. She had questions, a million of them. Was Woods being forced into this? Did his father know? Was Woods receiving a cut?

  By the time she had finished counting, over one and a half million dollars had passed through her hands. No wonder the men were so happy. She wondered why Sokolov and Woods didn’t just trade the bills and then have Sokolov hand out clean ones, but then she realized counting the bills in both bags was necessary to ensure that neither Sokolov nor Woods had screwed each other. While Amy had worked, Sonya had provided the men drinks and a woman in a fitted black dress had brought around hors d’oeuvres that had smelled good at first, but soon left her feeling ill.

  She was disoriented and was no longer certain of their direction. With the boat swaying gently in the night breeze, Amy dealt the first hand of blackjack.

  Focus on the details, Ames.

  Calling herself Cabe’s nickname grounded her. It was as if she could hear his voice in her head. She looked around the room, searching for things she could use as a weapon, but her options were limited to bottles of alcohol and lamps she wasn’t completely sure weren’t bolted to the furniture they stood on.

  She made a point to take in every detail of the men around her who talked in Russian and consumed too much vodka. Eye color, a tattoo, a scar. The make of watch, a wedding ring, an ear piercing. Names and locations mentioned … words she could pick up among the Russian. All while keeping the count of the table.

  The details were necessary. Things could go wrong. People could get away. She couldn’t necessarily rely on Cabe and his team to save her. Despite every best effort, nobody had been able to save her mom, and while she had faith in Cabe and his men, she needed a plan of her own if things went down that way.