"My boyfriend has gone completely insane." Madison pouted.
"Humor me. Call it my birthday present, okay?"
Madison's eyes went wide. "Shit, I forgot to give you your present. Dammit, it's at my house." She slapped her forehead. "How could I forget something like that? It was those damn garters cutting off the oxygen to my brain."
"Totally worth it." Tanner grinned. "I'll come by when I get back into town and you can give me my present then. In the meantime, this will be my gift."
Her lips twisted. "Okay, cowboy. You win. I'll pretend to be Fort Knox tonight. But you're going to feel pretty silly when nothing happens."
Tanner hoped with all his heart that would be the case.
* * * *
Tanner leaned back against the armored truck and squinted up at the sky where the sun was already starting to set. It had been a long afternoon of preparations, but the Canadian authorities should be here any minute with the prisoner, Howard Kerr.
They were on the American side of the Canadian-U.S. border and within an hour or so of Highway 191, which they would take south toward Billings. At Billings they would pick up US 90 and then on to US 25 to Denver. Florence was located just outside of Denver and the drive should take about twelve hours. Once they turned Kerr over to his new home, they would fly a charter back to Montana.
They'd planned every stop for fuel so that nothing was left to chance. Every man had an assignment and a place to be, along with some heavy government issue artillery. The Marshal Service had assigned eighteen men to this detail along with the six sheriffs Evan Davis had deputized today. With two motorcades, that made twelve men for each.
Two cars, each with two men, would be in front of the armored vehicle, and then two cars to the rear. One would have two men and the other would have three men. The extra man was designated as a communication hub. He would keep in contact with every other vehicle in his motorcade in addition to the other communication hub with the other team.
Two men would ride in the front seat of the armored truck and one in the back with the prisoner. The Federal Marshals had insisted that they ride in the very front and rear chase cars as it was their mission. Consequently Tanner, Reed, and Logan would be directly behind the armored vehicle and Jared and Griffin would be directly in front.
One motorcade, Red Team, would take the back roads and the other, Blue Team, would keep more to the main. Marshal Evan also had a crew at an airfield about fifteen miles from their location as a decoy. Opposing force expected Kerr to be flown to Florence. Tanner and the other sheriffs, along with Marshal Davis, had planned a little "now you see him, now you don't" for the Jackson and Warner cartels. If everything went according to plan, they would never know which motorcade Kerr was in.
"It's getting fucking cold out here. Shit." Logan stuck his hands in his pockets, his rifle slung over his shoulder.
Jared pulled up his collar. "Damn straight. The sun isn't even down yet. Let's get this show on the road."
Tanner chuckled inwardly at their impatience. He'd taught two teenagers algebra and how to drive a stick shift. He had patience to spare.
Reed laughed. "Welcome to Canada. It's colder than a brass witch's tit, but hey, they've got hockey."
Evan shook his head and smiled. "Technically we're still in the U.S. and Montana is just as cold."
"No way," Griffin replied. "This is colder. I didn't think it could get any colder, but hell if it isn't."
Seth grinned. "You asked for them, Ev. I guess I should have told you they whine a little."
Marshal Harry Morey stepped out of one of the vehicles, his lips a grim line. Tanner had met him on the plane and so far the dour man hadn't cracked a smile once. Morey kept talking into his cell phone and scowling. Apparently he wasn't happy about being assigned here or that Evan was in charge. When they'd gone over the plans on the flight up here, Morey kept interrupting Evan trying to make changes. Finally, Evan had to basically tell the guy to shut the fuck up. No modifications were going to be made this late in the game unless warranted.
"They're late," Morey said flatly. "Call them."
Evan, to his credit, didn't bat an eye at the other man's gruff command. He simply shook his head. "They're on their way."
"You can't know that unless you call them." Morey had a mutinous expression.
Evan leaned against the truck. "They'll be here."
Morey turned on his heel and walked several paces away pulling out his phone. Again.
"What crawled up that guy's ass?" Logan asked with a grimace. "I think someone pissed in his Wheaties this morning. Everyone else doesn't seem to have an issue."
That was true. The other Federal Marshals were milling around, talking and drinking coffee from styrofoam cups. They all seemed as relaxed as they could be in the circumstances.
"Let's just say I'm not Harry Morey's favorite person. We could also say that unless something is Harry's idea, he doesn't think much of it."
"Charming," Jared said. "Likes to be in charge, huh?"
"Too much," Evan agreed. "He likes being in charge more than doing a good job. He's ambitious though. I probably should watch my back."
Evan was grinning though, so it didn't appear that he was worried. The government was sometimes a very fucked up place and guys like Morey could be promoted to the level of their incompetence. Tanner had seen it in the military. Some of the biggest assholes seemed to gravitate toward positions of power.
Evan straightened and nodded toward a man in uniform walking toward them.
"Marshal Davis?" The man looked them over, his features bland.
"I'm Marshal Evan Davis."
Evan stepped forward and showed his badge to the man who nodded and looked down at his clipboard.
"Are you prepared to take custody of one Howard Kerr?" the man asked.
"I am. I have the paperwork right here."
The man took the thick set of papers and quickly scanned them. "Wait here."
The man turned and headed back into the border office building. Tanner was instantly on alert, his adrenaline pumping. He hated to admit it, but he loved the rush right before doing something ever so slightly dangerous. It was stupid and kind of immature, but fuck, he felt so alive at moments like this. One look at the expressions of his friends and he knew they felt the same way. He couldn't have explained it to a civilian, but these men were the closest thing he had to brothers. They understood what he didn't even have words to describe.
Four uniformed men came out of the building leading a man in an orange jumpsuit. The man's hair was clipped short, almost military style, and he was shackled hand and foot. His head was down and Tanner scanned the sky and rooftops looking for anyone who might be looking to take Kerr out. From all the intel they'd been privy to, Kerr would be wanted alive and kicking, but that didn't mean someone might not want to take out a few Canadian Mounties in the meantime.
Logan sidled up to Tanner and looked back at the building the men had just walked out of. "I don't like this at all. We need to get out of here. There are too many fucking people here."
Jared joined them, leaning in so he wouldn't be overheard. "I'm with you on this. I know that protocol states we meet them at the border but shit, he could get taken out by a sniper."
"Then let's get him in the wagon," Tanner said. "You're right. This is way too open."
Morey took the prisoner by the arm and led him to one of two armored trucks, opening the steel doors and escorting him in. Kerr was quickly cuffed to the bench and his feet shackled to the metal floor. The bench opposite would be for the Marshal who drew the short straw and had to ride with the prisoner. It wouldn't be pleasant or fun in the least. The seats were hard metal and there were no windows to watch the passing scenery. The two men would basically be staring at each other for the next twelve hours.
Evan handed Morey a coffee can. "If he needs to take a piss."
Morey's mouth gaped open and his face turned purple. "What do you mean? I'm not riding with him i
n there."
"Yes, you are. I need a Marshal to do this." Evan's voice was even and calm in contrast to a decidedly honked off Morey.
"Fuck you. Get Hampson or Thompson. I'm not doing it." Morey poked Evan in the chest.
Evan looked down at Morey's finger. "Hampson and Thompson will be on the Blue Team. And don't ever do that again or you’ll be pulling back a stump." Evan's tone was dangerously soft and menacing. Morey took a step back.
"I'm going to call Staley. He won't let you do this," Morey blustered.
Evan smiled slowly. "Go ahead. Call him." He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Morey looked unsure as to whether Evan was bluffing, but eventually he pulled his cell from his pocket and punched in a few numbers. He barked into the phone and his face grew redder with each passing minute. He finally shoved the phone back in his pants with a growl.
"Fuck you, Davis. You haven't heard the last of this."
Evan smiled. "Now that I believe. You can lodge a formal complaint when this is over. Get in. We need to get on the road. We have a long drive ahead of us." Evan took a few steps away and then turned back. "I'll need your phone."
Morey's eyes went wide. "Why? It's untraceable. It's the service's standard issue."
"You know the rules. No cell phones in the truck. And your piece as well. All of them."
Morey muttered and bitched but handed over his phone and his handgun. Evan lifted an eyebrow.
"Is that it?"
"Fuck you."
Evan laughed. "I'll take that as a yes." He turned to the rest of them who were watching the sideshow with interest. "Saddle up. Let's get this parade in motion."
Everyone knew his position. Evan was driving the armored car with Kerr inside and Seth was riding shotgun. Jared and Griffin were in the front of the armored vehicle and Logan, Reed, and Tanner to the rear. Reed was playing communication hub. The front and rear chase cars completed their motorcade.
Just before the motorcade was about to leave Evan walked to the back of the decoy armored truck and removed the license plate. Tanner immediately picked up on what Evan was doing and did the same on the vehicle with Kerr inside, then handed it to Evan. He gave Tanner his plate and Tanner affixed it to the spot where he'd removed the original.
The decoy motorcade pulled out and theirs followed suit. At the five mile mark the other motorcade split apart and headed to more rural back roads. Evan's motorcade would stick to main arteries. It would be easier to see a tail in a more wide-open space, and the better roads would give them room to maneuver if the need arose. The sky was clear of any aircraft and the roads pretty much deserted. Evan had said that the FAA was clearing the airspace above them for security purposes.
They hadn't gone more than fifty miles when Evan came on the radio. "Good news. I just got word from the decoy team at the airport. They've got the crew the Jackson cartel sent to break out Kerr. That only leaves the Warner men who we need to worry about."
"The decoy worked then," Logan said. "They thought we would fly him."
Tanner nodded but kept his concentration on the road. "Warner's men are still plenty dangerous."
"Everybody wants this guy," Reed observed. "When they get what they're after, he's a dead man."
"If he talks," Logan countered.
"He'll talk," Reed said grimly. "Death will seem like a vacation for him if the Warner cartel gets their hands on him. He'll beg to die before it's all over."
Tanner remembered the grisly scene at the packing plant and couldn't argue with Reed.
"We don't let Warner's crew get anywhere near Kerr." Tanner shook his head. "He's going to be a guest of the U.S. government at Florence for a very long time."
"I think I'd rather die than sit and rot in Florence for the rest of my damn life." Logan looked out the bulletproof glass, leaning back against the headrest. "Caged up like a fucking animal. That's no way to live. Just put a fucking bullet in my brain and let me die."
"I don't know about that. The survival instinct is strong. I saw it when I was in the Middle East. You'd think you'd want to check out, but there's something inside of us that's stronger. The will to live is overpowering." Tanner sipped at his coffee and made a face. He handed the coffee thermos to Logan. "Can you pour me one? My cup's gone cold."
"Me too?" Reed held out his styrofoam cup.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm the damn waitress around here," Logan groused, but good-naturedly. "All I'm saying is I couldn't be locked up like that. No way, no how."
They drove for awhile, the silence only broken every ten minutes by the regular comm checks. Reed sighed and rubbed his temples.
"It's quiet. Too quiet."
"I thought it was just me thinking that," Tanner said. "It's going too smoothly."
Logan groaned. "Jesus H. Christ, how can things go too smoothly? You know what your problem is? You both are pessimists. You expect shit to go wrong and then you just wait for bad things to happen. Then when they do, as shit eventually will, you point to it and act all smug and shit. Well, fuck you. I'm not going to get all pissy because shit is just going too damn good. Son of a fucking bitch. Do you get upset when your girlfriend has an orgasm too? Do you think next time she won't? Fuck."
Laughter bubbled up and Tanner couldn't hold it back. Logan was a fucking piece of work, but Tanner had never met a better lawmen or a more true friend.
"Just for the record, Maddie comes every damn time. Most times more than once." Tanner grinned.
Reed shook his head. "I don't want to hear that shit. I haven't been laid in weeks."
"What are you waiting for?" Logan laughed. "Your dick out of commission or something?"
"I'm no man-whore like you." Reed pelted Logan with a wadded up napkin. "I'm particular as to where I stick my cock, thank you very much."
"That's enough. We're working, not comparing sex lives," Tanner interceded. Logan and Reed could go at it all night if Tanner let them, and he wasn't in the mood. "Location check."
Logan consulted the GPS. "We'll be changing roads here soon. Keep an eye out."
That was exactly what Tanner planned to do. He wanted to get home–alive–to Madison.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kerr should be on the plane by now.
Fenton leaned back in the leather chair and looked out his office window. The sun was starting to set and the night was going to be fucking freezing. Again. He couldn't wait to get to New York where it might be cold but there were plenty of women to keep him warm.
He hadn't bothered to call Abby. There was no point. He had enjoyed her company but it was over. He would be moving on and she would be staying in this backwater shithole. Now her ex-husband Tanner Marks was another matter. Fenton had plans for him. As soon as this job was done, he and Marks would be having some quality time together. They'd find his body in a field outside of town.
Fenton wouldn't be hanging around for the funeral.
By Monday morning he'd be in New York with a new identity. By Monday afternoon, he'd be checked into a private plastic surgery clinic. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be enough to make facial recognition just a little more difficult. This surgeon was supposed to be the best.
Of course this was all predicated on the job going well. If he fucked it up, Fenton only had one choice. Disappear somewhere Warner couldn't find him. Fenton had enough money in the Caymans to live very well for the rest of his life.
If it went well, then Fenton would have the information he needed to tap unknown amounts of Jackson cartel wealth. He would be able to buy the loyalty and manpower he needed to knock off Warner and take over the organization. It was what he'd worked for all these years and it was almost within his grasp.
Fenton's phone went off and he smiled. This was the call he'd been waiting for. His informant inside the prison had called this morning and said Kerr was being prepared to travel today. Fenton's team would have extricated the man from federal custody by now and be on their way to a neutral location that had been scout
ed weeks ago. Fenton, personally, would lead the interrogation. He was looking forward to it.
He lifted the phone to his ear. "Jacks."
“Mr. Jacks, this is John Bilson."
Fenton sat up in his chair. Bilson's voice was soft as if he was afraid of being overheard. John Bilson worked for the Canadian Border Patrol. For a hefty fee he helped the Warner cartel, allowing them to move drugs through the checkpoints he monitored. Fenton also had a Border Patrol cop on the payroll at the airport. It should be that man calling him, not Bilson.
Every hair stood up on the back of Fenton's neck. He didn't like surprises and his intuition was telling him something had gone very wrong.
"Why are you calling me?"
"Your prisoner? That Kerr guy? He's not on the airplane. They just loaded him into an armored truck here at the border."
Fenton jumped up from his chair. "Son of a fucking bitch. Are you sure? It sounds like they're using decoys."
He paced the office, muttering expletives under his breath.
"I'm sure it was him. I saw the picture you sent Terry." Terry was the Border Patrol agent at the airport. He'd been recruited on Bilson's recommendation. "They had two large motorcades with two armored cars. They loaded two armed Federal Marshals into the back of one and the prisoner and a Marshal in the other. They drove out of here together, but I overheard them say they were taking different routes. So I got the plate number of the truck they loaded him into."
At least one person was on the job in the organization. "How many cars? How many agents? What were they armed with?" Fenton peppered the agent with questions.
He had to react quickly or lose their quarry. Bilson rattled off the information and Fenton scratched some notes on a piece of paper, already making plans in his head. There would be more collateral damage this way but it wasn't his fault. The government had decided how Fenton would play it. The blood would be on their hands.
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