by Jennie Marts
Mac had detailed how the plan should go and given Scooter specific instructions to drop and crawl under the tables as soon as the team entered the building. There would be a couple of other growers working that afternoon, but Scooter was sure they would follow his lead when the time came.
Mac was a little worried about their reaction time, especially if they sampled their stock as they worked, but Scooter had assured him that no matter how stoned he was, if armed men entered the building, they would all be able to drop and hide.
It was his normal routine to show up at the grow house midafternoon, so Scooter had gone over earlier and taken the spy-cam equipment with him. Mac wasn’t too excited that a major part of their plan hinged on the capabilities of a guy who was most likely baked and had been wearing his shirt inside out.
He turned off the engine and twisted in his seat. Zoey and Edna sat next to Jake in the back of the van. It wasn’t his choice to bring them. He would’ve much rather had them stay at the hotel, away from the danger. He wanted them somewhere that he didn’t have to worry about their safety, but no amount of talking could have convinced either of them not to come.
Johnny had agreed to stay behind with the dogs and the other Page Turners. Edna had him on speaker on her cell phone, and he was instructed to call the police, or God forbid, an ambulance, if anything went wrong.
“What now?” Zoey asked. She looked better.
He’d redressed her arm earlier that afternoon and had talked her into taking some more ibuprofen and sleeping for a few hours. The combination of rest and some food had done wonders for her.
She wore black yoga pants, a snug black T-shirt, and her hair had been pulled into a long ponytail. It looked like she could have been an average woman headed to the gym. Except for the bruises on her face and arms and the bandages covering a gunshot wound across her shoulder.
“Now we wait,” Jake answered. The back of the van was equipped with a long bench and a small chair pulled up to a built-in counter covered with several computer monitors and what looked like stereo components. He turned on the monitors and flipped several switches on the components. “If Scooter did what we told him to, he should already have the spy cams set up in the warehouse.”
The monitors flickered to life, and they saw three separate angles of the inside of the warehouse. Two were static images, and one was bopping up and down as it focused in on a large leafy marijuana plant.
The receivers clicked on, and a soft humming sound emanated from one.
A louder humming sound accompanied by sporadic song lyrics came from another. “Whoa-oh. Livin’ on a prayer.”
Zoey chuckled. “Is that Scooter singing?”
They leaned forward.
The camera in Scooter’s cap moved up and down to the beat. “Oh-h, we’re half-way there—it doesn’t make a difference if we’re naked or not.”
Mac grinned. “That’s Scooter’s poor attempt at singing. He’s completely butchering the lyrics. Did he just say ‘naked’ or not?”
The group in the van burst into laughter. And not mild chuckling. Side-holding, tears-running-down-the-face laughing as they sang the massacred lyrics again.
It felt good to laugh. It probably wasn’t even that funny, but the laughter was good. For all of them.
Their laughter died as a black SUV turned down the street and pulled up to the warehouse. Mac counted three men, including Leon, as they got out and walked to the door.
Another SUV and a dark blue Mustang pulled in behind the first vehicle.
Mac gestured to the cars. “That’s Pat’s Mustang.”
They watched as Pat climbed from his car. Two large muscled men exited the second SUV. The taller of the two had a sling wrapped around his arm.
Zoey stared at Pat. “So, that’s what he looks like. He looks different when he’s not wearing a Nixon mask.” She pointed to the guy with the sling. “And I’m sure that’s tattoo-guy, the one that grabbed me. He must have been the other guy at the cabin. The one that you shot. That’s probably why he’s wearing that sling.”
Mac nodded. “I’ll bet you’re right.”
The men headed into the warehouse, and they appeared on two of the monitors.
Mac watched as they shook hands and greeted each other.
“Shh—quiet. Can you turn it up a little, Jake?” Edna asked. She leaned forward, staring at the screen with rapt attention. She was enjoying herself a little too much. He was surprised that she hadn’t offered to bring popcorn.
Although her giant hand bag was at her feet. He wouldn’t put it past her to have a bag of the stuff inside her purse.
He turned his attention to the screen as Jake raised the volume on the speakers and flipped on the recording device. Scooter had done a good job placing the spy cams. They could clearly see and hear the men.
Pat moved toward Leon with his hand outstretched. “Hey man, good to see you.”
Leon rebuffed his gesture, an angry look on his face. “Don’t ‘hey man’ me. I’m not in the least bit happy with you.”
Pat’s face turned angry, then sullen. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem is that I gave you a job to do, and you can’t seem to be able to accomplish it. All you had to do was take care of one skinny little bookkeeper.”
Zoey’s eyes widened. “That’s it. They’re talking about me.”
“At least they called you ‘skinny’,” Edna whispered.
“Shhh.” Mac scolded them with a finger to his lips.
“It’s not my fault,” Pat said, sounding like a spoiled child. “She must have had help getting out of the hospital.”
“That’s not my problem. My problem is that I gave you a direct order to get rid of the girl and yet, Zoey Allen is still alive.”
“Look, I already shot the bitch once.”
“In the arm. That doesn’t shut her up or keep her from testifying. Next time try shooting her in the mouth.”
Mac looked at Zoey. Her face blanched pale. “I think we’ve heard enough.”
Jake held his arm up. “Hold on. If we hang tight, we may be able to get something about the money.”
The big garage door went up, and one of the black SUVs backed in to the loading area of the warehouse. Two of the guys opened the hatch and started loading large tubs into the back end.
They could see the other men in the background as they passed briefcases and large tubs between them. One of them opened one of the cases and held it out for Pat’s approval.
Pat nodded, and they set three identical silver briefcases next to him.
Fortunately, when the case was held out for Pat, they had a perfect view on the monitor of the stacks of cash filling the case.
“See if you can zoom in on that money, Jake.” Mac asked. “Can you tell if those are hundreds or twenties?”
Jake zoomed in on the monitor and squinted at the camera. “I can’t see the bills clearly, but they’re strapped in purple bands which would be two-thousand straps. That’s generally how they strap twenties. Hundreds or fifties would be in brown or gold straps. So my guess would be those are twenties, and there’s got to be at least a hundred thousand dollars in each case.”
“Holy smokes,” Edna said. “That’s a lot of moola.”
“From what Scooter said, they transport the marijuana in the plastic tubs so I’m assuming that’s the weed they’re moving.”
Edna nodded. “That’s a lot of grass, too.”
Leon held up his hand. “If I can’t trust you with taking care of the girl, maybe I shouldn’t trust you with my cash.”
“Give me a break, Leon,” Pat said. “I’ve been transporting money to the Cavellis for over a year now, and we’ve never had a problem. You know you can count on me. Who took care of Jimmy when you thought he was skimming from you? Me. You know you can count on me.”
Leon nodded. “Yeah, but that Jimmy thing is still unresolved, too. The plan was for you to pin Jimmy’s death on the girl. All wrapped up neat and tidy. As
far as I can tell, nothing is wrapped up at all. All you’ve done is create a shit-storm of problems.”
“Lay off me. I’m the one risking my neck and my job here. Not everything always goes according to plan. I said I’d get rid of the bookkeeper, and I will. I just need a little more time. I can get Mac to tell me where she is and take care of her tomorrow. He’ll help me out. He trusts me.”
“Not anymore I don’t.” Mac spit the words out, anger and humiliation filling him. His gut burned with fury and shame that he’d been conned by someone he’d considered a friend.
“I think we’ve got enough,” Jake said. “Are you ready to take him down?”
“Yeah, let’s do it.” Mac turned to Zoey and Edna. “I need you both to stay in the van. I can’t concentrate on my job if I’m worried about you.”
Zoey nodded, her eyes wide with concern. “We will. But be careful, please. I don’t like worrying about you, either.”
He tightened the straps on his flak vest and checked the monitors again. “Yeah, I think we’re good. We don’t want to take a chance on them finishing up and leaving. Let’s do it.”
Jake spoke into the headset attached to his ear. “Let’s move in. On my go.”
Mac opened the back of the van, and he and Jake stepped out. He turned back to Zoey. “Stay here. Lock the doors. We’re gonna get these guys.”
“Be careful.” She reached for his hand.
He pulled her toward him, leaning in and taking her mouth in a passionate kiss. His hand dug into her hair, cupping her head as he tried to convey the deep love he felt for her. Tried to express his feelings through that one kiss.
She clung to his arms, kissing him back with fervor and emotion.
He pulled away, catching his breath. “I love you,” he whispered, then pulled his gun out and spun toward Jake. “Let’s do this.”
Jake nodded, voicing another set of instructions to the FBI team. Guns drawn, they ran across the street and slowly approached the warehouse doors.
Motioning with his hand, Mac pointed to the open doors.
Jake nodded and spoke into the headset. “Move in. Now.”
The next few minutes were pandemonium, as Jake and Mac charged into the warehouse from one side and the FBI team stormed in from the other.
Mac’s trained eye took in all the details at once. He saw Scooter and two other scruffy guys hit the floor and crawl under the tables. He saw a couple of Leon’s guys hit their knees with their hands raised and a couple of others took off running.
He made eye contact with Pat—just for one second—but that one second told him that Pat knew. Knew Mac had found out that he was dirty. That he had betrayed their profession. And their friendship.
In the next moment, two things happened that changed the entire course of the plan. The first was that one of the security guys pulled a gun and fired at an FBI agent, starting an explosion of gunfire. The second was that Pat ducked behind the SUV and ran out the back door of the warehouse.
Mac dove for cover behind a table covered with plants as erratic gunfire filled the room. “Stay down,” he yelled at Scooter and the other growers that were cowered under the tables toward the back of the room.
A bullet struck one of the five gallon buckets that held a plant on the table in front of Mac. Dirt seeped to the floor next to his foot.
He had to get out of here. He had to follow Pat.
Scanning the room, he saw Jake across from him, behind the wheel of the SUV. “Jake,” he yelled. His friend turned, and caught his eye. He pointed toward the door. “Cover me.”
Jake nodded and sent two shots in the direction of Leon’s men.
Bent over, Mac stole from behind the table and ran for the side door. A shot exploded near his head, and the glass of the door shattered as he pulled it open and slipped outside.
That was too damn close. His heart pounded in his chest. He tried to catch his breath as he flattened himself against the wall and searched the darkened street for his former friend.
He had to find Pat.
Had to find him before he found Zoey.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Zoey peered out from behind the vehicle and yelled to Edna. “We’ve got to get back in the van.”
Her grandmother was wedged between the curb and the wheel of an old sedan parked on the street across from the van. Edna covered her ears with her hands. “Not until they stop shooting.”
Mac had given them one instruction—stay in the van. But had her grandmother ever followed instructions in her life? No.
Everything seemed to be going so well. They could see the FBI charge in on the monitors and some of Leon’s men drop to their knees with their hands raised.
“I’ve never seen an actual bust before,” Edna had said, excitement in her tone.
“You can see one right now. On this monitor.” Zoey had tapped the screen. All of her attention had been focused on watching for Mac to be okay and listening for the men to be taken into custody.
She was so focused, she hadn’t reacted quickly enough when her grandmother opened the door of the van and climbed out. Yanking the headphones from her ears, she’d stumbled out of the van. “Grandma—get back here. We’re supposed to stay in the van.”
Edna had made it halfway across the street when the gunfire started and instead of running back toward the van, she had run forward and ducked behind the wheel of the car.
The car was a little ways up the street from the van, so at least Zoey could see her grandmother from where she crouched behind the van. The door had closed behind her as Zoey got out, and when the gunshots started, she’d taken cover behind the vehicle.
Her heart raced as she prayed for Mac to be okay.
Glass shattered, and she leaned forward in time to see the side door open and Mac come running out. He flattened himself against the building. He was probably only twenty feet from where Edna hid behind the car.
Zoey took a tentative step forward, reaching out a hand to signal. “Mac, over here.”
His head jerked toward her, and their eyes met.
A look of fear crossed his face seconds before a large arm clamped around her neck, and Zoey was yanked off her feet.
“You’ve caused enough trouble for me, you stupid little bitch.” The voice was gravelly in her ear, filled with anger and tension, and she froze at the feel of the cold hard steel of a gun as it pressed to her temple.
She would recognize that voice anywhere. Pat must have somehow escaped from the warehouse.
Kicking her feet, she screamed for Mac and clawed at his arm. He was a big guy, taller than Mac even and strong as an ox. He carried her with little effort, her body pinned against his by the strength in his forearm.
He backed in to the alley next to the van. “I’m not letting you go again.”
Terror washed over her, filling her every pore. This was it. He was going to kill her.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Her body started to tremble, and she recognized that she was most likely going into shock.
Stop it! She had to think. Had to figure out how to get herself out of this situation. Remnants of her self-defense class came back to her, and she plotted how she could gouge, bite, or kick at the opportune moment.
“Let her go.” Mac appeared at the edge of the alley, his gun drawn and pointed at Pat’s head.
“What the hell, Mac?” Pat’s voice held an edge of panic. “You’re gonna pick this bitch over me? We’ve known each other since high school. What happened to bros before hos?”
She didn’t care how long they’d known each other. This ‘ho’ wasn’t sticking around for the high school reunion.
“You stopped being my ‘bro’ when you turned your back on me and the department.” Mac’s tone was hard as steel. “I never figured you for a dirty cop, Pat.”
“I’m not dirty, man. Marijuana’s legal in Colorado. I’m just helping out an old friend. Like I thought you were. You know being a cop doesn’t pay shit. I’m just trying
to earn an extra buck.”
As he talked, his voice took on a more desperate plea, as if he realized what an awful situation he was in. His arm also tightened around Zoey’s chest, squeezing the air from her lungs, and he dug the end of the gun into her forehead.
“No amount of cash is worth killing for.” Mac took a tentative step forward. “Just let her go, Pat.”
Pat shook his head. “I can’t. I’ve got a job to do.”
“So do I.” He inched a little closer.
Zoey could see the determination in his eyes. “Mac, this isn’t like before. He isn’t a kid. He’s a killer.” She knew he had to be reliving what happened with his old partner. A hostage situation, a gun pointed at the head of someone he cared about. She hoped her encouragement would fuel his resolve.
“Shut up.” Pat yanked her a step backwards, squeezing her arm where she’d been shot and sending shocks of pain through her.
She was running out of time. She had to do something. And do it now.
She narrowed her eyes at Mac, sending him a message with every fiber of her being. If there truly was any psychic ability in her family, she prayed Mac was getting her thoughts now. “You’ve got this, Mac. You can do it.”
He nodded his head, just the slightest movement. His jaw was set, and his lips pressed together in a firm line.
“I said shut up.” Pat wrenched at her body again, and she knew this was her chance.
Maybe her only chance.
She opened her mouth and bit down on his arm.
He yowled in pain, loosening his grip, and she stamped down on his foot as hard as she could while ramming her elbow backwards into his stomach and flinging her head back into his jaw.
A jolt of pain shot through her head at the impact with his jaw, but she had to fight. She struggled to get away, clawing at his arm with her fingernails.
He shifted, trying to get a better grip on her as she fought to break free. The butt of the gun cracked against her skull, and her teeth knocked together as stars formed in the air in front of her eyes.
