by Paula Graves
"That'll be me," Jack said. "I'll do the listening in."
"I can get equipment from a supply store we use. Tiny wireless mike shaped like a button." Cooper rose and headed toward Laura's front door. He stopped to look at Maggie, his gaze sweeping over her apparel. "She'll need a blouse with black buttons, Laura—do you have something she can borrow?"
"Yes. Go. We'll get her ready." Laura waved him out the door. She had called Gerald Phelps earlier and learned that Blevins was meeting Phelps for a 12:30 lunch at Michel's, an overpriced bistro uptown. Phelps had agreed to be late, giving Maggie time to make her move.
"Once I attach the tracker we'll have six hours of battery life," Jack said. "No time to hook it to the car battery, so that's the best I can offer."
"From what I know of Blevins, he won't waste time," Laura assured him. "He'll want to get the files moved immediately."
Maggie nodded. "Then we'll have him.
Twenty minutes later, Cooper returned with the wireless transmitter and handed it to Jack. "Where's Ms. Stone?"
"Upstairs." Laura had already taken Maggie to the second floor bedroom to lend her a black blouse. The upstairs bedroom was open, loft-style, with only a privacy screen to keep people on the first floor from being able to see upstairs from below.
However, there was nothing to block the view once a person reached the landing, as Jack discovered when he got there. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of Maggie in nothing but her bra and panties. Morning light pouring through the tall loft windows bathed her body, casting it in gold and cream. A small purple shadow marked her thigh and her mouth looked pink and slightly swollen—souvenirs of their midnight passion? God knows their lovemaking had left its own marks on him, wounds he feared might never heal.
Her eyes met his, her expression hard to read. But her voice was light when she asked, "Don't you know how to knock?"
He smiled slightly. "Knock knock."
Laura handed Maggie a pair of pinstripe trousers to go with the black silk blouse Maggie held. "This should match. I'll let you two figure out the hardware." She gave Jack a contemplative look before she headed back downstairs.
Jack handed Maggie the five extra buttons and the small sewing kit that came with the package. "You'll need to switch out the buttons with these—they match the microphone."
Maggie sat on the edge of the bed and opened the package. She used the kit's small pair of scissors to clip off the existing buttons. "Where does the microphone button go?"
He touched the curve of her breast before he could stop himself. He dropped his hand immediately. "About there."
She gazed up at him, her lips parted and her eyes dark with emotion. "Okay."
He stepped back, keeping a slight distance as her deft fingers made quick work of replacing the buttons. When she was finished, she stood up and slipped on the blouse, buttoning up to where he'd indicated. "How does this work?"
He took the button-microphone and slid the tiny clip at its back over the shirt where the next button should go. Once it was buttoned, there was no way to see that it was anything but another one of the black buttons at the front of the blouse.
He started to step back from her again, but she reached out and touched his hand. She lifted her gaze to meet his, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. "I'm sorry, Jack. For everything."
He shook his head, not ready to deal with anything but the job at hand. They had to get the sting against Blevins right or there'd be nothing else to talk about later. "There's no time to get into all this right now."
"I need to say it. We don't know how this will go down—"
"Yes we do," he interrupted. "We're taking Blevins down and then we'll have lots of time to figure out what comes next."
"Does anything come next?" Anxiety creased her pale face.
"I don't know." His voice was harder than he'd intended.
Her expression tightened. "I don't think I did anything so horrible." A hint of anger tinged her voice as she pushed to her feet. "You couldn't be sure you wouldn't be taken into custody the minute you got there. I couldn't chance being left vulnerable that way. Remy was depending on me."
"The business with the ring isn't the problem." He softened his voice. "I just don't know why you thought you had to lie to me. And until you figure that out, I don't see how we're going to be able to make anything between us work."
She licked her lips and looked away from him. A thick hank of hair fell forward, covering the left side of her face from his view. "I was going to tell you this morning. I really did know I couldn't keep lying to you."
"Why didn't you?"
"You mentioned the Laundromat." She looked up at him, her expression guarded. "I realized I could get to the pawnshop and buy back the ring. I thought if I could just get the ring back, it would be like it had never happened."
He lifted his hand and tucked the piece of loose hair behind her ears, his touch more tender than the words he had to say now. "I can take a lot from you, Maggie. But not your distrust. I don't deserve it. I've put my entire life on the line for you. I've left my family hanging, put my business and all the people who work for me in jeopardy, just to help you out. And if you can't see that, I can't help you. I told you, I'm not in the fixing business anymore. This is something you'll have to fix for yourself."
Tears welled in her eyes and trickled out the corners, tracing a damp path down each cheek. "I know." She touched his hand, curling her fingers around his. "I do trust you, Jack. I need you to know that."
He brushed away her tears, trying not to read too much into her words. "We've got to get moving."
She took a deep breath and stepped back from him. She slipped the pinstripe slacks on and tucked the blouse in the waistband. The clothes weren't a perfect fit, and their style was definitely more Laura than Maggie, but she looked presentable. And the button microphone was undetectable, even from as close as he stood.
If things went according to their plan, Blevins would never get close enough to even wonder.
But things rarely ever went according to plan.
Chapter 16
Michel's wasn't as nice a restaurant as its prices might suggest. It occupied the corner of a sprawling brownstone not far from the Superdome, with curbside parking and valet. Gerald Phelps had assured Laura that Blevins never used valet parking, but up to the last minute, Maggie was terrified she wouldn't find the detective's blue Crown Victoria parked in front of the restaurant. With relief, she spotted the sedan and lowered her chin slightly, speaking toward the hidden microphone. "Fifth car from the corner. Blue Crown Vic, just like Phelps said."
They'd agreed it would be too distracting for Maggie to deal with an earpiece as well as the mike, but as Maggie took a deep breath and walked into the restaurant, she regretted not having Jack's voice in her ear. Intellectually, she knew he was listening. But emotionally, she felt utterly alone.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the low light after walking a block in the bright Louisiana sunshine. She stayed near the entrance, not wanting to Blevins to see her before she spotted him.
The hostess approached her, menus in hand. "How many will be dining today?"
"I'm meeting someone. Detective Blevins."
The hostess lifted one perfectly-shaped eyebrow but didn't comment. She gave a shrug that Maggie read as a request to follow and headed toward the back. Maggie stayed in the taller woman's wake so Blevins couldn't see her until she reached the table. When they reached the corner table where Blevins sat, the hostess moved to one side, leaving Maggie face to face with the man who'd made the last week of her life a living hell.
Mark Blevins wasn't a particularly handsome man, though his features were pleasant enough. He didn't look all that dangerous, either. When he stood, he was only an inch or two taller than Maggie. His navy suit was well-tailored, but he didn't fill it out well, his shoulders a bit too narrow and his waist too soft to pull off the power suit.
But his storm-gray eyes were as cold as the w
inter sea.
Maggie controlled a shiver and walked up to the table. She made herself hold that icy gray gaze. "Detective Blevins."
"Ms. Stone." He remained standing a moment, staring at her. His expression was nearly unreadable, but Maggie didn't miss the tightening of the corners of his mouth. He waved at the chair across from him, a silent invitation to sit.
Maggie took the chair, glad her back was to the room rather than the wall. She felt trapped enough as it was.
"Can I order you something to drink?" he asked.
Maggie shook her head. "I won't be staying long. I'm only here to tell you to back off."
He laughed, feigning confusion. "Back off?"
"I know you murdered Nicky Tamburello so he couldn't tell anyone you ordered the assassination of Milton Berry to help your good friend Mayor Davies." She bent forward to deliver the punch line. "And I know you keep very careful, very detailed records of your crimes in a warehouse off Duvalier in Algiers. In fact, I've hidden some of them in a safe place of my own."
"I don't know what you're talking about." His expression didn't change, save for a twitch in the corner of his left eye. But that was enough. Maggie knew she'd scored a hit.
"Here's how this is going to play. I won't tell anyone about the files you've squirreled away, and you'll leave Remy and me alone. I'll take him away from here for good. We won't come back. And you can do whatever it is you and your buddies are doing to this town until you screw up the next time." She stood up, hoping she'd given Jack enough time to plant the GPS tracker, because she didn't want to spend one more minute staring across the table at Mark Blevins.
There was nothing behind his eyes. No humanity. No soul.
She started away from the table, her stomach twisting into fist-sized knots. One step after the other. Twelve steps to the bar, fifteen to the front door. She emerged into bright sunshine, breathing deeply to quell her rising panic.
Her part was done. All she had to do was walk to the corner, take a right and meet Jack in front of the dry cleaner's three blocks away. "I'm out," she murmured, hoping Jack heard.
She had taken only one step toward the corner when the door to the restaurant opened behind her, soft sounds of conversation within spilling into the street. She had a second to glance up at the restaurant's glass façade and catch sight of Mark Blevins less than a foot behind her before his hand closed over her arm.
"Maggie Stone, you're under arrest for obstruction of justice." His fingers dug into her upper arm, swinging her toward the street.
She tried to pull away, but he was stronger than he looked. Nevertheless, she forced him to dodge her kicks and punches as he dragged her to the blue Crown Vic. He pressed the barrel of his gun to her neck, ending her struggle. "You have the right to remain silent." He shoved her toward the car. "Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law."
"Somebody help me!" Maggie cried out.
A man walking toward them sped up, looking concerned, but Blevins merely flashed his badge and the man scurried away.
Maggie started struggling again as Blevins holstered his gun to cuff her. He pinned her against the car with his body, stilling her struggles, but she fought his attempt to turn her around so he could bring her hands behind her. With a grunt, Blevins cuffed her hands in front instead and opened the back door of the Crown Victoria. He pushed her inside, not bothering to be gentle. She banged her cheek against the steel mesh partition separating the back seat from the front.
"You have a right to an attorney. I'm not going to pretend you can't afford one, because I know your daddy's loaded, but if daddy doesn't come through, you can have a lawyer on our tab." Blevins slammed the back door shut and opened the driver's door.
Maggie slumped against the back seat, her heart slamming against her ribcage as Blevins slid into the driver's seat. She tried to check the street behind them in the rearview mirror, but the angle was wrong, the mesh partition distorting the view.
Not that it mattered. Jack had surely heard things go wrong. He was on his way right now to help her out.
And she believed that right up to the moment that Blevins pulled away from the curb and merged with the midday traffic, leaving Michel's—and Maggie's hope—behind them.
Stupid, stupid, stupid!
With each pounding step he took racing down the street toward his car, Jack cursed himself for missing the obvious. Of course, Blevins wouldn't just let Maggie walk away. Jack had been depending on the crowded restaurant and the busy street to afford Maggie protection.
His mistake was in thinking of Blevins as a bad guy when he should have been thinking of him as a bad cop. A cop with handcuffs, a weapon and a badge to flash at anyone who might question why a woman was screaming for help while being pushed into the back seat of a car.
He pulled out his cell phone as he neared his car, punching the quick dial for Travis Cooper's cell phone. Cooper answered on the first ring. "Everything in place?"
"Not quite." Jack filled him in on Maggie's abduction. He reached the car and jerked the driver's door open. Behind the wheel, he pulled his Palm Pilot from his pocket and punched in his tracking code. A small blue light blipped on a digitized map of New Orleans. "I've got him tracking on the GPS. He's heading down St. Charles toward the Expressway, but I'm not sure what he has in mind."
"All you can do is follow. We're positioned off Duvalier around the Chaubert Industries Distribution Center. We'll sit tight until we hear from you."
Jack pulled the Beretta away from the curb and headed south. "Look, I know you have to tell Laura what's going on, but don't scare Remy, okay? He's had enough to worry about. Don't freak him out."
There was a brief pause on Cooper's end before he said, "I'll do what I can."
Jack hung up and checked the tracking map again. Blevins' Crown Vic had just turned off Charles Street and was heading for the Pontchartrain Expressway east toward Algiers, just as they'd expected.
He adjusted his earpiece, trying to pick up more of what was going on in the back of the Crown Vic. The sensitive receiver easily picked up the low hum of the car's engine and the rapid sound of Maggie's breathing, but she hadn't spoken for several minutes.
His heart kicked into a higher gear. He'd heard her soft grunt and the sound of a thudding impact when Blevins had pushed her into the car. She must have hit the steel mesh barrier in the back of Blevins' car.
Was she even conscious?
She should say something. Jack was probably listening, out of his head—assuming the hidden microphone was even working anymore. But she couldn't think of anything to say. Her mind felt cottony and thick, the air around her stifling and fetid. She slumped lower in the seat, her eyelids starting to flutter and droop.
Shock, she thought. Maybe not physical shock as much as emotional. Adrenaline rush followed by black despair, wreaking havoc on her nervous system.
She shook her head, trying to clear her brain. Something tickled at her cheek and she latched onto the sensation, concentrating on the feeling. Liquid like tears, seeping from a painful spot in the middle of her cheek. She lifted her cuffed hands to her face and probed the tender flesh. She felt something warm and sticky-wet against her fingertips. When she drew her hands back, her fingers were bloody.
Somehow the sight of that crimson stain shocked her system back into full awareness. She straightened, glaring through the mesh at the back of Blevins' head. "Gonna be fun explaining to the booking sergeant how I ended up with a busted face. Big man, beating up the little lady. They'll be so proud."
Blevins didn't respond to her taunt. She hadn't expected him to. She wasn't sure if he was taking her with him to check on his files or if he was planning to kill her and dump her before he got there, but she was certain they weren't going anywhere near a police station.
"But you're not taking me to the station, are you?" She lifted her feet and kicked hard against the steel mesh, rattling it. "If you're going to kill me, admit it." She rattled the cage again. "A
dmit it!"
"Shut up!" His voice rose a notch above his normal speaking voice, and even through the mesh barrier, Maggie could see the back of his neck turning red.
Good. She was getting to him. Putting him off his game.
"You're a coward." She bent forward, putting her face as close to the back of his head as possible. "But that's your style, isn't it? You like to let other people do all your dirty work. You stay above it all, right?"
He didn't answer, but she saw a muscle in the side of his neck twitch.
She lowered her voice to a purr. "Maybe you were right to play it that way. The one time you do it yourself, it all starts to unravel. Guess you're just not cut out for the big leagues after all."
Blevins stomped on the brakes, sending the Crown Victoria into a squealing half-skid. Unrestrained and unprepared, Maggie shot forward, her face slamming into the mesh. Pain seared through her entire body. When he hit the gas again, she was flung back against the back seat, bouncing off and almost sliding into the floor.
She righted herself, blinking back tears of pain. Her nose had taken a hard lick, but when she checked her nostrils, she didn't seem to be bleeding. Her face had already been close to the mesh, limiting the impact.
"You think you're a big man," she said, as much to let Jack know she was okay as to keep up her taunts. "Real big man, knocking around the little lady. I bet you like seeing me bleed, don't you?"
Blevins didn't respond.
Jack glanced at the tracker display again. Still on the same road, still heading toward the area where Cooper and Laura were waiting. Despite the very big wrinkle in their plan, it seemed to be working.
But would Maggie be alive when it was all over?
He picked up the cell phone and dialed Cooper again. "He's crossing the river, heading your way. Maggie's hanging in there, but Blevins isn't saying what he has planned." He braked as the light ahead turned read, biting back a curse. He glanced again at the tracker display. The blinking light made a sudden move to the left. Jack grabbed the Palm Pilot and checked the street name. "He's turned left on Beaker Street, going north. Looks like he's definitely heading for Duvalier."
