Derek felt the curve of the ship’s skin. He was nearing the propeller. The prop was a high-probability area to plant a device, so he slowed his search.
Nothing.
He adjusted his regulator and continued searching. His gut was churning, and his sixth sense was gnawing at him, and he knew without a doubt that the man who’d caught a ride in that Avalanche had been up to something. Had he planted a bomb in the channel? But why target a channel when there was a perfectly good explosive right here? One that would make a hell of a fire show on the six o’clock news, too. The media’s motto was “If it bleeds, it leads,” but if it freaking exploded, get ready. It would not only lead, it would be on continuous replay for the next two weeks.
Derek did one last pass, and still nothing. He kicked to the surface and spied Elizabeth pacing the dock as she talked on her phone. She rushed over.
“What’d you find?”
He shoved his mask up. “Nothing so far. Throw me that line, would you?”
She glanced down at the coil of rope and pulled the end to a free cleat. He watched her secure the line as he swam over.
“Their chief of operations is on his way,” she said, “along with the fire chief.” She tossed him the line as he reached the dock.
“Someone needs to find the Avalanche,” he said.
“We’re working on it.”
The bulkhead was covered with razor-sharp barnacles, so he climbed the rope hand over hand to avoid trashing his feet. Water gushed from his jeans as he stood on the dock.
“Gordon’s en route.”
He looked around. “What’s he doing?” He nodded at the security guard, who was dragging a wooden barricade over to a marshy area beside the road.
“I found some footprints in the mud, while you were under.”
“Fresh ones?”
“Looked fresh to me,” she said. “Our crime-scene techs can take a look, maybe get something useful.”
Derek surveyed the swamp grass. He looked from the water to the spot on the gravel road where the Avalanche had picked up the passenger.
“Shit,” he muttered.
“What?”
He crossed the dock. He followed the road a few paces and stepped off the gravel into the marsh. Mud oozed between his toes as he looked out at the water.
“Fuckin’ A.”
“Derek, what is it?”
He waded back in.
* * *
Elizabeth scanned the surface, searching for any sign of him.
“He still down there?”
She turned to look at the guard and nodded.
Another truck sped up to the dock and skidded to a stop. There were four now, all with the same private security company logo on the door. They’d also been joined by the chief operations officer for Oil Trans, who’d pulled up in a fancy white Suburban and was now standing on the dock talking on his cell phone. No one seemed happy with the fact that an FBI agent and a diver from an as-yet-unnamed law-enforcement agency had suddenly started snooping around their boat dock.
Elizabeth squinted at the water. She checked her watch. Her heart pounded as she stared out at the shimmery surface. He’d been under almost half an hour. What could possibly be taking so long? With every minute that ticked by, her dread increased.
A dark shape on the rippled surface. Was it . . . ?
She squished her way through the grass as he rose out of the water like some sort of swamp monster.
“What’d you find?” Water swirled around her ankles as she trudged out to meet him.
He raked his hair out of his face, and the look in his eyes made her stomach clench.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
He glanced over her shoulder. “Your guys here yet?”
“They’re on their way.”
“Tell them to double-time it.”
“Is it a bomb?”
“It’s a sub.”
She stared at him. “A what?”
“Like an SDV, only smaller. Given the size and shape, I’m guessing it’s from Mexico or maybe Central America. Could be Colombian.”
She waded closer until she was knee-deep in water as she tried to get her brain to process the words. “What are you talking about? What’s an SDV?”
“It’s like an SDV. A SEAL delivery vehicle used to insert covertly into enemy territory. But this boat’s actually bigger.”
“Are you telling me you found a submarine out there?”
Water glistened on his face as he looked down at her. “A narco sub, yes. Probably big enough for a three-man crew and a shit ton of cargo, all of it long gone at this point. Damn thing’s been scuttled.”
Her mind reeled. “But . . . how the hell would someone get a submarine up the Houston Ship Channel?”
“Wrong question, Liz.” He clamped a wet hand on her shoulder. “What you need to worry about is why.”
Chapter Fourteen
Torres picked up on the first ring.
“I need an update on Palicek,” Elizabeth told him.
“This place is dead. Nothing happening, and it’s been almost an hour.”
“Not even a drive-by?”
“Zip,” Torres reported. “And we’ve got four unmarked units staked out around his apartment complex. If anyone did a drive-by, we’d have seen it.”
So where had Palicek taken his mystery passenger?
Elizabeth glanced around the waterfront, bustling with emergency workers. Firefighters and Coast Guard personnel stood in knee-deep water, watching as the narco sub was slowly pulled ashore by a huge winch attached to an industrial-sized tow truck. The vessel was black, bullet-shaped, and about forty feet long. Made of fiberglass, it would be practically invisible to both radar and sonar.
Gordon stood beside the submarine now, talking to the Coast Guard captain. He caught her eye and broke away from his conversation.
“If you ask me, we’re wasting our time here,” Torres said. “I don’t think this guy’s coming home tonight.”
“Okay, call me if you get anything,” she said.
“You, too.”
Gordon trekked through the marsh toward her. He wore the suit from earlier, but his wingtips had been replaced by heavy rubber boots on loan from the security chief.
“Where’s Lieutenant Vaughn?” he wanted to know.
“I—” She glanced over her shoulder. “He was just here.” She skimmed the roadside, and her gaze landed on a shiny red ladder truck.
Parked right where Derek’s pickup had been a few minutes ago.
She looked at Gordon. “I don’t know. I think he went to get changed.”
Gordon’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket to check the screen. “Tell him we need him over here.” He glanced up at her. “He hasn’t been debriefed yet, and the Coast Guard captain needs to talk to him.”
He headed off to take the call, and Elizabeth’s dread mounted as she dialed Derek. She’d bet money that while she’d been distracted with all the chaos, he’d pulled one of his ninja tricks.
“Where are you?” she demanded when he picked up.
“On my way to see Lexi.”
“Who?”
“The dancer from the Pussycat who spent time with our boy Zahid.”
“We need you here at the dock. You haven’t even given a statement yet.”
“This is more important, Liz. This woman spent time with Ameen. She might have picked up some info about him while she was giving him a lap dance.”
“She probably did, and this is exactly why we need to debrief you. If you’d bothered to give us a statement, we could have interviewed her already.”
“Yeah? And who’s she more likely to talk to, me or some suit with a stick up his ass?”
“You are not an investigator.”
“Hey, if you really want to get her talking, why don’t you send Potter over with his legal pad? I’m sure she’ll loosen up real quick.”
“Derek—”
“Tell you what, lemme ta
ke a shot at it first. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
And that was it. Gone.
Elizabeth glanced over at Gordon, who was still on his phone, but from the look on his face, he’d figured out the problem. He ended his call as she walked over.
“I just spoke to Lieutenant Vaughn,” she said. “He’s following up with the dancer at the nightclub, the one who spent time with Zahid Ameen.”
“He’s interviewing our witnesses now? What else is he doing?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and Gordon’s gaze narrowed.
“Does he know where Ameen is? Let me tell you something, LeBlanc. If Vaughn knows his whereabouts and withholds that information from the task force so he can go out on his own—”
“That’s not what he’s doing, sir.”
“—he’ll be charged with obstruction so fast his head will spin. And his SEAL days will be over.”
“I can assure you—”
“Don’t waste your breath assuring me anything. Get him the hell back here, or get him in custody. Tonight.”
* * *
Elizabeth navigated the streets of northwest Houston, where a surprising number of people were still out enjoying the airless July night. Her phone chimed from the cup holder.
“You find him yet?” Lauren asked.
“No.”
“I thought you traced him to Palicek’s apartment?”
She switched to speaker so she could use the tracking app on her phone. “I did, but he didn’t stay long enough for me to get there. Now he’s on the move again.” She glanced at the screen and watched the glowing green dot that represented Derek’s pickup. Lauren had installed a tracking device on Derek’s truck while Elizabeth distracted him at the jogging trail. As she watched now, the dot exited the freeway.
“Any idea where he’s going?”
“Not really,” she told Lauren, although that wasn’t true. She had a very good guess where Derek was going, and with every second that ticked by, he was proving her right.
She got off the phone, fuming. What did he think? That he could blow her off for hours and then just come knocking on her door? Hey, babe, sorry I left you in the lurch back there. Want to go grab a drink? Or since the bars were closed, maybe he’d show up with a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and some crude suggestions.
The green dot came to a stop at her hotel. Elizabeth’s temper festered. She exited the freeway and wended her way there. It was after three A.M., and the hotel parking lot was full, but she didn’t see his truck. Cars, SUVs, pickups, but no gray F-150. She touched her phone, zeroing in on the green dot as she combed the parking lot. Finally, she slid into an empty space and walked up to a gray Ford Taurus bristling with antennas.
“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.
Potter walked out from the vending-machine alcove. He carried a computer case in one hand and a bag of Doritos in the other.
“You find Lieutenant Vaughn yet?” he asked.
“Were you just at Palicek’s apartment?”
“I did a drive-by,” he said. “No luck. Why?”
She stalked back toward her car.
“LeBlanc?”
“Forget it. Good night.”
She jerked open the car door and grabbed her purse and cell phone. Derek’s number appeared on the screen. Somehow in the thirty seconds she’d been out of her car, she’d managed to miss his call. She listened to the message as she crossed the lot.
“Hey, I caught up with Lexi,” he drawled. “No new leads, and she doesn’t know where Ameen’s staying. But sounds like he may know where she is. She’s worried he followed her home from work the other night, so you need to get some agents over there, ASAP. She’s staying someplace else for now, but the girl’s spooked.”
Elizabeth reached her door and jabbed her keycard into the lock.
“Oh, and one more thing,” he said. “Tell Lauren next time she plants a Snitch on a vehicle, she needs to slide it under the chassis. Wheel well’s a little too obvious.”
Elizabeth shoved open the door and flipped on the light. She wanted to hurl her phone across the room, but instead, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Staking out the dancer’s apartment was a good idea, and she should have thought of it hours ago. She sent Lauren a text message and asked her to talk to Gordon.
Elizabeth rubbed the bridge of her nose. She was tired, ticked off, and lightheaded with hunger. She jammed her phone into the charger, and it chimed before she even put it down.
“LeBlanc,” she snapped.
“Whoa,” Lauren said. “Somebody’s pissed. What happened?”
She dropped her keys and purse onto the table. “Derek’s being an ass.”
“Hmm. Guess that means you didn’t find him?”
“No.”
“You think he found the Snitch?”
“Yes.” She didn’t mention that he’d not only found it but also attached it to Potter’s vehicle just to piss her off. She took off her jacket and tossed it onto the chair. “Did you get my text?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’ll fill Gordon in about the stripper. I’m guessing you’re avoiding him since our SEAL friend is still at large?”
“You guessed right.” She went into the bathroom and turned on the water. “And thanks. I owe you one.”
“Get some sleep,” Lauren said. “You sound stressed.”
Stressed didn’t cover it. She was so worked up she wanted to hit something, and the thing she most wanted to hit wasn’t available. She splashed water on her cheeks and tried to cool off. She glanced at her reflection. She looked frazzled and cranky, and the humidity had done a number on her hair. She was tired to the bone, and what she needed was a hot shower and a pizza, but she would have given a week’s pay for an ice-cold beer.
She turned the shower to scalding and thought about the crushed granola bar at the bottom of her computer bag. She’d ignored it for weeks, but right now she was famished enough to eat it. She walked into the bedroom and gave a startled yelp at the sight of Derek leaning casually against the wall.
How’d you get in here? was on the tip of her tongue, but she bit back the words, refusing to give him the satisfaction. She glanced at the drapes. He’d gotten past the sliding glass door somehow. Or maybe not. He could just as easily have gotten past the front door, or sweet-talked the desk clerk, or shimmied through a damn vent if he wanted to. In his world, there wasn’t a place or a person that was off-limits.
“Looking a little tired, Liz. Rough night?”
“You shouldn’t be here.” She crossed the room and checked the peephole. The sidewalk was empty, so she hoped no one had seen him.
“You get an agent over to Lexi’s?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you.”
She snatched her jacket off the chair and hung it in the closet. She pulled off her mud-caked shoes and chucked them beside her suitcase.
She returned to the bathroom, and he had the nerve to follow her right in as she turned off the shower. She fumed at him through the cloud of steam.
“Gordon wants you in custody,” she said. “I’m supposed to arrest you on sight.”
He smiled. “What’s stopping you?”
She whisked past him, but he shot an arm across the doorway, blocking her.
“I promise not to resist.” He slid his free hand around her and tugged the handcuffs from her waistband. He held them up in front of her.
She ducked under his arm and crossed the bedroom, swiftly unbuckling the belt that held her holster. He had a thing about women with guns. She knew that. And she wasn’t going to stand here feeding his little fantasy while he laughed at her.
He sauntered over. “You’re ticked off.”
“You’re observant.” She set her Glock and holster on the dresser.
“You think I’m being an ass.”
Damn him. When had he slipped in here?
He stepped closer. “I got you in trouble with your boss, didn’t I?”
She f
olded her arms. He took another step until he was inches away, the handcuffs still dangling from his fingers. He held them up.
“Go ahead. Cuff me.”
She calmly took the handcuffs and just as calmly placed them on the dresser beside her firearm, but she couldn’t keep her cheeks from flushing as she glared up at him.
He moved closer. She flinched as he rested his hand at her hip where her gun had been, and his thumb seemed to burn right through the fabric as he traced her hip bone.
“Come on.” His voice was low. “What are you afraid of?”
“I know what you’re doing. You’re egging me on, and I’m not afraid of you, so get that through your thick head.”
He eased closer, close enough that his thighs brushed hers, close enough that the solid mass of his chest was right in front of her.
“Know what, Liz?” He dipped his head down, and his breath tickled her temple. “I think you’re lying.”
Chapter Fifteen
His mouth crushed against hers, hot and demanding. He tasted like the other night—like bourbon—and she knew he’d been out drinking with a stripper while she’d been driving around the city searching for him. Knowing it should have made her want to smack him, but her hands were too busy sliding over his shoulders and tangling in his hair. This was a bad idea. She knew it, but she couldn’t push him away. In fact, she was pulling him closer.
After hours of chaos and frustration, he was actually here. She should follow orders and take him into the office for paperwork and interviews, but she wasn’t taking him anywhere. She wanted him alone. She wanted him in her bed, under her, with his mouth all over her and his hands everywhere and his three-day beard scraping her skin. He changed the angle of his kiss and went after her with a fierceness that shocked her and thrilled her all at once.
God, he could kiss. He kissed with the same power and confidence that had attracted her from the beginning. No hesitation, just a brutal onslaught against all of her senses.
She tugged his T-shirt from his jeans and slid her hands under the cotton to feel the warm hardness of his skin. His tongue tangled with hers, challenging her on yet another level as his body pinned her against the dresser.
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