His stitched-up belly would love this.
“Upsy-daisy,” Monk said, doing his Spidey thing and hauling ass over the top.
Vic followed and swung himself over, making sure to keep the stitched side of his stomach away from the top of the fence.
After spending some time with a complicated lock on the back door, they stood in the middle of a musty-smelling hallway. The place stunk like an ashtray.
Vic pulled his penlight from the side pocket of his cargo shorts and led Monk and Billy down the darkened hallway to an office on the left. The miniscule office contained way too much furniture and stacks and stacks of paper. Yellowing newspapers sat on top of a five-drawer vertical filing cabinet and the grimy window above probably hadn’t been opened in years. Talk about a feng shui nightmare. No positive energy here.
“Total shit hole,” Billy said.
Vic shrugged. “Rent’s probably cheap.”
They crept single file into the storage area of the warehouse. The space, maybe thirty or forty thousand square feet, contained boxes stacked to the second level catwalk. Grocery boxes. Cereal, soup, pasta. Great. Too bad he didn’t need to stock up.
Monk moved to the catwalk and stared down over the darkened warehouse while running his penlight over the boxes. “Hey, check out these crates. Far right side.”
“On it.” Vic strode to where he shined the light.
The large, rectangular wooden crates, maybe four feet long, had Fragile stamped on the sides in big red lettering. Vic lifted the lid and Billy held it with one arm while he shined light into the box with his free hand.
Vic pushed aside the shreds of packing material and let out a soft whistle. A burst of adrenaline whipped through him and his stomach churned from the sudden attack.
“MP5s,” Billy said, wide eyed and almost drooling.
“The king of close-quarters combat,” Vic said. “What, dare I ask, would a grocery store be doing storing a machine gun?”
He stepped back, ran his flashlight over the area. “Must be forty crates here.”
“Check the other ones,” Monk, still on the catwalk, said.
Vic moved three rows over and opened another crate. Billy replaced the lid on the first crate and jogged over to shine his light into the next box.
“RPGs. Son of a bitch. This fucker is running guns through our fair city.”
A clanging noise came from the loading dock. Fuck.
“We got company.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Man Law: Always find a way out.
“Let’s bolt.” Vic kept his voice low, already planning his call to Lynx. He replaced the crate lid as disappointment settled on him.
He so did not want to leave this warehouse right now.
Monk crept toward the door they’d entered through.
Maybe he’d lay eyes on the people coming in. Would it be too much to ask for it to be Sirhan himself? He could take him out right here and put an end to this fucked-up game.
Before stepping into the hallway, he swiveled and saw a white cargo van back into the warehouse. His heart hammered. Something was coming or going.
Two men exited the van, but the darkness hid their identities. One of them jogged to the side wall and flipped on the lights. The warehouse flooded with bright light, and Vic ducked back and shut his eyes for a second to let them adjust.
He sneaked to the entry door. Surveying the loading dock from the doorway, Monk gave a thumbs-up. No one outside. Unable to resist, Vic stole a glance around the wall but didn’t recognize either man. Probably a couple of lackeys. Damn.
The first guy, dark haired, maybe around thirty, moved to the back of the van and opened the doors.
“Help me with this,” he said to his partner in a voice so flat and indistinct Vic didn’t even try to place an accent.
The two men hefted a large crate, similar to the ones stacked in the warehouse, from the cargo area of the van. More guns?
Vic’s adrenaline surged again. He flexed his fingers, tried to release some of the anger raging through him. Where the hell were all these weapons going?
He’d like to hang out until these pricks were done unloading. Maybe they’d leave and he and the boys could finish the search. He didn’t want to risk getting caught, though. Not that they couldn’t handle these two mopes, but staying under Sirhan’s radar would be the most important thing.
Monk gave him a silent what-the-fuck shrug. Vic slowly swung his head back to the cargo van.
“Hey,” the second, gray-haired man said, “when we’re done here, why don’t you run and get some sandwiches? Who knows when they’ll be here with the next load?”
“Got it,” the other responded.
Shit. These two were going to be here awhile. Waiting on another shipment.
Holy hell.
But Vic couldn’t risk staying. As much as his body yearned for action, his mind overrode him. The smart thing would be to wait for the big score and bring down the whole operation.
He took one last glance around the corner and watched another crate come out of the van. That had to be it. The van couldn’t hold much more.
Vic shifted toward the door and hustled out after Monk. Damn. They’d get these guys, just not tonight.
Forty-five flippin’ minutes later Vic stomped through Gina’s back door. Traffic at eleven o’clock at night. Go figure some drunk would wrap his car around a pole when he wanted to get to Gina’s for a quick visit.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said when she came into the kitchen still wearing the khaki shorts and tank top she wore earlier in the day.
She went up on tiptoes, kissed him quick. She’d started doing that lately and he didn’t mind one bit. Mike did it with Roxann all the time, and Vic always wondered how two people got to that comfort level. He didn’t know how he and Gina had gotten there, but he liked it. Who knew a simple kiss could mean so much?
He pulled one of the kitchen chairs out, winced at the loud scraping noise and the vibration shot up his arm. She needed felt on the bottoms of these chairs. Maybe he’d do that for her.
Spying the nail polish remover on the table, he said, “Do I want to know who needed that?”
She laughed. “Probably not.”
She grabbed the hand he held out to her and let him pull her on to his lap.
“Tiny really let her paint his toenails?”
Gina gave an emphatic nod. “I set him up with a bowl of popcorn and SportsCenter and he endured it. She gave him alternating toes of pink and red.”
Oh, man, what Vic would have paid to see that. “I suppose you didn’t take pictures.”
Her mouth fell open. “Tiny said you’d say that.”
Tiny knew him too well. He shrugged. “He’s family. We spent our formative years living together. He knows my hot buttons.”
“Well, please don’t tease him. He wanted to make Lily happy. He’s a good man.”
Vic slid an errant curl off her cheek. “He is that. He and Mike are the only two guys I really trust.”
She leaned back and stared at him a second. “Really?”
“My men are all good guys, but Tiny and Mike are the ones I know, without a doubt, will stand up when everyone else sits down.”
“Have you told Tiny you love him?”
He smiled, proud of himself. “Yep. I think he thinks I’m losing it.”
“Men,” Gina huffed. “I’ll never understand how your minds work.”
“We pretty much feel the same way about women.”
Warmth blasted through him when she ran her hand over his shortened hair. “You like it short, huh?”
“It feels like velvet.” She grinned and leaned into him. The movement had all his blood moving to the wrong places and…yep…hard-on. She obviously felt the bulge digging into her and, with a wicked smile, wiggled her butt against him. Jeezalou.
“Really, not funny,” Vic said.
Her laughter filled the room and he lightly pinched her leg.
&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re easy to torment that way.”
He tapped his fingers against the table. “Kids asleep?”
“Matthew’s awake. Sorry.” Just to torture him, she ran her tongue behind his ear. She then snorted in said ear. Nice. Wasn’t she quite the seductress?
“Have you ever noticed,” he said, “when you purposely try to be sexy you blow it by laughing?”
She smacked his arm. “I know. I can’t help it.”
“I’m not complaining. I think it’s cute.” He dragged his hands over her bare legs. “Besides, you’re sexy without trying.”
That earned him a smoker of a kiss. Tongue and all, and he tried to squelch the frustration of not being able to strip her naked.
“I guess that was my goodnight kiss. I need some sleep. I want to get to the gym before I pick you up for work in the morning.”
She grabbed his hand and walked him to the door. “Thanks for coming by. You gave me the attention I needed.”
Gina needy? Never. Even so, if a visit from him cured her, she was most definitely perfect.
He cupped his hands over her cheeks, let them rest there a second in anticipation of the spine melting that would come when he kissed her. He’d gotten used to the feeling and suddenly craved it on a daily basis.
“Good night,” she said.
“Yep. Tomorrow will be a good day.”
He knew this because he had a legal pad filled with notes about Sirhan he’d pass on to Lynx. Soon this nightmare would be over and he and Gina could figure out what they were doing with each other.
And didn’t that just scare the crap out of him?
Vic gave up on his emails and checked his cell phone for at least the tenth time. Where the hell was Lynx? He’d left him a message at nine o’clock this morning. Six freakin’ hours ago. He tossed his cell on top of a stack of reports Mike wanted him to read and picked up the prepaid phone he called Lynx on. Maybe King of the Paranoids called back on that one. Nope.
Crap.
He stood, unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them to his elbows. A quick inspection of his khakis confirmed he succeeded in wiping away the coffee spill. Not bad for an amateur. He marched to the outer office. The secretary sat at her pristine desk—no wonder Mike liked her—typing like a banshee.
“Any calls for me?”
“Nope.” She turned back to her computer.
His cell phone rang and he darted back to the desk, scooped up the phone and checked the ID. A DC number he didn’t recognize. He punched the button. “Vic Andrews.”
“You rang?” Lynx said, trying to talk above the sounds of traffic.
Probably at a pay phone.
“Finally. Where’ve you been?”
“As a reminder, I do have a full-time job with the United States government. One that keeps me pretty damned busy without your screwed-up scenario added to it. I’m on my way back from a meeting on the Hill. I have five minutes.”
“Are you done whining so I can tell you what I’ve got?”
“Fire away. You pain in the ass. I really should beat the hell out of you.”
Vic laughed. Lynx, all five foot eight of him, was one tough son of a bitch.
“Sirhan has definitely set up shop here. I think he’s running a hawala out of the market I told you about. Plus, that guy I nabbed at Mike’s house the other night is wanted on a rape charge in Virginia.”
“No shit?”
“Yeah. Also, one of my guys saw Gerard Conlin making ATM deposits all over the city. I think they’re smurfing.”
“Hang on. Let me get my notepad.”
Vic heard the shuffling of paper through the phone line.
“What else?” Lynx asked.
“There’s a warehouse on the south side. It’s owned by the same shell company that owns the market. You’ll want to have someone check that out.”
“Why?”
This was where things got sticky. Vic couldn’t necessarily say there were guns in the place because technically he shouldn’t know. “I believe there is illegal activity happening there.”
Lynx sighed. “I hesitate to ask, but why do you think that?”
Vic blew out a breath and sat back in his chair. Propped his feet up. “You don’t want me to answer that.”
The line went quiet. Five. Four. Three. Two…
“Don’t tell me you broke into that building.”
“Okay. I won’t tell you.”
The fact that he didn’t deny it would set Lynx off. At least he hadn’t called him a stupid, fucking redneck yet.
“You have got to stop doing that,” he hollered. “You could be screwing up evidence. We need probable cause. We need to get warrants. You know all this. I’ve explained it a hundred times, you stupid, fucking redneck.”
“Hey,” Vic put his feet on the floor and sat straight. “Don’t bitch at me. If you federal boys were on top of this shit, I wouldn’t have a problem here.”
The call waiting beeped and he pulled the phone from his ear, checked the ID. Tiny. He’d have to wait.
“What’s the address of the warehouse?”
Vic read it off.
“I’ll run it by a few people, see if anything pops. What else?”
He smiled. “Hell, I should be on the damn payroll considering I’m doing your job.”
“Not my job, asshole. Somebody’s, but not mine.”
The secretary knocked on the open door. “Tiny is holding for you,” she said.
“Tell him I’ll call him back. Two minutes.”
“He said it’s an emergency.”
An icy panic zipped up his spine. Tiny wouldn’t say emergency if it weren’t true.
“Gotta, go, Lynx. Call me later.”
Vic disconnected and picked up his desk phone.
“Goddamn you,” Tiny screamed at someone. “You should have checked the door.”
Vic jerked the phone from his ear. Uh-oh. Something was seriously haywire. All the spit in his mouth dried up. Beads of sweat broke out on his upper lip and he swiped at them.
“Whoa. Hey, bud,” Vic said loud enough to get Tiny’s attention. “What’s going on?”
“Fucking new guy,” Tiny raged, then stopped, took an audible breath. “Forget it. Shit.”
“What happened?”
“Lily’s gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Man Law: Never get attached.
Lily. Gone.
The words hit Vic like a gunshot from a .45. The shock left him numb at first, and then searing pain ripped through his midsection.
Everything spun. He tried to focus. The voice in his head shouted commands, but nothing connected. When the howling in his ears started, he sucked in air, tensed his forearms and released them. The spinning and the howling stopped.
Finally, the warrior in him came to life and he shot out of his chair, sending it crashing against the wall. “Gone how?”
“I had to run an errand and I called the new guy, Freddie, to watch Lily here at the school. The kids were all playing outside, she went in to go to the bathroom and never came out. We’ve scoured the place and she’s not here. I think she must have gone out the back door.”
Vic squared his shoulders. “Not alone she didn’t. She wouldn’t do that.” He dug his fist into his forehead. Lily. Gone. He had to get her back.
The GPS.
“Hold on,” he said and put the phone down.
He grabbed his phone, punched the button to get him to the internet. The screen’s message said Opening and he tapped his finger against the side. “Come on, come on.”
It finally connected and he went to the website Gizmo instructed him on. A map popped up. Lily’s location, if she had her phone on, should be a green blinking arrow on the screen. Nothing. Shit.
He went to the other website. The one for the shoe clip. Please be there. The map popped up. Nothing blinking.
Fuck. He slammed his hands on the desk, leaned into them, felt the boiling-hot rage move
through him. Control. He begged for it. Think. Work the problem. He held a breath until his lungs cried mercy, released it slowly through his mouth.
They got Lily.
What would he tell Gina?
He picked up the phone again. “You still there?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay at the school. Check the building again. Make sure she’s not there.”
“The lady in charge of the daycare wants to call the cops.”
Cops. Great. He didn’t need cops getting in his way. But wait…
“Let her call them,” Vic said.
“What?”
“Yeah. They’ll put out an Amber Alert. Sirhan won’t be able to move her around too much.”
“Won’t that add to Gina’s stress? She’s going to have to act like we’re not involved. What if we find her first?”
There was an angle Vic hadn’t thought of. Gina was strong. She could handle the stress if it meant getting Lily back safe. The memory of her crazy curls the night they watched Dirty Dancing together popped into his head, and the pain in his midsection came roaring back. Sweet girl must be terrified.
“Get the cops over there. Keep me posted.”
He hung up and called Gizmo.
“I need you in my office, pronto. Lily is missing.”
He jammed the phone into the cradle, grabbed his cell phone and ran to Mike’s office.
For the first time, Vic didn’t want to face his closest friend. He didn’t want to deliver this devastating news. And he really didn’t want to be the one responsible for dragging Mike’s family into this mess. But that guilt lay squarely with him and he’d have to live with it if something happened to that beautiful little girl.
Mike must have seen the misery on his face. “What’s up?”
Vic stood in front of the desk in a modified parade rest, waiting for Mike to start screaming at him. To his credit, he stayed calm. His face, however, spoke volumes. The skin hardened over his cheekbones and a storm brewed behind his eyes.
“How long has she been gone?” Mike asked.
“About half an hour.”
“The GPS?”
Vic shook his head. “She must not have the phone on, and I don’t know what’s up with the clip. Gizmo is on his way up.”
Man Law Page 20
