She felt the same way. “Ditto, Vincent. I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to live with.”
“We’ve managed so far,” he pointed out. Then his lips twitched and he snickered. “Of course, your mouth was wired shut for most of that so…”
Twisting, she smacked his arm lightly with her good right hand, tried hard not to laugh, and failed miserably as a chuckle escaped. “You asshole.”
With a grin her way, he winked. “It’s true.”
“So you’re saying we’ll only survive as a couple with my mouth wired shut?” Ro was poking at him, she knew it, but she also wanted to hear his answer.
“Not at all, I can think of a number of other things to keep your mouth otherwise occupied.”
It took her a second. It shouldn’t have, but it did. She felt her eyes go wide before she smacked his arm again, harder. “You sexist pig!”
He was laughing hard now, leaning away from her slightly as she smacked his arm once more. Bugger was nearly out of reach of her right hand but no way was she going to deck him with her left, casted hand. “I’m kidding, Ro. Damn it, stop hitting the driver.”
Glaring at him, she let out a huff and settled back on her side of the truck.
Once he calmed, he reached for her left hand. He stroked her fingers sticking out of the cast lightly. “I like talking to you, Rhonda. Never, ever doubt that. I don’t even care what you say, as long as you always talk to me. Don’t assume, don’t guess, don’t fret. Just ask the questions and we’ll work through it as a team.”
With a sigh, she put her good hand on top of his and nodded. “I expect the same from you, Vincent Bradley. No secrets between us, ever. Uh, unless it’s the job and then we can keep them as long as necessary for security reasons.” She had to add that in, because they both had jobs that occasionally they just could not talk about.
“Deal.” Flipping his hand over he caught her good one and shook.
Chapter Twelve
After arriving at the safe house to find Shawn, and his wife Tamara, waiting for them at four in the morning, Vincent and Ro had been busy. First in greetings, catching Tamara up on all that Shawn hadn’t filled her in. After that had been rounds of questions. Then a few tears between the women. Somewhere in there he’d even gotten Rhonda to eat something.
Once they’d settled in a bit, Vincent did an inspection of the house. If he and Ro were staying there, specifically Rhonda, he wanted to ensure that it was beyond fucking secure. It met with his high standards, likely why Shawn had picked it. It had a big yard, high fence, no trees at the fence line, security lights that tripped at anything, an over the top security system, and a stash of weapons that could start a small war.
While they waited for Trent to arrive with the boxes of folders, Vincent got some food into Ro and then made her lay down. She’d slept fitfully on the drive, but he could see the exhaustion weighing on her. He tried to get her to a bed, but she knew he’d leave her there if he could—smart woman—so they settled on the sofa near the front door to wait.
At just after seven a knock came. Ro jerked awake, and looked around in a daze. “Son of a bitch, that hurts.” Letting out a moan she pressed a hand to her ribcage.
“Shh,” Vincent whispered. “It’s just Trent with the files.” Gently as he could, he eased her head back down onto his chest, and stroked her hair.
“We should get up,” she said, her voice husky from sleep.
“We’ll let Trent and Shawn bring everything in first. It’ll give you a moment to wake up,” he said. It would also give him a few more minutes to hold her in his arms.
Tamara hadn’t been all that surprised when Ro told her that Vincent got Rhonda to agree to date. With a shared look between them, Vincent had seen that the woman knew it was more than that, yet was willing to keep her mouth closed. Why exactly she was willing to keep her mouth shut he didn’t know, but he was good with it. Ro wasn’t ready to think beyond dating, not when she had it in her head that she’d fucked up the last relationship.
Rhonda let out a little sigh, rubbing her cheek to his chest as she wiggled in closer. Smiling, he stilled his hand on her hair. “What are you doing?”
“You’re so warm, and I love the way you smell, but you are really not all that comfortable, Vincent. A little too hard to sleep on.”
Snorting out a laugh, he rolled his eyes. “Are you telling me I need to be a little flabbier so you could be comfortable?”
“Well, no.” Lifting her head she poked a finger into his stomach. “I like the fact you’re hard all over, very nice definition too. I’m just saying that you really are not made to be a pillow.”
“So you are complaining, just not about my physique.”
“Right, see, you get it.”
Yeah, not so much. “Sure, so you won’t be sleeping with me? Is that what you’re saying?” He wanted some clarity here.
Rhonda moved to sit up, ended up straddling his thighs with a little huffing and puffing, her good hand on his chest for balance. “I didn’t say that.” She was glaring down at him. “I just said you’re not built in a pillowy fashion for long term sleep. As to sleeping with you...” Her lips curled up into a huge grin.
“What?”
“I hope we’ll be doing something more than just sleeping, Vincent. I definitely want to sleep with you, but I’d also like to sleep with you if you get my drift.”
“I don’t know, I think you should clarify, Ro.” Now he was messing with her. The look on her face told him she was onto his little game.
With a quick look over her shoulder, Rhonda leaned in, bracing against him as she did so. “I’m saying, for clarities sake, that I want to have you fuck me hard, fast, and dirty, Vincent Bradley. I want you to love me slow, make me insane, screw me every which way, until I pass out in a sweaty heap in a bed with you to recover. Clear enough for you?”
“Yep,” he croaked out. He didn’t think he could get anything else out, not with how all his blood had shifted south fast enough to give him whiplash.
“Good.” With a smile she pressed a kiss to his lips, and slid off the sofa.
Watching her walk toward where everyone else stood chatting, he could only shake his head. She was going to be the death of him. That much he was absolutely sure of. Easing to his feet he had to grin. At least it would be one hell of an amazing ride to get there.
*****
Six hours, seemingly endless files, too much coffee, and every crumb of food that Trent’s fiancée Mallory had sent later, they were waiting on Ro as she looked through the files they’d filtered down. Vincent hadn’t let her do much of anything beyond give them a description. She hadn’t been allowed to touch one, single file. Which had pissed her off.
But she was still so easily exhausted, and he had some plans for her later. She had ten folders to go through to try and identify the guy she’d seen in the warehouse with Moreau. Vincent watched as she set another one aside. She only had three left to go. God, he hoped the bastard was in one of the folders.
In the next instant, he knew she’d found him. She didn’t say anything, but he knew her moods. Moving to stand behind her Vincent put a hand on her neck and squeezed. “Ro?” he asked softly.
“It’s him,” she whispered.
Leaning over her shoulder, he looked at the picture attached to the folder. “Yancy Barrows, forty-three, divorced twice and a two time loser on his third strike,” he read out loud. “You sure, babe?”
With a jerky nod, she looked at him. “I’m sure. It’s him, Vincent. This is the guy Moreau was talking to in the warehouse. We busted him, his second time, on a sting for illegal weapons. He was the broker on the deal meeting with one of our under cover’s. He wouldn’t have known I was a cop, but I was the under cover’s arm candy at the exchange. Sitting back, doing my nails and trying not to get anything on my shoes. I would have been dressed to the nine’s, but I wasn’t wearing a wig, it was too fucking hot. So if Yancy got even the smallest look at me, he likely had an
‘I know her’ moment at that warehouse.”
“Fucking hell,” he muttered. Slipping his arm around her shoulders, he hugged her, rubbing his cheek to hers lightly. “Shawn, we need to find Barrows, yesterday. We need to know if he actually was the one to ID Ro. If he did, I want to know what the little shit said.”
With a nod Shawn plucked the folder from Rhonda’s limp hold, got up, and left the kitchen with his phone to his ear.
Gently, Vincent tugged Ro up from the chair and into his arms. “If we can figure out why he was with Moreau, you may have just found a way to nail him, Ro.” She was shaking like a leaf in his arms, he didn’t like it at all. Until he drew back a little to see her face, she was furious, not scared.
“I know.” Her arms tightened around his waist to pull him back in. “I know you won’t like this, but I need to be there when you guys question Yancy. Please?”
Squeezing his eyes shut he went through a list of curses in his head. He knew how hard that “please” was for her to add on, so there was only one answer he could give. “Okay.”
She jolted, leaning back to look up at him. “What?” she asked in a stunned voice.
“I said okay, Ro. I know you need closure on this. Yancy is a part of that. I don’t like it one little bit, but I’m not going to argue. If he sees you, he might just spill his guts faster. I want you to do one thing for me though.”
“Okay, what?”
“Stay out of his reach. He’ll be desperate, and as much as you’ve already recovered, you’re not at the top of your game yet. So stay back, well out of his reach. I want him to see you, but I don’t want him to get his hands on you.”
She stared up at him, a suspicious look on her face, but quickly nodded. “Deal.”
Pressing a kiss to her lips, he tucked her head back under his chin.
Chapter Thirteen
It hadn’t taken all that long to round up Yancy Barrows, dirt bag. Shawn apparently found him playing darts at a pub not that far from the place Moreau nearly killed her at. Now they had Barrows in a room deep inside of one of the empty warehouses Shawn owned. It was actually under construction, but the new tenants wouldn’t be there anytime soon, or the contractor, given it was the weekend.
Rhonda was holding onto Vincent. She needed to or she’d likely kill Yancy-fucking-Barrows. Vincent didn’t seem to mind one bit. He held onto her just as tightly. Poor guy likely thought she was going to go for Yancy’s throat. Not that far off given how pissed she was.
Shawn was there, gun pointed at Yancy’s forehead while Trent secured him to the chair. There were a couple of the C&M Security bodyguards there too. She didn’t remember their names though she’d met them on multiple occasions. She was a little more focused on the man who was the reason behind her beat down.
Trent tugged on the ties holding Yancy and nodded to Shawn. Only then did Shawn step back and put his weapon away.
“Who the hell are you?” Yancy demanded. He couldn’t see the men, not with the way they’d set up lights, and with the bandana’s over their faces.
“Who we are doesn’t really matter, Mr. Barrows. The bigger question you should be asking is, are you going to get out of this alive or not,” Shawn said.
That sent Yancy into a frenzy, fighting the bonds and generally tiring himself out. No one said anything until the man had slumped into an exhausted heap in the chair, only the loud sound of his panting filling the space around them.
“If you’re quite done, Mr. Barrows,” Shawn said. “We have someone here who’d like to say hello. What happens to you after depends on how forthcoming you are about Moreau and his operations, and whatever you might be helping him with.”
“I don’t know a Moreau,” Yancy protested.
Looking to Vincent, Rhonda got a nod so she let go and stepped forward, staying well out of the pool of light. Only when Shawn waved her forward did she step into the edges of the light, then one more step. Everyone had been very clear how close she could get to Yancy, and set everything up accordingly. While it grated on her nerves, she wasn’t a complete idiot either.
Yancy’s eyes went wide, practically bulging from his head as he wheezed in a breath. “You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Yeah, well, the rumors of my untimely demise have been greatly exaggerated. What did you tell Moreau, Yancy?”
“I didn’t tell him anything, I swear it.”
“Bullshit,” she said. “You told him something and because of that, he beat me up for hours. So, you tell me what you told him, or I let one of these really large men give you the same treatment.” She held up her cast. “Trust me. You really don’t want that.”
“I didn’t say anything to him,” Yancy said again.
Sighing, Rhonda waved in one of the guys. He checked the kerchief over his face meant to hide his identity before stepping into Yancy’s field of vision. In the event Yancy got out of there, they didn’t need him able to identify anyone else.
“You only bring this upon yourself, Yancy. His hand first, if you would,” she requested.
“No, no!” Yancy squealed as he curled his fingers into a fist.
Shawn’s guy pried Yancy’s fingers straight again, and rested the hammer on the back of his hand. Then he hefted it a couple of times, judging it. All the while Yancy screamed. As Shawn’s man lifted the hammer high, Yancy finally said something that had Rhonda holding up a hand to halt the man’s down swing.
“Say that again, Yancy,” she demanded.
“Don’t let him break my hand, don’t let him,” he whimpered.
“I won’t, if you tell me the fucking truth. If you bullshit me, I’ll have him break more than your hand. So talk!”
“He asked me what was wrong when I saw you. I told him I thought I knew you from somewhere. He asked where. I told him flat up I couldn’t be sure, but I thought you’d been dating someone I used to deal with. The look was different, but maybe it was a doppelganger. That’s it, I swear it.”
“What else, you had to have told him something else, Yancy,” she said. No way would Moreau have grabbed her, beaten her, for that alone.
“I may have told him that we were busted that night, that it was my second strike. I may have told him I didn’t remember seeing you in holding before we were booked.”
“Son of a bitch,” Shawn muttered. “That’s why Moreau grabbed you.”
Because he’d been sure she was either an informant, or a cop or Fed. Shit.
Turning, Rhonda walked over to Vincent and into his arms. She let out a breath when he wrapped his strong arms around her, holding her close.
“What are you working with Moreau on?” Shawn asked Yancy.
“Aw, man, I can’t tell you that.”
“Break his hand,” Shawn ordered.
“No!” Yancy screamed.
“Then fucking tell us what the hell you’re doing for Moreau,” Shawn demanded loudly.
“He’ll kill me man, he’ll fucking kill me,” Yancy whined.
“I won’t, but I will ensure that Moreau knows you told us everything, even if you don’t.”
“Fine,” Yancy grumbled. “He brought me in because of my connections in Colombia. I made some friends on my last stint inside. My roommate was the cousin of a guy I worked with in the past. The guy knew I’d kept his cousin’s name on the down low so he didn’t end up busted. I got sent up for a couple years, but I never sold him out. Apparently, to the family that was huge. Moreau wants to purchase from them, has a shipment coming in tomorrow night, a test run to see how his guys handle the merchandise.”
“What’s he bringing in?” Shawn asked.
“This run’s a shipment of heroin, just a couple dozen kilos. Like I said, it’s a test run. He wants to see if his men have actually got the network up and running before he risks bringing in more. If this run goes well, he’ll be bringing in a shipment in another two weeks.”
“How much will he be bringing on the second one?” Vincent asked this question.
“He
was talking in the range of about a thousand kilos. He wants to ensure he has stock for the demand he’s thinking he’ll have. Then he plans on bringing more up every month or so depending on how sales go.”
Shawn grunted at that. “Come on, you two,” he said under his breath.
With an arm still around Vincent, Rhonda walked with him to where Shawn was near an outer door. “Well, this is a shit show,” Vincent said, keeping his voice low.
“To say the least. We can nail Moreau on this shipment, but only if he takes possession personally,” Rhonda said. “If it’s one of his guys, then we get nothing on Moreau and he cuts ties with the Columbians which means we can’t use any of Yancy’s information. I need to talk to my captain about this. We have to bring him into the loop, and we have to get Yancy’s statement too, so we can use the information officially.”
“Well, fuck,” Shawn grumbled. He was glaring at her, but she knew it wasn’t meant for her. He was just as frustrated as they all were trying to figure out how to nail Moreau down. “I hate to say this, especially since I like you, kid, but I think we need to use you for bait.”
“Did you just call me kid?”
Shawn shrugged. “Maybe. Anyway, we have your testimony about what Moreau said in that basement, but no other witnesses. Vincent can corroborate your story, since he got you out of there, but that then implicates him in the death of the goon, not that the body will ever show up. I’m sure Moreau’s already ensured he’s well off the radar, not needing a dead guy tied to him.”
“Okay, so how do we go about this? Using me as bait, I mean?” she asked.
Vincent hadn’t said a word. He didn’t need to. She could feel the tension in his muscles.
“We have Adam call up Moreau, tell him he has you stashed, and sets a meet. We control the meeting place because Adam will be twitchy with all the extra activity from the cops. They’ve been out in full force of late, so it’s not a lie, and Moreau knows it. We have you in place, tied up, maybe made up to look like Adam had to rough you up a bit to get you where you are. Moreau shows up, likely with his goons, gives the order to get something out of you and we nail him.”
Dangerous Lines Page 7
