He would not have found her. She would not be here. Maybe she would have simply disappeared.
What she hadn’t counted on was how glad she was to be with him, to see him. She was too aware of his presence, close enough to feel the heat from his body.
The connection was still there. Even when she’d had her doubts, it had been there in her, an intense physical awareness, but something even stronger. Something she’d fought. Was that why she hadn’t let herself believe, even for the smallest second, that he could be part of a conspiracy?
She resisted the tangible impulse to reach out and touch him. His body’s stiffness, the chill in his eyes warned her away.
He broke off the eye contact. “Have you been using your cell phone?” he asked.
“I have a throwaway phone,” she admitted.
He shook his head. “Let me have it.”
She was committed now. She handed it to him.
He punched in several numbers. “Carl,” she heard him say. “I need a favor. A car drop and a credit card.”
He listened for a moment, then said, “Where?”
Another pause, then, “Okay. Two hours.”
He turned the phone off and handed it to her. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“You think they can find us?”
“They’re resourceful,” he said. “If it’s true they have a mole in the bureau, they know I could be with you. I’ll be getting some cell phone messages. Who calls and with what urgency may tell us something. Pack what you have. They’ve probably checked your credit cards. Now they’ll be checking motels for a woman who paid cash.”
“I have a prepaid credit card I’ve used since arriving.”
“Should have known,” he muttered more to himself than to her.
“Where are we going?”
“To long-term airport parking. Exchange a license plate.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” she said, stunned by the pronouncement.
“They’ll get it back. We’re merely borrowing.”
But he would be doing far more than that, and she knew it. He was jeopardizing his career. Who he was.
For her.
For someone who hadn’t trusted him. Lead settled in her stomach. She glanced at him. His jaw was set and his lips thinned. The silence was deafening.
Robin settled back into the passenger’s seat. Now, she sensed, was not the time to ask more. It was enough he was with her.
Two hours later they drove to a well-known restaurant.
The car sported the new license plate, taken from a car at the back of the airport lot. It had taken Ben about one minute to change the two. She acted as lookout. He wondered whether it was the first time she had purposely committed a crime.
Before going into the restaurant, he checked his cell phone. Five calls. Two from Mahoney—one from the office and one from his private cell phone. Two from Holland. The fifth was not a number he recognized.
He couldn’t call Mahoney. This was a career breaker, and Ben knew it. He could find work in private security. He wasn’t worried about that. He was worried about keeping up payments for Dani’s treatment.
By God, he wanted Hydra. And he damn well didn’t want anything to happen to Robin Stuart.
They went inside, Ben holding the door open for her. He requested a table for three with as much privacy as possible and they were escorted to a table in back. He took a seat where he could see the entrance, glanced quickly at the menu, and put it on the table.
She made her selection just as quickly and placed the menu on his.
“Did you discover anything in Brunswick?” he said.
She didn’t hesitate this time. “The name of the boat. The marina where it was moored. The fact that the marina was covering for whoever leased the slip.”
He waited.
“I’m pretty sure the name of the boat is the Phantom.”
“Registered where?”
“I don’t know. I just discovered where it had been moored when those thugs showed up. I don’t know where it is registered or who owns it. It apparently left yesterday.”
He didn’t like that. Obviously someone was right behind her. Or ahead.
“What do you know about the boat?” he asked.
“That members of the sheriff’s department were treated to fishing trips several times a year. Part of a grand plan, I think.”
“What grand plan?”
“Systematic conditioning to corrupt them. Small stuff at first. An extra twenty dollars for tipping off a gambler or bootlegger about a raid, the protection of certain people in the county against DUI and gaming charges. Then the corruption grows until they’re so deeply involved they can’t go to the authorities. The fishing trips add to the peer pressure.”
“And who’s the main person involved? The sheriff?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He must know about the petty stuff. I’m not sure he knows about the murders.”
“Why give him a pass?” he asked harshly.
“Because of the way … some deputies talk about him. There’s not the anger toward him as there is about—” She stopped suddenly.
“You’re not going to tell me who your source is,” he said wearily.
“I can’t,” she said.
“Do you know how quickly we might be able to wrap this up if I know?” he snapped.
“What would you do with the information?” she argued. “What if there is an inside person at the FBI? My source … his family could die.”
“I have people I can go to.”
“I can’t depend on that.”
The door of the restaurant opened, and Carl Andrews walked in. Carl had been at Quantico with him and Dani, had even competed with Ben for Dani. They hadn’t been friends, but two years ago when Ben had been sent to Brunswick on a joint task force with the DEA, Ben had saved Carl’s life, although the latter’s arm had been shattered. He’d left the FBI on a disability and started a private high-tech protection firm.
He’d told Ben then that if he ever needed a favor …
Ben had never intended on taking him up on it. He didn’t owe anyone and didn’t want anyone to owe him. But then, he’d been breaking a lot of rules lately.
Carl slid into the booth next to Robin. He nodded to her as Ben introduced her as Mary Murphy, then turned his attention to Ben.
“How’s Dani?” Carl asked.
“In rehab again.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“So am I,” Ben said.
“What’s going down?”
“I need a car picked up, buried for a few days. Some people might be watching.”
“Is it hot?”
Ben glanced at Robin.
She shook her head. “No. The owner is a friend of mine. He loaned it to me.”
“You said you needed a credit card,” Carl said. “You can have one of mine.”
“I’ll repay all the charges,” Ben said.
“You in trouble with the bureau?” Carl asked.
“If I’m not now, I will be. Does that change anything?”
“Not with me. The bastards pushed me out.”
Carl took the keys to the car and written directions to the marina.
“I’ll be in touch,” Ben said.
“Please do,” Carl said dryly, then he rose and left without ordering.
“Who was that?” Robin asked. “He didn’t sound like a friend.”
“He’s not. But he thought he owed me.”
“You didn’t like collecting,” she observed.
“No.”
“Who’s Dani?”
For a moment, he almost told her it was none of her business. But seeing Carl had brought back memories. And not good ones.
“My wife,” he said curtly.
chapter twenty-eight
“Your wife?”
“My ex-wife.” He emphasized the ex. “And the subject isn’t open to discussion.”
She wanted to open it.
&nb
sp; Had he made a Freudian slip when he said wife instead of ex-wife?
Why should she care? He’d shown disdain for her occupation, her decisions. He was here now because he wanted to know what she knew.
“Sorry,” she said coolly. “I didn’t mean to go somewhere sacred.”
“It’s not sacred. It’s just no one’s business but mine.”
Robin wasn’t hungry after the conversation, but Ben, as always, was. He ordered a steak sandwich and shoveled it down while she picked at a salad. Twenty minutes later, they went to the car and got inside. It was hot, having sat in the coastal sun, but Robin needed it to heat the chill in her bones.
Ben had completely shut her out with his comment about his ex-wife. He had become unreachable in that moment.
Rehab?
He’d said nothing about his wife in the short time she’d known him. But though it had been short, it had been a lifetime in some ways. He’d been there every time she’d needed him.
And then she’d turned that against him.
No wonder he was so angry. And he was that. There had been no recriminations. No second-guessing, but he was freezing her out.
She wanted the warmth back, that feeling of belonging they’d shared the night he’d brought her home from the Meredith County hospital and he’d massaged her leg.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have trusted you.”
He started the car. “No particular reason you should.”
He was wrong. There were lots of reasons she should have trusted him. “Why are you helping me?”
“I want these guys as much as you do,” he said. “And if you’re right about a mole in the FBI, I want to know who it is.”
She watched him as he drove. “We should return to the marina.”
“Why?”
“I think the attendant knows something. The registration would be there. So is whoever paid the rent in the slip. It’s all we have.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now,” he said.
“Then what?”
“I’m going to find out who owns the marina. Start at the top.”
She stared at him. “How did you happen to be at that particular marina?”
“I figured that’s where you would go. I’d already checked out several.”
She suspected that wasn’t the complete truth. “No other reason?”
He ignored her question. “You said the attendant at the marina knew something. Why?”
“He denied knowing anything about the Phantom but some people on a boat said it had been there for a while, and that the attendant really paid a lot of attention to the captain.”
A muscle throbbed in his cheek. “I might have led them to you.”
“How?”
“I left the deputy’s widow’s house and went directly to the airport. We were careful. But someone could have found out. I bought the ticket in my name. I didn’t have time to do anything else.”
“Could they still be following you?”
“I don’t think so, but I’m not underestimating them. Not again.”
A chill ran through her, and it had nothing to do with the air-conditioning. “Will your friend be okay?”
“Carl? He’s really quite competent. He’ll be all right.”
“I don’t want any one else hurt.”
“It’s a little late for second-guessing.”
“I’m not second-guessing. You have some leads now you wouldn’t have had before.”
“I would have gotten to them.”
“You’re infallible, and I’m an idiot. Is that it?”
“No, that’s not it. You’re definitely not an idiot. That’s the damn problem. But you are an amateur. And you’re alone. You have no resources.”
“I have you,” she defended herself.
“Not something to brag about,” he said.
“Where do we go now?”
“A library,” he said. “We can use their computers. No way to trace us.”
“You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I’m safe now. You can go back. No one saw you. No one would be the wiser.”
“And what would you do?”
“I want to protect my sisters and Mrs. Jeffers and the man who trusted me.”
“That means you would continue.”
She knew her silence answered him.
She also knew that he was driving toward Savannah. She loved Savannah, almost as much as she loved the Golden Isles. But he was taking her away from where she hoped answers would be.
Still, one look at his face, and she decided not to protest.
“Tell me everything that happened at the marina,” he said. “Your impressions. Trust your instincts.”
“The attendant gave me the creeps. I told him I was a travel writer and at first he seemed very receptive. Then I asked him about a boat named the Phantom, said a friend of mine told me what a great time he had fishing on it, and that gave me the idea for a story on marinas on the Southeast coast.
“He shook his head as if he didn’t know anything about it, but some people said the boat had been moored just a few slips down, and had been for a long time. Said the crew seemed to keep to themselves.
“I started back to the office. This time it was locked. That’s when someone approached me with a gun. The attendant must have called.”
“What else did those people tell you?”
“That the captain’s name was Stefan, last name maybe Fisher, that he was foreign, and that the crew was arrogant. Seemed to think they got special privileges from the marina management. That’s all they knew.”
“Interesting,” he said.
She suddenly realized he knew something about that marina. It was simply too convenient that he “just happened by” at the right time.
“You know something about that marina? You weren’t there entirely by accident.”
His lips crooked into a tight smile. “I’m beginning to understand why you’re a good reporter.”
She waited for him to go on.
“I was here three years ago on a task force with the DEA. A cartel was running drugs into Brunswick. Used both steamers and smaller craft. Brunswick was perfect for their purposes. Access to the Intracoastal Waterway but away from the larger shipping channels. Not a big port, it wasn’t monitored that closely.”
“What happened?”
“We caught a shipment coming in on a small freighter delivering cars. We confiscated the ship, arrested some bit players, plus the connection in Brunswick, but we never got the money guys. The perps wouldn’t talk, not even to get a lighter sentence. It was obvious they were more afraid of the cartel than a long prison term.”
“And the marina?” she asked.
“We heard some smaller shipments of coke were coming into that marina but we could never prove it. Some thought it was just a decoy to keep our attention off the small freighters that used the port. The DEA continued to monitor it for a while but their agents never came up with anything, and the investigation was dropped. Prematurely, I thought.”
“Three years ago,” she mused aloud. “That’s when my source said the boat trips started. Could they have shifted operations up to the Atlanta area?”
“Makes sense. Their market was the Southeast. The DEA and the Coast Guard heightened their surveillance of ports on the southeast coast. The local police are really working at intercepting shipments traveling on the interstates. Private planes flying within the country are a natural.”
“And Meredith has private airstrips.”
“Several of them.”
A surge of excitement flowed through her. “You think all this is connected?”
“I don’t think anything at this point. I just remembered the suspicions about that marina and decided to wait there for you this morning. I figured you would show up, if you hadn’t already. It was my best chance.”
“Do you think the same people own the marina today that owned it three years ago?”
“N
ot on paper,” he said. “We made several visits, went through their books.”
“Won’t they be looking for whoever picks up my car, then? Isn’t Carl in danger?”
“He’s a pro. Plus he knows the picture as well as I do. He was almost killed in that drug bust. He’ll have someone else pick it up, make sure the car is clean and that he’s not followed. It’s what he does, Robin. He trains executives here and abroad to take precautions against kidnapping. He knows every trick in the book and then some.”
“Did you suspect your case three years ago might be connected with Meredith County?” she asked.
“Maybe I should have, but I didn’t. My boss suspected that Hydra and a money-laundering operation might be connected but it wasn’t until I saw a picture of that boat jammed in your printer that the pieces started coming together. When the widow I saw yesterday, Amy Boatright, confirmed it was Brunswick, I thought it was a heck of a coincidence. After your reception at the marina, I’m sure they’re related.”
The story danced in her head. She could see the headlines in 48-point boldface letters. INTERNATIONAL DRUG RING BUSTED. Even more important, her family would be safe. And Sandy.
“You don’t need my source any longer,” she said. “You know where to look now. You can go—” She stopped suddenly.
“Go where?” he said. “If you’re right, and there is someone in the FBI involved, then you and I are dead. You and that photo are the only link. I assume that whoever gave you that photo can in some way be traced back from it.” He steered the car off the interstate and stopped at a traffic light.
“There has to be someone you trust.”
“You weren’t listening just now,” he said.
She went back over the conversation, then remembered one important word. Prematurely. The investigation ended prematurely. Only someone very high up could cut short an investigation.
She saw a sign for Savannah, and he took the exit. So now she knew for sure where they were going. She wasn’t sure why yet.
She leaned back against the door and watched him. For the moment, they were no longer adversaries. But neither were they entirely united in common cause. Tension stretched between them like strung wire. She hadn’t trusted him, and now he didn’t trust her. He might never again.
Tempting the Devil Page 30
