by Wendy Byrne
…
Sammie had tried to channel inner peace while she waited. Enrique was really late, and nothing seemed right with her world. Damn it to hell. Since when had she become so dependent on him or any man in her life? This could not be a good development toward her maturation.
She’d called his cell phone at least ten times over the last several hours and each time it went directly into voicemail. That only meant one thing: he had it turned off.
Second-guessing hung on her shoulders, waiting for that gotcha moment. She’d given him the benefit of the doubt, but there was no mistaking the fact that for the first time since she’d known him, he was a no-show. Normally, she couldn’t get rid of him.
Maybe she’d close the place and go look for him. Something might have happened to him. A bike wreck, a robbery and kidnapping. She nearly laughed out loud.
Who was she kidding? It was nearly midnight, and she hadn’t heard a word from him. No doubt he’d found a shiny new toy that struck his fancy—maybe this time a redhead. She sure could pick them.
…
“And I’m telling you, you’ve got it all wrong.” Anger peppered along Enrique’s spine as he endured more and more questions about every moment of his life since Sammie came into it. All while visions of Teresa danced in his head.
“Tell us again how you met her,” the second investigator asked for the umpteenth time.
Before he got a chance to respond, Jared walked into the room. At six foot five, two hundred and thirty pounds, his friend intimidated by size alone. The fact that his reputation as a tough-as-nails narcotics officer preceded him didn’t hurt, either.
Investigator number one glanced up from his notes. “Detective Cross, I didn’t know you were in on this case as well.”
Even for Enrique, Jared was next to impossible to read. “I thought maybe what I’d been working on in Miami might tie in to the mess you have here.” He plunked down his file. “Besides, Enrique’s a college friend of mine and all-around solid agent.”
“What do you know so far?”
“The organization is bigger than we originally estimated, with branches up the East Coast.” He held up his hand to stop any comments. “But nothing of our intel implicates Ms. Murphy.”
“You have heard we found a stash of drugs at her home.”
“I can’t comment on that development, but know from personal experience this is a group that continually reinvents itself to avoid detection. I’ve been following them for a couple of years now. I helped Enrique put together the case against Jack Murphy, so I’m well aware of what’s gone down in the past.”
“Let’s look through the latest intel and see if we can find some cracks, instead of asking me the same questions over and over again,” Enrique said.
They opened Jared’s file and began to search. Enrique wasn’t too surprised when he spotted the same pic Mel had shown him of Sammie with Daniel Gross in Rhode Island. It seemed like a million years ago, when he’d thought she was as guilty as her uncle. Now he didn’t know what in the hell to think.
One by one, Jared passed the pics around the table. None of them looked particularly familiar until he spotted one close to the end of the large file. Something about the way the guy smiled raised the hackles of his neck.
He might be going damn crazy, but he asked the question that was circling his brain anyway. “Jared, can you have this one enlarged?”
Chapter Nineteen
Enrique eyed the enhanced picture and shook his head. “Do you have any other photos of this guy?” Since what he was thinking didn’t make a damn bit of sense, he kept it to himself for the time being.
In his line of work, he studied facial nuances. Many times they alerted him when things were about to go south. And something about the way the guy’s smile was slightly higher on the left than the right gave him a clue.
Was he chasing a pie-in-the-sky solution to his dilemma? Maybe.
Someone knocked on the door, and then Mel entered the room, handing Jared a note. He winced before shaking his head and looking at Enrique. They both looked with pity at Enrique. His heart dropped to his gut. He wasn’t going to like what they had to say.
Enrique figured he should get his request out there before everyone thought he was crazy. “Could somebody do a check on a lawyer by the name of Jonathan Crane? I want to know where he went to law school, names of some of his clients, where he practices.” He leveled a look at his friend, followed by his mentor. “Now tell me what’s in that note.” It felt like déjà vu. Except this time it was his best friend delivering the news. Enrique’s head pounded even while his mind raced. “Somebody spit it out.”
“They found copies of personnel files on you at Sammie’s apartment. The speculation is she had you pegged from the beginning.” Jared’s voice trailed off at the end.
“No way.” Fear traveled the length of his spine, touching at each vertebra along the way. Not again. He couldn’t have been played again. “But why taunt me like that?” He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath.
“Because she knew your history. Don’t you see, she did her homework on you and knew exactly how to play you.” Mel hesitated for a second. “Don’t make this worse by fighting the department in what we have to do. The records they found even had underlined passages, like a script that she was running on you.”
“How did she get them?” Enrique shook his head as he broke out in a cold sweat. Betrayal surged so deep and wounding he wasn’t sure he could breathe.
“I’m sorry, son.”
Jared didn’t say a word as Enrique stood up and began to pace. Something didn’t add up. But with his mind muddled up with a combination of old memories and new, he couldn’t think straight.
This was so much worse than Teresa. He’d walked into this fully and completely aware of what and whom he could potentially be dealing with. He hadn’t been a naive twenty-year-old. And still he’d taken the bait, hook, line, and sinker.
He hit the wall with his fist, as if that would garner some satisfaction. But it didn’t. Sammie’s face swam in his mind until he wanted to rip it out to be free of the memories.
The idea of resignation loomed before him. He’d been with the department for ten years, but since Teresa he’d been on a bad run. There was no way to sugarcoat it. Thinking he could get his career back on track was a pipe dream. He had little doubt that Teresa was laughing her ass off in prison at him.
“I want to bring her in.” Enrique glanced at his friend. “Jared will come with me.”
…
No doubt about it—Sammie’s life was going to hell in a handbasket. She wandered upstairs, kicked a pillow, flopped on the couch, then got up and paced around some more.
For once in her life, she didn’t want to be realistic. She wanted to believe in pixie dust and fairy tales. But she had to be practical.
Right now she needed to buck up and do a little snooping of her own. Her hands shook as she pulled out the scrap of paper she’d found at Tony’s home. She’d tried every digit but one combination. Her fingers shook when she plugged in the number and let it ring.
“This is Enrique. Leave me a message.” Her legs gave out, and she plopped down on the chair. Her worst nightmare had come to fruition. Why would Tony have Enrique’s number if he wasn’t his dealer? Everything about this felt all kinds of wrong. She glanced back at the number and compared it to Enrique’s number she had saved onto her phone. Completely different. He had two different phone numbers. Who did that?
All those little wafts of trouble she’d felt swirling around her from day one started to coalesce in her brain. The bullet wound that he’d tried to pass off as a construction accident, but she knew a bullet wound when she saw it. And that scar on his thigh was definitely a bullet wound. The cobra tattoo. The apartment that had to cost more than anyone with a construction job could afford.
Respectable, honest, fine, upstanding citizens did not have bullet wounds.
With all that going on, s
he was supposed to sleep? Hell, that would be impossible.
Why did she always fall for the guys most likely to end up serving five to ten in the local prison?
Her pity party was interrupted by a knock at the downstairs door. More than likely it was Enrique. But now that she saw through the sexual haze, she realized what an idiot she’d been. Why did she always have to find out things the hard way? He’d lied since day one. Despite evidence to the contrary, she’d still continued to believe in him, because he looked good and smooth talked his way into her pants. And now his betrayal was so obvious it seemed to pulse like a neon sign above his head.
Pulling on a pair of shorts and throwing off her nightgown for a T-shirt, Sammie headed down the stairs.
“Who is it?” She held her hand on the door.
“It’s Jonathan.”
She unhooked the latch then the chain. After turning the handle, she yanked open the door. “What are you doing here at this time of night?” Her heart stuttered. “Did something happen to my uncle?”
“As far as I know, he’s fine. Are you alone?”
Her body relaxed from the adrenaline spike. “Yes.” The last thing she wanted to do was divulge her stupidity to him—or anybody, for that matter.
“I got some information, and I’m afraid you might be in danger.”
“What’s going on?” Nerves hammered Sammie’s skin as she glanced at Jonathan. Normally he was the epitome of laid-back island style. She’d never seen him look so serious.
“I ran that check you asked me to on Enrique. I couldn’t find anything that would fit within his age range—which I’m guessing to be around thirty to thirty-five.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” She couldn’t imagine why he’d have such a serious face. Surely there couldn’t be anything wrong with finding no criminal activity, could there?
“No, that’s not good. For all intents and purposes, he doesn’t exist. That’s not good at all. It means he’s not who he says he is. It means he’s been lying to you since he met you.”
Her heart thudded. She had hoped her suspicions could be explained away somehow. But this final nail on the coffin of her stupidity had her too shocked to respond.
“When I couldn’t find anything, I started searching and found this picture. This was taken when the police raided Cobra’s headquarters in Miami. I’m sure you’ve heard of that drug cartel. Do you think it looks like Enrique?”
The man in question was being led away in handcuffs. His curly hair was wild and unkempt and he sported a couple days’ worth of facial hair. He looked both scary and drugged out. Not like the Enrique she knew. She gulped back the fear clogging her throat.
“It does look like him, but it’s hard to say for sure.” She shook her head and pointed to the picture. “No, I’m positive that’s not him. He doesn’t stand like that. And that look in his eye…” She’d seen a side to him that made her believe dealing wouldn’t be possible.
“Maybe my sources are mistaken…” Jonathan let the words hang in the air, all but insinuating she was crazy. “But I’m afraid after I ran the check, the authorities in Miami got wind of it and want to talk to you about what you know. Have you seen him tonight? Rumor has it they’re planning something big in the next day or so.”
Rather than speak, she shook her head. Chills ran up and down her spine even while she resisted the urge to burst into tears. She’d been through this so many times in the past with other men in her life, she should be used to it by now. But she’d so wanted to believe he was different.
She drew in a breath that was so shaky it seemed to rattle her chest. “When do they want to see me?”
“That’s why I’m here. They want to talk to you immediately.”
Sammie’s heart pounded, and it took every bit of concentration she had to not dissolve into tears. Once again she’d be forced to get involved with the police. And once again she’d have to convince them she had nothing to do with any kind of illegal activity.
“Let’s go.” Jonathan led her to his black sedan that was sitting in back of the building.
She buckled into her seat and tried to relax as he started his car and drove off. As they moved past the buildings and onto the main thoroughfare, she struggled to find her center. It was impossible. She had to conserve energy in order to breathe and stay calm.
“What’s going to happen with Jack now?” If Enrique was involved in drug trafficking…no, she needed to stop thinking like that…when Enrique found himself behind bars, maybe her uncle would be free to tell his story. What a fool she’d been.
She looked over at Jonathan, and he gave her his usual affable smile while he patted her hand. But at the same time warning bells and whistles were going off inside her head. Why hadn’t the police come to get her to bring her in?
“Why didn’t the police come to get me?” Unfortunately, she’d had enough experience with bad boys to know the normal protocol.
He shrugged. “Maybe expediency. But I think it had more to do with them worried about your safety.”
“That’s the thing that bothers me the most. Why not send officers with guns? Why didn’t Detective Sterling come by?” She gave him a shaky smile. “A lawyer isn’t exactly the first person that would come to my mind when somebody’s in need of protection.”
She couldn’t explain it, but she didn’t feel safe. They were off the island of Key West, the expanse of ocean on either side as they rode the Seven Mile Bridge. The ride with nothing but ocean on either side for such a long time made her stomach queasy. Despite the fact she’d taken this same ride earlier in the day on the back of a motorcycle with a man who was accused of being a drug kingpin, now she felt anxious.
“Jonathan, I’d like to talk to Detective Sterling before I go to Miami.”
His smile faltered for the first time. Her gut twisted. Despite being in the middle of the bridge, she clicked open her seat belt and yanked on the door handle. When it wouldn’t open, she pulled up the lock button, but somebody grabbed her hands from behind and yanked them over her head. Seconds later her wrists were bound together with duct tape.
“You still haven’t figured it out?” Jonathan answered, his voice different than the soft-spoken lawyer she’d come to know. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
She thought through her options and came up with a big fat zero. She was powerless, except for her legs, which didn’t do her a damn bit of good in a car in the middle of a long drive across the ocean, especially with her hands bound together.
“Who are you?” She directed her question toward the man behind her seat.
“It was all part of the plan. Then you fucked it up. You and your DEA boyfriend.” The person behind her said, “Why did you fall for him?”
Something clicked inside her head as the validity of his words came full circle. “Enrique?” Her heart felt like it stopped and started. Enrique had gone from master drug dealer to DEA agent in the space of a half an hour. In some ways picturing him as a drug dealer felt more comforting. Knowing he’d deceived her, wormed his way into her life, into her heart, to get the goods on her uncle, or whatever ulterior motive he had, cut her to the deep. “Who are you?”
“A friend of the family, so to speak. Sweet cheeks.” A shiver raced down her spine. The phone calls. The threats. Why hadn’t she caught on sooner? Because she was too wrapped up in a deceptive undercover agent.
“Did you set my uncle up?” Despite struggling to make sense of anything going on in her head, she needed to satisfy her own curiosity. Besides, focusing on Jack helped her forget about Enrique’s betrayal.
His laugh grated on her last nerve. “He owed money to the wrong people, and they asked me to get involved. He wasn’t buying what I was selling, if you know what I mean, but it fit in perfectly with our plan, so it’s all good.”
Sammie sucked in her breath as realization squeezed her heart, making her short of breath and she turned her attention to Jonathan. “Everybody’s going to know you aren’t a l
awyer when you disappear.”
“Haven’t you heard? I recused myself from your uncle’s case this morning. Family emergency required my extended presence out of town. Not that he’s going to need me since he won’t be around much longer. Isn’t that right, Scott?” He turned to look at the man in the backseat. “Within the next ten minutes. Good old Jack won’t know he walked into a trap until it’s too late.”
“I tried to warn you off. First with Tony, then with Chloe, but you wouldn’t listen. I’m afraid you’ve come to the end of your usefulness, sweet cheeks.” Scott spoke from the backseat, confirming he was the voice behind the phone calls. How could she have been so naive?
“Call it off. Whatever you have planned for my uncle. I’ll do whatever you want.” She closed her eyes and tried in vain to steady her out-of-control pulse. They were going to hurt Jack, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. “Why Jack?”
“Revenge. But you’ll have your boyfriend, the DEA agent, to thank for that.” The man in the backseat spoke again, bringing his name front and center to her awareness.
Why hadn’t Enrique told her? She could get past his mistrust in the beginning, but why had he kept the charade up for so long? He’d had sex with her. Wasn’t that some kind of ethical boundary he’d crossed? Words couldn’t spill from her lips.
Scott laughed. “How does it feel to know he was screwing you over in more ways than one?”
“Now Enrique the big-shot DEA agent has hooked up with his friend from Miami, and things are about to go down. And you’re our insurance things go according to plan,” Jonathan added. “Especially after the poignant little note I left for him to find.”
Chapter Twenty
Enrique banged on the back door of the bar. “She’s not answering.” He threw his shoulder against the door several times without breaking the new lock. Jared joined in and together they rammed the door open. “Where the fuck is she?”
