by Desiree Holt
Cassie shook her head. “What an idiot I was.”
The SEAL looked at her. “Not at all. He fooled everyone, even people who had known him for years. They are high-class operators who have conned more people than you can imagine. You did the right thing in running as fast as you could. And don’t feel bad about getting mixed up with one of them.”
“So, what did your cousin tell you that sent you up here at the ass crack of dawn?” Sam asked. “Something that has to do with this area, right?”
Scooter nodded. “It seems heroin and cocaine are losing their place as the primo drugs of choice. New stars are Fentanyl and oxycontin. And here’s the kicker. There are cartel-controlled labs in Canada making knockoffs of these drugs. Those can give you an incredible high if they don’t kill you. It’s their newest merchandise, and they are flooding all the markets. The merchandise comes into this country and then is parceled out to the dealers. Certainly in the States. Maybe even worldwide.”
Cassie got a sick feeling in her stomach. She knew exactly how much damage these drugs could do. In Boston, she’d seen firsthand what happened when her patients resorted to them. It was bad enough when they were able to obtain them through legitimate prescriptions. When they resorted to street versions? Uh uh. Bad news because they were courting death.
“Where in Canada?” Cassie asked. The more she heard, the sicker she got.
Scooter cleared his throat. “A couple of the labs are in Western Canada and then there’s a big one in Halifax, Nova Scotia.
“How are they bringing these drugs into this country?” she asked. “What kind of border crossings are they using? What is their plan? Are you here because the route is through Maine? Maybe over the border in the less inhabited places?”
Cassie saw the look Sam and Scoter exchanged. How much information had they shared in the short time she was getting dressed?
“I guess since I’m here on behalf of the DEA it’s okay to confirm that they know the route that’s being used.” He paused. “And it’s not overland.”
“Water,” Sam said. “It would just make sense.”
Scooter nodded. “It’s the only choice for this operation. First of all, it’s a double delivery. Patrick’s people receive the Fentanyl and oxy and hand off large quantities of meth and cocaine they picked up from Mexico.”
“So they get paid from both sides,” Sam confirmed.
Scooter nodded. “The DEA got a tip and has actually had someone up here for the past week scoping out the situation. And the reason I’m up here, kind of an advance guard for my cousin, is because they’re actually using lobster boats to do this. They come down in them from Halifax and cross the border in the Gulf of Maine. They drop the drugs in the traps as if they’re baiting them, and at the same time retrieve their shipments waiting there for them. Then a boat from here heads out to do the same thing. Pretty foolproof.”
“And you’re here because?” Sam asked.
“Well, in return for my cousin getting a buddy to fly me up here,” Scooter told them, “I said I would sniff everything out and get a report to him. Scooter nodded. “They’ve been having trouble pinpointing who the carrier could be. They’ve checked out Benny, the old man who owns that ancient boat you told me about who has such an oddball schedule. They sent an agent up here to dig around for information and, combined with what you said, they believe he’s the courier.”
“Benny.” Cassie looked at Sam. “Yeah, that could be a logical choice. Everything he does is out of the norm. I asked Margie and Bruce about him. Bruce said he’s always been weird, keeping irregular hours, and people just kind of accept him as he is. That he’s kept crazy hours like that for years, not like the regular lobstermen. Bruce also told me the last couple of years the Coast Guard and the Marine Patrol started checking on him periodically, but he’s a cagey old bastard. Almost seems to smell them coming. Just tells people he likes to trap when he feels like and to leave him alone.”
“The DEA agent has been doing his best to blend in and scope him out. Nights he—”
“Do you happen to know if he’s driving an Escalade?” Cassie interrupted. “A black one? The agent, I mean.”
Scooter nodded. “He is. Why do you ask?”
She sighed with relief. “I thought maybe Patrick had found me and sent someone up to check me out and maybe figure out a way to grab me.”
“Then I’m happy to tell you that’s not the case,” Scooter told her.
“Thank the lord for that.”
“What did he find out about Benny?” Sam prompted. “Aside from the odd hours he’s out on the water, I mean.”
“I’m sure Sam told you the two of us noticed his oddball schedule even before we met,” Cassie told him. “I kept thinking something was off, but drugs only marginally passed through my mind.
“The agent learned that nights Benny usually hangs out at a dive bar here in Castile, so the agent has been shadowing him, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Benny’s telling people he’s expecting a big payday this week.”
“This week?” Sam rubbed his jaw. “No wonder he asked you to come up here now.”
“Right. I have no connection to the DEA, as far as people know. By now, at least from what you tell me, people are used to seeing the two of you together. That means my hanging with you as a friend who is visiting won’t raise any eyebrows. But the delivery date is any time now, and my cousin asked me to help check things out. I’m hoping you’ll be able to get on board with me.”
“As soon as you mentioned what you were looking for,” Sam added, “he was the first person who came to mind.”
“And I never would have thought of that,” Cassie interjected, “except I’m so terrified Patrick will track me here, and this would give him a good opportunity.” She looked at Scooter. “He wouldn’t get involved in this part of the operation, would he Patrick, I mean.”
“Is Cassie right about that?” Sam asked. “I mean, he pulls the strings from his expensive office digs, right? Cassie has nothing to worry about?”
Scooter looked at Sam and back at her.
“What?” Cassie frowned. “What’s going on?”
“My cousin doesn’t believe in strange coincidences. He thought it weird that I was asking questions about Patrick Shore at the very moment he’s ramping up a new operation taking place right here in this part of Maine. But here’s the bad part. According to what he told me, they have reliable information that Shore plans to supervise this pickup himself.”
“Oh, my god!” Cassie felt every drop of blood drain from her head, and had to keep herself from passing out. “Tell me you’re joking.”
Scooter shook his head. “I wish.”
Sam stared at his friend. “He’s coming here? To pick up a delivery on a lobster boat? What the fuck for? Isn’t he afraid he’ll get his clothes dirty? I would think this is what he pays people for.”
“Ah!” Scooter drained his coffee mug. “A good question. My cousin says his sources tell him this is one of the biggest shipments of Fentanyl and oxy to cross the border. He’s got a tiny sum of cash tied up in it, so he’s heading up here in his boat.” He looked at Cassie. “You’ve seen his boat?”
“I have.” Cassie had to set her mug on the table, her hands shaking so much she was afraid she would spill the liquid. “He’s coming here? Oh, my god. Sam…”
He grabbed her hand and folded it into his larger one, the warmth seeping into her.
“This is the first big shipment from Canada and he first full exchange so I guess he’s not leaving anything to chance.”
“But wouldn’t he stick out like a sore thumb?” Sam asked. “I mean, both with his boat and his presence on an old lobster boat? I’m assuming he owns something fairly ostentatious that would more easily fit in at Bar Harbor.”
“Yes, he does,” Cassie told them. “And you’re right. It’s got every gimmick and gadget, to mention I think a family of four could live for a long time on what that boat cost him.”
“He won
’t bring it in here,” Scooter assured him. “I told my cousin I’d scope out the area and send him all the additional information I could get, so they’d have it firsthand before sending their team up here.” He gave Sam a light punch on the shoulder. “I told him the SEALs are a better recon unit than any he has.”
Cassie watched the light of interest dim in Sam’s eyes. “Except one of us is not a SEAL anymore, and it’s not you.”
“Sam Alvarez, you listen to me.” She wanted to smack him. “Your arm and shoulder are so much better than they were when you got here. And there’s nothing wrong with the rest of your body, either.”
Scooter chuckled. “Is that so? Interesting.”
“Jesus, Cassie.” Sam shook his head. “I think that’s more than we need him to know.”
Heat crept up her face, and she was sure her cheeks were bright red. She needed to use her brain before she spoke.
“I just meant…”
“It’s okay,” Scooter interrupted. “I know what you mean. And as a side note, I’m just glad my friend here has found someone who brought him back to life again. So. Moving right along. She’s right, Sam. I need you to scope out the harbor here and the marinas in Bar Harbor where Shore might berth his big ego booster. Then we’ll sit down, get my cousin on the horn, and put a plan together.”
“But how will we know when they’re going to do this?” She stared at Sam, fear skating down her spine. “I have to leave here. Go someplace. Hide. I can’t be here when he is. I—"
She bit off her words, realizing she sounded like an idiot. “Sorry. I’ve just read enough about drug dealers to know that I’m on his kill list, and in the most painful way.”
Sam took her hand and squeezed it. “Nothing is going to happen to you when you have two SEALs guarding you. Sending you away might be an option, but I don’t have anyone I trust to take care of you. As soon as we know when Patrick Shore is headed this way, we’ll get you locked up nice and tight.”
“But how will you know? You can’t exactly call him up and ask him.”
“Lots of ways. One of them is to check the marinas at Bar Harbor and see where he’s reserved a berth.”
“I’m hoping Sam will get off his ass and help me scope out the area,” Scooter told her. “And I’m calling my cousin back to see what he’s found out. Sam, do you have PT today?”
“I can miss for one day,” he told them.
“No!” They both shouted the word at once.
“We’re not stopping progress,” Scooter added. “Tell me what time it’s scheduled for, and we’ll make plans.” He looked at Cassie. “For you, too.”
Chapter 8
Two days had passed since Scooter had quite literally dropped into their lives. He only had three more days of leave, so Sam hoped this thing would come to a head by then. Sam, Scooter, and Cassie were currently sitting at Rolling in Dough, enjoying Margie’s latest creations, ginger cheesecake tartlets and mini chocolate cannolis. Sam wondered that he hadn’t gained ten pounds since they began dropping by on a regular basis. But being with Margie seemed to keep Cassie grounded and at this particular moment, he was all for that.
Scooter was busy on his cell with his cousin, and Sam was doing his best not to eavesdrop, but he was getting impatient. The DEA had managed to narrow the shipment date to a three-day span, Sam had called his commanding officer to see if he could get his leave extended a couple of days, and Cassie was about to jump out of her skin. He didn’t think all the chocolate in the world would settle her down right about now.
“Your favorite movie is on HBO tonight,” Margie said. She’d come out of the kitchen to sit down with them for a few. “If you guys are playing cops and robbers tonight, how about Cassie coming over for dinner and hanging out with us. It’s worked out well the last couple of nights.”
He and Scooter had come up with a plan they’d managed to sell to Cassie. They were able to do a lot of digging for information in the night hours, so at the end of Cassie’s workday they drove her to the bakery where she indulged in whatever the day’s special was. Then Bruce would arrive at six, when Margie ended her workday. Armed with his trusty Ruger, he drove the two women to the Hagers’ home where Cassie would have dinner and hang out with her friends until Sam and Scooter came to pick her up.
Back at her cottage, he waited until Cassie was in bed for the night before he and Scooter sat down in the living room to analyze where they were and check in with his cousin. Tonight, Scooter was still on his cell, outside, while Sam took a few minutes to hug Cassie and indulge in some long, slow kisses.
“I hope this is over soon,” she told him as she drew a deep breath. “My nerves are just about shot.”
“I know, sweetheart.” He stroked her hair, marveling at the closeness that had developed between them in such a short time. From bitter and withdrawn, he’d emerged as a man learning what love was for the first time, and he owed it all to the woman in his arms. “I want this done and finished, too.”
She was silent for a moment, her face pressed into his shoulder, her arms around his waist. “Sam?”
“Yeah, babe?”
“I probably don’t have any right to ask this. And we haven’t really, um, talked about anything…”
“Just spit it out.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You can say anything to me. Don’t you know that? Sometimes I feel as if I’ve known you all my life instead of just a few short weeks.”
“I get the same feeling. Which is why, well, I mean… Sam, what happens when this is over? You have a life to get back to, right?”
He shifted her so he could look into her eyes. “And just where do you think my life is if I’m not with you? I have family, but they all have their own lives set out.” He chuckled. “Although they’ll probably shout for joy if I bring you home to visit them.”
“Home. To visit?” She wrinkled her forehead.
“Uh huh. I think they gave up on me having anything like a normal life a long time ago.” He brushed a kiss over her mouth. “My life is with you, Cassie. Wherever you are. That’s what I want. What do you want?”
She felt as if a weight had been lifted. “I want that, too. But where would that life be?”
“I have some ideas, but first let’s get this mess cleaned up and that asshole Shore put where he belongs.”
“Hey, Sam.” Scooter let himself back into the house. “Got some info.”
“You better go,” Cassie told him. “You’re right, Let’s get this over with and move ahead.”
He watched as she walked into their bedroom and closed the door before he met Scooter in the kitchen.
“Coffee,” his friend said. “We may have a long night ahead of us. Just got all the updated details from the DEA. I think we’re about at blastoff.”
Patrick Shore steered his boat into the slip at the marina, cursing under his breath. He hated doing this at night, but he also didn’t want to show up when it was light and bright and bring a lot of attention to himself. Jason stood next to him, waiting for him to shut off the engines so they could tie up. His partner had not wanted to come on this trip and made it very clear.
“I think this is a very bad idea,” he repeated now. “We still have no idea where that bitch Cassie Malone is. For all we know, she could have sicced the cops on us, and they’ll be waiting for us when we chug into the harbor in Boston with potentially millions in illegal drugs.”
“If that bitch, as you call her, were going to do that, we’d have heard by now.” He shut off the engines. “Besides, what could she tell anyone? That she overheard a conversation that may or may not mean something? Get real, Jason. If she’d found someone to tell and they believed her. They’d be all over us by now.”
“I just don’t want to screw this up. This is our biggest deal yet, a payoff on both ends. We’ll be in a position to shut it down any time we want to.”
“And just why would we do that when there’s more millions to be made?”
“Don’t you ever feel w
e’re tempting fate just a little too much? Maybe we could each buy an island and retire.”
Patrick stared at him. “When we’re having so much fun? You do it if you want to. Me? I still like chasing the edge of danger. And knowing I can own everybody in any room we walk into.”
Jason shrugged. “To each his own. Let’s see what’s what after this trip. Where’s that old piece of garbage Benny? Isn’t he supposed to meet us here tonight?”
“He’ll be here. I told him about nine thirty. We’ve got another fifteen minutes. Come on. He’s meeting us at the restaurant next to the marina.”
“You go out in public with that guy? From the one time I saw him, he doesn’t look like anyone I’d want to get next to.”
“Which makes him perfect for what we need. Nobody’d ever suspect him of anything.”
“So just to get this straight, we’ll go out in the Gulf of Maine tomorrow when he leaves to make the pickup, but we’ll be closer to where it flows into the Atlantic. He’ll make the exchange, bring us the merchandise, we’ll pay him his share and get the hell out of here.”
“You got it. Come on. Let’s see if he’s here yet.”
Patrick was pleased to see Benny waiting for them in the bar at Hasey’s. He was sitting in a corner booth, a drink in front of him, dressed in his usual disreputable clothing. But when he slid in across from the man, Patrick was relieved to see his eyes were alert.
“How’s it going, Benny?”
The man stared from him to Jason and back to him. “Why’s he here? This is between you and me. Too many people. Make a big mess.”
“My partner. You saw him one other time. I wanted him to be in on this meeting so he could get a feel for this.”
Benny narrowed his eyes. “He ain’t another one sticking his nose in, is he? I had enough of those.”
Patrick waved at the server, and he and Jason ordered a drink. He added another one for Benny. He needed the very ordinary task to get himself under control. That was how he always did it. With the very mundane.
