Brody (Hope City Book 3)

by Kris Michaels

  Every eye at the table turned to Terrell. The man arched an eyebrow. "What? I have a life outside of the office."

  "Since when?" Both Rayburn and Watson said at the same time.

  "Fuck you. Get out of here and go back to work." Terrell tossed a wadded-up napkin at Rayburn.

  "See, that's not fair, they get to stay." Watson picked up his coffee, gave them a two-finger salute and turned toward the door as he reprimanded his partner. "See what your mouth gets us? More work."

  "Me? Dude you said the exact same thing as I did at the exact same time." Rayburn nabbed a jelly doughnut and chased after Watson.

  Terrell waited until they'd left the coffee shop before he turned his attention to Brody and Amber. "I know this operation is lasting longer than anticipated. I am aware you have a son. If this is causing undue stress, I can cut you loose, Swanson. We can spin it as you leaving for a work commitment elsewhere. It will give you a couple days at home."

  Amber's eyes widened. "No, sir, that's not necessary, but thank you. My son is used to me being gone. Believe it or not, being in the same city is better than what I've had to do in the past. Plus, Brody's family is picking up the slack when my sister can't manage. Gage is having the time of his life."

  Which was true. The 8:30 call every night was one of the highlights of his day. Sleeping every night with Amber, rediscovering their love, and using the last three weeks to reconnect, to talk, and to acknowledge mistakes, while working on communication, had been another gift. As a couple, they'd found solid ground, and his mother was in heaven. She sent pictures of every outing, every dinner, every first she had with Gage. Brianna had even commented their mom hadn't had time to set her up on another date, which spoke volumes. Brock and Kallie had met Gage, and they'd taken him to the amusement park. Brianna said both Brock and Gage got sick on the spinning teacups. Kallie had pictures which would humiliate Brock for years to come.

  Terrell nodded. "That's good. This op will be ending in the next week. We have to find who is bringing the drugs into the city and close them down. Get at least one flight in on the FBI's plane, and make sure Edelman sees you do it. I want him, and if the plane will smooth the way, we're going to use it." He stood up ending the meeting. "Be careful. Remember, they may look like suburbia, but we're dealing with the cartel." The man spun on his heel and left.

  Amber took another drink of her coffee. "Who are you going to call? Your old flight instructor?"

  "No. I'll call Jason."

  She slid him a sideways glance. "Your cousin?" He nodded before he took another sip of his coffee. "Don't you think he's a little busy running a billion-dollar company?"

  "While Guardian is a Fortune 100 Company, I'm not sure it makes billions... yet. He will know of pilots in the area who can be trusted, and besides, I have an idea."

  "What's that?"

  "The jet flies higher than Erik's plane."

  Amber blinked and then rolled her hand indicating he should continue. When he didn't, she narrowed her eyes at him. "You're going to have to give me a bit more, Detective King."

  "I could take off ten minutes or so before Erik. His schedule doesn't really fluctuate much. He'd see me taxi and take off, but I circle the field and wait for him to take off. We could shadow him to Jacksonville. There is enough fuel in the jet to make it there and back. We'd know where he was landing."

  "Then we could have Terry follow him the next time he lands. See where he goes."

  "That's the plan." He boosted his cardboard coffee cup and tapped the rim against hers. Now, could they implement it before the plug was pulled on the op?

  Chapter 18

  Amber watched the huge SUV pull into the driveway. Black, with tinted windows and expensive looking rims. Damn, either the person inside was a rock star, or POTUS was in the neighborhood. "Ah, Brody? I think your cousin's man is here.”

  The guy who exited the vehicle was striking and not just because of his strawberry blond hair and wide shoulders. She chuckled as the man ambled up the sidewalk, cowboy boots and all. Dang, she'd never seen a real-life cowboy before. From his salad-plate-sized, shiny belt buckle, to the polished boots with worn down heels, and the starched white shirt with creases down the sleeves, the man read cowboy from the top of his very high head to the toes of his pointed boots.

  She hurried to the door and opened it before he had a chance to ring the bell. His smile was dazzling. "Hi. Amber, right?"

  He extended his hand, and she grasped his in a firm, warm shake. "Yep. Brody will be here in a second. Come on in." She shut the door behind him. "Can I get you some coffee?"

  "No, thank you. I've had my limit today. I'm Dixon Marshall, by the way."

  "Dixon, it’s nice to meet you. So, you're a pilot?"

  "Yes, ma'am. I fly about anything with wings or rotors. Do you fly?" He trained his intelligent light blue eyes on her and smiled again.

  "I fly a desk. It's safer for everyone. Evidently my inner ear doesn't like little planes. It tends to get messy when I go up."

  The man was a looker, and if she wasn't head over heels in love with Brody King, she'd be throwing her hat in this cowboy's corral. Speaking of rings… the thick, dark metal band on the man's left finger would be the cause of many a single woman's tears, or maybe underhanded schemes. She sure hoped whoever had landed this man was strong enough to endure the come-hither looks and telephone numbers he'd attract

  Dixon laughed. "Well, thank you for the heads up."

  Brody walked in and extended his hand. "Hey, Dixon, right?"

  "I am. You're definitely a King. I could put you up against any one of your cousins and see the family resemblance. Your eyes are different. Most of my Kings have green eyes or variations of green."

  "These blues actually come from my dad's side. My mother said my cousins take after my Aunt Amanda. Are you ready to take a look at what the FBI is letting me play with?"

  "Absolutely. I need to log some flight hours. Where are we heading?"

  "Well, that's what I wanted to talk with you about." Brody stopped as they approached the back door. He leaned in and gave her a kiss. "See you soon."

  Amber drew a worried breath. "Be safe." She reminded herself that even if she didn't like to fly in small planes, it didn't make the event itself dangerous.

  Brody squeezed her hand and whispered, "Always." He opened the door and the men started talking as soon as they cleared the doorway. She leaned against the casement and watched the men walk to the hangar. Not a minute later, she caught sight of Erik drinking a cup of coffee and staring at the hangar Brody and Dixon had entered. To say the man wanted to go up in the plane was an understatement. Erik practically vibrated whenever he and Brody talked about the jet, and when Brody let him sit in the aircraft, the man had practically orgasmed he was so excited.

  She closed the door and moved her observation of her neighbor into the office. She clicked on the right camera angle and zoomed in, watching her neighbor's back porch. Clare came outside and handed a piece of paper to Erik. He didn't look pleased but nodded. The two of them stood side by side and watched as Brody opened the main hangar door where the FBI's jet sat. With one of the hangar cameras, she could watch the men perform a preflight inspection. She ping-ponged her attention between Erik and Clare, to Brody and Dixon, but her attention was soon focused solely on the couple next door. Clare shook her head when Erik said something. She pointed a finger at him and stabbed him in the chest. The man slammed his cup down onto the table, and his coffee splashed on the tabletop. Clare threw up her hands and got in her husband's grill, her movements punctuating whatever she was saying. Erik stood with his hands on his hips, and they exchanged what looked like heated words.

  Clare stormed back into the house. Erik grabbed his briefcase from the patio table and headed to his aircraft. The engine of the FBI's loaner started. The high-pitched whine of the jet was distinctly different from the smaller propeller aircraft. She watched the single-engine jet taxi and then take off. Her stomach lurched at t
he thought of flying in such a small plane. Erik's Piper trotted from his hangar about five minutes later. He made the trip to the end of the runway, and she watched until the plane jogged down the stretch of cement and elevated into the air.

  Hopefully, Brody and Dixon could manage to shadow Erik's flight. She wished them luck, loads of luck, but if what she saw this morning was an argument, she was going to try to get closer to Clare. People talked when they were upset. She would pop by and offer to help Clare when she saw the woman go to her greenhouse. Maybe suggest a midday glass of wine or two, and then talk. The perfect couple had a wrinkle. The argument this morning indicated not everything was as blissful as they'd like people to think. Until her neighbor headed to the greenhouse, she had plenty of work to do to keep her busy. The JDET work continued outside this case. They had a crew of people who worked as eyes on the street, and with cultivated confidential informants, the team gathered information at an astonishing rate.

  Amber tapped on the greenhouse door. "Hello?"

  Clare jumped and spun around. "Oh, hey. What are you up to?" The large black rubber gloves she wore went up to her elbows and there were several empty planting crates stacked on top of her work table.

  "Not much. I needed a break from the computer, so I thought I'd stop by and see what you're doing?" She glanced past Clare to the raised planting beds.

  "I'm cleaning up a bit. I've been so focused on getting the plants started, I'm afraid I've let things stack up around here. She waved a gloved hand toward the crates she'd seen Erik bring home to her.

  "Oh, I can help. Do you want me to throw those away for you?"

  "No, I'll use them to start my own seeds." She stacked the trays on her workbench and took off her gloves. "How about a glass of lemonade?"

  "I'd love one. Brody is flying one of our clients to New York today, so..."

  "While the cat’s away, the mouse is going to play?"

  She laughed and nodded. "He keeps me focused. I love what we do, but I'm not much of a nose to the grindstone type of person." She followed Clare into the immaculate white on white on white kitchen and sat at the counter while her neighbor poured two glasses of what looked like hand squeezed lemonade. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. I was going to come see you today or tomorrow and talk with you about planting an evergreen hedge at the back of both of our properties. When it comes in, it would obstruct the view to the tarmac. We could do matching arches over the walkways to the hangars so the backyards are defined, and the ornamental arches will provide a relief from the massive hangars in the background."

  "Wow, well sure, tell me what I need to do."

  "I'll get prices and then once we've agreed on the type and number of plants and design of the arches, we'll split the cost. We plant, the men install the arches, presto the start of a hedgerow. We can do it––"

  Amber jumped at a knock at the back door. "Hang on for just a minute, okay?" Clare smiled quickly and then jogged to the door. The unexpected visitor didn't wait long before he knocked again, and louder. Clare opened the door and pushed a man back, shutting the door behind her. Amber leaned back and caught a good look at the man's profile. It was one she'd seen before. Paul Desoto. Desoto had never been officially connected to the Peña organization, but as with all of Peña's upper echelon, the men and women he employed were usually above reproach and members of good standing within the community. Desoto was a prominent businessman in Hope City, but he'd caught both JDET and DEA notice. Their suspicion of the garbage company’s owner was based on his proximity of far too many incidents involving Peña.

  Clare moved them down the stairs and out of view. Amber slid off her seat and edged to the window. Desoto's stance was rigid, and his arms crossed over his chest as he glared down at Clare. He glanced at his watch and glanced right and left before he spoke a few words. She couldn't hear what was said, however the tone left little doubt of his current mood. Desoto wasn't happy. Careful to stay behind the lace curtains, she got an up close and personal view of Clare running her hand up Desoto's chest before she stepped in closer to the man. Her hand landed on his cheek, and she raised up onto her toes.

  Desoto's arms shot around Clare's waist, and he yanked her into him. The kiss wasn't nice. It was hard, almost like a punishment. Stunned, Amber stood motionless for a moment, and then carefully made her way back to the counter, and chugged the remaining lemonade in her glass. She trotted to the refrigerator and opened the door as she heard the back door reopen. She grabbed the pitcher of lemonade and spun around with a wide smile on her face.

  "Hey, I hope you don't mind, but this is some of the best lemonade I've ever had."

  "Ah, no problem. Sorry about the interruption."

  "I didn't mean to get in the way of anything." Amber filled her glass. "A neighbor? I still haven't met everyone. Always behind the computer screen." She put the glass pitcher back in the fridge and made her way back to the counter.

  "No, an old business acquaintance."

  "Am I keeping you from visiting with him? I'm so sorry! I can leave." Besides, she wanted to make sure the cameras caught Desoto's image and needed to ensure Terrell got the information quickly.

  "Oh, he just stopped by. We'll visit again another day, but I do need to get back to work in the greenhouse." Clare waved toward the building's location.

  "And I do need to go back to work. Thanks for the lemonade and the break. Sorry to interrupt your day."

  "Really, it's no problem, one of those days. Started out bad and isn't getting better."

  Amber took another long sip of her drink to see if Clare was going to share more. When she didn't, Amber prompted with a sigh, "Yeah, Brody and I have our moments. It doesn't mean I don't love him, but sometimes I'm glad he flies, if you know what I mean. We all need our space."

  Clare chuckled and rolled her shoulders. "Space in my life is at a premium, that's for sure. Maybe someday we can go to the city and shop, have lunch and do girl things, tips and toes, or a spa day."

  She carried her glass back and placed it in the sink before she walked around the counter toward Clare. "Or a spa day. One including tips and toes." Amber laughed and waggled her fingers in the air. "I haven't had a mani-pedi in almost a year."

  "Then we're due." Clare moved across the floor with her and opened the door.

  She skipped down the steps and turned to walk backward, taking in the yard. She saw someone in the greenhouse but didn't draw attention to the fact. "Call me about the shrubs and the day out."

  "I will." Clare raised a hand and waved before she turned toward the greenhouse.

  Amber forced herself to walk in a leisurely, meandering fashion to her house. She stopped to look at a couple flowers. Clare had told her the name of the bush, but the information had gone in one ear and out the other. She ambled past the flower beds Clare had helped her weed and plucked a couple of stray green shoots from the dirt. She waved at Mrs. Dawes and her puppy.

  "Hello, Amber. It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" The older woman held the leash of the little puffball as it walked a thousand steps to Mrs. Dawes' one. The thing was nothing but fur, a black button nose, and a tiny pink tongue.

  "It is! A great day." She watched the puppy for a few seconds before she wandered into the house. The second the door was closed, she raced into the office and put in her earwig. "Please for the love of everything holy, tell me you got the man on film."

  "Paul Desoto." Rayburn confirmed.

  Amber was busy pulling up camera screens. "Did he go into the greenhouse?"

  "Yes, he did. Did you get a load of the kiss he put on her?" Watson's voice came through the comms.

  "They're more than old business associates."

  "Is that what she claimed?" Rayburn asked.

  "Yeah." Amber clicked on the cameras angled toward the Edelman's. "Do we have any better angle on the greenhouse?"

  "Try the camera on the hangar."

  Shit, why hadn't she thought of the higher angle? She selected the camera an
d directed it toward her neighbor's house. "Not great, but I can see the door."

  "Yeah, we got it."

  "This is going to the cloud, right?"

  Rayburn snorted.

  "Not an answer." There was no way she was going to lose this connection because someone didn't double check to make sure the recording was being saved.

  "Yeah, it is an answer. It is going to the cloud, and we hit record here in the van as soon as we saw him get out of the car." Rayburn huffed.

  "Don't get your panties in a wad, big-boy. I wanted to make sure." Amber chuckled at Watson's outright laugh at her comment.

  "My panties are the least of your concern. What is he carrying?"

  At Rayburn's questions her eyes popped to the screen. "I think those are the planting pallets Clare uses."

  "Why the hell does he need planters?" Watson's question was the one which was on her mind, too.

  "Do we have a list of his businesses? Someone please get Terrell on comms." Amber scrolled her mouse to her second screen and hit up the DEA database. She input Paul Desoto's name and brought up his criminal history—three speeding tickets and a misdemeanor possession charge when he was nineteen years old. She dug as deep as she could, but she didn't find anything more. On a whim, she entered Clare Edelman and requested all known aliases. She wasn't prepared for what she saw.

  "Oh shit."

  "What? What did we miss?" Watson's question was asked about two seconds before Terrell came on the line.

  "Captain, Paul Desoto just left the Edelmans’ residence." Rayburn filled him in as Amber kept typing.

  "That's the connection."

  Amber nodded in agreement and added, "Yes, sir, it is, but the connection runs deeper. Desoto was in foster care the same time Clare was, and guess who lived with Clare for the first two years of her time in the system?"

  "Desoto." Terrell made the leap easily.

  "Yes sir, and we have another connection. Aarón Rubio was a foster in the same house at the same time."

  "Rubio, as in the right hand of Peña?"