“Well then, I say thank God for small towns. I'd hate to go through life without my good friends watching out for me,” Grace said, reaching out to pat Tess’s thin arm.
“It's fine if you don't want to let us in on it, we'll sit here and have a nice cup of coffee with you and then be on our way,” Tess agreed.
“So…what's new?”
Sara burst out laughing. They really were priceless.
Chapter Ten
Frank Stein was having a very bad day. It had started bright and early in the a.m. with a phone call from Jared. It seems there’d been a miscommunication when security for the Vegas casino he was in informed him they didn’t allow card counting.
Who knew?
Ol' Jare thought they would appreciate him showing them their weaknesses. Turned out he was wrong. They sent him on his way, but only after some three on one time. That should have been a clue right there. Normally, casino security companies don’t go around roughing up the clientele. Whether they’re cheating, or not. The idiot should have considered himself lucky not to be wearing cement shoes and called it a day. Except Jared hadn’t appreciated getting the shit beat out of him. As far as he was concerned, he’d only been helping them out, and making a little dough as a reward for his trouble.
Unfortunately, they hadn’t seen it in quite the same way, and that’s where the trouble began. Ordinarily, Jared was the easiest going person you could ever meet, but get him pissed, and all bets were off. He’d limped back to his hotel, logged on to his computer, and proceeded to raise a little hell through a back door entry into their mainframe computer system. He triggered the fire alarm system, which in turn set off the sprinkler systems. At the same time, he messed with the slots so they all started shooting out winning tickets, making for some very happy, if a little bit damp, customers.
Metro PD picked him up not long after as a person of interest and now here was Frank, six and a half friggin’ hours and two airplanes later, cooling his heels in their dismal little waiting room. Happy, happy.
A few minutes later, a fresh-faced rookie stepped out from behind the counter and nervously approached, “This way, sir, they’ve gone to get him now.”
Frank came to his feet, more than ready to kick Jared’s no doubt already bruised ass, just on principle. The rookie’s eyes grew round and he jumped back a couple of paces. Gesturing, he turned and started down a narrow hall, and Frank’s black mood turned even grimmer. He’d developed a real aversion to closed in places, after spending a good part of his Navy career in gloomy little holes on the lookout for drug runners, bombs, or gun-laden insurgents. He craved wide-open spaces and blue Texas skies these days. Sure enough, the little person in front of him led Frank right into a broom closet, disguised as an interrogation room. Man, Jared was going to owe him big for this.
As the rookie backed out and closed the door, Frank sat in one of three dinky little chairs pulled up to a pitted steel table that had seen far better days. He’d felt the eyes on him ever since he entered the shithole, and turned his full attention to the one way mirror in front of him. Placing both of his big hands face down on the scarred tabletop, he leaned in and mouthed, “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”
* * *
The man standing on the other side of the mirror grinned. Good to see the chief hadn’t changed much in the past few years. He still commanded attention with no effort at all.
It could be because the man was built like a brick shithouse, six-five, and somewhere around two hundred eighty pounds, none of it extra either. On the other hand, maybe it was those steel grey eyes of his. If he ever had cause to reprimand his men, usually a slicing look stopped even the most pugnacious of them.
He hated that he had to stay standing there, behind that glass. He wanted nothing more than to go in there and shake the hand of one of the men who had been instrumental in saving his life.
“You can’t.” The other person standing in the dark room commented. She’d read his thoughts perfectly, which is why they’d made such an unbeatable team for the past five years. “If you go in there now, you risk everything. Don’t be an idiot.”
She was right. It sucked, but she was right. “Fine, go in there and find out what they know then. I’m telling you they’re clean. They’re being set up, and you know it.”
“I know no such thing. They’re your friends, not mine. Besides, people change. You know that better than anyone.”
He watched her leave the room, regret a lodestone around his heart. They’d once had a hot and heavy fling, but his own asshole attitude had destroyed that. He was lucky they’d managed to overcome it and remain partners, and more importantly, friends. She hadn’t deserved half the crap he’d put her through, but he was more glad than he could say that she had stuck by him through it.
* * *
Frank leaned back as the door opened and a woman walked in. Okay, this was getting interesting. Either she’d made a wrong turn on her way out of lockup, or he was receiving an early Christmas gift. He was hoping for the second, but figured on the first. “I think you made a wrong turn there, sweets, bail paying is down the hall.”
He’d been away from women too long if a prostitute was going to turn him on, but shit. He figured she was tall, maybe five eight or so, hard to tell though with those screw-me-now leather boots she was wearing. He traced the zipper he could see running up the inside of her leg, almost to mid-thigh. Licking suddenly dry lips, Frank admired the micro mini skirt in a hot pink and the impressive swell of her full breasts, barely covered by a slinky white top and three different lengths of a chunky beaded necklace that made him literally sweat as they draped across her nipples.
Her hair was raven black, long and straight and matched her boots for shine. She’d painted the pillowy softness of her lips in the same hot pink of her skirt. When he finally made it up to her eyes, the brilliance and intelligence he could see lurking there let him know what he had already guessed. This was not your average floozy.
“Mr. Stein, my name is Maggie Holt. I have a few questions to ask you while they are working on the release of your friend, it won’t take long.”
Crossing his arms, Frank contemplated the charming Ms. Holt. What in Sam-hell did Jared have himself into this time? She was obviously no ordinary cop. The way she carried herself spoke of authority and he could tell from her toned body—which was no hardship to look at—that she was in great physical shape. He wasn’t sure what the get-up was all about, but he wasn’t complaining any. He knew he should have ignored that damn phone this morning.
“Sure, babe, anything you want, gotta say the uniform’s a winner by the way. I’ll need to see some I.D. though, and maybe a hint of what’s going on? Last time I checked card counting wasn’t a capital offense. What exactly are you holding my friend in for?”
* * *
Just what she needed today, a hard-ass. Maggie had already put in a fifteen-hour day. Her feet were killing her in the boots Stein admired so much. When she’d heard that Jared Ford, a person of interest in their case had been detained by the local PD for the destruction of property and computer hacking at a Casino, she’d called her partner. The two of them beat feet for the precinct, hoping to get a jump on the Feds who were sure to be on the way, before they had everything tied up in acres of red tape.
For almost six years now, they’d been on this case without it going much of anywhere. They needed to catch a break.
Maggie already knew plenty about the good Chief. She was aware that he’d grown up on a Texas cattle ranch, which he now ran himself. She knew he had a younger brother who’d been the victim of abuse over his sexual preferences, and that Frank had beat the living shit out of a group of five boys for it. He’d been in high school at the time. All charges were dropped on the condition Frank join the Navy and get some serious anger management.
Cameron, blaming himself, disappeared from home. No word since, though Frank had soaked money and time into the search. During his stint with the Na
vy he’d enlisted with the SEALs, and soon climbed ranks to Chief Petty Officer.
Looking him over, Maggie was reminded of a big cat preparing to pounce. She worked with alpha men every day and had never been the type attracted by a man’s looks. Something about him drew her though, whether she liked it or not.
His sable hair gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, picking up hues of red and gold among the dark strands. He had eyes that looked steely now but she could imagine them a softer, warmer color. Like, maybe during sex. Shifting, she told herself to get a grip.
He could be a possible suspect in an ongoing case. A case that she had put heart and soul into, and wasn’t about to mess up due to some unwanted attraction. Her team had been after the men in this crime ring for a long time. This was the closest they’d come to a break and she was determined to get something useful out of this meeting. There was something big in the works. The trouble was, they were getting nowhere with the where and the when. Maybe with the help of Stein and his friend Ford, they might finally get a chance to close these assholes down.
Maggie enjoyed undercover work. The rush of excitement. The opportunity to play a part. The danger. This time though it’d been different. The things she’d seen in the past few months had twisted her insides. Not being able to stop it was heartbreaking. She’d vowed then to take these jerks down, and this man could be the key to everything.
Frank’s gaze on her as she reached into her shirt and brought out her badge from its resting place between her breasts made the natural act suddenly feel like something illicit. Her body responded to his male sensuality, and she had to grab the chair on the other side of the table, her legs unaccountably weakened.
Pissed off with her reaction to him, Maggie became all business. “I’m with the DEA, Mr. Stein. My team and I have been working this case for a long while now and unfortunately we are not as close to catching these men as we would like to be. We have reason to believe one or more members from SEAL team five, which is your old team I believe, are, and have been for quite some years, involved in the trafficking of humans, cocaine, heroin, and guns. These are big players we’re after, Frank.” She hoped to bond—professionally—and read from the report she’d carried into the room.
“For the past several years, there has also been a growing use of, and interest in, synthetic cathinones, which as you may know are stimulants/hallucinogens, sold under the guise of “bath salts” or “plant food.” Marketed under names such as “Ivory Wave,” “Purple Wave,” “Vanilla Sky,” or “Bliss,” these products are comprised of a class of dangerous substances perceived to mimic cocaine, LSD, MDMA, and/or methamphetamine.” She looked up briefly, saw his gaze glued to her face, and hurried on.
“Users have reported impaired perception, reduced motor control, disorientation, extreme paranoia, and violent episodes. The long-term physical and psychological effects of use are unknown but potentially severe. Recently one of my trusted sources tipped us to a huge exchange in the pipes, taking place within the next month.
“The problem is, we don’t know where, and we aren’t sure who all the players are. Yet. That’s where we hope you come in. We need your help, Frank. We can’t let this stuff hit the streets, we have to stop it.” Pausing to give him time to let it all sink in, Maggie glanced behind her at the dark glass. Their career was on the line here, but more important than that, the lives of all the young people affected by these drugs if they failed.
“Look, you don’t know or trust me, I get that. But, I’ve been led to believe that you were an outstanding leader of your men. All I’m asking is for you to think it over. If there was a bad seed among them, we need to know who it was.”
* * *
Frank couldn’t believe what he’d just been told, or that they expected him to narc out one of his own men. They’d trusted each other with their lives. They had to. He was pretty damn sure they all knew the color of each other’s shorts, they were that close. How could he possibly point a finger at one and say him, it must be him.
There’s no friggin’ way, that’s how.
And if they were thinking of landing this whole thing at Jared’s door, as they were leading him to believe by this whole setup, hell no. The two of them had been through fire together. They had a bond that no pretty-eyed fed was going to break, that’s for sure.
Frank ignored the indrawn breath from the woman in front of him as he stood. His chair scraped like nails on a chalkboard across the cement floor, as he moved around the table to stare into the glass. He wasn’t sure what the hell was going on here, but he had a strong feeling it had to do with whoever was behind that window.
“If we’re done here, I’d like to collect my friend and leave. I’m just a simple rancher trying to make a living. My days of working for Uncle Sam are long gone. I haven’t seen or heard from any of the men except Jared in a couple of years at least, so there’s not much I could tell you even if I would, which I wouldn’t. You need to get your pretty butt out pounding the pavement instead of bugging the average guy. You might actually get somewhere that way.”
On that parting shot Frank turned and grabbed the doorknob just as it opened from the other side. Jared walked in followed by the rookie cop, whose mouth dropped at the sight of Ms. Holt. Frank could sympathize with the man, that’d been his first reaction too. It was too bad she’d turned out to be a fed, definitely on his to-be-avoided list.
“Hey, Franco, my man, you came. Thanks, bud. I thought I was going to be spending the night in the crowbar hotel.” Jared grinned past the swollen lip and black eye he was sporting, no doubt courtesy of The Golden Ring Casino. The man never learned. Frank was relieved to see the damage was minimal. His ugly mug would heal.
“Wow, who’s the babe? You’ve been holding out on me, old man. Hello, pretty lady, I’m Frank’s better-looking and much more charming partner.”
Frank shook his head. Jare never knew when to keep his big trap shut, which is how he always got himself into shit. “She’s got way more class than to hang out with the likes of you, now let’s get out of here. I could use a beer.” With a last look at the woman sure to be occupying his dreams that night, Frank etched a salute at the shadow behind the glass and pushed his friend out of the room.
“What the fuck was that about?” Jared griped, and sent the young officer a back-off stare, his humor disintegrating now that they were almost alone. His aggressiveness was so out of character that Frank took a better look. Other than the bruising, he looked wrung out, his green eyes murky, hiding his true thoughts. Frank didn’t like it, not at all.
“They wasted a shitload of time down in holding with the release papers. At first they didn’t even want to give me my phone call, until they found out I was calling you, then they couldn’t move fast enough. I thought they were just being jackasses, but now I’m guessing there was another agenda. This whole thing stinks. I didn’t do anything wrong. Well, not much at any rate.” He let loose a mischievous grin. “Those guys over at the Ring need to get a sense of humor. They are way too serious. That’ll give a guy lines, you know?” He pointed to Frank’s less than smooth forehead. “Case in point.”
The idiot was a giant pain in his ass, but Frank thanked his lucky stars every day for putting him into that barracks room with Jared all those years ago. After Cameron disappeared from home, Frank had gone near crazy looking for him. He’d always taken care of his younger, frailer brother. Cam was special. Ever since he opened those green eyes and looked up into Frank’s misty ones, they’d been inseparable, or at least that’s how his mama liked to tell the story.
Their father, Frank Sr., had been the rock in the family, strong and silent but always there to lean on. He’d died in a freak accident out on the range not long after the incident with the Muldoon boys and Cam. Cameron blamed himself, and no one could change his mind about it. It festered until one day he just up and disappeared, breaking their Mother’s heart. Bad enough she’d lost her husband, but now her baby was gone too.
“Spencer’s there, he can handle it. Ma’ll keep him in line.” Frank answered, shrugging Jared’s arm off. The ass knew he wasn’t a touchy-feely sort of guy.
“Spence get her to agree to marry him yet? That old codger’s had a thing for your Mom pretty well ever since I’ve known you.” Jared laughed.
“Not yet, not for a lack of trying though. The old bugger’s persistent, I’ll give him that.” Spencer was as reliable as the day was long. He’d been Frank Senior’s foreman, and was an invaluable help to Frank when he had to pick up the reins and carry on in the wake of the family’s double tragedy.
Thanks to Spence’s urging after his father died, he’d been able to continue his career as a SEAL for a couple more years. Actually, it had been both his and Cam’s dream. Cam was all Army though, and the boys had often argued good-naturedly about the perceived values of one over the other. Frank often wondered if his little bro’ had gone there when he’d disappeared, but had never found any trace.
Spencer had been in love with Emily, Frank’s mom, for years. After Frank Sr. died he’d stayed on at the ranch to help the Steins out in any way that he could. If his deepest desire was to have Emily finally take note of him, Frank couldn’t blame the man. His mother was a fine woman, one who deserved a second chance. She was too young to be burying herself along with her husband.
Leaving the coolness of the precinct behind, the two men ambled across the hot-enough-to-roast-a-chicken parking lot towards Frank’s car, a beige four-door sedan.
“Vegas and you rent this piece of crap? What were you thinking, man? This isn’t a chick car; it’s barely a step up from a walker,” Jared complained when he caught sight of the wheels.
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