Deep Cover (16 page)

Instead of stopping him, she followed his lead. Their hands touched and explored with drowsy abandon. This had been their thing—sleep sex.

They used to laugh about it, but the fact was, sometimes they’d woken in the middle of the night, lost in each other, and it’d been glorious.

This was no different.

Shaine knew just how to touch her, how to make her shudder with pleasure almost instantly.

His kiss, the feel of his fingers delving, testing, teasing...

Poppy arched into his touch, sinking into a happy place that didn’t concern itself with rules or impropriety.

In this place, there was no guilt or shame for indulging in a simple pleasure, just exquisite wonder.

“Shaine,” Poppy moaned, loving the way his name on her breathy sigh felt like home. “Yes...”

Shaine rose above her, those beautiful, soulful eyes staring down at her with desire and something else that made her want to cry.

They moved together, their breath shallow as they each worked to reach their climax. With Shaine it’d never been difficult, and within moments, Poppy crashed into her release, crying out as her body clenched around him.

“Poppy,” he gasped, losing himself, spending as he shuddered with his climax.

He collapsed against her, pressing tiny kisses against her collarbone before rolling away, his breathing harsh.

“I’m sorry,” he said, covering his eyes with his hand. “I didn’t mean...”

“Shhh.” She stopped him, not willing to let him shoulder the responsibility of what’d happened between them. “I’m not complaining.”

He looked at her, his gaze soft. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

But he still appeared as if he were shouldering a mountain of guilt and she couldn’t have that.

Poppy purposefully kissed Shaine, showing him with her actions that she neither regretted what’d happened, nor blamed him in anyway. “See? No complaints.”

Shaine relaxed but something still troubled him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I know there are still things between us that we should probably talk about and that this doesn’t change anything.”

Reality was a buzzkill, but she knew he was right.

“Sex is a great stress reliever,” Poppy said, trying to make light of what’d happened. “Don’t read so much into it.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he said, rising on his elbow to stare down at her. “You don’t have to pretend that this was just two people relieving stress. You were never cavalier about sex.”

It was true. In the beginning of their relationship, in spite of crazy chemistry, Poppy had held Shaine off for months, trying to run away from the attraction they’d felt for one another. Just falling into bed with each other hadn’t been on her radar.

“I liked that about you,” Shaine admitted softly. “You were different.”

“In high school, I was accused of being a prude,” Poppy shared with a small laugh. “If they could see me now...”

“I like that you knew you deserved better. I liked having to work for it.”

Poppy blushed. “Well, I might’ve made you work extra hard.”

“You were worth it.”

“Stop,” she said, blinking back tears. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“Bare our souls.” She rolled away, irritated at herself for climbing into that bed with Shaine knowing that it would only complicate matters. “I don’t regret the sex, Shaine. But I can’t pretend that everything is as it was because it never will be. We live separate lives and I’m good with my life. I’ve moved on as I’m sure you have, too.”

Shaine’s disappointment was evident as he climbed from the bed and dressed. “You’re right,” he finally said. “There’s no point in scratching at what we’ve both buried. Sometimes, it’s hard to remember why things didn’t work out.”

It wasn’t hard for her. She was reminded every time she awoke in sunny California—endlessly sunny California—when she longed for an East Coast winter season.

She was reminded every time she closed her eyes in her empty bed that the person she most wanted beside her was the one person who’d broken her heart in the most grievous way possible.

But she wasn’t going to say that.

She wasn’t going to say
any
of that.

“We have an hour before debriefing,” Poppy said, signaling the end of the conversation and cuing Shaine to leave.

He took the hint.

But before he left her apartment, he shared a few final thoughts.

“It’s possible you and I will never get each other out of our systems. There’s something inside us that keeps that spark alive, and knowing that we can’t be together hurts and pisses me off at the same time, because I know we had something great.”

“Had. Past tense,” she pointed out softly.

“Yeah...” Shaine said, shaking his head, adding as he walked out, “Well, sometimes it doesn’t feel past tense.”

She couldn’t agree more.

It hurt like a bitch but nothing had changed.

And it never would.

CHAPTER 20

T
he team assembled in the debriefing an hour later. Shaine was out of sorts. Although he’d slept hard, what had followed afterward was still sitting on him.

Whatever Poppy was feeling, she kept under lock and key because she was the picture of professional.

He envied her ability to shut her emotions off, but he’d find a way to do the same.

“Our officers within Miami PD were able to run down a name used by DJ Raven,” Ramirez began, handing out a printed mug shot. “His name is Franklin Brown, age twenty-seven, from the slums in Overtown.”

“Looks a lot different without all that peacock hair and weird contact lenses,” Shaine noted, as he surveyed the printout. “What’s his story?”

“Troubled kid, in and out of juvenile hall, abuse, violence, the usual story. He found the underground Miami scene and reemerged as DJ Raven. As far as I can tell, he supports himself through DJ gigs. He’s created quite a name for himself in certain circles.”

“Yeah, as the guy who brings the party,” Shaine said. “He’s the one supplying Bliss at these secret location parties, like the warehouse.”

“Did we find out who owns that building?” Poppy asked.

Victoria answered, “The building is vacant. It’s owned by a trust and more than likely used as a tax shelter. It’s a perfect location for an underground party.”

“But the location of the parties always changes, according to Capri,” Poppy reminded everyone. “So I’m betting whoever owns that building might know something about the parties that go on there. Otherwise, how else would they know to use that building on that night?”

“Angelo said something about needing time to coordinate the next party,” Shaine remembered. “Which tells me there are many players in this game. Even if they don’t realize they’re part of it.”

“I think that’s the beauty of El Escorpion’s operation...everyone is playing their part but likely they have no idea that they’re playing at all. It’s built-in plausible deniability. You can’t testify about something you know nothing about,” Poppy said.

Shaine turned to Ramirez. “Any luck with Amerine Labs?”

“Not much. That Selena Hernandez is one cool cucumber. She didn’t flinch or exhibit any signs of stress when I mentioned that we were pulling their customs records, but my intuition said it bothered her. Now we wait to see what move they make next.”

Shaine hated waiting. “Let’s list what we have so far,” he said, rising to go to the whiteboard. He grabbed a dry-erase pen and started making a list. “Possible suspects—Angelo, DJ Raven, the Hernandez siblings, maybe even Mayor Ferdinand. Who else?”

“I’d definitely put Brandi and Raquel on that list,” Poppy supplied, rubbing her chin in thought.

“What about the other girls?”

“The only other regulars are Missy and Tabitha and I’d say a hard no on both of those girls. Big Jane is the only other person in the back and I can’t see a middle-aged former stripper with a strong maternal instinct being the mastermind. Besides, I’ve seen her apartment. She’s not exactly living in luxury.”

“What did we find out on that stripper Darcy Lummox?” Shaine asked Victoria.

“She’s disappeared off the grid. Nothing on her credit cards and nothing on her bank account. For all intents and purposes, Darcy Lummox doesn’t exist any longer.”

“That sounds like dead to me,” Poppy said, sharing Shaine’s ominous thought. “We should check the morgues.”

Victoria took on that job. “I don’t love morgues but I’ll do it.”

“Vic, you nearly barfed when we took a look at Capri’s dead body. I’m not sure you’re the right fit.”

Victoria didn’t argue because it was true. For an agent, Victoria had a decidedly weak stomach.

“Shaine and I will go,” Poppy volunteered.

Ramirez wasn’t sure. “I don’t know if I want you two seen together at the morgue. It’s not organic.”

“We’ll go in the back door. No one will see us,” Poppy assured the director.

Ramirez nodded but warned, “Make sure that they don’t.”

“You know, the best person to ask about Darcy might be Big Jane. She is very motherly toward all the girls who will let her. She might know what happened to her.”

“Good idea,” Shaine said. “Get closer to Big Jane. If anyone knew what was going on behind the scenes, it’s probably her.”

“In the meantime, I’ll have our forensic accounting department go over the customs paperwork. I’m sure something is bound to pop up that will lead us back to Amerine Labs.”

“Why would a lab risk their reputation to mess around with illegal drugs?” Victoria asked, perplexed. “I mean, that’s not exactly a struggling business model.”

“Yeah, but we’re talking about wealth and extreme wealth. The pull can be very seductive.”

“Not to mention the tax-free perk of dirty money,” Shaine drawled. “Taxes on the pharmaceuticals must be a bitch.”

“Are you kidding? They get tax breaks,” Victoria scoffed. “Any big corporation finds loopholes that aren’t available to the little guys like us.”

“All right, all right, we’re not going to sit here and debate the merits and deficits of the US tax law,” Ramirez cut in. “We need movement on this case. This operation is costing millions and results are expected. Let’s make it happen.”

The debriefing ended and Shaine and Poppy agreed to meet at the coroner’s in an hour. That gave Shaine time to grab a quick bite and another coffee.

He wasn’t so dense that he didn’t realize that sleeping in Poppy’s bed had been the best sleep he’d had in weeks.

The sex afterward had been an unexpected bonus.

The scent of her hair on the pillow had put him right to sleep. Spending all this time with her had made him realize how much he’d been missing.

But he’d royally screwed up.

There was no fixing what he’d broken.

That much was apparent by how quickly she distanced herself after sex. Going so far as to put a hasty label on their motivation, calling it “stress relief” when, in fact, it’d felt like making love.

But your heart had to be involved in order to make love and that was something neither he nor Poppy were ready to admit to.

The reality was, neither were in a position to open that door.

Poppy was making a name for herself with the DEA and he was really proud of her. If she’d caved to his demands to get out of the field, she would’ve stagnated and gone nowhere.

How could he have selfishly thought that was okay?

And even if he apologized after having this grand epiphany, what good would it do now aside from complicate an already complicated situation? It wasn’t as if an apology was going to wipe away two years of time between them.

Her life was in Los Angeles. His life was in DC.

That’s the way it was and he had to be okay with that.

* * *

“You two again,” the coroner said with a jovial smile. For a coroner, he was a pretty jolly fellow. “I’m starting to think one of you has a crush on me.”

Poppy chuckled and said, “No crush, not that you aren’t adorable, but we’re looking for information on someone we think might’ve ended up as a Jane Doe.”

“Well, let’s see what the computer has to tell us,” the coroner said, rolling over to the desk. “Let’s start with a name and see if anything shows up.”

“Her name was Darcy Lummox. She went by the stage name of Tinsel.”

“Tinsel? How exotic.” The coroner tapped in the name and waited. Then he brightened. “Well, look at that. Here she is. And yes, she was listed as a Jane Doe until we could get a match on her prints. Her fingertips were badly damaged, so it took some time to decipher the prints.”

“Did anyone come to identify her?” Shaine asked.

“Sadly, we went to all the trouble of identifying the poor girl and then no one came to claim her. She was cremated and buried on the city’s dime.”

“How’d she die?” Poppy asked.

“Strangulation. She had significant bruising around her neck and her hyoid bone was broken.”

“Any leads?”

“You know, ordinarily, I wouldn’t remember one Jane Doe case over another, but this one stuck in my mind. She was a pretty thing. Long blond hair, blue eyes, but she looked real young. Good genes, I suppose. She died at nineteen but she could’ve passed for fifteen easily.”

Poppy shared a look with Shaine. Was it possible that Darcy was the original Capri but something went sidewise?

“Thank you, Doctor,” Poppy murmured. “Was there any next of kin listed for Darcy?”

The coroner rechecked the file. “Yes, a sister. Olivia Lummox. She lives right here in Miami but she didn’t come to claim the remains.”

“That’s curious,” Poppy observed, looking to Shaine who seemed to agree. “Why wouldn’t a sister, the only living kin, come to claim her only sibling?”

“Hard feelings between the sisters?”

“Maybe. Guess there’s one way to find out.”

A road trip.

“Got an address, Doc?” Poppy asked.

“Sure do, 1213 Buhach Drive.”

“Thanks,” Shaine said, and they left to find out why Darcy’s sister didn’t want to have anything to do with her.

They each drove to a secluded location before dropping off Poppy’s car and regrouping in Shaine’s car, that way no one saw them leaving together or traveling together near the coroner’s office. They couldn’t take too many risks with their cover being blown. It was a pain in the ass, but hopefully worth it.

Poppy tried to keep her thoughts centered, but they were all over the place. And when they did settle, they settled on stuff she didn’t want to think about.

“You okay?” Shaine asked, noting her pensive silence.

She sighed, deciding to selectively share her thoughts. “I was thinking about Capri the other night and wondering how her life might’ve been different if she’d been placed in a decent foster home. She was a smart kid. With better people in her life, she could’ve been more than what she’d ended up.”

“No doubt,” he agreed. “But isn’t that the case with so many people? I hate to echo Ramirez, but Capri’s case is pretty common.”

“It’s easier to be detached from the statistics when you’re just analyzing numbers on a piece of paper. It’s different when you know the kids getting killed.”

Shaine understood. “I know where you’re coming from. When I lost Walter, it stuck with me. You never forget, but maybe you can channel that grief and anger into something proactive, to help a different kid have a better outcome, you know?”

Poppy nodded in reflective silence. Times like this, losing so much, she worried that no one was ever going to manage to change what was wrong with the world.

“Every case leaves a mark of some kind. You never come out without leaving with something new to regret.”

“Is that why you didn’t want me going into undercover work?” she asked.

“Partially,” he admitted slowly as if not quite sure he wanted to have this particular conversation. But he surprised her when he said, “But it doesn’t matter. I was wrong. You’re a good agent and you do good work. We need more people like you in the field, not less.”

Unwelcome tears crowded her sinuses. “Do you mean that?”

“Of course I do.”

Dammit
. If only he’d just said
that
instead of what he’d
actually
said that caused them to break up. Everything would’ve been so different today. “Why couldn’t you have said that years ago?” she asked, almost angrily.

“Because I didn’t realize the truth of it until it was too late.”

And that was even worse. Maybe it would’ve been easier to stomach if Shaine had continued to be an ass, doubting her abilities and questioning her experience, because then she could tell him to piss off and not lose a minute of sleep.

But that was not what was happening.

The big jerk was contrite.

And each time he looked at her with such stark honesty and raw regret, she wanted to bawl her head off, which wasn’t good at all.

Poppy looked away, her gaze drawn to the passing scenery as she struggled to refocus. “Ain’t life a bitch...” she said in a rhetorical murmur, wishing she hadn’t brought up the topic.

Shaine seemed to agree and rather than continue to drive nails into each other’s hearts, he turned on the radio.

And for that, she was grateful.

Shaine pulled slowly up to Buhach Drive and Poppy saw the older neighborhood still had some charm, though small signs of decay had begun. At one time, the neighborhood had probably been very nice.

The house was surrounded by a waist-high chain-link fence, which had begun to rust. The lawn had patches of crabgrass and bare spots from where an animal had urinated. Poppy whistled softly and a dog bounded from around the corner, a pit bull with a happily wagging tail.

“Hey there, boy, are you going to let us in?” Poppy asked in a soft voice, allowing the dog to sniff her fingers. He licked her fingertips and she took that as a good sign. Slowly opening the gate, she and Shaine walked in. The dog, not much of a watchdog, trotted alongside them, more eager for a pat than to protect his territory.

Poppy knocked on the front door, taking note of the cracked weather stripping and how the door had minor cosmetic damage, as if someone had tried to kick the door down but failed because, in spite of its age, it was solid wood.

“Someone has had some action here,” she murmured to Shaine and he nodded, indicating he’d seen it, too.

The door opened slowly and a woman peered out cautiously. “Yes?”

“Olivia Lummox?” Poppy asked in a welcoming voice so as not to scare the woman. When Olivia nodded, Poppy said, “May we come in? We’re with the Miami coroner’s office. We have a few questions about your sister, Darcy.”

Olivia looked unhappy but opened the door and let them in. The dog followed, wagging his butt as he went. “I already told the cops what I knew,” she said, leading them into a small formal living room filled with antique furniture. She patted the sofa cushion beside her and the dog jumped up to cuddle beside her.

“That’s a great dog you have, very sweet,” Poppy started, trying to loosen the tension. “What’s his name?”

“Zeus,” Olivia answered, pursing her lips ruefully. “He was supposed to be a good watchdog but as you can tell...he’s a giant teddy bear. But I love him to death and I couldn’t take him back to the pound. So unless someone is afraid of being licked to death, he poses no threat.”