Force of Attraction (32 page)

She swallowed hard. “I've been called a bitch many times in my career as a cop. This is the first time I felt someone was right.”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Way to go, Lucca. Flame out, much?”

“Go stuff yourself, Hadley.”

The FBI advisor snickered as he passed Scott and Cole in the hallway of the DEA Baltimore offices. It was Monday morning and there was about to be a full meeting of the task force to decide how to proceed.

The story of the “outed” undercover policewoman had been all over the weekend news. Everyone from
Extra
to
Huffington Post
was vying for a chance to interview Cole and her “unidentified accomplice” who went by the name Sam Lott.

Most of the speculation centered around rumors that Cole was part of a sting operation meant to snare Eye-C in illegal activities that ranged from tax evasion to his reentry into the world of illegal dogfighting. None of them came close to the real reason, which meant the puppy mule drug-smuggling operation could possibly continue.

One thing was certain. It was going to happen without the services of K-9 Officer Nicole Jamieson and Special Agent Scott Lucca.

Shajuanna was everywhere in the news and entertainment media, proclaiming loudly about the “police state” tactics of local and federal authorities. And promoting the late summer edition of her show, where she promised to reveal the “entire explosive footage” of her confrontation with the “heartless b-i-zitch who wormed her way into my innocent children's lives.”

“The thing is, Shajuanna's right. Her family's done nothing wrong. That's all we proved, that she's innocent.”

Scott kept silent when Cole spoke those words on their drive into Baltimore. They were the only words she'd spoken on the subject since they left Philly two days ago.

He was worried about her, deeply worried. Few undercover agents ever had their covers blow up so spectacularly in their faces. When an agent was outed, it was often in private, and sometimes just before a bullet ended their lives. While he felt for her, felt deeply, he knew she was going to be okay. She was alive and safe. But he also knew that was of little comfort at the moment. She still had to face Lattimore and the other task force members.

When they were shown into his office, Lattimore looked as if he had aged five years over the weekend. His expression was flat, his complexion paler than usual. “I've read your initial reports. Is there anything either of you want to say before we begin the debriefing process?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, sir.” Cole's voice was calm, distant. “I should have been more wary. Especially after Shajuanna told me she'd made Agent Lucca.”

“Are you referring to her claim to have some special ‘sight' that allows her to so-called ‘read' people?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I'd have been more concerned if you had taken her seriously. I saw your report last week. That didn't concern me. Your explanation to her for Agent Lucca's attitude made more than enough sense to be believed.

“I'm more interested in the person who mailed that newspaper article to Ms. Collier. You were outed by a third party, Officer Jamieson. We need to know how compromised we are.” His gaze strayed from one to the other. “Do either of you have any information on who and what is behind that?”

“That would be me, sir.” Scott met the director's inquiring gaze. “I have recently been targeted by a Pagan gang member, a man who calls himself X. He went to prison after an undercover operation I participated in two years ago. He's out and looking to hurt me. I thought it had nothing to do with Officer Jamieson. Or this task force.”

Lattimore's expression gave nothing away. “Why am I just hearing about this?”

Scott sat back. “My problem. I was handling it.”

Lattimore snorted, the first emotional response Cole had ever witnessed from him. “Your way of handling things could be the reason Officer Jamieson's cover was blown.”

Scott's jaw worked for a second. “Actually, sir, I'm certain it was. There's an
X
on the lower right-hand corner of the newspaper article Ms. Collier was sent. It was a message meant for me.”

“But Scott, if he's after you, why not out you instead of me?”

Scott didn't look at Cole, afraid his fear for her would show. He spoke to Lattimore. “X won't try to take me down until he's wrecked everything important to me. But I'm not waiting for that to happen. I've been working with my former handler to get to X first. I should have told you sooner.”

“Can you be certain he has no direct interest in our present U/C operation?”

“Not certain. But since it's not about him, my best guess is he doesn't give a shit. X just wanted to humiliate me, through my partner.”

“Sir?” Cole waited until Lattimore's attention shifted to her. “Shajuanna was only interested in the fact that I'm a law officer who befriended her under false pretenses. Even she didn't ask why. Every interview she's given stresses the fact that she thinks I was sent in to trip up her husband for crimes concerning his prior conviction. Puppy drug smuggling isn't on her radar.”

Lattimore sat still for a long time, not looking at anything in particular. Finally he slipped his fingers under his glasses to rub his eyes. “We have a lot of resources and manpower involved in this task force. More than you know about. It was possible we had a leak here, on the back end. I needed to be sure that wasn't the case.”

Cole let that sink in. Scott had warned her there were warring political factions at work for a man in Lattimore's position with fierce internal defenders and enemies, pro and con. The fact that the director thought it was possible they'd been betrayed by someone in-house was positively chilling.

Lattimore adjusted his glasses and gave the pair before him a tight smile. “Thank you for your candid answers. We've had worse outcomes, and more spectacular failures. Believe me. If we can verify that the task force's purpose remains unknown, our efforts will continue unabated on a different front.”

Cole was grateful he didn't actually say the words “without you.”

He stood up and offered Cole his hand. “Thank you for your work and dedication, Officer Jamieson. DEA depends on officers like you to do difficult work.” He paused, looking at Cole with a very serious expression. “I know you are in a very difficult situation at the moment. But all of this will pass. You're a fine officer. You were able to infiltrate our target with remarkable ease. It's been good serving with you. Now if you will follow my assistant to the appropriate room, we can begin the debriefing.” He glanced at Scott. “Agent Lucca, a private word.”

Cole glanced back at Scott before she left. He looked tough, unapologetic, and ready for anything.

When she was gone, Lattimore turned to Scott. His eyes were silver behind his glasses and a vein had popped out on his forehead. “What the hell is all this about a man called X? I want details. Names, dates, everything that's happened.”

*   *   *

“Screw that.” Scott clicked off the TV and tossed the remote away. He'd watched five innings of a ballgame before deciding it was the slowest-ass game on the planet.

Scott and Cole had spent three grueling hours answering and reanswering questions from various task force members. They had been cross-checked against each other's statements separately, and then cross-referenced against the reports they had turned in weekly while undercover. It was necessary but it was an antagonistic process and sometimes just short of insulting. Once or twice it had crossed that line. But they had each stuck to their stories, omitting only certain previously agreed-upon events of that night in the alley.

He and Cole had returned to their rented apartment to pack. But neither of them had much energy for that at the moment.

In fact, Scott hadn't heard a sound coming from Cole's bedroom in over an hour. He thought she must be asleep. Now, he wondered if she wasn't just hiding.

He got up and crossed to her open doorway.

She was at the window, staring off into the middle distance as if the parking lot beyond was the most interesting sight she'd ever seen. But he knew she wasn't examining the parking lot, or anything else beyond the glass. She was all inside herself. Sadness was coming off her in waves he could feel. Hugo was at her feet, splayed out so flat it seemed as if he'd been run over. He was hurting because she was.

He didn't know what to say. He just knew he needed to get her out of here. “You ready?”

She didn't look back. “I didn't think … I didn't think.” Her second sentence was a complete thought.

Scott leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb and waited. Even if it took her another hour to get out the next sentence, he'd wait. She needed to say things. The least he could do was bear witness to her pain, even if it tore at his gut.

“I should have been prepared.” She traced a finger over the glass before her. “You told me what might happen. Still, I thought…”

“You could be a hero.”

He saw a corner of her mouth jerk up for a second. She liked it that he'd called her a hero, without adding the -
ine
. Good. Something he'd done right today.

He left the jamb and moved toward her slowly. “Are we going to talk about it now?”

After a moment she nodded but she didn't look back at him.

He came up behind her and lifted his hands to frame her shoulders. But she flinched before he even made contact, just as before, so he let his hands fall to his sides.

“You can't ever know how these assignments will end, Cole. You think you know how you'll feel and how you'll handle it. But the truth is, whether it goes right or terribly wrong, you can't know ahead how you'll handle it.”

“How did you handle it?” Her voice was so small he almost missed the question. The question was a kick in the stomach. He never really had talked about it. Not with his parents. Not directly with his anger management group. But he owed her the truth. He'd dragged her into this. He owed her a pound of his flesh.

“When my undercover operation blew up in my face, it just about did me in.”

She glanced at him, surprise in her expression. “What happened that night?”

Jesus. What didn't happen?

He set a shoulder on the wall nearest her, angling his body toward her. “You really want to know?”

She nodded.

“That night—” He paused to see if she would flinch at the mention of the night that tore them apart. She didn't even shift her feet. But her focus remained on the window.

“That night was a Pagan initiation. Orgy or public sex. Those were my choices. I chose the latter. Thought at least that way I could control what I would be forced to do.” He ran the back of a hand over his mouth. “Look, you don't want to hear this.”

“I do.” She didn't turn to him.

Maybe it was better that way. If she was looking at him he doubted he could utter the words she wanted to hear. Yet he needed to tell it in context. Then maybe she'd understand, at least a little.

“I won't burden you with everything that happened during the year I was trying to earn my way into the bastards' organization. I did some things, and saw a lot more bad shit that I still have nightmares about. You're warned about it, but still.” He paused a beat to let that anguished wave of guilt roll through him.

“Now that you've been undercover you have a sense of how it is when you hang out with suspects. After a while they go from being scumbags you want behind bars to being ordinary human beings. Most of them.”

Sociopathic personalities like X weren't exactly human to his way of thinking. At least, they weren't knowable. Even within the Pagans men like X stood a little apart. X was something he was still going to have to deal with.

She frowned. “So you became friends with the Pagans.”

“Not exactly. There were almost daily experiences to remind me that I wasn't dealing with people who honor the normal social contract.”

She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. “Are you going to tell me what happened that night?”

He didn't have to ask which night. Bad-shit night. The worst.

“I was being initiated into a chapter of the Pagans. We were about to do a drug deal with a Russian cartel out of Philly and they needed a full complement. Actually, we were to provide the muscle, be the enforcers. This was the kind of hookup my work was about. I was getting in at the beginning, and then.” He shrugged. “It's the little things that can trip you up. Someone called the cops.”

“The bartender of the place whose parking lot you had commandeered called my precinct.”

He glanced at her. “I swear I didn't know we were in your precinct. We'd been riding and drinking all day. I'm not sure I could have told you what day it was by the time I had my pants around my ankles and that woman was—handling my junk.”

She hunched her shoulders but her voice was determined. “Go on.”

“You know the next part. Arrests were made. There were drugs on the premises. Folks went to prison after that. X did time. My extraction ‘cover' was that I was wanted in another state and that I was extradited west for outstanding warrants. End of undercover operation. End of my career. End of our marriage.”

She shrugged. “At least you got bad guys off the street.”

“No, you and your precinct pals got bad guys off the street. I lost my U/C operation and offed my marriage. For nothing.”

“What did you do after I left you?”

Died inside.
But she didn't need to hear self-pity loser shit from him now. “Higher-ups said I had to be off the streets for a while, until things settled. So, I mostly stayed at home and went to hell.”

He had never seen her chew her nails before but her thumb edged between her teeth. “Did you get into drugs?”