My Spy: Last Spy Standing (4 page)

Phew, all righty, then.
She shook her head to clear the image.

So unfair that she would find him attractive. He was in her town doing secret things. He was about as pleasant as a wild boar with a toothache. He was high-handed. She didn’t want to like him, not even a little.

“What’s your team really doing on the border?” she asked again, and waited.

And waited.

“Ryder McKay said that you’ll be my liaison. Liaise.” She raised her eyebrows into her best schoolmarm look.

He still waited another couple of stubborn seconds before he finally said, “We’re here about the smuggling.”

“But not to make policy recommendations,” she guessed.

He shook his head, watched her, measured her up again. “We’re here to intercept a special transfer.”

“And you work for Homeland Security?”

He just stared at her.

So, okay, she could pretty much guess the rest. Whatever his team had come for probably had something to do with terrorism. “Is my town safe?”

“Yes.”

“And you know this how?”

“We have
some
information. You’re not a target.”

Made
some
sense. Terrorists would be going for one of the major cities.

Anger coursed through her. She was a patriot and a Texan, sick of people who tried to mess with her country. “Is there anything I can help with?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Maybe. I’ll let you know if we come across something where we could use your assistance.”

“And you’ll let me know of any developments?”

He hesitated longer this time, but said, “Yes.”

“Thank you.” She pulled out the bottom drawer that was about filled to the rim with his weaponry and one by one set them on the desk between them, grabbing an old canvas bag from under the desk and dropping it on top. “I’d appreciate it if you carried that loot out of here concealed.”

He gave a brief nod and stepped forward to pack up his things. The string on his night-vision goggles caught on her manila envelope. They reached for it at the same time, their fingers touching.

She barely had time to register the zing as she jerked back, the contents of the envelope spilling all over her desk.

She stared at the photos for a disjointed moment as her brain registered the images: snapshots of her in her kitchen, taken from outside her house. She grabbed for them, but not fast enough.

He snatched up the last one and took a good look at it before holding it up for her. “What the hell is this?”

The photo showed her standing in her bedroom next to the bed, changing, wearing nothing but a skimpy bra and blue jeans, holding her favorite checkered shirt.

She grabbed the picture from him as her heart sped suddenly.
Oh, God. Not again.
She so didn’t have time for her past to rise up to claim her. “That’s on a need-to-know basis.”

* * *

H
E
DIDN
’
T
LIKE
the way she suddenly paled, or the idea that she had a stalker.

“When do you think these were taken?” Jamie asked.

She didn’t think about it long. “Last night. That’s the shirt I was wearing yesterday.”

“And you went to see Ryder McKay earlier in the day?” He gave her a pointed look.

“The two have nothing to do with each other.”

The hell they didn’t. “Smuggling is a multibillion-dollar business. It’s a dangerous business.”

“Really? I must have been sitting behind my desk, filing my nails, and I missed that briefing,” she said with that overly sweet smile he’d come to learn meant she was mocking him.

He shot her a look that told her he wasn’t amused. “Look, people around here know we’re investigating smuggling. Someone saw you visiting the office. They didn’t like it. You need to stay out of what we’re doing.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you. Don’t involve yourself. Forget everything we’ve talked about earlier.”

“Or what?” A laugh escaped her and trilled along his nerve endings. “You’ll spank me? For heaven’s sake. I’m an officer of the law. I’m trained to handle myself.”

The visual of the spanking bit left him both speechless and breathless for a second.

“I’m a big girl, Jamie.” She switched to dead serious and ticked off in a split second, which did nothing to lessen the wave of lust that threatened to drown him. “Whatever threat is jeopardizing the peace of this town and the law, you can be sure I’ll be out there fighting it.” She pressed her full lips together.

He wondered what she’d do if he tried to kiss her. Throw him against the wall again? His pulse quickened.

On the other hand, as unpredictable and unreasonable as she was, she might just shoot him.

Not that kissing those lips wouldn’t be worth the risk, he decided. Not that he was going to do it. No way. He was in town on serious business. And women were no longer part of his life, anyway. He had too much baggage, too many nightmares. He had no right to bring that into a relationship and mess up somebody else’s life along with his.

He didn’t have much left. He was a trained killing machine, that was about it. He planned on living the rest of his life using what skills he had in the service of his country.

“Stick to speeding tickets,” he said as he stood. “Forget about me and my team.” Although he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to forget about her. He was going to try, anyway, he promised himself as he walked away from her.

His shift was starting in half an hour.

He walked out of the station to his SUV parked up front. At least he’d gotten a possible lead in San Antonio.

He would have to figure out the witness-protection thing with the U.S. Marshals Service. And Rico had to think about what he had and come up with enough that would buy him two witness-protection tickets.

Jamie needed to talk to Ryder about that. And forget about Bree. He would. After he made sure she was safe.

Chapter Four

Stick to speeding tickets,
Jamie Cassidy had said. He had a singular ability to get under her skin, Bree
thought as she went about her business.

She didn’t have to worry about speeding tickets, as it turned
out. Just as she finished her crime-prevention presentation at the middle
school, the town’s streetlight system went down, snarling traffic, cars barely
inching along. She spent most of the rest of her shift cleaning up the mess.

A dozen fender benders got tempers flaring; a couple of
arguments ended in fistfights before it was all over. Bree didn’t have too much
time to think about Jamie Cassidy, and thank God for that, because the man was
enough to raise any sane woman’s blood pressure.

She was exhausted by the time she made it back to the station,
and then a whole other hour went to waste with writing up reports. She’d just
finished when Hank, the contractor whose company managed the town’s
traffic-control system, walked into her office.

“Hey, Bree.” He was short and round, the mocha-skinned version
of Danny DeVito, a family guy who was always hustling, always working on
something, if not for his kids and small company then for the town. He was a
tireless volunteer.

“Everything up and running?”

“Almost. I wanted to talk to you about something.” He stopped
in front of her desk. “Looks like several of our control boxes were shorted out
on purpose.”

She stilled. “Are you sure?” Why on earth would somebody want
to do that? “Can you give me the locations?”

He rattled off the crossroads and she wrote them down. “I’ll
look into it. Thanks for letting me know. Can I get you a coffee from the break
room?” The least she could do. She appreciated the work Hank did and the fact
that he took the time to come in to talk to her.

“Lena already fixed me up with coffee and a Danish.” He patted
his round belly with a quick grin. “I better get going. I still have a couple of
things to fix.”

She gave him a parting wave. “Thanks. I really appreciate it.
Give me a call if you run into any trouble.”

“Will do. Say hi to Katie for me,” he said as he left her to
her work.

She shrugged into her harness and slipped her weapon into her
holster as she stood and scanned the major intersections on her list. Several
stores in those spots would have external security cameras. She needed to check
the footage.

Most of the officers were out on calls and the station was
close to deserted.

“I’m off to look into the traffic-light business,” she called
to Lena on her way out. “Back in an hour, I hope. Want anything?”

“A hot guy with an oil claim on his ranch?”

“If I see one, I’ll send him your way.”

The traffic was clearing up at last so she didn’t have any
trouble reaching the first address, just three blocks from the station. The
owner of the small pawnshop handed over his security video without insisting on
a warrant. Bree had cut him a break a month or so ago when he’d taken in stolen
merchandise without knowing.

She moved on to the next address, a place that sold used video
games and gaming equipment, and got the recording there, too. She’d been buying
Katie games there for years. She knew her community and was nice to people. And
they were nice to her when she needed something.

The next place after that was a specialty shop, selling
high-end, artisan cowboy boots, run by one of her old schoolmates.

Rounding up the half-dozen recordings took a little over an
hour, including taking some time to talk with people. She liked knowing what was
going on in her town.

Then it was back to the office to view the footage. Another
half an hour passed before she had her men, two twenty-somethings from
Hullett—Jeremy and Josh Harding, brothers. She knew them from a round-up brawl
that had sent six men to the E.R. last year.

She headed out to Hullett to pick up the boys. She let them
sweat it out in the back of her police cruiser—didn’t start questioning them
until they were in the interview room.

They both wore scuffed boots and jeans and identical ragged
T-shirts, no brand, cheapest stuff money could buy. They looked down on their
luck. If they were going to commit a crime, why not one that would benefit them
financially? Try as she might, she couldn’t figure out the traffic-light
angle.

“Little old for pranks, aren’t you?”

Jeremy shot a meaningful look at his younger brother before
looking back at her. “Dunno what you talkin’ about.”

“What do you Hullett boys have against Pebble Creek these
days?” They had an arson investigation going, the fire started by someone just
like these two, last week. Then there were the half-dozen cases of random
vandalism she couldn’t tie to anyone. Investigations that kept her busy, like
she needed extra work with smuggling and the counterfeit money coming in.

“You’re messing up my crime-rate statistics,” she told them,
putting away her softer side. “I don’t like it.”

The younger one, Josh, brightened. “We are?” He sounded a
little too eager. Even pleased.

She looked from him to Jeremy. “Okay. What’s going on
here?”

“We have an alibi. We were at a friend’s house, hangin’ out and
shootin’ beer cans,” the older brother said, smug as anything.

“Is that so?” she asked calmly. “Because I have half a dozen
security tape recordings showing you two messing with the traffic-light control
boxes.”

The younger brother paled. “I can’t go to no jail. Jenny’s
gonna have a kid. Ma’s gonna skin me alive if I get into trouble again. She said
it.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Jeremy barked at him.

Bree raised a placating hand. “How about we start with
cooperation, then discuss restitution? Things don’t have to come to jail.”

“Sounds good, ma’am,” Josh hurried to say, all manners,
suddenly.

His older brother whacked him on the shoulder. “You don’t even
know what it means.”

“Can’t be worse than jail.”

Bree shook her head. “It means you two have to pay back the
repair costs, and then never cause trouble in my town again.” She thought that
was a fair deal, but Josh’s shoulders sagged.

“We ain’t got no money. That’s why we did it in the first
place,” he whined, earning another smack from Jeremy.

They were only about ten years younger than she was, but she
felt like she should ground them or something. “No more hitting.” She held up a
warning finger. “Now, explain to me how you make money from stopping
traffic?”

They looked down. Looked at each other.

She pulled out her cell phone. “How about I just call your
mother?”

“The mill,” Josh blurted out, then slumped as Jeremy shot him a
dark look that said, “I’ll make you regret this later.”

“The wire mill?” Hullett had a wire mill. She failed to
understand what Pebble Creek traffic had to do with it.

“It’s going under,” Josh explained.

Not a surprise. The owner was in prison for human trafficking.
A shame for the workers and their families. The Hullett wire mill was the town’s
largest employer.

“You two work there?”

Jeremy pressed his lips together and sulked, but Josh
responded. “We already got our pink slips.”

Bad timing with the baby coming, she thought. “I’m still
waiting on how this connects to traffic.”

“Word is, there’s gonna be a paper mill comin’ in. Choice is
between Hullett and Pebble Creek.”

She knew about that. Some rich Chinese guy, Yo Tee, who owned a
big paper mill on the other side of the border, was thinking about building a
smaller one over here. Probably to get a tax break or whatever. He had some team
that was scouting for a location. She’d run into them the week before when an
overeager citizen spotted them at an abandoned factory and reported it as a
possible burglary.

“We want the paper jobs in Hullett,” Josh told her. “They could
put new machines into the wire mill and keep the workers on. We could do
trainin’. We ain’t stupid.”

Clearly.
She narrowed her eyes at
him. “So you’re making a mess of my town to make Hullett look better. Is that
it?”

He looked down at his hands sheepishly. “We need the work.”

They went about it in a completely wrong and idiotic way, but
she could certainly understand their motivation. “What else?”

Josh looked up, confusion on his face.

“What else have you done?” she clarified.

“The lights were it. I swear.”

He looked earnest enough that she believed him. But she would
bet good money that Pebble Creek’s recent troubles with vandalism had been
caused by some of his buddies—bunch of geniuses.

She told them she’d take them to holding, one at a time, while
she figured something out. She took Jeremy first, then Josh. With Josh, she
swung by the break room on their way to holding.

He walked with his head hanging. “Just don’t call my ma, all
right? She can’t pay no bail.”

“Want some coffee?”

He looked up with surprise. He’d probably expected
chastisement. “Thank you, ma’am. I would.”

“How about something to go with it?” She gestured toward the
box of doughnuts on the counter.

“For real?”

“I’m not here to abuse people whose biggest crime is wanting to
work.”

Relief filled his face as he cautiously reached into the white
paper box for an apple fritter.

She drew a slow breath. “But you and your brother did go about
it the wrong way. Replacing those fuse boxes will cost a mint.”

Josh looked like the first bite got stuck in his throat. “I
told you, we ain’t got no money.”

“And the baby’s coming,” she said with sympathy. “I’ll talk to
the judge. You could be booked and released today, no bail. I could put in a
strong recommendation for community service only. You and your brother could
work off the damage.” She paused. “Thing is, if I’m that nice, I need to know
everything you know.”

But instead of giving her information on other recent vandalism
in Pebble Creek like she’d expected, he said, “I know about the bad money they
were talkin’ about on TV.” He looked around nervously.

Pay dirt.

She hurried to the door and closed it, all ears. “Sit.” She put
the whole doughnut box in front of him.

But he looked really scared now, just holding on to his
fritter. “If anyone finds out...”

“Not from me. I promise.”

He swallowed hard and looked to the door as if to make sure
nobody was coming in. “I was at Ronny’s house last week for some grillin’ and
beer.” He paused.

“Ronny who?”

“Brown. Down by the reservoir.”

She knew Ronald Brown. They were old friends. She’d arrested
him on drug distribution last year. He’d gotten off on a technicality. “How is
he linked to the fake money?”

“I don’t know. I swear.” Josh put his free hand to his chest.
“I went into the house to take a leak. He was in the kitchen with this other
dude. The other guy was givin’ him a roll of twenties and tellin’ him they
needed to be spent slowly and carefully.”

“That’s it?”

He nodded. “I didn’t think nothin’ of it until they said about
bad money on the news.”

“What did the other man look like?”

“Mexican. Short and scruffy. He had some tattoos. Ain’t never
seen him around before.”

“How about you look at some pictures for me?”

She led him back to her office then had him look through the
mug shots on her computer.

Scrolling through the pictures, and doing a lot of handholding
so Josh wouldn’t renege on his promise to help, took some time. By the time they
ran out of mug shots to look at and she’d processed then released the brothers,
her shift was over. Too late to go and see Ronny Brown. She put away her files.
Tomorrow was another day. Right now, she had to go pick up Katie.

The drive over took less than ten minutes.

“Did you have a good day?” Bree asked when they were in the
car, heading home.

Katie worked at a facility that employed handicapped people.
They shipped small machine parts all over the country and were responsible for
wrapping and packaging. The people running the place were fantastic with the
employees. Katie loved going to work since all her friends were there. They had
fun together.

“Mrs. Mimms said I did good work,” Katie said. “I think she was
happy. She made the happy face.”

They’d been working on emotions with cue cards and internet
pictures in the evenings. Katie was high functioning, but she did have autism.
She had trouble with emotions, both displaying them appropriately and telling
the mood of others.

“I’m sure she was very happy. Did you have a good lunch?”

Food was a touchy subject. Katie only liked a handful of
things, and she wouldn’t eat at all if the food on her plate was touching.

“Chicken fingers. Good.”

Bree relaxed a little. It worried her when Katie skipped meals.
She was such a skinny little thing already.

“We got someone new,” her sister informed her. “He’s just like
me. Except he doesn’t talk to anyone. His name is Scott.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s quiet.”

Which meant she liked him. She gave a full report on the way
home, then went through her coming-home routine, putting her things away,
washing her hands, setting the table, while Bree made some hamburgers for
dinner.

“Can we do a puzzle later?”

“Sure.” Bree pulled the French fries from the oven—baked to
save some calories—and thought how much she liked their evenings together. Katie
was sweet and gentle, and part of her life irrevocably.

She didn’t care if the few boyfriends she’d had over the years
couldn’t deal with that. They’d wanted her, but they hadn’t wanted her
“baggage,” as the last one had put it. Thing was, she would rather have her
sister than a jerk in her life, anyway. She
had
said
that. With a Southern-belle smile on her face.