Turner fired a volley from the machine gun for good measure. She watched tracers zip off into the night. They all watched as the second boat exploded into its own fireball.
“BINGO in seven minutes,” Crenshaw said, switching on the helo’s high-powered search light.
Olivia turned her full attention to the water and flew the prescribed pattern to locate survivors. The Dolphin’s autopilot could be used for this but with so much debris she preferred to control the stick. Floating with chunks of the boat were heavily taped plastic bags.
“What’s your ETA?” she asked the rescue helo.
“Ten minutes,” the pilot snapped back. “Will my swimmers be going in the water?”
“So far that’s a negative,” Crenshaw replied.
“Hold,” Defoe shouted.
Olivia held the helo’s position stationary, waiting for instructions from her senior chief.
“Starboard, two o’clock.”
“I see him.” Crenshaw worked the searchlight to center on the man. “Shit. There are two of them. One is floating face down.”
Olivia brought their altitude down to thirty feet. Crenshaw captured the two men in the beam of the powerful light.
“I’m going in,” Defoe announced.
“The fuck you are,” she yelled back.
“Rescue will be here in seven. I’m going in.”
“That was an order, Senior Chief.”
“BINGO in three minutes,” Crenshaw said.
Olivia looked back at her senior chief to see him removing his shoes. “You’re not equipped for a rescue.”
He didn’t answer as he checked the straps on his safety vest.
“I’m taking us up to fifty feet.” Even Defoe wouldn’t be foolish enough to attempt a jump from that height.
“Suit yourself, ma’am, but I’m going in. One of those guys is alive and I intend on keeping him that way.” He removed his headgear, ending any effective communication between them. They locked eyes for a moment. No use battling him, he was too bullheaded.
Olivia took the helo down to twelve feet above the water. She would have gone lower for Defoe but there was too much debris. Lower would churn it up and possibly injure the survivors and her senior chief.
“Swimmer away,” Turner called out when Defoe jumped.
Crenshaw relayed the information to rescue. “Swimmer in the water and we are BINGO. Put the pedal to the metal, rescue.”
“Take it easy, L.T.,” she snapped. We aren’t going to drop out of the sky. BINGO means I have three minutes of fuel before RTB. I intend on taking every second before I leave my man in the water.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Olivia rose to fifty feet and watched Defoe take several powerful strokes to the victim floating face down. He rolled him over and even at this distance they could see the man’s face was gone.
“Jee-sus.” Crenshaw grimaced.
Defoe was already on his way to the second man. He reached him and gave a thumbs up signal. They had a live one.
Turner dropped a floating flare to guide the rescue helicopter.
“Three minutes past BINGO, Commander.”
She turned the helo toward Mayport and fuel.
Crenshaw relayed details to the rescue helo. “Keep us informed on your pickup. Tell our senior chief to stay put at the hospital. We’ll be picking him up as soon as we refuel.”
Olivia gave him an approving nod.
After long minutes of silence, the radio came to life. “We have visual on your man and the survivor.”
Her crew said nothing, listening to the radio chatter as they headed to Mayport. Another fifteen minutes passed, and they were close to setting down for fuel.
“Carver, what does your senior chief eat for breakfast?” the rescue pilot asked. “He refused the basket until we had both the survivor and body aboard.”
“Is he aboard now?” she said crisply.
“Sure is, and says he’s fine.”
He won’t be when I get finished with him,
she thought. It pissed her off he’d disobeyed her order and deliberately risked his life. He could have waited for rescue. Not only had Defoe put himself at risk, they’d been fired on. Her biggest fear—maybe her only fear—was her crew being injured. She never wanted to face grieving family members, knowing only too well what it felt like to be one.
“What’s the status on the survivor?” she asked.
“Medic says he’ll make it.”
Good.
Nothing would make her happier than to see that SOB behind bars.
“The boat we fired on?”
“Rescue boats searching. Nothing yet.”
They all knew there wouldn’t be. To have one survivor was nothing short of a miracle.
At Mayport she ordered a quick fuel. Enough to pick up Defoe at Shands Hospital, where rescue was taking the injured man, and return to Cecil Field. She couldn’t wait to get to Defoe. The longer she thought about it, the madder she was with him for risking his own life. She fully intended on ripping him a new one.
Olivia requested and received clearance to land on the hospital’s heliport. Lights illuminating the landing area cast an eerie glow on the mist from the nearby river. Rescue landed only a couple of minutes before her, and she could see Defoe standing next to the big helo, a blanket draped over his shoulders. Her anger bubbling over, Olivia didn’t bother with her normal soft landing. She slammed down, idled the engines and was up and out of her seat in an instant, pushing past Turner to get to Defoe.
She had the senior chief in her sights. Ten feet from him she started yelling, out of anger and to be heard over the big helo’s engines.
“You arrogant bastard. I’ll see you hanging by the short hairs on the station flagpole tomorrow.” She was on him and saw his color wasn’t so good.
Crap.
“Are you hurt?” She wrenched open the blanket draped around him looking for signs of injury.
“Piece of debris hit me in the back. I’m pretty sore,” he answered, watching the removal of the injured man they’d rescued. He took her arm, moving her aside.
“Damn it. Senior Chief, what were you thinking? Get inside and get checked out.”
He shook his head and grinned. “I’m fine. Getting too old for this shit though.”
The rescue crew maneuvered past them. The man in the basket reached out and grabbed her arm in a death grip.
“What the hell?” She was in no mood for this kind of crap. She tried to pry the scumbag’s hand away but he had a grip like a vise.
“Help me,” the man moaned.
“Let go of me you son of…”
She was sucker punched in the midsection. At least that’s what it felt like. All the breath left her. She stumbled into Defoe. Crenshaw reached them and peeled the man’s fingers from her arm. Her world spun out of control.
Rico.
Shit. She didn’t even know his last name.
For the first time in her life, fear owned her. Olivia fought to catch her breath. The man she’d spent the night with was a drug dealer. What if he was the one who had…No! She couldn’t go there. If he’d killed Danny she would have known, felt something. But she’d gone to bed with a criminal. How could she explain this? Everything she’d worked for could be destroyed. Her career in the Coast Guard ruined. She wanted to scream. No. What she really wanted was to kill the SOB.
Crenshaw broke Rico’s grip and she stumbled full against Defoe who encircled her in his arms. To her surprise, she let him.
Trembling, she struggled to control her emotions. Her heart pounded so hard she could hear it over the rescue helo’s rotors.
“Ma’am, he’s gone now,” Defoe yelled. He pulled back from her. “You okay?”
The look of concern on his face pushed her back from the edge.
“Yeah,” she stammered, “yeah. I wasn’t ready for that.”
She moved away from Defoe to see Crenshaw and Turner watching her with equally concerned looks. What could she say? Tell them she’d spent a night wrestling between the sheets with a drug dealer. Fucked him?
Damn.
Her stomach did a 360.
“Commander, they want us back ASAP to get our statements and talk to the feds.” Crenshaw yelled to be heard over engine noise.
She said nothing.
“
Ma’am,
we need to get in the air.”
She blinked several times, trying to erase what happened from her mind like windshield wipers swishing the rain away. She looked at each of her crew. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they responded.
Olivia found the debriefing tougher than normal. After filing the usual reports, feds took over. The suits. Crews were used to this kind of interview anytime they fired their weapons or hauled in prisoners. It came with the territory since they merged with Homeland Security.
The interviews were always annoying, but tonight they were excruciatingly painful. She wanted to tell them she knew the rescued man, yet couldn’t bring herself to speak up. Each minute that passed made it more difficult to say anything. Playing the conversation out in her head didn’t help either.
“
Commander, tell us everything you know about the man brought in tonight.”
“Sure, let’s see. He’s good looking, a great kisser, has a big dick and is fantastic in bed.
”
She would be out of the flight rotation immediately. Maybe even arrested.
Olivia made a decision. If asked directly if she knew the man, she would not lie. Until then, she would offer no information. Don’t ask, don’t tell. Maybe, if it came to it, she could say she wasn’t sure the man they rescued was the same man she’d been in bed with. That is, if she could bring herself to lie.
Sweating bullets, she made it through the individual interview. Thankfully the question never came. The crew gathered in the conference room, and the lead investigator started the questioning with Turner.
“What’s your take on the muzzle flash?”
Turner straightened. “There were three bursts. I saw the flashes clearly. Something big, like SEALs and special forces carry.”
“All right. But what I want to know is do you think they were firing at the helo or the go-fast?”
Olivia and her men looked at each other. Firing on their own boat? This certainly hadn’t crossed her mind and, from the looks on their faces, none of them had thought it either.
“I don’t know, sir.” Turner rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought they were firing on us. That the rounds fell short and hit the boat. To make a shot at that distance going seventy-five knots at another boat with no lights doesn’t seem possible, sir.”
“I agree,” Defoe added.
“Lieutenant?”
“I have to agree with Turner. That boat was going flat out. I don’t see how they could have even hit us,” Crenshaw said. “There was a three foot chop. They had to be hopping over the water. Making a shot like that would be next to impossible.”
“Commander?”
“I also agree with Turner.”
“Why?”
She bristled at the question. “Turner’s experienced and as good as they come. He was a gunner aboard a cutter and before that a Marine Corps sniper. I’ve found his judgment and abilities to be without question.”
“Okay, Commander. Take it easy. Thank you.”
Turner nodded to her in thanks.
Another man entered the room, handing the agent in charge a single sheet of paper.
“Commander?”
Olivia’s blood turned to ice. This was it. They knew.
“I see each of you states that you pulled the helicopter up and away seconds before the boat exploded. What caused you to do that?”
She tried to breathe normally.
Settle down. They don’t know.
She forced a smile.
“The UCs from earlier tonight.”
“What?”
“When the second boat took a course directly at us it didn’t feel right. These creeps are out for themselves. Why would they risk their own freedom to rescue the men in the boat near us? In our briefing, the UC agent said something wasn’t right. It could be a set up.” She looked at Crenshaw. “You asked about an ambush. It hit me they were pulling us in to take a shot. I went up and turned away from the angle the boat was approaching. As I did, Turner reported the muzzle flash. It confirmed what I thought and you know the rest.”
The AIC stared, studying her. She held his gaze.
“Until we can talk to the survivor we won’t know what they were thinking and doing. We may not even know then.”
Olivia gulped. “You haven’t spoken to him yet?” She struggled to keep her voice even.
He shook his head. “No. It’ll be tomorrow or the next day, when the docs give us permission. Initial reports say he has a mild concussion, broken ribs, some burns—generally banged up. From your account of the explosion I don’t know how he survived.”
She wanted to jump up and down. If that asshole implicated her—and there was no reason to think he wouldn’t—she had some time to prepare. Time to talk to her brother, Sam, and their attorney. Explaining why she had been in the bar would be easy. Explaining why she had been in the condo…She massaged her temple. If forced, she’d call in favors, play her ace in the hole. She’d get out of it, but her career would be in the crapper.
All for one night of fucking. A knot rose in her throat. She had to get out of here, get some air. Standing quickly, she knocked over her chair. “Crap.”
Everyone in the room stared.
“Are we done here? I’m damn tired.” She strode to the door and stopped, waiting for an answer from the AIC.
Shit.
She shot him a hard look over her shoulder.
The fed leaned back, tipping his chair on its back legs. She hoped he’d fall.
“Yeah. You can leave.” The sound of chairs scraping the floor filled the room. “One other thing, Commander.”
Olivia turned to look the man in the eyes. Was this it?
“Yes?”
“Damn fine job out there tonight.”
“Thank you,” she said, as if she cared what he thought.
Olivia kept the Ducati under the speed limit. She wanted to open it up, take it to the 200 mph she knew the bike would do, and scream the whole time. Get all her anger and frustration out. She didn’t. No use tempting fate any further. She dodged a bullet tonight. Tomorrow would be different. Once they spoke with Rico it would be over.
She parked the Duc in the out building that served as the garage and slowly walked to the house. Inside she locked the kitchen door, leaning back against it.
What have I done?
Her legs refused to carry her any farther. She sank to the floor and drew her knees to her chest.
A tear tracked down her cheek. Angrily she brushed it away. She didn’t cry. Crying was for fools. Too shaken and tired to move, Olivia rested her head on the cabinet beside her, closed her eyes and thought of Danny.
The phone ringing jarred her. She didn’t get up. They could leave a message.
“Commander. You there?” Crenshaw’s voice said. She looked at her watch. A little after ten.
“The guy we picked up last night is gone. Walked out of the emergency room. Slipped out, vanished before the feds could get a guard on him.”
“Shit!” She struggled to her feet and walked stiffly to the phone.
“The feds are going crazy looking for him,” Crenshaw continued. “I don’t know how he could move with the injuries Defoe said he has.” A moment of silence. “Commander, pick up.”
She reached for the phone but paused as a sensation of uneasiness overcame her. Her skin crawled. Someone else was in the room. Before she could turn, a hand covered her mouth and pulled her head back.
“Don’t answer.”
She grabbed at the phone. The man dragged her away.
“It’s me, Rico,” he hissed. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Olivia yanked his arm, twisting it down and away from her. He cried out. Remembering his injuries, she turned, punching him hard in the ribs. His breath escaped in a cough as he doubled over. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she rammed her knee into his chest and felt him go limp. She released her grip and he sank to the floor.
She spun around to get her gun and froze. The box she kept her Heckler & Koch .45 in lay open on the kitchen table…empty. She turned back to see Rico rise to his knees, leaning slightly forward, his left arm wrapped around his chest. His right hand pointed the H&K at her.
“Stay right there.” He attempted to stand.
“You son of a bitch.” The man responsible for all her trouble had broken into her home and had the nerve to aim her own gun at her. And he was ordering her around.
Hell no.
She took three quick strides, kicked his hand and sent the gun skittering across the floor, knocking him off balance. Before he could recover she delivered a hard blow to his chest with her boot. His head hit the floor with a resounding thud and he sprawled awkwardly, not moving. The H&K in hand, she inched closer and nudged him with her foot. He was out. With the toe of her boot she moved his chin, making sure he had a clear airway. Didn’t want him smothering on her kitchen floor. Rummaging around in kitchen drawers for something to restrain him all she could find was a roll of duct tape. Before she was able to use it he stirred.
Rico opened his eyes. “How did you find me?” she demanded, pointing the gun at his head.
“Internet.” He sucked in a couple of loud breaths.
“Where did you get on the net?”
“Hospital. Got into an office.”
“So, smuggling and two B&Es.
You
are going to jail.”
“Give me a break.” Rico wrapped his arms around his torso, moaning, his breathing labored.
“Broken ribs?”
“No. Couple
were
bruised. More are now.” He rolled onto his side, attempting to sit up.
“Stay down.”
“Hurts less if I sit.”
“Don’t care. Stay down or I’ll kick you again.”
Ignoring her, Rico levered himself up. For his efforts he received her size nine boot in the center of his chest. He grabbed her leg and Olivia thumbed the H&K’s safety off. The snick it made paralyzed Rico. His gaze met hers. “I’m not playing here. I said, stay down.” She shoved her boot harder into his chest, bringing the barrel of the weapon inches from his temple.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he grunted.
“Yeah? You aren’t the guy we picked up in the water after his go-fast exploded? A go-fast crammed full of cocaine, I might add.”
“Yes. I mean, no. Damn it.” He braced a palm on the floor inching himself up. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“No,” she shot back, removing her foot. “Roll over.”
“What?”
“Roll onto your stomach. Hands on your head, and lace your fingers together.”
“No.”
She landed a hard kick to his side.
“Ahh. Don’t do that again,” he howled. “For Christ sakes, I’m DEA UC.”
“You want to play the alphabet game? A, B, C.” He was really pissing her off. She raised her foot to thump him again and stopped. “What did you say?”
“Damn it. I said I’m an undercover agent with the Drug Enforcement Administration.
Now, let me get up.
”
Grabbing his arm she forced him onto his stomach. Rico yelped in protest.
“Prove it, asshole,” she ordered, planting her boot in the small of his back.
“I’m UC, I don’t carry ID or a badge.” He groaned again.
“You got some way to prove that?” she said, grinding that size nine, twisting the hospital scrubs. Danny had assured her if it became necessary there were ways to prove he was undercover.
“Like what?” Rico spit out between gritted teeth. “You think I have a badge tattooed on my ass?”
“I would have noticed that.” She pulled her cell from a pocket. “You have sixty seconds to convince me before I call for the cavalry.” He moved. She pressed her foot harder.
“Damn it. Quit being a bitch. Let me talk.”
“Now I’m a bitch? Fifty seconds.” She removed her foot and he rolled to his side.
“What the fuck do you want me to say?”
“Thirty seconds.”
“I could give you a number to call my handler—but I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“Twenty seconds.” She punched in 911 on the cell. “Why don’t you trust him?”
“I was set up. I don’t know how or by who. Someone gave me up.”
“You know this because?”
“The boat was rigged with explosives.”
Olivia assessed him, trying to get a read. What he said could be true. It would explain why the boat exploded. The agents had suggested a possible set up. She wanted to trust him. Wanted to have her judgment vindicated.
“Not good enough.”
“Trust me,” he said.
“Why? Because we had fantastic sex one night?” She winced, instantly wishing she could recall the words.
“Fantastic, huh?” He grinned.
“You arrogant bastard.” She raised her foot to stomp him again.
“Sorry,” he shouted, holding up a hand in defense.
By now he’d positioned himself against the wall in a half-sitting position, maneuvering to a place where he could possibly attack.
“Down,” she ordered, pressing the gun’s barrel to his forehead.
“The bar. I was there to meet you. Scare you off of asking any more questions.”
“That doesn’t help.
You
could also be the man I’m looking for.”
“I’m not. Give me some time to prove it. Olivia, help me. I don’t know who to trust.”
Her finger poised above the send key on her cell, she hesitated. For the first time, he sounded sincere.
“When I was taken off the helicopter and saw you…I—I don’t believe in coincidence. I thought I could be safe with you.”
Olivia said nothing. Her inner voice demanded she call the cops. Let them sort this out. If he was lying, her career was screwed. Helping him could put her behind bars as an accomplice for aiding and abetting.
Rico slid down the wall. “I was wrong about you. Make the call. Get it over with.”
The ringing of her land line shattered the tension between them. Olivia flinched. She kept her gaze on Rico, who was shaking his head, his eyes begging her not to answer. She let the machine pick up.
“Olivia, for Christ’s sake, are you there?” Defoe. He sounded upset. He rarely called her Olivia. Almost always addressed her by her rank. She moved to the phone, keeping her gaze on Rico, wary he would pull something.
“The feds think you’re involved with the guy we picked up,” Defoe went on. “They say he looked you up on a hospital computer. He has your address, Olivia. They’re on their way to your place.” She touched the phone to answer.
“No,” Rico growled. “You’ll drag him into this.”
She stood motionless, staring at Rico.
“I’m in Anderson’s office. He told the feds you were on leave and wouldn’t be coming here for a week. We want to help.” Silence filled the room.
“Damn it. Commander, pick up the fucking phone.”
Rico struggled to his feet, shaking his head.
“Olivia, pick up the phone,” Defoe yelled.
Flushed with anger, she pointed the gun at Rico’s head and reached for the phone. He took a step toward her.
“You ass! You led them straight to me. I could shoot you and end all this right now.” And she should. It would clear her if he was a part of the cartel. But if he wasn’t…
“You could, but you won’t.”
“Why do you think I wouldn’t?” The arrogant bastard.
“I have a knack for knowing who’ll shoot and who won’t. It’s one thing that’s kept me alive this long.”
“Commander,” Defoe yelled, followed by some blistering profanity. The recorder clicked off.
“Erase it,” Rico ordered.
When she didn’t, he moved to the phone, erasing all messages.
“I’d say we have less than thirty minutes to get out of here.”
“We? What makes you think I’m going anywhere with you?”
“You have two choices. Stay here and spend the next two weeks explaining to the feds, or go with me. Stay and you could be arrested. The guys in suits get crazy about stuff.”
“I’ll tell them you’re DEA.” She stiffened. “They’ll check it out and…”
Rico shook his head. “They’ll take their time. They’ll hit you hard. Your rank means nothing if they think you’re bent. Two weeks maybe before they finish jumping through all the bullshit in place to protect people like me. They’ll say ‘sorry we made a mistake’ and let you go. The rest of your career people will be talking behind your back and wondering.”
Her heart raced. She knew he was right.
“The other option is you get me to Miami. When we get there I’ll call in, explain everything. Get things cleared with the feds.”
Olivia narrowed her eyes. “You said you aren’t sure of who turned you in.”
“I’m not, but in Miami I have a better chance of getting to the bottom of this and defending myself.”
The phone rang again. He pulled the cord from the wall.
“I have to get back and find out who gave me up to the cartel.”
She didn’t answer.
“Decide,” he demanded. “There isn’t much time.”
“You put that napkin in my purse.”
He gave her a cold stare. “Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“Silva.”
“Why did you give me Silva’s name?”
He made no response.
“Answer my question or I’ll make the call and
we
aren’t going anyplace.”
Rico sighed. “To scare you. Stop you from asking questions. It was a good bet you’d research the name. When you found he’s linked to the largest drug syndicate in the world you’d stop.”
Olivia was dizzy with excitement. Finally, she was getting close.
“Why did you try to scare me off?”
“Lady, you were messing with my investigation. Why were you nosing around to begin with?” His tone left no doubt he was pissed and he leaned toward her the way men do when they think they can intimidate.
“I want to put Silva in jail.”
“Why?”
“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” she retorted. Angry tension filled the air.
“Get me to Miami. I’ll tell you everything you want to know when we’re there.”
“Resorting to bribery now?”
“Yes.”
DEA or drug runner, he knew things and could answer her questions. She was going with him—there wasn’t another option. Stay or go, her career could be destroyed. Maybe it already was. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Danny’s killer. For the first time she felt it was going to happen. She tossed the cell onto the counter and lowered the gun to her side.
“What do you want me to do?”
Rico pinched his eyes closed and let out a loud breath. He’d convinced her.
“First, put the gun away.”
“The gun stays until I’m sure I can trust you.”
Shit.
Her with that gun worried him. Pointing it at him her hand had been rock steady. No doubt she would use it.
“Did you tell anyone you knew me?” she asked.
“No.”
“What else?”
“Give me your cell.” He stuck his hand out.
Silently she handed it over, and he popped off the backing.
“What are you doing?”
“Removing the SIM card and battery. With these out your position can’t be triangulated. As soon as they go back in you can be located.” He handed her the pieces. “You want your location known and can’t risk making a call—put it together.” Rico watched her gnaw her lower lip. “You understand they
will
use that to find you sooner or later?”
She nodded.
“Do it anytime you don’t feel safe.” Was he getting through to her? “Understand?”
“I’m not a child. I understand you’re telling me this so I’ll trust you.”
“How’s it working?”
“The threat level dropped from severe to high.”
“How do I get it to low?”
“Like the government, my threat level never goes below elevated. What else do you want me to do?”
“You have any clothes I can wear?”
“My brother Sammy’s things, shorts and a few shirts.”
“Good. Get ’em. You’ll have to help me change.”
She gave him a withering look.
“Commander, I was hurting when I came here. You beat the crap outta me.” He shrugged and managed a grin. “It hurts to breathe.”
She didn’t move.
“Get the clothes and anything you’ll need.”