Standoff, page 6
“Meet me tonight or the deal is off.” When there was no response, he checked his phone.
Marlar had disconnected and Luke was talking into dead air.
14
It had been too depressing to sit in her dad’s office and go through his files so Brooke had scooped up all the papers and empty file folders and brought them to the living room sofa. She’d made little progress, and had instead replayed the break-in in her mind over and over and how she could have handled it differently. Maybe her parents were right, and she wasn’t cut out to be a law enforcement ranger. She’d just wanted to make her dad proud.
Brooke brushed away thoughts of what she should have done and glanced down at the current folder. The papers for this particular file had been easy since they were stapled together and matched the name on the folder. Justin Boudreaux.
It didn’t look like a case her dad had ever worked, more like a background check. Boudreaux. The name was familiar . . . she tried to place where she’d seen it . . . Brooke snapped her fingers. His photo had been in the newspaper recently, the grocery magnate locating a superstore in Natchez. The image of a tall, dark-haired, dark-complexioned man popped into her mind. Satisfied, she turned back to the file. There was no date, but it was possible her dad had checked him out recently—he was like that, very protective of who brought businesses into Natchez.
She set the file aside just as the doorbell rang, and Brooke glanced at her watch. Who would be stopping by her house at 10:00 p.m.? The bell pealed again, and she quickly rose from the sofa and hurried to answer it. After a quick look through the peephole, her heart kicked up a notch and she opened the door. “Jeremy?”
“I saw your lights on and figured you were still up. And I know you said you didn’t want company tonight, but I was concerned about you.”
She looked up, and worry was reflected in his brown eyes. “That is so sweet of you.”
“Can I come in?” he asked.
Brooke hesitated. “Do you mind sitting on the porch instead? I have stuff scattered all over the living room.”
When he agreed, Brooke stepped outside and sat in the swing. Like Luke earlier, Jeremy sat in the chair. “Are you okay? You look—”
“Frazzled? I am,” she said and told him about the break-in, since in a town the size of Natchez, he would hear about it tomorrow anyway.
“You should’ve told me. I would’ve come sooner.”
“I promise, I’m fine.”
“You’re sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m okay. A little embarrassed that I let him get away.”
Jeremy quickly moved from the chair to the swing. “You’re new at this, and experience is a fast teacher.” He squeezed her hand. “Pack a bag and come stay at the house. I have a live-in housekeeper, so it wouldn’t look inappropriate. There are plenty of bedrooms you can choose from.”
Brooke had no doubt about that. The Steele mansion was huge, but she did not need protecting. “I can take care of myself.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you couldn’t, but I’d feel better knowing you weren’t alone.”
“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I have a security system that my mom forgot to set when we left earlier. I’ll make sure it’s armed when you leave.”
He turned her to face him. “I don’t think you know how much you mean to me.”
She swallowed hard. He had just kicked their relationship into high gear and Brooke wasn’t sure she was ready.
“Think about staying at the house until this person is caught. Molly would love it.”
He’d pulled the kid card, knowing how much she cared for his daughter. “That’s not fair.”
“I don’t care whether it’s fair or not.”
He leaned forward, his gaze fastened on hers. He intended to kiss her and she froze.
Jeremy immediately pulled back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Now she’d made him feel bad, but her feelings were all over the place. “It’s not your fault. It’s just that I’m so numb.”
He hit his head with his palm. “That was stupid. I’m sure you’re overwhelmed with your dad’s death and now this break-in, and I’m only making it harder. I’m serious about you staying at the house, though, and I promise I won’t put any pressure on you.”
“Thank you, but I can’t. I have too much to do tomorrow,” she said, rising from the swing.
“And now you want me to leave.”
“Since you mentioned it . . .” She grinned at him to soften her words.
Jeremy rose and took her hand. “Lock up when I leave, and don’t forget to set your alarm, okay?”
“Okay,” Brooke echoed.
He hesitated. “How do you feel about dinner Saturday night?”
“How about I let you know?”
He sighed and his shoulders drooped. “Would it make a difference if I said pretty please? That always works for Molly.”
She laughed. “Oh, all right. Dinner Saturday night.”
“Yes!” He pumped his fist.
Jeremy refused to leave until she was safely inside the house with the security system armed. As his tires crunched out of the drive, she glanced toward the papers on the sofa. She could not look at one more file and grabbed a box from the walk-in pantry to put everything in. When she was halfway down the hall, the doorbell rang again, and she retraced her steps to the door and looked through the peephole. Luke? This was getting ridiculous. Did no one in her life think she could take care of herself?
“It’s me,” he said.
“Hold on a sec while I turn off the alarm.”
Once she keyed in the code and the green light flashed, she returned and opened the door. “Did you forget something?”
“No. I saw Pete pulling out of your drive, and then your light was on . . .”
“That wasn’t Pete,” she said. “It was Jeremy Steele.”
“I see.”
She didn’t like his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
When he frowned, Brooke narrowed her eyes. What right did he have to disapprove of who came to visit her? She tapped her foot, waiting for an answer.
“Who you see is none of my business.”
“You got that right.”
Luke studied her, then a slow smile spread across his face. “I’ve missed locking horns with you.”
“I wasn’t the one who left,” she said softly.
“Touché.” Then he looked past her. “I thought you might like help putting your dad’s office back together.”
Unexpected tears burned her eyes, and she blinked them back. “Thanks, but I just can’t do one more thing tonight.”
He hesitated. “You look as though you could use someone to talk to. Okay if I come in?”
If she said no, he’d probably argue with her. Brooke stepped back, allowing him room to step past her, and immediately his easy confidence commanded the room like it always had. “Th-thanks.”
“You want to put the papers in that box you’re holding?”
Brooke looked down. She’d forgotten it was in her hands. “Sure.” She handed it to him and then sighed. “I’ve gone through I don’t know how many files, but I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
“And you’re sure your dad never mentioned a case—”
“I told you, I told the sheriff the night he died, and I told Pete Nelson tonight—Dad did not discuss his cases with us.” Brooke took a slow breath and released it. She shouldn’t take her frustration out on Luke. “I’m sorry. I’ve racked my brain over every detail of the past few weeks, looking for something to hang his death on, and now the break-in. And I’ve come up with zip.”
“I’m sorry too.”
Brooke felt her face flush. Wherever she turned, people felt sorry for her, and she didn’t like being the object of pity.
“I’d hoped once I finished at the academy his attitude would change, and he would share information with me, but that didn’t happen. Probably wouldn’t have changed once he was my boss, either.” Something Luke said earlier popped into her thoughts. “How did you know Dad didn’t want me to become a patrol ranger?”
He picked up a file and laid it on the desk. “Your dad and I used to talk.”
She couldn’t believe her dad talked about her behind her back. “And he told you he didn’t want me to become a law enforcement ranger?”
“Not exactly. He talked about how dangerous it could be,” he said. “He didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“So why had he gone off like the Lone Ranger and gotten himself killed?”
“That’s a good question,” Luke said. “Because we both know he didn’t commit suicide.”
Brooke hadn’t realized she’d said the words out loud. “If I could just figure out why he was at Emerald Mound.”
“Maybe he was checking out a tip,” he said, his voice cracking.
Her dad’s death was hurting Luke as well. “I forget how close you two had been.”
“Yeah. He was good to me. Pete Nelson and the other guys had Kyle Marlar, but I had your dad. No matter how bad I messed up, he always treated me like I was worth something.”
That was her dad, all right.
“How come you dropped out of Annapolis?” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. That isn’t any of my business.”
“It’s okay. It’s not a secret.” His red face belied his words. “I’m surprised you haven’t asked Daisy.”
“I have,” she said and busied herself stacking papers in the box.
“What’d she say?”
Brooke paused her packing. “That it’s your story to tell.”
“That’d be Daisy.” He tilted his head toward her. “There’s really not much to tell.”
“It’s just that I never figured you would be—” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. That sounded so judgmental . . . but you were at Annapolis. That’s a far cry from being a bartender.”
“My heart just wasn’t into a naval career,” he said. “And that’s what Annapolis is all about.”
“I’ll bet your dad wasn’t happy.” Daisy had told Brooke once that her son had groomed Luke from the cradle to have a career in the navy.
“I’m not sure which made the Admiral angrier—dropping out or joining the army.”
“How did you get to be a bartender?” she asked and swallowed a yawn.
“There were a few career moves between Annapolis and bartending, but that’s a story for another night. You look beat.” He swept his arm toward the papers. “Why don’t you leave this for tomorrow and go to bed? I’ll help you clean all of this up in the morning.”
“You don’t have to,” she said, feeling every hour of the long day it’d been. “How long will you be in Natchez?”
Luke made an iffy motion with his hands. “Not sure. I felt bad I wasn’t here for Daisy’s surgery, so I’m trying to make it up to her. How about your mom? I heard you tell Pete it’d be a while before she returned. You think she might come back because of the break-in?”
“Depends on whether Meghan needs her. Although her baby isn’t due for a couple of months, Mom wanted to help with getting the nursery ready.” Brooke straightened her shoulders. “She told me to take care of it.”
“Well, if you need me—Wait! Meghan is having a baby? Did I miss that earlier?”
“You must have.” She grinned. “It’s a little girl. She’s going to name her Isabelle.”
“Oh, wow. Little Meghan married . . . that’s hard to wrap my mind around.”
“She’s twenty-eight, Luke. I’m only four years older than she is.”
He had the grace to blush again, which was kind of cute. “Time does get away.”
That was an understatement. She was happy for her sister and planned to be a good aunt.
He touched her arm. “Like I said, if you need me for anything, just call.”
“Thanks, but I don’t have your cell phone number.” She’d been meaning to get his number from Daisy in case anything happened to her.
“Sorry. Give me your phone and I’ll put it in.”
She handed over her phone, and after he keyed in the number, he said, “Now, give me your number.” Once he keyed hers into his contacts, he said, “By the way, if you see Daisy, don’t tell her I’m still here. I want to surprise her. She thought I was leaving right after the funeral.”
Brooke assured him she’d keep his secret just as his phone rang, and Luke glanced at the screen. “I need to take this. See you tomorrow?”
“That would be great.” Why did the thought of seeing him again send warmth spreading through her chest?
He hurried out the door, and she closed it behind him and walked to the kitchen to arm the security system again. It surprised her how easily they’d picked up their friendship after so many years. When Luke had talked about his dad, she’d seen past the bravado he presented to the world. He was once again the boy who had spent summers and his senior year in high school with his grandmother. And yes, the boy she’d fallen hard for that last summer before college.
15
Luke caught the phone call as he stepped off the porch. “Hello?”
“You think I’m making a mistake?”
He recognized Romero’s voice as he hurried across the lawn to Daisy’s house. “If you turn down my offer, yeah. Your boss going to be okay with losing not just this sixty-thousand-dollar deal but maybe a lot more? Because that’s about to happen.”
Romero answered him with a few seconds of silence, and then he said, “The Boss wants to see you.”
Yes! “Where and when?”
“Now. Room 212. Grand Hotel.”
The line went dead. Boudreaux was in Natchez? Intel should have let him know. He quickly dialed his supervisor’s number. “Why didn’t anyone tell me Boudreaux is in town?”
“I just found out a few minutes ago,” Steve said. “How do you know?”
“I have a meeting with him right now.”
“Good. Just be careful.”
“Don’t worry.” Luke pocketed his phone as he hurried to his Jeep. Boudreaux was cautious, but the carrot of a long-term deal must have flushed him out. If he played it right, this could be a huge payoff.
Three government agencies, including ISB, had quietly been working to gather evidence against the New Orleans businessman. If the data drive Marlar had actually turned out to be a second set of books, and then they nailed him for smuggling heroin, they could seal the case. Maybe even get the people behind his organization. The cartel. But first he had to get the drive.
Ten minutes later, he parked for the second time tonight across from the Grand Hotel. This time he crossed the street and entered the hotel through the front door, then took the stairs up to the second floor. When he reached the room number Romero had given him, he knocked softly. There was a pause, then a deadbolt clicked and the door opened. The man standing in front of him was the bodyguard from Windsor Ruins.
“Come in.”
Luke’s mind barely had time to register a spicy Cajun aroma before the man pushed him against the wall. “Hey!” he said. “What’s the deal? Romero called and said Boudreaux wanted to meet with me.”
“In due time.” The man released him, and then ran a wand up and down Luke’s body. “Guns and phones on the table.”
Luke palmed his hands. “No gun,” he said.
Expecting to be frisked, he’d left both of his semi-automatics in the car. As he placed the phone on the table, Luke checked out the type of wand being used. For every listening device detector, there was a way to circumvent it, but only if he knew the brand, and he knew this one. One hurdle down, one to go. He had to somehow create an opportunity to record a conversation with the drug kingpin.
Luke never forgot a face, but he hadn’t gotten a good look at the bodyguard’s face at Windsor Ruins. He stared at the man with the wand. Black hair and eyes. Acne scars pockmarked his face. Sunday night a jacket had hidden the shirt-splitting biceps that formed his upper arms. But it was the snake tattoo on his neck that sent an urgent sense of déjà vu through him.
He’d seen the man and that snake tattoo before tonight. But where? The memory slammed him. Robert Wilson. Luke’s stomach dipped like he was on a runaway roller coaster. Five years ago he’d arrested the man up around Nashville.
He forced himself to breathe normally. So far Wilson didn’t appear to recognize him. Maybe because it’d been so long ago, or maybe because Luke had shed twenty pounds and no longer had the long curly hair and beard he’d worn back then.
Had he used his regular voice or disguised it? That undercover gig lasted over six months, and he was pretty sure he’d used his regular voice. Just play it cool. Luke stared the man in the eye. “If Romero isn’t here, where is Mr. Boudreaux?”
“You just don’t know how to keep your mouth shut, do you?”
“Look,” Luke said. “Romero called me, not the other way around. I’m just looking to buy.”
“They’ll be here in due time.”
“You have a name?” It would be interesting to know if he was using the same one.
“What are you, a game show host or something with the twenty questions? Just sit on the sofa over there,” Wilson said, pointing to the red sofa against the wall.
Luke did as he was told, and five minutes later the connecting door to the adjoining suite opened, and three men entered the room. He didn’t recognize two of them, bodyguards, he assumed, but the third one was unmistakable. Boudreaux. From his styled hair to tailor-made suit and Gucci loafers, the man exuded power. If Luke didn’t know better, he might believe the drug dealer was the businessman he represented himself to be. Satisfaction settled in his gut. Months of buying small quantities of heroin from Sonny had finally paid off.
“Mr. Boudreaux.” Luke nodded and infused just the right amount of respect into his voice as he stood and extended his hand. “Luke Fereday.”
“Fereday. That’s a good Louisiana name,” Boudreaux said. “At last we meet.”
“It’s long overdue.” Boudreaux’s handshake was firm, but not bone crushing, indicating the drug czar believed he was in charge and didn’t feel the need to challenge Luke. Maybe even a tad overconfident. Luke shifted so he could keep an eye on Wilson, who had positioned himself by the door.
