His to Cherish (9 page)

It was time to neutralize Evan Morris.

By any means necessary.

His to Cherish

"For the last time, I'm not getting a gun." I stabbed the key in the Mazda's door and unlocked it before looking over my shoulder at Gillie. "I'd just as likely blow my own hand off."

"Stark said you'd be obstinate about--"

My head whipped from side to side, freezing Gillie's tongue before the next word could foolishly escape. "I told you, I don't want to hear any more about your conversation with him."

A bald-faced lie except for the fact I didn't want to hear either man recounting it. If someone handed me a recorded version, I probably would have listened to it a dozen times since Gillie showed up at the hardware store as my shift ended and told me about Collin tracking him down. I had expected some conversation between Stark and the police after Gillie made me file a complaint on Evan with all the ugly details and Collin's rescue of me, I just hadn't expected Stark to initiate the discussion.

"Fine." Gillie held his hands up in surrender. "No gun, no talking about Stark. But what about a taser until you've got enough time in at the firing range to feel comfortable shooting a gun?"

My shoulders dropped. If I'd had a choice between a phone or a taser that morning when Evan started to bust in my door, I would have taken the taser.

Unready to relent gracefully, I rolled my eyes at Gillie. "Is there a secret taser shop in Keeling I don't know about?"

"Got a spare at my place." He cleared his throat, a dark maroon spotting his tanned cheeks for an instant. Reaching between my body and the car, he opened the door and nodded for me to climb into the driver's seat. "Follow me."

I complied, if only to shut him up and not appear totally ungrateful for all the assistance he had given me. He lived on the west side of town, the last real street of houses before the city limits gave way to woods and farms. His parents lived a few more miles out, growing hay and other crops when the rain cooperated.

I waited outside while he fetched it, relieved he didn't ask me in like I expected him to. When it took him less than five minutes to emerge, I imagined some sliding wall that, at the push of a button, revealed an arsenal worthy of a city S.W.A.T. team.

I reached for the gun-shaped taser, but he held it up and away from me. "What's so funny, Miss James?"

"Just that you found it so quickly."

He wrinkled his nose at me, the freckles scrunching together to form a darker line. "Weapons aren't like pens or remote controls, you don't just leave them scattered around."

"Duly noted." I nodded, attempting to make the gesture solemn despite the earlier grin he had caught me wearing. Surprised I could relax around him so easily after Evan's threats and Collin's attempt to get me back to Stark International, a fresh threat of tears stung my nose and eyes. Trying to cover them, I reached for the taser. "May I have it now?"

He continued holding the taser away from me. "You have any idea how to use this?"

"No," I confessed and lowered my hand. "I had pepper spray once. Sat around in the bottom of my purse for two years before the nozzle broke and everything leaked out. I really liked that purse."

Gillie rolled his eyes at me, showed me the safety and slid it off, then pointed the taser toward the center of his yard and fired. Wires shot out, falling to the ground when they found no living flesh in which they could embed. He showed me how to eject the wire cartridge at the front of the barrel then talked me through loading a new cartridge on my own.

Seeing a man in his early thirties exit the house next door, Gillie cupped his hand to his mouth. "Hey, Carl, want to make twenty bucks?"

I jabbed an elbow in Gillie's ribs before whispering at him. "Don't you dare suggest I shoot that man."

He whispered back, his lips against my ear as Carl crossed into the yard. "That's a week of lunches for his kids."

Unable to argue as Carl stepped within whisper range, I glared at Gillie. He looked at me from the corner of one eye, that side of his mouth rising up in a smile before he acknowledged Carl.

Gillie tilted his head at me. "She needs to see one of these in action, so she isn't afraid to use it."

"Okay." Laughing, Carl rubbed his slightly rounded belly. "I ain't been tased all week!"

He held his hand out and Gillie passed over a crisp twenty. "You gonna spot me, John?"

Gillie took in a deep enough breath for me to realize he hadn't thought the transaction through that far. I looked at him, a little part of me momentarily gleeful at the idea of tasing Carl if it would teach Gillie not to be so pushy and over-protective.

"Guess I have to," Gillie laughed back. He moved behind Carl, guiding him about eight feet away from me. "That's accurate to fifteen feet, Mia, but you probably won't have a steady hand and need to keep it within ten."

I nodded.

"And no less than five if you can help it, or you're just as likely to have the attacker fall on you with the wires."

I nodded again.

"Come on, girl," Carl joked. "The suspense is killing me."

I raised the barrel of the taser and tried to ignore the open throttle of my heart as it pound against my rib cage.

"Mia, honey, you have to open your eyes before you fire."

Blushing, I looked at the two men. Carl couldn't contain his amusement. His mouth was closed but his whole body shook with the laughter he tried to hold inside. Gillie just stared at me, his gaze patient and caring.

Blocking Gillie's use of "honey" from my head so I could concentrate, I pulled the trigger while Carl still jiggled with mirth. The effect was like a chainsaw reaching that magic spot at which the weight of the tree takes over and snaps the trunk, dropping the tree in less than a second. Carl fell like that, his whole body rigid, toes up, rolling back on his heels. Gillie caught him by the shoulders, his own body giving a little twitch as he quickly lowered Carl to the ground.

With the electricity fully discharged, it took maybe five seconds before Carl moved again. Gillie pointed at him the instant he did then hooked my gaze.

"He'll be groggy and slow for another ten seconds or so, but those seconds he's out is how long you have to reload -- then you haul ass."

I nodded and helped Gille get Carl to his feet. We made sure he was steady then waved at him as he walked to his house. He smiled, returning the wave before the screen closed on him.

"Any time ya'll!"

Alone, I returned to glaring at Gillie. "You don't play fair -- using his ability to feed his kids against me like that."

"You're right, I don't play fair." He blinked, a secret smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Not when it's important to me."

Shit -- it was going to be another one of those rollercoaster days. I had been afraid for my life with Evan's arrival that morning, then afraid for my heart when Collin appeared, rescued me and offered me home office and, potentially, more if I left Keeling and rejoined the company. Now the vibe rolling off Gillie was far heavier than a protective new/old friend.

"Really, I was thinking about helping him as much as you." Stepping right up next to me, he plucked at my shirt sleeve as his gaze slowly moved up my face to meet mine. "He's been out of work six months and it doesn't hurt his pride to get tased for money. He'd rather take that than a hundred in charity."

"Fine," I relented. I couldn't be even half mad or fake made when his voice sounded so reasonable and his gaze appeared so earnest. I made sure the safety was engaged then jiggled the taser at him. "Do you think I'll have to use this?"

"I hope not because the chance you'll have your eyes closed again is no better than 50-50."

"I'm serious." I gave his shoulder a soft slug. "You said people might be cooking meth on the farm. Where is the sheriff's department at on busting Evan for it?"

"A lot closer today than yesterday."

I pulled back, my face contorting like I'd just put something in my mouth and couldn't decide if it was sweet or sour. "One day made a difference?"

He swiped at his jaw, mouth contorting like he'd bit into the same piece of something. "Stark made a call to someone at the DEA and thirty minutes later we had database access we've been requesting for two years. He also looked at our--"

I held my hand up, my brain finally identifying the taste as sour. "I appreciate everything, John, I really do. But if you want to man crush on Collin Star--"

His mouth came down on mine, silencing me. The shock of it parted my lips for a second, just long enough for his tongue to slide in. A little sizzle sparked along my spine, my nipples puckering before I felt the shape of his hand against my hip.

Wrong shape, wrong hand, wrong lips. I didn't mold to him like I did to Collin.

I pulled back, reminding myself I didn't want Collin anymore, but it also was too soon to let anyone kiss me, even someone as nice and good as John Gillie seemed to be.

"I'm not crushing on him, Mia. Just saying the man gets things done." His lips brushed mine again. "And he's got damned good taste."

Protecting Mia

For two weeks I watched Mia settle into Keeling. She didn't see me, but I was always nearby when she wasn't at work or in the care of Deputy Gillie. I rented a hotel room I never slept in and bought a sleeping bag for the cold North Carolina ground outside her guesthouse.

Those hours when others surrounded her, I watched Evan or resupplied. I put remote cameras outside every building on the farm and in the trees where the road cut through them. I went inside the main house searching for evidence of any kind. With no computer or land line, I couldn't bug his phone or install a Remote Administration Tool hack on his computer.

While I watched Mia, Stark International carried on like it didn't bear my name. I half hoped for an outbreak of global aggression so Trent would need an hour of my time to reassure some general or head of state, giving me hundreds of man hours in return. But the world spun on its axis, unaccommodating in its mock semblance of peace.

I visited the county narcotics unit each work day in the hours before I knew Evan would be hauling his lazy, hungover ass out of bed. With the new database access I had gotten the unit, Mike Franklin, its leader, even set up a small work station for me with a laptop and temporary access as a "consultant."

Whether it's moving guns, drugs, or troops, intel tactics are much the same and Stark International had successfully executed its share of contracts to slow the flow of drugs into the U.S. from Latin America. I just needed to apply the same techniques to the backwater microcosm of Martin County.

Looking at the data, I discovered a worrying statistic right away. If the National Clandestine Laboratory Register for the state was accurate, Martin County only had one lab registered and that was over six years ago. Such a datapoint in a Latin American zone would have had me eyeing local law enforcement with suspicion, especially when another DEA database that recorded pseudoephedrine purchases for North Carolina showed several dozen county residents running just below the monthly quotas when their household purchases were combined. Add in clusters of known associates and the number doubled.

I scanned the list of names, getting no easy answer. I could have asked someone at the unit to look over the names, but my ass would have been on the street five minutes later because I only needed the answer to one question -- who in the unit or the sheriff's office or any of the city police departments was related to someone on the list?

My fingers bounced in agitation over the keyboard. Going back to the list, I pulled mugshots from the database of everyone on it who had an arrest record. I sent a copy to my phone and another to Gillie and Franklin, the only two I could halfway trust to make honest connections. I compiled a second list, complete with photos, of every law enforcement officer in the county. I deleted that one from the computer as soon as I sent it to my phone.

I worked the list for the next nine days as I alternated between watching over Mia and following Evan Morris. When he visited a neighborhood, I crossed-checked it against the addresses on both the pseudoephedrine buyers' list and the cops. On that ninth day, I got two hits -- one for each list. Two door down from the house Evan visited lived a Stephen Cahill, on the buyers' list along with his brother Paul and their live-in girlfriends. At the far end of the block lived officer Kyle Dooley.

I added Phil Nash, the owner of the house Morris visited, to my list then parked a block over while I waited for Morris to leave the neighborhood. When he did, I took a little walk. Down to my last camera, I attached it to a tree on the public easement area across from Nash's front door.

Dooley visited Nash that night, going in empty handed and coming out with a small brown paper bag folded into a rectangle. Paul Cahill came the next day. From the archives of the local county paper and high school year books, I pieced together how Dooley was related to Nash through his wife and how the Cahill brothers were Nash's cousins. Even more damning, that lone lab bust on record for the entire county had been initiated by Dooley two days after Stephen Cahill had been arrested for a barroom brawl with the man running the meth lab. The way I figured it, Nash was the linchpin -- the connector between Morris, the Cahill brothers and Dooley.