Sting (3 page)

Jesus H. Christ
. This will be no small-time operation. You don’t fuck with the cartel,
or
their extended family.

Mick tosses another photo on top of the others. This one is of a tall, wiry, bald-headed bloke in a white polo shirt and tan pants, standing beside a boat, which I’d say is a Caribbean Cruiser. It’s probably worth somewhere in the vicinity of half a million dollars. He looks to be about sixty-odd by the wrinkles and age spots on his face, and frail enough that the wind would blow him over. “This one here is known as Carter.”

“Clearly he’s not the muscle,” I chip in.

“Nope, definitely more brains. We think he’s linked to the money. We’ve tagged him as the accountant. He’s been linked to money laundering before, about eight years back in Sydney, but there wasn’t enough evidence for a charge to stick. We’ve been keeping an eye on him and nothing has rung any alarm bells yet. He’s facilitated a few high-dollar boat purchases here and in South Australia. If he’s playing with these boys, then he’ll be sifting through a fair chunk of cash.”

Sounds like my kind of challenge. We’ll have to do a bit more research on this Carter bloke and see what other connections come up.

“These blokes are the fuckin’ germs of society. I can’t wait for us to put them out of business,” Mick says as he jabs his index finger right between Carter’s eyes.

“Can’t wait to get into it.”

“Yeah, good to have someone else on board here. There’s definitely interesting times ahead.”

“So, how long you been here for?” I take a closer look at the faces of the men we’ll be targeting and watching like hawks.

“Going on two months, now. We know the coke has been coming in through the docks, and we’re pretty sure that’s how they’re getting it to South Australia. We could pin them with some small-time shit now, but we’re waiting for them to get greedy. So far they’ve been clever, calculated, but you and I are gonna be spending a lot more time down there. The more they line their pockets, the bigger risks they’ll take. Big money to be made here in Oz.”

“Well, I’m looking forward to getting my hands dirty. When do you wanna head down there?”

“We’ll get out on the boat before sunrise tomorrow. You got a handle on the mechanical side of things?”

“Yeah, I’ve had some pretty intense training.” I brought a few textbooks with me, in case I need to do a bit more reading. I never come unprepared.

“I was a mechanic and did a marine bridging course before I joined the force, so I’m happy to run through anything you want to.”

“Thanks.”

“I hope you brought your sea legs.”

I take in a deep breath. “I won’t lie. It’s been a while since I’ve been out to the shelf, but I’m sure I’ll be right.”

Mick chuckles, and rakes his hands through his straggly brown hair. He reaches across and grips my shoulder briefly.

“Well, you’re about to become a decky on a small charter boat. I’d say you’ll need to find ‘em real quick. Better get some shit from the chemist just in case.”

“Yeah. Will do, man.” I’ll have to grab something when I get some dinner, because I can’t make a fucking fool of myself.

Mick stands and tucks his chair in. “Right, well I’ll leave these copies with you to study. Make sure you store them securely.”

“Got it covered,” I say, jutting my chin upwards.

I’ll chuck them in the safe in the bedroom closet once I’ve finished with them. I just hope he’s not gonna baby me this whole operation. He might be older, but I’m a professional. I wouldn’t have been tasked to something this high profile if I wasn’t, and this guy should know that.

Panic squeezes my chest. Did he hear how my last operation almost went south? I fucking hope not. I don’t need that shit hanging over me when I’m trying to forge a new partnership.

Mick picks up the backpack and tosses some folded white polo shirts on the table. Fremantle Fishing Charters is embroidered in dark blue on the left-side breast pocket. “I got you a couple of shirts, and there’s a Glock 17 and some extra bullets in the bag, too.”

Sweet. I’m definitely covered in the weapons department. Can’t say I’m thrilled about the shirts, though, but it’s all part of the cover.

“Righto, then. I’ll pick you up at five, Palmer. We’ll head out for a few hours and see how you fare.”

“I’ll be ready, man.”

“Time to hook some big fish,” Mick says and nods.

Guess I’ll be waiting a bit longer for my caffeine fix tomorrow.

****

“Fuckin’ rough out here today,” Mick says, lowering his head to avoid the sea-spray coming into the cabin.

I nod, because if I open my mouth to speak I reckon I’ll yack all over him and his fine boat. Those fucking ginger tablets the lady at the chemist talked me into buying have done fuck all. That’s the last time I get sucked into buying hippie remedy shit.

Mick chuckles, and I wanna punch him in the throat. “Not feelin’ so crash-hot, huh?”

I shake my head, and Mick laughs even louder. I’d try and focus on land, but we’re a fucking long way out; about thirty or forty kilometres, and I can’t see anything besides water.

“What tablets did you take?”

“Ginger,” I say, and swallow down the excess saliva building in my mouth.

“Amateur mistake right there. One you won’t make again.”

“Not likely.” I clamber to the edge and hurl my guts up. The acid burns like a bitch.

“Righto, hotshot. Let’s change the lures and trawl back in. At least we have a couple of Dhufish to show for our troubles.”

At least that’s something. I’m a man that loves his protein. Not that I feel like eating anytime soon.

As we putter back into the docks, Mick explains where we have surveillance in place, and points out the areas of the docks our POIs frequent. It’s certainly gonna be a challenge keeping a close watch on the area.

****

I’ve been off the boat for a good half hour and had a long hot shower, but still I’m feeling that rocking motion in my bones. I take a heavy step to the head of the queue.

“Rough night, hey Brown-Eyes?” the redhead says, and smiles bright. Her lips are some kind of rich purple colour today, matching her long dangly earrings.

“More like rough morning,” I offer.
And that’s being generous.
I’d dry-retched the rest of the way back into the docks. Next time, I’ll be high as a fucking kite on guarana and that custom-made shit that Mick told me about on the journey back in. If I’m gonna be a convincing decky, I’ve got to get my shit together. At least we won’t be going out every day. On the off days when we’re not running charters, I’ll be ‘working’ on the boat, getting shit in order, whilst keeping an eye on the comings and goings.

“Let me see if we can fix that for you, honey. Same as yesterday?”

“Yeah, thanks,” I say, impressed she remembers what I ordered given how busy this place was.

She punches a few buttons on the register, and then looks up. “Like to try something to eat today? A man like you must be hungry all the time. How ’bout the bruschetta?” she smirks, and then looks in the direction of the tables. I follow her gaze and find Blondie bent over in a pair of short denim shorts, gathering cups and saucers from a vacated table.

Well, damn.
Legs
. I had a good look at those fine, tanned pins yesterday. She’s a tidy little package, from the top of her head right down to her white lace-up tennis shoes.

“Nah, not that hungry. But thanks,” I say. Truth be told I’m starving, but I’m not sure I can stomach anything yet. I probably shouldn’t be having coffee, but hey, I need to pep up. “Make it a double-shot,” I add, and hand over some cash.

“Sure thing. Take a seat and I’ll bring it over. Complimentary copy of the paper at the end of the counter,” she says, and waves in that direction.

“Cheers.”

I give those legs a good eye-fucking as I approach.
Tanned. Slender. Delicious.

Blondie turns, and without looking up she face-plants fair into my chest. I swiftly wrap my arms around her small frame, holding her firmly against me so the cups between us don’t fall. I chuckle, and somehow manage to stop myself from laughing my arse off.

“Whoa, where’s the fire, gorgeous?” I ask.

“Sugar,” she breathes against my chest. She slowly tilts back her head and glances up at me through her long lashes. Her stunning baby-blue eyes knock the wind clean out of me. They are breathtaking. A nice shade of pink blooms over her cheeks, and her chest expands as she draws in a deep breath.
Wow
. This is some beautiful package.

“I’ve got you. Let’s do this slowly, and no mugs will get hurt,” I say, my tone serious. We manage to unfold from each other and grab the cups without any casualties.

“You came back,” she says as I hand her a cup. Her gaze shies away.

“I told you. The brew’s good. Even if today I happen to be wearin’ it.” Only a few dribbles of coffee stain my shirt. No big deal.

She looks between us, and I notice the splash of coffee on her white tank. All I can think about now is her without that top.

“I’m so sorry. The next one is on the house,” she apologises.
Why isn’t she wearing a name tag?
The blush from her cheeks has now spread down and over her chest. As much as I wanna check out those beauties, I think if I did I’d only embarrass the girl more.
Another time
.

“You
know
I’ll be back,” I promise her.

A hint of a smile meets the corner of her glossy pink lips, and she scurries off behind the counter.

I think I’ll have to work on seeing more of that smile.

CHAPTER FOUR

WILLOW

“You seemed very chatty with Mr Brown-Eyes before,” I say once I get Gabs behind the coffee machine.

She gives me a smug smile. “Just looking after our customers, lady. Besides, I’d say you just got more than a bit friendly with him.”

Just for that comment, she gets an eye-roll.

“Did you find out his name?” I ask. When Gabs tilts her head to the side in that be-prepared-to-be-questioned gaze, I immediately wish I hadn’t asked.

“Why?” she says in a singsong voice, making two syllables out of the word.

Another eye-roll.

“You ask everyone their names. It’s what you do. It’s why people keep coming back.”

“Nope,” she says, popping the
P
. I know exactly what she’s doing. It’s her little way of pushing me, without actually looking like she’s pushing me.

“Why not?” I put a hand on my hip.

“If you wanna know his name, honey, you ask him.” She leans in close, her nose almost touching mine. “Live a little,” she dares and then blows me a kiss as she returns to the register to take the next order.

“I’m living just fine,” I mumble to myself as I clean the steam wand.

“Exactly,” Gabs says. “
Just
fine.”

Every day I want to ask her how she gets herself out of bed, how she gets on with life. But I don’t dare. Life threw Gabs the most cruel and unfair hand, and I have no right to say anything, because she’s risen above it all. She has trouble putting herself out there with men. As she tells me, she’s all unicorns and rainbows and sweet sugary cupcakes, but like anyone, she has good days and bad. She’s been open with me, and shared with me everything about her past. I haven’t had the guts to tell her my story yet. It’s been two years since she came into my life. Since I haven’t spilled it by now, I don’t think I ever will. Some things are better left in the past, where I’ve tried to bury them.

I go about making Brown-Eyes’ coffee. Double-shot. I make another leaf pattern in the froth, this one more intricate than the last time I poured one for him.

“I’m just going out back to change my shirt. Would you mind taking this out?” I ask Gabs, sliding the cup carefully towards her. I silently beg with my eyes for her not to argue with me on this. I’m embarrassed enough about running into that wall of muscle. I can’t believe that only moments ago, he was holding me tight in his arms. It’s been a long time since a man has held me like that.
Too long
. I’ve missed it, more than I thought I did.

And my word, doesn’t he smell divine. After diving into his chest, I swear I can still smell the mouth-watering crisp, clean scent on me.
All man.

She gives me a knowing smile. “Okay, enough of the pathetic puppy-dog eyes. Of course, lady. Anything you need.”

****

RYAN

I look up from the newspaper when a coffee cup is placed on the table. Bright red curls flash in front of me and my smile fades. My shoulders slump. Why didn’t Blondie bring it over? I can’t say I’m not disappointed.

“Here’s your double-shot, Brown-Eyes.”

“Thanks.”

She leans down, giving me an eyeful of cleavage.
Whoa
. Those puppies are more than a handful, and then some. “What time you planning on coming in tomorrow?”

I won’t be down at the docks until late morning, so I guess I’ll go for an early run, and then swing past. “I dunno. Around eight? Why’s that?”

I lean back in my chair and regard her as I silently question her motives. Is she coming on to me? Fuck. If that’s the case, I need to say something.

“I need a favour,” she says and purses her purple lips.

“Okay,” I answer with hesitation.
What have I just committed to?

She jerks her head in the direction of the counter. “You think you can make my girl laugh?”

“Who, Blondie?”

“Ha. Yeah, Blondie.”

With relief, I chuckle. “I’ll try.”

“Good. We’ll be seeing you then.”

****

A penetrating shrill sound has me wrangling the sheets off my body to find my phone.

Mick.

“Yeah,” I growl into the phone and clear my throat.

“Got some fresh intel on our boys. I’ll be over shortly.”

Fuck!
Is the sun even up yet?

“Righto. See you soon,” I say, resigned.

I run my hand over the sheet between my legs, and palm my rock-hard dick. I throw my head back against the pillow and growl.
There’s not enough time to deal with this first
.