THE CRIME
Friday night, Deacon, Missouri
The stench of trash tightened the knot of fear in Chloe’s gut, threatening to turn her dinner into vomit. She peeked around the side of the restaurant dumpster. The dim lights in the alley illuminated her friend Brianna facing a man in a hoodie and ski mask.
“I’ll have the money by next Friday, I swear.” Brianna tilted her head up to the man. “Jeez, calm down, would ya?”
The man had just finished yelling at Bri, calling her a lying bitch, waving his arms around. Not calm at all. Bri picked at a spot on her face, a thing she did when nervous. Crazy girl should be nervous. Should be good and scared.
Chloe shrank back into the shadows, breathing into her hands, trying not to gag. Stupid Bri, dragging her into this. Just a quick meeting with a guy, Bri said, to pick up something. Chloe had a good idea the “something” was drugs and didn’t want to have anything to do with that crap.
But she didn’t want Brianna to think she was a wimp. Bri was one of the popular kids in the high school, with her own Street Fighter cosplay squad. Chloe was home-schooled, but she knew about them from around town and desperately wanted to join.
A month ago Bri had bought an ice cream cone from the shop where Chloe worked and told her they were practicing Capoeira later that night. Did she want to watch? Chloe said sure and Bri smirked, asked her if she even knew what Capoeira was.
Chloe did. It was this kick-ass kind of Brazilian martial art that had dancing stuff too. Very slick. Elena from Street Fighter was who they cosplayed, one of the most savage Street Fighter characters, and she used Capoeira.
Chloe watched Bri and her group and about died when Bri asked if she wanted to join them, wanted to be her new star student.
Shit yeah!
So Chloe hung out, learned some moves, made new friends. When Bri asked her to come along on this trip, Chloe said she’d go, knowing it’d be trouble. You didn’t meet with a guy in an alley at night for anything that wasn’t trouble.
And deep down, Chloe knew Bri was involved with drugs. Too many people coming up to her for quick conversations, or no conversation, and an exchange between hands. And Bri had a lot of spending money for a high school girl from a middle-class family.
“Uh-uh, that’s not the way this works.” The man’s voice, still pissed.
Chloe peered around the dumpster again and saw the man shove Bri’s shoulder.
“Stop scratching your face and look at me when I talk to you.”
“I’ll get the money, I will.” Her voice wobbled the faintest bit.
“Where is it? You should have the money. This is how it works when you’re one of my delivery girls. I give you drugs, you sell them, and you turn the cash over to me and get your cut. Simple.”
“I didn’t sell much this weekend. Not many people at the club, and I had to do this thing with my family and ... ”
The man slapped Brianna’s face, the sound ringing like a gunshot.
“Enough bullshit. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re a liar and a thief and need to be punished.”
“You hurt me and my dad’s going to ask questions.” Brianna put her hand to her cheek and backed away from the guy. “If he sees a bruise, he’ll harass me till I tell him where it came from. You don’t want my dad messing with you.”
Chloe clenched his fists. Don’t argue with a pissed-off drug dealer, you idiot.
“Oh, there won’t be any marks when I’m done with you.” The man reached one hand to his pocket. “And don’t threaten me. I’m not afraid of your dad.”
“Why you so mad? I’ll sell the rest this weekend, get your money. It’s not like you’re broke or anything.”
You dumbass. Quite smarting off. Did the guy have a gun in his pocket? Didn’t Bri see his hand moving there? Chloe almost stepped forward but stopped. What could she do? Maybe distract the jerk, get him to leave if he knew there were two of them. Call the cops, at least. She patted her jeans. Damn. Phone was in the car.
“My income status is none of your concern. I’m mad because I believe you are fucking with me, Brianna. I believe you made money and you’ve already spent it instead of giving it to me like you’re supposed to.”
“No, uh-uh, that’s not it. I sold a little, yeah, but I had to put gas in my car. Got to get around, you know.”
“No, I don’t know. You need to be taught a lesson about lying to your employer. You know why they call me Sting?”
“Because you look like that singer dude?”
The guy didn’t, from what Chloe could see. He was way huskier, maybe fat. Hard to tell with that jacket on and his face covered.
She should yell or something, anything, before he hit Bri again.
“They call me Sting because I use this on people who lie to me.”
Sting whipped his hand from his pocket and shoved it toward Brianna, touching her on the arm.
Brianna yelled and stumbled backward. “What the hell, man? You shocked me.”
“I did indeed. Do you want to hand over the money you owe me now?”
“I told you, I only made a little, and I spent it. I’ll ... ”
Quick as a cobra striking, the man touched Brianna again.
“You motherfucker!” Brianna fell to the ground. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“I will when you give me my money.”
Chloe edged over to the restaurant door and rattled the knob. Locked.
Another scream from Bri.
“Stop whining. You’re not going to die.”
Why didn’t anybody hear? Because no one was around. The restaurant and all the shops in the strip mall were long closed. Chloe frantically scanned the alley for a weapon. Nothing but cardboard boxes and two plastic gallon jugs. She picked one up. It had liquid inside. That would give it weight. Using every ounce of terrified energy, Chloe threw it, then ducked back to the side of the dumpster.
Peering around the container, she saw the man turn in the direction of the noise and take several steps away from Brianna.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
Go look.
“Must be the rats.” The man turned back to Brianna, who still lay on the ground, half up on her forearms.
Get up, Bri. Fight. She could. She did Capoeira well. But if the guy was using some kind of stun gun, her muscles were probably mush.
“How about I chop off one of your thieving hands, feed it to the rats?”
“No, please.” Brianna choked out a sob. “Stop hurting me. I’ll get your money, swear to God. Tomorrow. I’ll have it tomorrow.”
“Damn right you will. And you try to screw me over again, I won’t be so nice next time.” He nudged her leg with his foot, then turned and started to walk.
Chloe let go a shaky breath and plastered her back on the dumpster. Thank God. He was done torturing Bri. As soon as he left, she’d grab her friend and they’d get the hell away.
“You’re a spineless dick, you know that?”
Chloe closed her eyes. No. That could not be Brianna running her mouth. She could not possibly be that stupid.
“You think you’re hot shit ’cause you got a cattle prod. Bet you’re not so tough when you don’t, you big fuckin’ coward.”
Chloe watched the man slowly walk back to Brianna, the air around them feeling like it dropped ten degrees.
“You, young lady, are not only a thief and a liar, you’re an idiot.”
This time when he zapped Brianna, he didn’t stop for what seemed like an hour. Tears rolled down Chloe’s cheeks as her friend screamed. Where were the cops? Anyone? Didn’t someone hear the noise?
Which suddenly stopped.
Risking another look, Chloe angled her head around the container.
“Hey.” The man nudged Brianna with his toe. “You playing possum?” He leaned down, pressed the prod on her again and fired it.
Brianna didn’t move.
The man grunted, folded his weapon and returned it to his pocket.
He kicked Brianna, but she still didn’t move. Picking her up, he headed toward the dumpster. Chloe scurried behind the bin, ducked down and flattened against the building.
Please don’t let him see me.
“Stupid cunt,” the man said. “You’re nothing but trash.”
The container thudded, and Chloe curled up tighter, fighting to keep her ragged breathing quiet. She listened to the man’s footsteps, and when the sound faded completely, she crawled to the edge of her hiding place and looked around. The man was gone.
Arms shaking, Chloe pulled herself up and into the dumpster. Brianna lay face down on top of a pile of trash bags, and when Chloe rolled her over, she stared into eyes that didn’t look back. Chloe touched Brianna’s neck. Nothing. She picked up her wrist and felt there. Still nothing.
The stench of pissy diapers hit her nose. No stopping her gut now. Chloe hurled into a corner, stomach acid burning her throat. Puking sucked.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Chloe shook her friend.
“Bri. Girl, wake up.” Knowing she wouldn’t.
Chloe fished in Brianna’s pocket for the slim wallet she carried. Shit. Gone. The guy must have taken it. A sudden chirp make her shriek. Bri’s phone, buried under a pile of cabbage. The guy didn’t get that. Gagging, Chloe grabbed the phone, took one last look at her friend, and climbed out of the container.
Leave. Can’t help her now.
Chloe jogged to the car. Call the cops. Anonymously, though. No way was dumbass Brianna’s bullshit bringing down trouble on her and her mom, Angela. Her mom was stressed-out enough about medical bills. She didn’t need any more worry in her life.
They’d trace the call and find her. All the cops on TV could track you down if you used your phone, probably on a burner phone, too. A sudden dog bark made her yell out loud.
Shut up. Don’t make noise. Christ, she had to get it together.
Inside the car, she fumbled the key into the ignition. Drive it back to Bri’s house. Walk home from there. Nobody would even know they’d been out together.
Dumbass Brianna deserved to die. Selling drugs, mouthing off to a dealer. What was she thinking?
But if that fuckin’ scary dude killed Brianna, he could kill again. Chloe had to tell someone. She clicked the doors locked. Drove down the street with one last glance at the dumpster.
Who could she contact? Chloe whimpered. Had to be someone who wouldn’t make her tell the cops. Oh! That guy who gave her mom the medicine that saved Angela’s life. He was cool. Every time he met Chloe, he’d been super nice, talked to her like an adult, made sure she was okay. He told her and Angela to contact him if they ever needed help, with anything. He was super smart, too, coming up with that new drug that healed Mom and didn’t make her all sick. He’d know what to do.
Call him tomorrow. Tonight, just get home. Grab some dinner, if Angela had felt well enough to cook and if not, open them both a can of soup. Find a movie, zone out, sleep on it, make a decision tomorrow.
Chloe opened the window and turned on the stereo, but the music didn’t drown out Bri’s screams, and the wind on her face barely dried her tears.
Chapter One
Saturday late morning, en route to Deacon, Missouri
This totally rocked. Lily fought to keep a goofy grin off her face. She was on the DART business jet, back to work, Dillon next to her, ready to take on their first mission together as an official team.
“Nice way to travel, huh?” She turned to Dillon, only partially successful hiding the goofy grin.
“Way better than a commercial plane.” Dillon took her hand and squeezed. “Is there a shower in the bathroom? I’m totally going to take one if there is.”
“No shower, but there’s plenty of space. Your knees won’t hit the door when you sit on the toilet.”
“And there’s a lounge and galley in the rear section, right?” He swiveled to glance behind him. “You hustled me into our seats so quick, I didn’t get a chance to look around.”
“Because we were running late this morning. Because you weren’t ready.”
“Because you kept me up late last night.” Dillon leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I bet there’s a couch in the lounge. Want to join the mile-high club?”
His warm breath on her skin sent a delicious shiver down her spine and heat to her core.
“What makes you think I don’t already belong?” she whispered back.
Dillon laughed his low, sexy laugh, almost like a growl. “Then we’ll move on to the premium membership group. Bet you didn’t even know about that. To get in, you have to ... ”
“Are you both ready to go?” Their pilot appeared in the cabin, looking way perkier than Lily ever looked in the morning. Which was a good thing. Pilots should be awake and alert.
How did anyone get their hair and make-up together at the crack of dawn?
Dillon shifted away from her but kept his grip on her hand. “We’re ready when you are.”
“Buckle up and we’ll take off. The tower is waiting. ”
Lily dutifully fastened her seat belt, missing Dillon’s warmth next to her. They’d have to discuss this premium membership thing later. Dillon was making it up, she knew, but enjoyed his creative mind when it came to sex. She shoved a stick of gum in her mouth to keep her ears from popping during the ascent, and minutes later, watched the ground disappear out the window.
Hot damn! They were on their way. Lily settled into her seat. If she and Dillon succeeded with this mission, they could be permanent partners at Damage Avert and Rescue Team, the specialized FBI division that employed them both. She’d been with DART for five years, but Dillon was a newbie. The agency didn’t normally take on former soldiers, so he’d be a first. He’d helped her on an assignment the previous year as a civilian consultant, and they’d completed the mission and got along well.
Really well. So well, they’d rekindled a romance that had flared briefly over two years earlier and decided to explore it.
Lily rubbed her arm. The ache from the fracture still throbbed occasionally. On that last assignment she’d been wounded and, with Dillon’s help, recovered. While she healed at her apartment in Atlanta, Dillon had moved into a unit down the hall from her. They’d spent the past months getting to know each other, and to her delight, merged their lives together with fun and love.
Dillon went through DART training and because of his previous specialized military skills and his above-average intelligence, he quickly made it through the rigorous field agent instruction program.
So now they had to prove partners in life could be partners at work. No problem. Of course they could. She and Dillon had great chemistry together, communicated well, and were both smart. This was the start of a wonderful new chapter in her life.
“Seat belt light is off,” Dillon said, unclicking his. “I’m going to check out the galley and see if they’ve got juice. You said there’s an espresso machine on board. You want more coffee, right?”
He knew her well, knew the sludgy cup she’d gulped from the quickie-mart wasn’t enough. “Yes, please. I think there’s directions by the coffee maker.”
“I’ll figure it out. I’m going to check out this big bathroom, also. Be back soon.” He gave her hand another squeeze before he left.
He’d look at the couch in the lounge, too, she knew. They’d only be in the air a little over an hour and a half, and with a pilot and co-pilot on board, they wouldn’t have the opportunity to explore the “premium membership.” But Dillon would think about it.
The goofy grin came back, but only for a moment. They had to be professional, pay attention, and keep their shit together, to not only prove themselves, but also to make DART look good. They’d brought in the bad guy on the last case they worked together, but they’d also stirred up trouble, the kind that put an agency like theirs under scrutiny.
A lot hung on this mission. She undid her seatbelt and stretched.
But it still totally rocked.
***
They landed at the Deacon Regional Airport and hopped into the rental car that waited for them there. A short drive took them to their destination. Lily squinted at the sign on the building. Stomped Grapes Winery. Did customers find that name appealing? All she pictured was a large foot stepping on the fruit, goo squishing everywhere. A large, unwashed foot. She shook her head. Not going to let that image ruin her love affair with wine.
The winery sat at the top of a hill, and Lily could see for miles around. Bare trees dotted the landscape, and clouds covered the sky, shutting out the sun. Picturesque in other seasons, maybe, but today, the grayness hung like cold, wet sheets on a clothes line. Lily shivered as the wind licked at her damaged shoulder, a painful reminder of what happened when you trusted the wrong partner.
“Are you sure this place is open?” Dillon asked, glancing around the empty parking lot.
“It’s open. Guess no one wants to come to a small town in Missouri when it’s ass-freezing cold.” Lily wrapped her scarf tighter. “Shitballs, when does spring get here?”
“You requested this mission,” Dillon said but smiled and brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Kind of a weenie job, isn’t it?”
His smile heated her, no matter what the temperature outside, and Lily allowed a moment of pleasure at his touch, then stepped away. They were at work, not on a date. While at work, Dillon was not her lover, but her work partner. The right partner, this time.
“I didn’t request this mission. We were assigned to come here, and it’s not a weenie job.”
It was, kind of. Miguel Estrada, Lily’s boss at DART, gave them this assignment, and though a subject retrieval wasn’t her ideal mission, after months of light-duty paper shuffling while she recovered from her injury, she’d take whatever got her back in the field.
“Bring a drug dealer operating from a winery to DART for questioning. Is this a joke on the new kid?” Dillon asked.
“Our subject is not necessarily a dealer. He’s suspected of being involved in a drug sale issue. Come on, let’s get inside.”
They stepped into warmth, and the smell of cinnamon and burning wood made Lily’s shoulders drop a notch. Only a notch. Might be a weenie job, but they still had to do well.
Lily crossed the large, open room, Dillon behind her, as a trainee should be. Both surveyed the space momentarily, then she stepped up to a long, wooden counter at the front of the room while Dillon circled the area.
Shelves all along the walls held bottles, presumably of wine, and large windows gave another view of the hilly countryside. A fire snapped and crackled in a stone fireplace. Wooden floors muffled their footsteps, and there was not a bell on the counter to ring.
“Hello,” she called out. “Anybody here?”
A man came around the corner from the back, smiling, drying his hands on a towel. He stood behind the counter and took two glasses from a rack there. “Hello, and welcome to Stomped Grapes. Can I interest you in a wine tasting?”
“Joel Wilson?” Lily asked. He matched the picture from the file she’d been given. Short, partially balding, wearing thick, black glasses.
“That’s me.” He tapped one of the glasses with his fingernail, making it chime. His sweatshirt had a picture of a bunch of grapes dancing with a wine glass.
Not a drug dealer. No way.
“I’m Federal Agent Blume and this is Agent Hurst.” She pulled her badge from her pocket, showed him, then tucked it away. “Is anyone else here?”
“No.” Wilson frowned. “Federal agents? You’re FBI?”
“We’re with DART, a division of the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions and need you to come to our headquarters in Atlanta with us.”
“Questions about what?”
“You worked for Biowate years ago. There’s been a serious situation with them, and we need to talk to you.”
“I’m not going to Atlanta, and I don’t know anything about Biowate anymore. What kind of situation?”
Sweat formed low on Lily’s back, and she resisted the urge to remove her coat. She’d worn a long-sleeved thermal shirt under the DART uniform of black khaki pants, unisex polo work shirt and boots. Too much for a well-heated indoor space.
“Mr. Wilson, you signed a contract with a high-level, confidential government contractor, and maybe you didn’t read the fine print, but you agreed to provide said employer with your services, if required, after your termination. Biowate requires your services. Please come with us. We have a plane waiting to take you to our headquarters to speak to our specialist team. We’ll have you home by this evening.”
Wilson folded his arms. “Who the heck is DART anyway?”
“Damage Avert and Rescue Team. We need to leave now.”
“You expect me to go with a stranger who says she’s with some agency I never heard of?”
“You’ve heard of the FBI, haven’t you?” Dillon said, coming to stand next to her.
“Yeah, but anybody can buy a fake badge.”
Lily pulled her tablet from her field bag and tapped it. “Your name is Joel Wilson. You’re single. Widowed. You have one son, Torin, living in St. Conley County. You’re a biochemist. You worked for Biowate, then most recently Drakon. You bought this winery two years ago. You went to high school at Mercy High, then college at Stanford University.”
“What, you’re looking at my resume? Big deal. That doesn’t prove anything.” His gaze darted around the room.
Shit. He better not run. Lily slipped her hand into her pocket and gripped her stun gun. Was she going to have to zap this guy? Most subjects DART agents took in were in danger and eager to be rescued. They didn’t stand around and argue with her. She expected some reluctance with Wilson, but this was ridiculous.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Dillon’s hand move.
Wilson uncrossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you, I have nothing to do with Biowate now. I can’t up and leave my business.”
“Yes, you can, for one day.” A drop of moisture trickled down her neck, and she loosened her scarf. “Get your coat. Lock the door. We’re leaving.”
A train whistle sounded, and Wilson jerked his hand, knocking over one of the glasses. “I need to get that.” He leaned to reach below the counter.
“Don’t move,” Lily said, pulling out her stun gun and pointing at Wilson.
“Take it easy.” Wilson raised his hands. “It’s just my phone, okay?” Keeping one hand in the air, he bent slightly and retrieved the phone. “Hello?”
Lily glanced at Dillon, who watched Joel Wilson with a blank look. Dillon did impassive really well; he beat her most of the time at poker. But they were in tune enough for her to know he wanted to react, wanted to grab the guy and haul him away.
“I can’t hear you. Slow down,” Wilson spoke into the phone, plugging one ear with his finger.
Lily loosened her scarf again, and it dropped it to the floor. “Mr. Wilson, put that down and come with us. Now.”
He waved a hand at her. “Are you sure that’s what you saw? Did you tell your mom? Call the police?”
Enough. Lily took a step forward, snatched the phone from his hand and tapped it to disconnect. “You will come with us right now.”
“Give it back.” Wilson reached toward her. “That was an important call. I have to help my friend. She needs me.” He clasped his hands in prayer position in front of his chest. “Look, I’ll come with you, do whatever you want. Let me talk to my friend first. She’s in trouble, and I’m the only one she trusts to help her.”
Lily held the phone over her head. “You can finish your important call in the car.”
Wilson gripped the edge of the counter and glared at her, then grunted and pushed away. “Fine. I’ll get my jacket.” He bent down and reached beneath the counter again.
When he stood back up, he held a piece of bamboo in one hand. “I changed my mind. I’m not going with you, and both of you are getting into that closet.” He pointed to the far wall. “I’ll lock it, but I’ll call one of my part-time people to let you out soon.”
Lily aimed her stun gun again. The models DART used shot a wireless projectile and knocked the intended target down fast. She didn’t want to haul this guy’s body to their car, but she’d damn well do it if he wouldn’t walk there on his own. “You’ve got three seconds to come out from behind that counter. Then I’m firing.”
“Nope.” Wilson waved the piece of bamboo.
Was it a flute?
“Go into the closet, please,” he said.
“Do you plan to play us a song? Get over here now, or I swear we’ll be carrying your twitching ass out the door.”
Wilson lifted the bamboo partway, and a sound from Dillon made her glance toward him. Oh, hell no. He had his firearm drawn and pointed at Wilson, who puffed up his cheeks, put the bamboo tube to his mouth and blew. In an instant, Dillon crumbled to the ground.
“Son of a bitch.” Lily turned to Wilson, and before she could fire her stun gun, a jolt of pain bit into her shoulder. She grabbed for the counter, missed and crashed to the floor.
Like back in her wild days when she’d pounded too many tequila shots, Lily floated on the edge of consciousness. She heard Dillon roar, watched him attempt to stand before falling again. She commanded her legs to move and managed to get almost to her knees.
Wilson’s face came into view, blurry. “I’m really sorry, but you gave me no choice. I have to help my friend. I shot you with a mild sedative that will knock you out for about an hour. No side effects. You’ll be okay. I’m sorry.”
I’m going to kick your sorry ass. She might have said it, might have only thought it. Then darkness descended, and she slid back to the floor and stayed down.
***
Dillon put his phone in the holster, crossed the room and knelt by Lily on the floor.
“What the fuck?” She sat partway up, moaned again and lay back down.
“Move slow. You’ve got a bump on the back of your head.” He helped her move from the floor to sitting.
“Did we just get shot with a blowgun?”
He tried to check her eyes as she swiveled her head to scan the room.
“Hold still. Yeah, we did.”
Eyes focused, tracking well. Good. His heart slowed a notch.
Lily tried to stand.
“Take it easy. Your head hit the floor when you went down.
“I’m not taking it easy.” She pushed up. “We have to go after that asshole Wilson.”
“He’s long gone.” Dillon took her hand and pulled her to standing, since she refused to stay seated. “We’ve been out for an hour. I just woke up five minutes ago, checked around the place. No one’s here.”
She rubbed her head. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. How do you feel?”
Lily wiggled her arms. “Like a monkey shit in my mouth and a truck ran into my head, but otherwise, I’m good.” She strode to the counter. “I don’t suppose Wilson left his stupid blowgun or darts here.”
“Not sure. I looked in the back area and parking lot for him. I didn’t dig around in here. I was about to call an ambulance for you ... ”
“I don’t need an ambulance.”
“I see that. Would you please just sit for a minute?”
She wouldn’t, he knew.
“I’m going to check out this room, then call Miguel. Damn, am I bleeding?” She put her hand to the back of her head.
“No, but you have an egg-size lump. There’s a refrigerator in back. I’ll get ice.”
He went to the back room, grabbed a plastic bag and loaded it with cubes. Much as he wanted her to chill out, Lily up and walking was good.
He’d about had a heart attack when he woke up and saw her on the floor, but after he determined her pulse was strong and her breathing steady, he figured the drugs would wear off and she’d be awake soon. He’d cradled her head with her scarf and, after a quick walk through the winery revealed they were alone, grabbed his phone, ready to call an ambulance if she didn’t come to. She’d have been over-the-top pissed if she had to get carted out on a stretcher, but he wouldn’t have let her remain on the floor much longer.
Dillon pushed out a breath, then shook his head to clear it. Yeah, monkey shit was a good description for how his mouth tasted. But other than that and some dizziness, all systems seemed normal. What did that nutcase Wilson say? A mild sedative with no side effects? It damn well better be. He might insist they both get a blood test anyway to see what they’d been dosed with.
Grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator, he returned to the front area, where Lily paced, phone in one hand. She grabbed the ice bag with the other and put it to her head, wincing.
“What the fuck, Miguel?” Lily yelled into her phone.
Dillon wanted to pace too, wanted to bolt out the door and go after the guy. Instead, he leaned against a wall before he crashed into the fast-moving Lily.
Be cool. Staying pissed wouldn’t make the situation any better and wouldn’t allow him to think clearly.
“Yeah, I am upset,” she said. “Our subject just shot Dillon and me with a dart that was drugged and knocked us out.” She paused. “We’re fine. Dillon’s right here. I’ll put it on speaker.”
“I’m tracking Joel Wilson’s phone now,” Miguel said. “It’s at his house and hasn’t moved for half an hour.”
“I’m sure he left his phone there, and he’s not around. He refused to come with us. Said he didn’t believe we were FBI, had nothing to do with Biowate anymore and didn’t want to leave his business.”
“How long has he been gone?” Miguel asked. “He shot you with a dart?”
“We’ve been out about an hour. Yeah, a dart from a blowgun.”
“Unprovoked?”
Lily cut her gaze to Dillon. “We were talking to him. He agreed to go along with us, and then he whips out this dart blower thing and shot us both. But before he did, he got a phone call that bothered him, asked the person on the other end if she called the police or told her mom. He seemed concerned about the call, so maybe he went to deal with that. If we get his phone and get that number, it’ll be faster than having DART pull the call records.”
“Agreed. Go to his house.”
“Maybe we should split up, one of us go to his son’s house,” Dillon said. “It’s not far from here.”
“No,” Miguel said. “This is a training mission. You do not go off on your own.”
Dillon gritted his teeth but kept his tone even. “Wilson could be there right now.”
“Doubtful. If he did go there, he’d leave quick, knowing that’s where you’d look first. You two are to stay together. I’ll contact the local police to swing by the son’s house, tell them we’re working a case in the area. I’ll also check to see if there were any police reports called in recently. Wilson didn’t say anything else on his phone call?”
“No.” Lily finally stopped moving and rested one hip on a tall stool. “Miguel, what’s up with this case? All we’ve been told is Wilson used to work at Biowate, a government contractor, and now he’s a person of interest to the FBI because of a potential drug sale issue. And what exactly is the ‘situation’ at Biowate?”
“We mainly want Joel Wilson brought in because of his involvement at Drakon.”
“Which is?”
“Drakon is a legitimate Russian-based metals and mining company, on the surface. We’ve had our eye on Drakon for some time, like we do with many companies, but have never had proof of their side activities until we recently discovered they’re involved with biological warfare. That put them on our radar. Wilson is no longer working for them at their New Mexico division, as far as we can tell, but he could still be employed by them. Just recently, one of our agents gained access to an email from a Drakon employee named Ernesto looking to buy drugs from Wilson. Combined with his work at Biowate, an alert went up for us to pull him in for questioning.”
Lily rubbed her forehead. “Arresting drug dealers is not our job. Neither is hunting down subjects against their will.”
“It is today. We’ll monitor local airports, bus and train stations from here. Find Wilson and bring him in.” Miguel disconnected.
Dillon pushed away from the wall. “Most of your subjects are in danger and want to be rescued, right? Or we control situations that could cause harm to the country. That’s what I learned in DART school.”
Lily frowned at her phone, her brows pulled down in that look Dillon recognized as frustration. “That’s the way it usually works. And Miguel usually answers my questions better.” She looked up, the frustration shifting to anger.
“You.” She pointed at him. “What was that all about? Why the hell did you pull your pistol? I had the situation under control. Talk him down or stun him and drag him out if that didn’t work. There was no reason to draw a firearm.”
“A guy refuses to obey a command and come with us? I’m going after him. Like I’ve been trained to do.” Dillon clenched his hands, released them. Lily was his trainer, not his adversary.
“Uh-uh. Not trained by DART. I was talking to him, and I had my stun gun on him. Chances are I could have convinced him to come with us, and if not, I was ready to fire a nonlethal weapon first.”
Dillon shook his head. “Not a chance he was coming along.”
“Are you saying I’m incompetent, can’t do my job?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. The guy had a look in his eyes I’ve seen too many times. He planned to use that weapon from the beginning.”
“And I would have stunned him the minute it went to his mouth if you hadn’t distracted me by drawing your pistol. You didn’t even know that thing he had was a weapon.”
“I knew he intended harm. That’s enough.”
“A fucking blowgun. We’re going to be a joke at DART’s next Christmas party.”
Christmas party, hell. They would be a joke at DART long before that. No longer able to stay still, Dillon paced while Lily picked up her scarf from the floor. What a bunch of bullshit. A wimpy guy in a winery dropped him. No soldier would ever let that happen.
And Lily was pissed because he’d done what was necessary to protect her. Dillon’s instincts had gone into high gear as soon as the guy started to argue. Wilson might look like a wimp, but those were the ones you had to be careful of.
Dillon would not let harm come to Lily.
“Let’s hit it. Wilson’s house is about ten minutes from here.” She stalked out the door.
Dillon followed. Outside, Lily stood by the car, her back ramrod-straight. Dillon reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, clicked open the door. She climbed in, and when he joined her inside, she stared intently at her phone, not looking at him.
“Make a left out of here,” Lily said, still not looking up. “I’m lead on cases until otherwise ordered. You agreed to that. You follow me, and we play by the rules.”
“I know I agreed. But—” Dillon started the car and pulled out of the lot. “The guy was obviously agitated and ready to attack.”
Now she looked at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw her mouth turned down into that part-angry, part-sad frown she got when her emotions battled for dominance. “That’s not how I read the situation. We’re not cowboys. We use low-key methods and stay off the radar, and we don’t shoot people unless absolutely necessary. You accused me on our last case of being overly aggressive, so when I use a less combative tactic, you turn into the hard-ass. What the hell’s up with that?”
I didn’t love you before.
“When your life is in danger, I’m going to act, not talk.”
“My life was not in danger, and I had the situation under control.”
Dillon whipped around a corner. “DART isn’t aggressive enough. All that stuff I learned in training, their methods should be ramped up.”
“Then why did you join DART? You know we’re not like the military. And you’re not a soldier with the Army anymore, not part of that special unit you were training with.”
He clenched his jaw. Hell, she didn’t need to remind him of his failure and of a betrayal by a woman and his commander. He thought about it often enough on his own.
Lily laid a light hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t need to bring that up. It’s just that ... ”
“Skip it.” He shrugged her hand off. “So what’s the big deal? The asshole got away, but we’ll find him, bring him back.”
She huffed out a breath. “I told a big, fat lie to Miguel, that’s the big deal, and now I’ll have to falsify my report. Wilson didn’t fire unprovoked. If you hadn’t raised your pistol ... ”
“Uh, yeah he did. He knew we wouldn’t go in that closet. He planned to shoot us anyway, like I said. I know that look, I’m telling you.”
“Get on the highway here.” Lily pulled her tablet from her canvas field bag.
He’d bought her a new bag, one that didn’t look like it had made a trip to the Sahara and back like her current one did. The new one was blue, not ugly brown, made out of suede, not canvas, and had a lot of pockets and zippers. She’d smiled, made up some reason it wouldn’t work and kept her old one. He’d teased her a few times, but she refused to replace the worn-out thing.
“I’m going to read the report on Wilson again, see if there’s some clue to where he might go.” She scooted over to lean on her door and pulled one leg up onto the seat between them.
Enough of that conversation, apparently. Dillon turned onto the highway ramp. Fine by him. Arguing with Lily sucked.
This situation sucked, too. They were not supposed to be chasing after their subject, fighting about stupid shit. They should be transporting Joel Wilson to the airport, hauling him back later that night, then bumping fists for a celebration of a successful first mission.
Dillon eased into traffic and reviewed. Wilson didn’t look like a drug dealer. Running a winery? Come on. And they should have been given the additional information about Drakon to start with. Did DART always send them into the field with so little intel?
He glanced at Lily, her curly hair covering her face. A face he’d come to love.
Dillon reached over and took her hand. “You’re cold.”
“I’ve been holding a bag of ice.” She pulled her hand away.
“Is your head all right? As soon as we stop, I’m going to take a look.”
“You looked while we were inside.”
“Barely, and the light was poor.”
“My head is fine.”
He grabbed her hand again. “You don’t have to lie to Miguel or in your report. Tell them what happened. I believed the subject was a threat, and I acted on that assumption.”
“You could be reprimanded,” Lily said but didn’t pull her hand away.
“All right, then I’m reprimanded. Not the end of the world.”
“Not the best mark on your record for your initial mission, either. You’re the first soldier to work at DART, and we’re the test team, to see if a couple can work together.”
“I know that.” Dillon paused. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back in the field?”
“What? Where the hell did that come from?” Now she did jerk her hand out of his grip. “Why is this about me all of a sudden?”
“You’ve been injured on your last two cases, had issues with a partner and could have been killed seven months ago. Maybe you should take a break.”
“I just had a break. I was off work for weeks, doing stupid light-duty paperwork forever after that, and I about went crazy. I’ve been cleared to work in the field by the doctor.”
“But maybe you need more time to recover from the stress.”
“I’m not stressed.” She shot the words out like nails from a nail gun. “Miguel thought the same thing after I was wounded on that assignment in Italy, but I proved him wrong on that last case, remember? We caught the perp. What are you doing? Get back on the highway.”
Dillon had pulled the car onto an exit ramp and parked on the shoulder. He twisted in his seat to meet Lily’s flashing eyes.
“Look at me,” Dillon said. He put his finger under her chin and tipped it up. “Are you sure you’re up for this assignment? You’re not just doing it for me so we can start working together?”
“Is that what you think?” The anger left her face. “I am totally up for this assignment. You know I love my job. I need to work, and I feel fine, physically and mentally. The doctors cleared me, and I went through the mandatory company psych counseling. I’m good. I wouldn’t put you or myself at risk by taking on a mission if I wasn’t.”
She scooted around and faced him.
“Do you believe me?” She cupped her palm behind his neck and gazed directly into his eyes, a move she used when she wanted to connect them. A move that personified Lily: strength and tenderness in one hot little package. His hot little package.
“If you’re sure, if you’re really good to go, then I believe you. I want to do what’s best for you.”
“Working is best for me. It’s what makes my motor run. That and you.” She smiled.
He returned the smile.
Better.
The toxic tension in the car amped down. But Lily’s cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink, one of her telltale signs of emotion. She wasn’t outright lying to him—he knew her well enough to be sure of that—but something bothered her.
“You’ll tell me if you’re not good any time. Right?”
“Promise.” Lily took her hand away and scooted back to her original position. “Now get this car moving and let’s go find that asshole Wilson. Nobody shoots a DART agent with a fucking blowgun.”
Friday night, Deacon, Missouri
The stench of trash tightened the knot of fear in Chloe’s gut, threatening to turn her dinner into vomit. She peeked around the side of the restaurant dumpster. The dim lights in the alley illuminated her friend Brianna facing a man in a hoodie and ski mask.
“I’ll have the money by next Friday, I swear.” Brianna tilted her head up to the man. “Jeez, calm down, would ya?”
The man had just finished yelling at Bri, calling her a lying bitch, waving his arms around. Not calm at all. Bri picked at a spot on her face, a thing she did when nervous. Crazy girl should be nervous. Should be good and scared.
Chloe shrank back into the shadows, breathing into her hands, trying not to gag. Stupid Bri, dragging her into this. Just a quick meeting with a guy, Bri said, to pick up something. Chloe had a good idea the “something” was drugs and didn’t want to have anything to do with that crap.
But she didn’t want Brianna to think she was a wimp. Bri was one of the popular kids in the high school, with her own Street Fighter cosplay squad. Chloe was home-schooled, but she knew about them from around town and desperately wanted to join.
A month ago Bri had bought an ice cream cone from the shop where Chloe worked and told her they were practicing Capoeira later that night. Did she want to watch? Chloe said sure and Bri smirked, asked her if she even knew what Capoeira was.
Chloe did. It was this kick-ass kind of Brazilian martial art that had dancing stuff too. Very slick. Elena from Street Fighter was who they cosplayed, one of the most savage Street Fighter characters, and she used Capoeira.
Chloe watched Bri and her group and about died when Bri asked if she wanted to join them, wanted to be her new star student.
Shit yeah!
So Chloe hung out, learned some moves, made new friends. When Bri asked her to come along on this trip, Chloe said she’d go, knowing it’d be trouble. You didn’t meet with a guy in an alley at night for anything that wasn’t trouble.
And deep down, Chloe knew Bri was involved with drugs. Too many people coming up to her for quick conversations, or no conversation, and an exchange between hands. And Bri had a lot of spending money for a high school girl from a middle-class family.
“Uh-uh, that’s not the way this works.” The man’s voice, still pissed.
Chloe peered around the dumpster again and saw the man shove Bri’s shoulder.
“Stop scratching your face and look at me when I talk to you.”
“I’ll get the money, I will.” Her voice wobbled the faintest bit.
“Where is it? You should have the money. This is how it works when you’re one of my delivery girls. I give you drugs, you sell them, and you turn the cash over to me and get your cut. Simple.”
“I didn’t sell much this weekend. Not many people at the club, and I had to do this thing with my family and ... ”
The man slapped Brianna’s face, the sound ringing like a gunshot.
“Enough bullshit. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You’re a liar and a thief and need to be punished.”
“You hurt me and my dad’s going to ask questions.” Brianna put her hand to her cheek and backed away from the guy. “If he sees a bruise, he’ll harass me till I tell him where it came from. You don’t want my dad messing with you.”
Chloe clenched his fists. Don’t argue with a pissed-off drug dealer, you idiot.
“Oh, there won’t be any marks when I’m done with you.” The man reached one hand to his pocket. “And don’t threaten me. I’m not afraid of your dad.”
“Why you so mad? I’ll sell the rest this weekend, get your money. It’s not like you’re broke or anything.”
You dumbass. Quite smarting off. Did the guy have a gun in his pocket? Didn’t Bri see his hand moving there? Chloe almost stepped forward but stopped. What could she do? Maybe distract the jerk, get him to leave if he knew there were two of them. Call the cops, at least. She patted her jeans. Damn. Phone was in the car.
“My income status is none of your concern. I’m mad because I believe you are fucking with me, Brianna. I believe you made money and you’ve already spent it instead of giving it to me like you’re supposed to.”
“No, uh-uh, that’s not it. I sold a little, yeah, but I had to put gas in my car. Got to get around, you know.”
“No, I don’t know. You need to be taught a lesson about lying to your employer. You know why they call me Sting?”
“Because you look like that singer dude?”
The guy didn’t, from what Chloe could see. He was way huskier, maybe fat. Hard to tell with that jacket on and his face covered.
She should yell or something, anything, before he hit Bri again.
“They call me Sting because I use this on people who lie to me.”
Sting whipped his hand from his pocket and shoved it toward Brianna, touching her on the arm.
Brianna yelled and stumbled backward. “What the hell, man? You shocked me.”
“I did indeed. Do you want to hand over the money you owe me now?”
“I told you, I only made a little, and I spent it. I’ll ... ”
Quick as a cobra striking, the man touched Brianna again.
“You motherfucker!” Brianna fell to the ground. “Get the fuck away from me.”
“I will when you give me my money.”
Chloe edged over to the restaurant door and rattled the knob. Locked.
Another scream from Bri.
“Stop whining. You’re not going to die.”
Why didn’t anybody hear? Because no one was around. The restaurant and all the shops in the strip mall were long closed. Chloe frantically scanned the alley for a weapon. Nothing but cardboard boxes and two plastic gallon jugs. She picked one up. It had liquid inside. That would give it weight. Using every ounce of terrified energy, Chloe threw it, then ducked back to the side of the dumpster.
Peering around the container, she saw the man turn in the direction of the noise and take several steps away from Brianna.
“Who’s there?” he called out.
Go look.
“Must be the rats.” The man turned back to Brianna, who still lay on the ground, half up on her forearms.
Get up, Bri. Fight. She could. She did Capoeira well. But if the guy was using some kind of stun gun, her muscles were probably mush.
“How about I chop off one of your thieving hands, feed it to the rats?”
“No, please.” Brianna choked out a sob. “Stop hurting me. I’ll get your money, swear to God. Tomorrow. I’ll have it tomorrow.”
“Damn right you will. And you try to screw me over again, I won’t be so nice next time.” He nudged her leg with his foot, then turned and started to walk.
Chloe let go a shaky breath and plastered her back on the dumpster. Thank God. He was done torturing Bri. As soon as he left, she’d grab her friend and they’d get the hell away.
“You’re a spineless dick, you know that?”
Chloe closed her eyes. No. That could not be Brianna running her mouth. She could not possibly be that stupid.
“You think you’re hot shit ’cause you got a cattle prod. Bet you’re not so tough when you don’t, you big fuckin’ coward.”
Chloe watched the man slowly walk back to Brianna, the air around them feeling like it dropped ten degrees.
“You, young lady, are not only a thief and a liar, you’re an idiot.”
This time when he zapped Brianna, he didn’t stop for what seemed like an hour. Tears rolled down Chloe’s cheeks as her friend screamed. Where were the cops? Anyone? Didn’t someone hear the noise?
Which suddenly stopped.
Risking another look, Chloe angled her head around the container.
“Hey.” The man nudged Brianna with his toe. “You playing possum?” He leaned down, pressed the prod on her again and fired it.
Brianna didn’t move.
The man grunted, folded his weapon and returned it to his pocket.
He kicked Brianna, but she still didn’t move. Picking her up, he headed toward the dumpster. Chloe scurried behind the bin, ducked down and flattened against the building.
Please don’t let him see me.
“Stupid cunt,” the man said. “You’re nothing but trash.”
The container thudded, and Chloe curled up tighter, fighting to keep her ragged breathing quiet. She listened to the man’s footsteps, and when the sound faded completely, she crawled to the edge of her hiding place and looked around. The man was gone.
Arms shaking, Chloe pulled herself up and into the dumpster. Brianna lay face down on top of a pile of trash bags, and when Chloe rolled her over, she stared into eyes that didn’t look back. Chloe touched Brianna’s neck. Nothing. She picked up her wrist and felt there. Still nothing.
The stench of pissy diapers hit her nose. No stopping her gut now. Chloe hurled into a corner, stomach acid burning her throat. Puking sucked.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Chloe shook her friend.
“Bri. Girl, wake up.” Knowing she wouldn’t.
Chloe fished in Brianna’s pocket for the slim wallet she carried. Shit. Gone. The guy must have taken it. A sudden chirp make her shriek. Bri’s phone, buried under a pile of cabbage. The guy didn’t get that. Gagging, Chloe grabbed the phone, took one last look at her friend, and climbed out of the container.
Leave. Can’t help her now.
Chloe jogged to the car. Call the cops. Anonymously, though. No way was dumbass Brianna’s bullshit bringing down trouble on her and her mom, Angela. Her mom was stressed-out enough about medical bills. She didn’t need any more worry in her life.
They’d trace the call and find her. All the cops on TV could track you down if you used your phone, probably on a burner phone, too. A sudden dog bark made her yell out loud.
Shut up. Don’t make noise. Christ, she had to get it together.
Inside the car, she fumbled the key into the ignition. Drive it back to Bri’s house. Walk home from there. Nobody would even know they’d been out together.
Dumbass Brianna deserved to die. Selling drugs, mouthing off to a dealer. What was she thinking?
But if that fuckin’ scary dude killed Brianna, he could kill again. Chloe had to tell someone. She clicked the doors locked. Drove down the street with one last glance at the dumpster.
Who could she contact? Chloe whimpered. Had to be someone who wouldn’t make her tell the cops. Oh! That guy who gave her mom the medicine that saved Angela’s life. He was cool. Every time he met Chloe, he’d been super nice, talked to her like an adult, made sure she was okay. He told her and Angela to contact him if they ever needed help, with anything. He was super smart, too, coming up with that new drug that healed Mom and didn’t make her all sick. He’d know what to do.
Call him tomorrow. Tonight, just get home. Grab some dinner, if Angela had felt well enough to cook and if not, open them both a can of soup. Find a movie, zone out, sleep on it, make a decision tomorrow.
Chloe opened the window and turned on the stereo, but the music didn’t drown out Bri’s screams, and the wind on her face barely dried her tears.
Chapter One
Saturday late morning, en route to Deacon, Missouri
This totally rocked. Lily fought to keep a goofy grin off her face. She was on the DART business jet, back to work, Dillon next to her, ready to take on their first mission together as an official team.
“Nice way to travel, huh?” She turned to Dillon, only partially successful hiding the goofy grin.
“Way better than a commercial plane.” Dillon took her hand and squeezed. “Is there a shower in the bathroom? I’m totally going to take one if there is.”
“No shower, but there’s plenty of space. Your knees won’t hit the door when you sit on the toilet.”
“And there’s a lounge and galley in the rear section, right?” He swiveled to glance behind him. “You hustled me into our seats so quick, I didn’t get a chance to look around.”
“Because we were running late this morning. Because you weren’t ready.”
“Because you kept me up late last night.” Dillon leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I bet there’s a couch in the lounge. Want to join the mile-high club?”
His warm breath on her skin sent a delicious shiver down her spine and heat to her core.
“What makes you think I don’t already belong?” she whispered back.
Dillon laughed his low, sexy laugh, almost like a growl. “Then we’ll move on to the premium membership group. Bet you didn’t even know about that. To get in, you have to ... ”
“Are you both ready to go?” Their pilot appeared in the cabin, looking way perkier than Lily ever looked in the morning. Which was a good thing. Pilots should be awake and alert.
How did anyone get their hair and make-up together at the crack of dawn?
Dillon shifted away from her but kept his grip on her hand. “We’re ready when you are.”
“Buckle up and we’ll take off. The tower is waiting. ”
Lily dutifully fastened her seat belt, missing Dillon’s warmth next to her. They’d have to discuss this premium membership thing later. Dillon was making it up, she knew, but enjoyed his creative mind when it came to sex. She shoved a stick of gum in her mouth to keep her ears from popping during the ascent, and minutes later, watched the ground disappear out the window.
Hot damn! They were on their way. Lily settled into her seat. If she and Dillon succeeded with this mission, they could be permanent partners at Damage Avert and Rescue Team, the specialized FBI division that employed them both. She’d been with DART for five years, but Dillon was a newbie. The agency didn’t normally take on former soldiers, so he’d be a first. He’d helped her on an assignment the previous year as a civilian consultant, and they’d completed the mission and got along well.
Really well. So well, they’d rekindled a romance that had flared briefly over two years earlier and decided to explore it.
Lily rubbed her arm. The ache from the fracture still throbbed occasionally. On that last assignment she’d been wounded and, with Dillon’s help, recovered. While she healed at her apartment in Atlanta, Dillon had moved into a unit down the hall from her. They’d spent the past months getting to know each other, and to her delight, merged their lives together with fun and love.
Dillon went through DART training and because of his previous specialized military skills and his above-average intelligence, he quickly made it through the rigorous field agent instruction program.
So now they had to prove partners in life could be partners at work. No problem. Of course they could. She and Dillon had great chemistry together, communicated well, and were both smart. This was the start of a wonderful new chapter in her life.
“Seat belt light is off,” Dillon said, unclicking his. “I’m going to check out the galley and see if they’ve got juice. You said there’s an espresso machine on board. You want more coffee, right?”
He knew her well, knew the sludgy cup she’d gulped from the quickie-mart wasn’t enough. “Yes, please. I think there’s directions by the coffee maker.”
“I’ll figure it out. I’m going to check out this big bathroom, also. Be back soon.” He gave her hand another squeeze before he left.
He’d look at the couch in the lounge, too, she knew. They’d only be in the air a little over an hour and a half, and with a pilot and co-pilot on board, they wouldn’t have the opportunity to explore the “premium membership.” But Dillon would think about it.
The goofy grin came back, but only for a moment. They had to be professional, pay attention, and keep their shit together, to not only prove themselves, but also to make DART look good. They’d brought in the bad guy on the last case they worked together, but they’d also stirred up trouble, the kind that put an agency like theirs under scrutiny.
A lot hung on this mission. She undid her seatbelt and stretched.
But it still totally rocked.
***
They landed at the Deacon Regional Airport and hopped into the rental car that waited for them there. A short drive took them to their destination. Lily squinted at the sign on the building. Stomped Grapes Winery. Did customers find that name appealing? All she pictured was a large foot stepping on the fruit, goo squishing everywhere. A large, unwashed foot. She shook her head. Not going to let that image ruin her love affair with wine.
The winery sat at the top of a hill, and Lily could see for miles around. Bare trees dotted the landscape, and clouds covered the sky, shutting out the sun. Picturesque in other seasons, maybe, but today, the grayness hung like cold, wet sheets on a clothes line. Lily shivered as the wind licked at her damaged shoulder, a painful reminder of what happened when you trusted the wrong partner.
“Are you sure this place is open?” Dillon asked, glancing around the empty parking lot.
“It’s open. Guess no one wants to come to a small town in Missouri when it’s ass-freezing cold.” Lily wrapped her scarf tighter. “Shitballs, when does spring get here?”
“You requested this mission,” Dillon said but smiled and brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Kind of a weenie job, isn’t it?”
His smile heated her, no matter what the temperature outside, and Lily allowed a moment of pleasure at his touch, then stepped away. They were at work, not on a date. While at work, Dillon was not her lover, but her work partner. The right partner, this time.
“I didn’t request this mission. We were assigned to come here, and it’s not a weenie job.”
It was, kind of. Miguel Estrada, Lily’s boss at DART, gave them this assignment, and though a subject retrieval wasn’t her ideal mission, after months of light-duty paper shuffling while she recovered from her injury, she’d take whatever got her back in the field.
“Bring a drug dealer operating from a winery to DART for questioning. Is this a joke on the new kid?” Dillon asked.
“Our subject is not necessarily a dealer. He’s suspected of being involved in a drug sale issue. Come on, let’s get inside.”
They stepped into warmth, and the smell of cinnamon and burning wood made Lily’s shoulders drop a notch. Only a notch. Might be a weenie job, but they still had to do well.
Lily crossed the large, open room, Dillon behind her, as a trainee should be. Both surveyed the space momentarily, then she stepped up to a long, wooden counter at the front of the room while Dillon circled the area.
Shelves all along the walls held bottles, presumably of wine, and large windows gave another view of the hilly countryside. A fire snapped and crackled in a stone fireplace. Wooden floors muffled their footsteps, and there was not a bell on the counter to ring.
“Hello,” she called out. “Anybody here?”
A man came around the corner from the back, smiling, drying his hands on a towel. He stood behind the counter and took two glasses from a rack there. “Hello, and welcome to Stomped Grapes. Can I interest you in a wine tasting?”
“Joel Wilson?” Lily asked. He matched the picture from the file she’d been given. Short, partially balding, wearing thick, black glasses.
“That’s me.” He tapped one of the glasses with his fingernail, making it chime. His sweatshirt had a picture of a bunch of grapes dancing with a wine glass.
Not a drug dealer. No way.
“I’m Federal Agent Blume and this is Agent Hurst.” She pulled her badge from her pocket, showed him, then tucked it away. “Is anyone else here?”
“No.” Wilson frowned. “Federal agents? You’re FBI?”
“We’re with DART, a division of the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions and need you to come to our headquarters in Atlanta with us.”
“Questions about what?”
“You worked for Biowate years ago. There’s been a serious situation with them, and we need to talk to you.”
“I’m not going to Atlanta, and I don’t know anything about Biowate anymore. What kind of situation?”
Sweat formed low on Lily’s back, and she resisted the urge to remove her coat. She’d worn a long-sleeved thermal shirt under the DART uniform of black khaki pants, unisex polo work shirt and boots. Too much for a well-heated indoor space.
“Mr. Wilson, you signed a contract with a high-level, confidential government contractor, and maybe you didn’t read the fine print, but you agreed to provide said employer with your services, if required, after your termination. Biowate requires your services. Please come with us. We have a plane waiting to take you to our headquarters to speak to our specialist team. We’ll have you home by this evening.”
Wilson folded his arms. “Who the heck is DART anyway?”
“Damage Avert and Rescue Team. We need to leave now.”
“You expect me to go with a stranger who says she’s with some agency I never heard of?”
“You’ve heard of the FBI, haven’t you?” Dillon said, coming to stand next to her.
“Yeah, but anybody can buy a fake badge.”
Lily pulled her tablet from her field bag and tapped it. “Your name is Joel Wilson. You’re single. Widowed. You have one son, Torin, living in St. Conley County. You’re a biochemist. You worked for Biowate, then most recently Drakon. You bought this winery two years ago. You went to high school at Mercy High, then college at Stanford University.”
“What, you’re looking at my resume? Big deal. That doesn’t prove anything.” His gaze darted around the room.
Shit. He better not run. Lily slipped her hand into her pocket and gripped her stun gun. Was she going to have to zap this guy? Most subjects DART agents took in were in danger and eager to be rescued. They didn’t stand around and argue with her. She expected some reluctance with Wilson, but this was ridiculous.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Dillon’s hand move.
Wilson uncrossed his arms. “I’m not going anywhere. I told you, I have nothing to do with Biowate now. I can’t up and leave my business.”
“Yes, you can, for one day.” A drop of moisture trickled down her neck, and she loosened her scarf. “Get your coat. Lock the door. We’re leaving.”
A train whistle sounded, and Wilson jerked his hand, knocking over one of the glasses. “I need to get that.” He leaned to reach below the counter.
“Don’t move,” Lily said, pulling out her stun gun and pointing at Wilson.
“Take it easy.” Wilson raised his hands. “It’s just my phone, okay?” Keeping one hand in the air, he bent slightly and retrieved the phone. “Hello?”
Lily glanced at Dillon, who watched Joel Wilson with a blank look. Dillon did impassive really well; he beat her most of the time at poker. But they were in tune enough for her to know he wanted to react, wanted to grab the guy and haul him away.
“I can’t hear you. Slow down,” Wilson spoke into the phone, plugging one ear with his finger.
Lily loosened her scarf again, and it dropped it to the floor. “Mr. Wilson, put that down and come with us. Now.”
He waved a hand at her. “Are you sure that’s what you saw? Did you tell your mom? Call the police?”
Enough. Lily took a step forward, snatched the phone from his hand and tapped it to disconnect. “You will come with us right now.”
“Give it back.” Wilson reached toward her. “That was an important call. I have to help my friend. She needs me.” He clasped his hands in prayer position in front of his chest. “Look, I’ll come with you, do whatever you want. Let me talk to my friend first. She’s in trouble, and I’m the only one she trusts to help her.”
Lily held the phone over her head. “You can finish your important call in the car.”
Wilson gripped the edge of the counter and glared at her, then grunted and pushed away. “Fine. I’ll get my jacket.” He bent down and reached beneath the counter again.
When he stood back up, he held a piece of bamboo in one hand. “I changed my mind. I’m not going with you, and both of you are getting into that closet.” He pointed to the far wall. “I’ll lock it, but I’ll call one of my part-time people to let you out soon.”
Lily aimed her stun gun again. The models DART used shot a wireless projectile and knocked the intended target down fast. She didn’t want to haul this guy’s body to their car, but she’d damn well do it if he wouldn’t walk there on his own. “You’ve got three seconds to come out from behind that counter. Then I’m firing.”
“Nope.” Wilson waved the piece of bamboo.
Was it a flute?
“Go into the closet, please,” he said.
“Do you plan to play us a song? Get over here now, or I swear we’ll be carrying your twitching ass out the door.”
Wilson lifted the bamboo partway, and a sound from Dillon made her glance toward him. Oh, hell no. He had his firearm drawn and pointed at Wilson, who puffed up his cheeks, put the bamboo tube to his mouth and blew. In an instant, Dillon crumbled to the ground.
“Son of a bitch.” Lily turned to Wilson, and before she could fire her stun gun, a jolt of pain bit into her shoulder. She grabbed for the counter, missed and crashed to the floor.
Like back in her wild days when she’d pounded too many tequila shots, Lily floated on the edge of consciousness. She heard Dillon roar, watched him attempt to stand before falling again. She commanded her legs to move and managed to get almost to her knees.
Wilson’s face came into view, blurry. “I’m really sorry, but you gave me no choice. I have to help my friend. I shot you with a mild sedative that will knock you out for about an hour. No side effects. You’ll be okay. I’m sorry.”
I’m going to kick your sorry ass. She might have said it, might have only thought it. Then darkness descended, and she slid back to the floor and stayed down.
***
Dillon put his phone in the holster, crossed the room and knelt by Lily on the floor.
“What the fuck?” She sat partway up, moaned again and lay back down.
“Move slow. You’ve got a bump on the back of your head.” He helped her move from the floor to sitting.
“Did we just get shot with a blowgun?”
He tried to check her eyes as she swiveled her head to scan the room.
“Hold still. Yeah, we did.”
Eyes focused, tracking well. Good. His heart slowed a notch.
Lily tried to stand.
“Take it easy. Your head hit the floor when you went down.
“I’m not taking it easy.” She pushed up. “We have to go after that asshole Wilson.”
“He’s long gone.” Dillon took her hand and pulled her to standing, since she refused to stay seated. “We’ve been out for an hour. I just woke up five minutes ago, checked around the place. No one’s here.”
She rubbed her head. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. How do you feel?”
Lily wiggled her arms. “Like a monkey shit in my mouth and a truck ran into my head, but otherwise, I’m good.” She strode to the counter. “I don’t suppose Wilson left his stupid blowgun or darts here.”
“Not sure. I looked in the back area and parking lot for him. I didn’t dig around in here. I was about to call an ambulance for you ... ”
“I don’t need an ambulance.”
“I see that. Would you please just sit for a minute?”
She wouldn’t, he knew.
“I’m going to check out this room, then call Miguel. Damn, am I bleeding?” She put her hand to the back of her head.
“No, but you have an egg-size lump. There’s a refrigerator in back. I’ll get ice.”
He went to the back room, grabbed a plastic bag and loaded it with cubes. Much as he wanted her to chill out, Lily up and walking was good.
He’d about had a heart attack when he woke up and saw her on the floor, but after he determined her pulse was strong and her breathing steady, he figured the drugs would wear off and she’d be awake soon. He’d cradled her head with her scarf and, after a quick walk through the winery revealed they were alone, grabbed his phone, ready to call an ambulance if she didn’t come to. She’d have been over-the-top pissed if she had to get carted out on a stretcher, but he wouldn’t have let her remain on the floor much longer.
Dillon pushed out a breath, then shook his head to clear it. Yeah, monkey shit was a good description for how his mouth tasted. But other than that and some dizziness, all systems seemed normal. What did that nutcase Wilson say? A mild sedative with no side effects? It damn well better be. He might insist they both get a blood test anyway to see what they’d been dosed with.
Grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator, he returned to the front area, where Lily paced, phone in one hand. She grabbed the ice bag with the other and put it to her head, wincing.
“What the fuck, Miguel?” Lily yelled into her phone.
Dillon wanted to pace too, wanted to bolt out the door and go after the guy. Instead, he leaned against a wall before he crashed into the fast-moving Lily.
Be cool. Staying pissed wouldn’t make the situation any better and wouldn’t allow him to think clearly.
“Yeah, I am upset,” she said. “Our subject just shot Dillon and me with a dart that was drugged and knocked us out.” She paused. “We’re fine. Dillon’s right here. I’ll put it on speaker.”
“I’m tracking Joel Wilson’s phone now,” Miguel said. “It’s at his house and hasn’t moved for half an hour.”
“I’m sure he left his phone there, and he’s not around. He refused to come with us. Said he didn’t believe we were FBI, had nothing to do with Biowate anymore and didn’t want to leave his business.”
“How long has he been gone?” Miguel asked. “He shot you with a dart?”
“We’ve been out about an hour. Yeah, a dart from a blowgun.”
“Unprovoked?”
Lily cut her gaze to Dillon. “We were talking to him. He agreed to go along with us, and then he whips out this dart blower thing and shot us both. But before he did, he got a phone call that bothered him, asked the person on the other end if she called the police or told her mom. He seemed concerned about the call, so maybe he went to deal with that. If we get his phone and get that number, it’ll be faster than having DART pull the call records.”
“Agreed. Go to his house.”
“Maybe we should split up, one of us go to his son’s house,” Dillon said. “It’s not far from here.”
“No,” Miguel said. “This is a training mission. You do not go off on your own.”
Dillon gritted his teeth but kept his tone even. “Wilson could be there right now.”
“Doubtful. If he did go there, he’d leave quick, knowing that’s where you’d look first. You two are to stay together. I’ll contact the local police to swing by the son’s house, tell them we’re working a case in the area. I’ll also check to see if there were any police reports called in recently. Wilson didn’t say anything else on his phone call?”
“No.” Lily finally stopped moving and rested one hip on a tall stool. “Miguel, what’s up with this case? All we’ve been told is Wilson used to work at Biowate, a government contractor, and now he’s a person of interest to the FBI because of a potential drug sale issue. And what exactly is the ‘situation’ at Biowate?”
“We mainly want Joel Wilson brought in because of his involvement at Drakon.”
“Which is?”
“Drakon is a legitimate Russian-based metals and mining company, on the surface. We’ve had our eye on Drakon for some time, like we do with many companies, but have never had proof of their side activities until we recently discovered they’re involved with biological warfare. That put them on our radar. Wilson is no longer working for them at their New Mexico division, as far as we can tell, but he could still be employed by them. Just recently, one of our agents gained access to an email from a Drakon employee named Ernesto looking to buy drugs from Wilson. Combined with his work at Biowate, an alert went up for us to pull him in for questioning.”
Lily rubbed her forehead. “Arresting drug dealers is not our job. Neither is hunting down subjects against their will.”
“It is today. We’ll monitor local airports, bus and train stations from here. Find Wilson and bring him in.” Miguel disconnected.
Dillon pushed away from the wall. “Most of your subjects are in danger and want to be rescued, right? Or we control situations that could cause harm to the country. That’s what I learned in DART school.”
Lily frowned at her phone, her brows pulled down in that look Dillon recognized as frustration. “That’s the way it usually works. And Miguel usually answers my questions better.” She looked up, the frustration shifting to anger.
“You.” She pointed at him. “What was that all about? Why the hell did you pull your pistol? I had the situation under control. Talk him down or stun him and drag him out if that didn’t work. There was no reason to draw a firearm.”
“A guy refuses to obey a command and come with us? I’m going after him. Like I’ve been trained to do.” Dillon clenched his hands, released them. Lily was his trainer, not his adversary.
“Uh-uh. Not trained by DART. I was talking to him, and I had my stun gun on him. Chances are I could have convinced him to come with us, and if not, I was ready to fire a nonlethal weapon first.”
Dillon shook his head. “Not a chance he was coming along.”
“Are you saying I’m incompetent, can’t do my job?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. The guy had a look in his eyes I’ve seen too many times. He planned to use that weapon from the beginning.”
“And I would have stunned him the minute it went to his mouth if you hadn’t distracted me by drawing your pistol. You didn’t even know that thing he had was a weapon.”
“I knew he intended harm. That’s enough.”
“A fucking blowgun. We’re going to be a joke at DART’s next Christmas party.”
Christmas party, hell. They would be a joke at DART long before that. No longer able to stay still, Dillon paced while Lily picked up her scarf from the floor. What a bunch of bullshit. A wimpy guy in a winery dropped him. No soldier would ever let that happen.
And Lily was pissed because he’d done what was necessary to protect her. Dillon’s instincts had gone into high gear as soon as the guy started to argue. Wilson might look like a wimp, but those were the ones you had to be careful of.
Dillon would not let harm come to Lily.
“Let’s hit it. Wilson’s house is about ten minutes from here.” She stalked out the door.
Dillon followed. Outside, Lily stood by the car, her back ramrod-straight. Dillon reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys, clicked open the door. She climbed in, and when he joined her inside, she stared intently at her phone, not looking at him.
“Make a left out of here,” Lily said, still not looking up. “I’m lead on cases until otherwise ordered. You agreed to that. You follow me, and we play by the rules.”
“I know I agreed. But—” Dillon started the car and pulled out of the lot. “The guy was obviously agitated and ready to attack.”
Now she looked at him. From the corner of his eye, he saw her mouth turned down into that part-angry, part-sad frown she got when her emotions battled for dominance. “That’s not how I read the situation. We’re not cowboys. We use low-key methods and stay off the radar, and we don’t shoot people unless absolutely necessary. You accused me on our last case of being overly aggressive, so when I use a less combative tactic, you turn into the hard-ass. What the hell’s up with that?”
I didn’t love you before.
“When your life is in danger, I’m going to act, not talk.”
“My life was not in danger, and I had the situation under control.”
Dillon whipped around a corner. “DART isn’t aggressive enough. All that stuff I learned in training, their methods should be ramped up.”
“Then why did you join DART? You know we’re not like the military. And you’re not a soldier with the Army anymore, not part of that special unit you were training with.”
He clenched his jaw. Hell, she didn’t need to remind him of his failure and of a betrayal by a woman and his commander. He thought about it often enough on his own.
Lily laid a light hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t need to bring that up. It’s just that ... ”
“Skip it.” He shrugged her hand off. “So what’s the big deal? The asshole got away, but we’ll find him, bring him back.”
She huffed out a breath. “I told a big, fat lie to Miguel, that’s the big deal, and now I’ll have to falsify my report. Wilson didn’t fire unprovoked. If you hadn’t raised your pistol ... ”
“Uh, yeah he did. He knew we wouldn’t go in that closet. He planned to shoot us anyway, like I said. I know that look, I’m telling you.”
“Get on the highway here.” Lily pulled her tablet from her canvas field bag.
He’d bought her a new bag, one that didn’t look like it had made a trip to the Sahara and back like her current one did. The new one was blue, not ugly brown, made out of suede, not canvas, and had a lot of pockets and zippers. She’d smiled, made up some reason it wouldn’t work and kept her old one. He’d teased her a few times, but she refused to replace the worn-out thing.
“I’m going to read the report on Wilson again, see if there’s some clue to where he might go.” She scooted over to lean on her door and pulled one leg up onto the seat between them.
Enough of that conversation, apparently. Dillon turned onto the highway ramp. Fine by him. Arguing with Lily sucked.
This situation sucked, too. They were not supposed to be chasing after their subject, fighting about stupid shit. They should be transporting Joel Wilson to the airport, hauling him back later that night, then bumping fists for a celebration of a successful first mission.
Dillon eased into traffic and reviewed. Wilson didn’t look like a drug dealer. Running a winery? Come on. And they should have been given the additional information about Drakon to start with. Did DART always send them into the field with so little intel?
He glanced at Lily, her curly hair covering her face. A face he’d come to love.
Dillon reached over and took her hand. “You’re cold.”
“I’ve been holding a bag of ice.” She pulled her hand away.
“Is your head all right? As soon as we stop, I’m going to take a look.”
“You looked while we were inside.”
“Barely, and the light was poor.”
“My head is fine.”
He grabbed her hand again. “You don’t have to lie to Miguel or in your report. Tell them what happened. I believed the subject was a threat, and I acted on that assumption.”
“You could be reprimanded,” Lily said but didn’t pull her hand away.
“All right, then I’m reprimanded. Not the end of the world.”
“Not the best mark on your record for your initial mission, either. You’re the first soldier to work at DART, and we’re the test team, to see if a couple can work together.”
“I know that.” Dillon paused. “Are you sure you’re ready to be back in the field?”
“What? Where the hell did that come from?” Now she did jerk her hand out of his grip. “Why is this about me all of a sudden?”
“You’ve been injured on your last two cases, had issues with a partner and could have been killed seven months ago. Maybe you should take a break.”
“I just had a break. I was off work for weeks, doing stupid light-duty paperwork forever after that, and I about went crazy. I’ve been cleared to work in the field by the doctor.”
“But maybe you need more time to recover from the stress.”
“I’m not stressed.” She shot the words out like nails from a nail gun. “Miguel thought the same thing after I was wounded on that assignment in Italy, but I proved him wrong on that last case, remember? We caught the perp. What are you doing? Get back on the highway.”
Dillon had pulled the car onto an exit ramp and parked on the shoulder. He twisted in his seat to meet Lily’s flashing eyes.
“Look at me,” Dillon said. He put his finger under her chin and tipped it up. “Are you sure you’re up for this assignment? You’re not just doing it for me so we can start working together?”
“Is that what you think?” The anger left her face. “I am totally up for this assignment. You know I love my job. I need to work, and I feel fine, physically and mentally. The doctors cleared me, and I went through the mandatory company psych counseling. I’m good. I wouldn’t put you or myself at risk by taking on a mission if I wasn’t.”
She scooted around and faced him.
“Do you believe me?” She cupped her palm behind his neck and gazed directly into his eyes, a move she used when she wanted to connect them. A move that personified Lily: strength and tenderness in one hot little package. His hot little package.
“If you’re sure, if you’re really good to go, then I believe you. I want to do what’s best for you.”
“Working is best for me. It’s what makes my motor run. That and you.” She smiled.
He returned the smile.
Better.
The toxic tension in the car amped down. But Lily’s cheeks flushed the lightest shade of pink, one of her telltale signs of emotion. She wasn’t outright lying to him—he knew her well enough to be sure of that—but something bothered her.
“You’ll tell me if you’re not good any time. Right?”
“Promise.” Lily took her hand away and scooted back to her original position. “Now get this car moving and let’s go find that asshole Wilson. Nobody shoots a DART agent with a fucking blowgun.”
