Covert Pursuit (5 page)

“Carlucci.”

“Hey, Joey, it’s Angie.”

“Hi there, baby sis. What’s up? Mom said you were on vacation in Florida at Aunt Teresa’s. Man, I need to do that. Is the cottage the same as when we were kids? Do you remember that one summer when we saw the alligator on the beach? I thought for sure we were goners.”

Angie waited a heartbeat to see if her big brother was finished talking before she answered. “Yes, I’m at Aunt Teresa’s and yes, the cottage is the same. And I do remember the alligator. I called because I need a favor.”

“Anything for you, sis. What do you need?”

“Information on a local family.”

“You’re supposed to be on vacation, Angie! What kind of information? What family? Is something going on? Do you need me to come down there?”

Years of honed patience made her smile at her brother’s barrage of questions. Part of which was his style of communicating but also part of his way of treating her. When they were kids, she’d followed her brothers around like a puppy, desperately wanting to be included in their exciting world of tree forts and sports.

One summer when she was ten, she’d climbed up a huge American elm in hot pursuit of her brothers but had slipped and fallen, breaking her leg and her wrist. From then on, her brothers had tried to coddle and protect her when they didn’t need to. Her cross to bear.

And obviously Jason was cut out of the same cloth.

“I’m not in any real trouble,” she said, hedging a bit. “No, you don’t have to come down here. I just need some background history and anything else you can find on the Corrinda family.”

“Why?”

She waited a second, expecting more questions to follow the terse one-word inquiry. When he didn’t continue she relayed the events of the past two days, though she left out the part about Jason and his wishy-washy attitude. “It would help if I knew more about them so I can convince the chief to act. It seems like this family has a tight hold on the community.”

“Hmm. Sounds like you may have stumbled onto something. I’ll see what I can find out and call right back. Stay put, okay?” A note of concern laced his words.

She glanced outside at the wind and rain. “I’m not going anywhere right now.” Frustration sizzled through her.

“Good. I’ll call soon.” He hung up.

Tapping her fingers on the dining table, she made a list, chronicling the events so she’d have a concise record and timeline. Done with that, she looked around for something to occupy her mind.

She went in search of the crossword puzzle book she’d bought the first day she arrived. There was nothing she hated more than to be bored. Crossword puzzles kept her mind active and off the fact she was in fact sitting around waiting.

An hour later, with two crosswords completed, the phone rang. She snatched it before the second ring.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Joey said. “I did some research. This family is mega rich. Not only do they own most of Loribel Island but also several lucrative properties throughout Florida. And they have some holdings in Mexico, Colombia and France, as well.”

She jotted down the new information. “Okay. What else?”

“The patriarch and his wife are living on Loribel. They had one son, now deceased. There are two
grandsons, Edmund and Erik, who manage the family’s money. And there’s a granddaughter living in France attending art school. The kid’s mother lives in New York.”

“Are they under investigation for anything?”

There was a brief pause. “Sis,
if
they were, you know I wouldn’t be at liberty to discuss it.”

“So ATF
is
interested in this family?”

“I didn’t say that. Angie, listen closely. This family has a lot of powerful friends in powerful places. I’ve made note of what you saw and passed it on. That’s all you or I can do. Stay away from the Corrindas and start enjoying your vacation. Or go home.”

Taken aback by the harsh tone in her brother’s normally congenial voice, Angie said, “You sound like Jason.”

“Who? Should I be checking him out, too?”

She rolled her eyes at the barrage of questions. “I had Gabe run a background check. Came up clean.” She tugged on her bottom lip with her teeth for a second. “But…there’s something about the guy.”

“Smitten, are we?”

“What? No,” she denied, though her face went hot.

“Hey, I’m not judging. I think it would be great if you found someone special.”

“My relationship with him isn’t like that.”

“Hmm. So there is a relationship. Give me details.”

Making a face at her brother’s assessment, she said, “His names Jason Bodewell. He runs a charter-boat business. Owns a boat named the
Regina Lee.
” She
hesitated a second, then plunged in. “Could you see if the federal agencies have anything on him that Gabe couldn’t find? Call if there’s something I should know about. Otherwise, don’t. And thanks for the info on the Corrindas. It’s helpful.”

“Angie,” Joe said with a warning note in his voice. “Promise me you’re not going to do anything rash. Let the local LEOs handle this.”

“Rash? Me?” She rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry, Joey. I’ve every intention of letting Chief Decker do his thing.”

He gave a short laugh. “You better. And be careful.”

“Always. Love you. Bye.” She hung up.

There was definitely something up with the Corrinda family. If only it was as simple as making the police chief see that.

The four walls of the cottage closed in on her. She hated inactivity, especially when there was a crime to solve. She paced in front of the cold fireplace. Maybe she should go home, go back to her job where she was wanted and appreciated and could be effective.

She should just forget what she’d seen and leave the Corrinda family to others as Joey suggested. Like Chief Decker? Right. The man didn’t seem interested at all.

Didn’t anyone but her care that the Corrindas employed a small army of armed men who shouldn’t be allowed in the civilian realm?

And the bag she’d seen dumped. Had someone else not heeded their warning?

She couldn’t let her concerns go.

If she could at minimum capture some photos of the armed men and pass them along to her brother, then she’d at least feel that she’d accomplished something.

Knowing she was probably embarking on a fool’s errand because who in their right mind would be out in such bad weather, except perhaps bad people doing bad things, she slipped the rain slicker on. The storm had darkened the late-afternoon sky, so she grabbed a flashlight. Then she slipped the compact digital camera that was her constant companion while on the job into her coat pocket.

Before leaving the cottage, she also retrieved her weapon, holstering it at her waist. She clipped her badge next to the Glock.

Jason’s words whispered through her mind.
The last thing any of us needs is you running around the island chasing danger like a dog chasing a cat. Eventually you’ll catch a mouthful. And then what?

She harrumphed. She could handle any trouble that came her way.

Promise me you’re not going to do anything rash,
Joe had said.

How many times had she heard that before? Investigating was in her blood, it was a part of her, like breathing.

Snatching up the rental car keys, she hurried out into the storm, turning her head to the side to keep the rain out of her eyes and the wind from whipping her ponytail into her face. Once she reached the road to
town, the going was slow from the combination of others braving the elements and the hammering rain and whipping wind that threatened to tear the steering wheel out of her hand.

She drove as close to the Corrinda estate as the public roads would take her, hoping not to advertise her presence to anyone who might be watching, then parked on the shoulder of the road and left the car.

A gust of wind rattled the slicker and water falling in big chunky drops pelted her jean-clad legs. Tucking the flashlight into the waistband of her jeans, she cautiously walked down the estate drive, staying on the edge of the road so she could bail into the lush foliage in case anyone came along. She didn’t want a repeat of what happened on the boat.

An intimidating wrought-iron gate with twisting metal prongs like an intricate spiderweb blocked further progress. An unmanned guardhouse stood to the side and an electronic keypad waited to be used by those with the combination.

Angie veered to the right and wiggled her way through the tall, prickly arborvitaes that grew in a row along the ten-foot-high metal fence running along the property line. She picked up a small rock and tossed it at the fence to test whether the fence was electrified. It wasn’t. She blew out a relieved breath.

She looked at the house on the cliff and let out a silent whistle. No wonder the Corrindas’ henchmen tooled around in a nice boat. And Chief Decker wouldn’t mess with them. The outward display of
wealth said the Corrindas could afford to buy loyalties.

Massive
barely described the pale yellow structure that stretched out along the cliff’s edge. Huge pillars flanked the double front doors. Beautifully crafted windows lined the front of the house. Angie guessed the inside would appear light and airy on sunny days. Several balconies with arched French doors jutted out along the upper portion of the house.

A magnificent thirty-foot-high trellis thick with jasmine covered the side of the home that faced Angie. The fragrant, white blossoms bowed their heads in the wind. Manicured hedges cut into interesting shapes lined the walkways. The landscaped yard reminded her of the English gardens so popular with the wealthy aristocrats of New England.

From the front all seemed quiet and still despite the storm raging around the house. Though she didn’t see any security cameras, she didn’t doubt that there were some. Thankful for the cover of the full arborvitaes, Angie continued along the property’s edge and made her way toward the back, careful to keep low lest her movements were detected.

Up ahead the fence ended and the ground gave way to a craggy cliff facing the ocean. The blustery weather blowing up the face of jagged rocks buffeted her, making the rain pelt her face. The view of the wildly tossing waves stretching out as far as she could see took her breath away. No wonder the Corrindas had chosen this spot for their house.

Slowly, she made her way along the cliff’s ragged edge until she had a full view of the cove below. From where she crouched, she couldn’t see how anyone got down to the dock sheltered by the rocky walls of the cove.

Her gaze took in the back of the house, just as spectacular as the front, with more balconies and stunningly crafted windows. The large back patio, now battened down for the storm, featured curving lines all the way around the Olympic-size pool and butted against a stripe of grass that bordered the cliff’s edge.

A small structure stood off to the side. Curiosity burned in her chest. Was there an elevator or a staircase that led to the cove? She thought better of exploring the building, which had to be secured with an alarm. Inching closer to the rim of the cliff, she hoped to glimpse some activity below.

An armed man patrolled the dock but otherwise all was quiet. Taking out her camera, she flipped the flash button to off so as to not announce her position, then snapped a couple of shots. The sky had darkened considerably. She wasn’t sure any images would show up. But at least she was doing something productive.

On her left a twig snapped. Her gaze jerked toward the sound. Nothing there. Obviously, she was more stressed by this venture than she’d realized. Still, she sent up a silent prayer.
Lord, please watch over me
.

Suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth, not quite smothering an instinctual, startled yelp.

Frantic adrenaline burst through her system. She rolled left, trying to break her attacker’s hold as her right hand went for her Glock.

Strong fingers clasped her wrist. “Stand down, Officer.”

The harshly whispered command froze Angie in place. She blinked as a man came into view, so close she could smell mint and man mingled with the damp earth.

“Shh,” he hissed. “I’m taking my hand away. Don’t scream or you’ll ruin everything.”

She stared mutely as her mind recognized Jason, dressed in camouflage. Streaks of grease paint marred his handsome face.

She went limp with relief that was short-lived as the significance of his presence, not to mention his garb, rammed through her brain. Her gaze snagged on the long-lens camera encased in a protective clear plastic sheath slung around his neck and the semiautomatic at his hip.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “And this time, I want the truth.”

B
linking rainwater from his eyes, Jason ground his teeth. The truth could get them killed.

But he couldn’t have her running around doing her own investigation. He hadn’t expected her to take it this far. He’d underestimated her tenacity.

He contemplated how much to reveal. And decided just enough to satisfy her and make her back off, but not enough to destroy the cover he’d meticulously built.

“I’m ICE—Immigration and Customs Enforcement,” he said. “Now do you understand why you need to back off?”

Her eyes widened as dawning entered the dark depths. “You’re undercover. Okay, that makes sense. But you could have shared that with me a few days ago.”

“I’m risking my life sharing anything, at any time.”

He glanced around, feeling the pressing need to get her out of there. If she were seen… He didn’t want to think what would happen. He couldn’t allow anything
bad to happen to her. He couldn’t take another death on his conscience.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” he said. “Follow me. And stay low.”

He backed up to give her room to rise to a crouch. Taking her by the hand, he pulled her away from the cliff’s edge and urged her toward safety along the arborvitaes. Gusts of air pushed at their backs. Rain made the ground soppy and dangerously slippery.

From the house to their right, a bright spotlight lit the backyard and a shout rang out above the sounds of the storm. “Halt! I’ll shoot.”

They both reacted by abandoning stealth for an all-out run. Panicked fear pumped through Jason as he yanked Angie forward so that his body protected her. He had a flak vest on. Angie didn’t.

“Go, go,” he urged. “Stay near the bushes. Keep your head low.”

A loud bang raised the hairs on Jason’s neck. Thunder? The thwack of a bullet hitting the trees sent his heart rate into overdrive. Not thunder, but a rifle.

Oh, dear Father in Heaven, not again. Please, not again.

Gale winds streaked through the air. Stinging rain fell from the sky. Men’s shouts were barely discernible above the noises of the storm as Jason followed closely on Angie’s heels. They left the cover of the arborvitaes and ran down the private drive, splashing through rivulets of rainwater. Behind them the sound of metal scraping across concrete heralded the opening of the
gate. A fresh rush of adrenaline pumped through Jason.

“My car!” Angie shouted, pointing to where she’d parked her rental on the side of the road.

“Keys?” Jason asked, holding out his hand while he ran. He could barely believe they’d made it to the road unscathed. Obviously, the man with the gun wasn’t a sharpshooter. A small blessing.

Without breaking stride, Angie dug the keys from her pocket, hit the unlock button and then tossed them in a high arc. He caught them and skidded to a halt beside the vehicle before flinging open the door and jumping inside.

Beside him, Angie dropped into the passenger seat. “Go, go!”

Jason started the engine and stomped on the gas. Cranking the wheel, he sent the car in a skidding U-turn. Through the rearview mirror, he saw two men with guns running down the drive and stopping as Jason and Angie roared out of reach.

Heart still pumping at a rapid clip, Jason hit the steering wheel with the heel of his hand as he drove faster than the speed limit toward Angie’s cottage. He flipped on the headlights, twin beams of light illuminating the nightfall.

Fury seethed in his belly and crawled up his neck to burn his cheeks. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? You could have been killed if I hadn’t found you first.”

She punched him in the arm. Fuming fire lit up her dark eyes. “Hey, don’t yell at me. If you hadn’t snuck
up on me I wouldn’t have made any noise
and
I would have gotten out of there undetected.”

“What if they come after you?”

“They didn’t get a good look at our faces. There’s no way anyone at the house could even ID us.”

Even though he knew she was right he snorted and shook his head in exasperation. “You have to leave the island tonight.”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, a stubborn note in her voice echoing inside the car.

“Don’t make me go over your head.”

“What?”

“I’ll talk to my superior, who will talk to yours.”

“Ohhh, I’m scared.” She sounded anything but. She heaved a sigh. “Look, I can help you. Just fill me in.”

“No. This is a federal investigation and you’re interfering. How would you like it if I came to your precinct and butted in?”

By the wry twist of her lips, he knew he’d made his point. He eased his foot off the gas and slowed to a more reasonable pace. The last thing he needed was to be pulled over. Dressed as he was, with grease paint obscuring his face, red flags would be raised sky high and questions would be asked.

He turned down the street leading to Angie’s cottage. The whole street was unlit. No house lights, no streetlights. Obviously the power had gone out due to the wind and rain. He parked the rental as close to the front door as possible. Not that it really mattered; they were both soaking wet.

He followed Angie to the cottage’s front porch overhang, where he stopped her from entering. The beam of his flashlight shined on a small folded note propped against her door.

In a flurry of movement, Angie turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open and dashed into the entryway, where she grabbed a large beach bag and dug around inside. She produced a pair of thin rubber gloves.

“You carry gloves in your beach bag?” Jason asked.

Clearly the detective had issues if she couldn’t even pack for the beach without including work paraphernalia.

She shrugged. “You never know what you’ll need.”

She slipped the gloves over her hands and picked up the neatly folded piece of cream-colored vellum lying on the door’s threshold. Her hands were steady as she unfolded the sheet. She tilted the paper toward the glow of the flashlight’s beam. A small frown appeared between her dark arched eyebrows.

Jason moved to stand beside her so he could see the script written in bold strokes across the page.

An invitation for brunch the next day at the Corrinda estate.

Alarm slithered down his spine. “Uh, no,” Jason stated before she even spoke. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know she’d want to go. “Don’t even think about it. You are not accepting that invitation.”

She lifted her determined gaze to meet his. “This could be your break in the case.”

“I don’t want it at your expense. It’s too dangerous.” The thought of sending her to a situation he couldn’t control or at least predict the outcome of sent chills of apprehension sliding over his skin.

“I can handle the danger.”

“You don’t know what you could be walking into.”

The electricity came back on with little fanfare. A table lamp glowed. He recognized the hum of the refrigerator and the beep of the microwave resetting itself.

Angie didn’t miss a beat. “I can take care of myself. I am a cop, remember?”

“I remember. And you’re tenacious and controlling and way out of your depth here.”

Anger flitted across her pretty face. “Then fill me in. Do you know what the Corrindas are up to?”

He didn’t. And wasn’t sure how this family fit with Picard. His gut told him there was a connection, and until he figured it out, he wasn’t going to allow Angie to forge ahead and put her life in jeopardy. For all he knew, this could be a trap to draw him out, in which case his cover was blown.

But why bait him with Angie? Why not just come after him directly? Unless—they weren’t sure there was a federal involvement and his cover was still intact. Their invitation might not be about him at all.

But that didn’t mean Angie wasn’t in danger. As she’d pointed out, she was a cop. And a cop asking questions made people nervous. Especially if they had something to hide.

He’d have to get clearance from his SAC before he released any details to Angie. Protective instincts surged. If he revealed the situation to her, then she’d be in even more danger. He didn’t want that. “Look, this isn’t your fight. Go back to your life in Boston.”

She rolled her eyes. “When are you going to realize that’s not happening? I’m not leaving until I see this through. Either work with me, arrest me or stay out of my way.”

She moved past him toward the kitchen, her shapely frame vibrating with excitement and strength, carrying the sheet of paper by the corner. She pulled out a sandwich-size plastic bag from a drawer, slipped the invitation inside and sealed the bag closed.

Frustration pounded at Jason’s temple. He rubbed his tight jaw and immediately regretted doing so as the grease paint he’d used for camouflage coated his palm. Could this get any more complicated? “Look, you can’t stay here. You need to at least move to a hotel.”

“Not happening. The Corrindas don’t know it was you or me at their place tonight. I’m sure news of my presence and my questions have reached their ears. It’s a small island, remember. They sent the invitation to breakfast as a way to get me off their case. Nothing more.” She put the bagged evidence in a drawer. “Speaking of food, I’m starved. Would you like some leftover lasagna? I had some delivered and they brought enough for six people.”

Across the divide of the kitchen counter, he met
her direct gaze. “You really aren’t going to listen to me, are you?”

She smiled sweetly. “I’ll listen if you tell me something worth listening to.”

She was so cute, and smart and sassy standing there with those big, beautiful brown eyes staring at him with challenge, dripping ponytail and soaked clothes. She had to feel as clammy as he did. “I should go change,” he said gruffly.

What he wanted to do was close the space between them and kiss her. Not a good idea. Not at all. A romantic relationship with her was not on his agenda. Getting emotionally involved would only lead to disappointment and heartache. For them both. He had no intention of leading her on with promises he wouldn’t keep. He’d learned his lesson with Serena.

Her lips twisted in a wry grimace. “Me, too. How about you come back in an hour and we can discuss how to play this in the morning.”

“You’re assuming I’m suddenly okay with you accepting the Corrindas’ invitation?”

She walked around the counter toward him and stopped inches away to stare him down. A cop move. She was tall for a woman, almost matching his six-foot frame. He liked that he could look directly into her eyes. If she’d meant to intimidate, she’d veered way off base. So much for the cop move. Those pretty, mocha orbs lured him in, making him yearn for something he’d already decided was off-limits.

“I think once you realize the opportunity knocking
here, you’ll agree that the best thing would be for us to collaborate. I can be your eyes and ears,” she said and pinned him with a meaningful look. “Providing I know what’s at stake.”

Shaking his head, he grabbed hold of his hormones and stepped back. A small laugh escaped him. “You really are something. Let me see what I can do. I’ll be back in an hour. Can I use your car? I left my truck a mile down the road from the Corrindas’ estate.”

“Should we go get it now?”

“No. I’ll retrieve it in the morning.”

She swiped the keys from the end table where she’d dropped them. “Here.”

“Thanks. Lock the door behind me.”

She gave him a droll look. “Like I wouldn’t?”

“Right.” He slipped out the door and hurried to the car. As he started the engine, he wondered at the wisdom of involving her. But she was right. This could be the big break in the case he’d been waiting for. He mustn’t ever forget his objective. Find and capture Picard. No matter the cost.

He only hoped Angie wouldn’t be the one to pay the price.

Angie allowed the hot shower to wash away the adrenaline and lingering fear of the past few hours. She’d been shot at, sneaked up on, and Jason wasn’t who he claimed to be.

That was enough to blow anyone’s mind.

She should have guessed Jason was some type of
Fed. ICE, to be exact. OI—Office of Investigations? Probably, if he was undercover.
A charter-boat captain.
Ha! Was Jason Bodewell even his real name? Unlikely.

His unpredictable behavior now made so much more sense. Obviously, he’d been using her and what she’d seen to further his own agenda, whatever that may be. She could only hope he’d realize working together would be a benefit.

Excitement trilled through her. She could help in a federal investigation. She’d never doubted her choice to become a homicide detective, but she liked to keep her options open.

She changed into dry sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, combed out her curls, which loved the humidity, and used the blow-dryer just enough to keep the ends from dripping water on her clean clothes. She started to gather the mass to pull back, then decided to let the long curls bounce around her shoulders. Most evenings she kept her hair down, giving her scalp a break from the heavy ponytail.

Trying to ignore the nervous jitters reminding her that Jason would soon return, she puttered in the kitchen. Outside the storm raged. Branches scratched at the siding, rain tapped at the windows and an occasional clap of thunder made her jump as she set the table while the leftover Italian food heated in the oven. She made a salad and buttered some bread to warm at the last minute.

A knock sounded at the door. Her pulse bounced. Not taking anything for granted, she put her hand on
the holstered weapon at her waist and moved to the door. She peered through the peephole. The soft glow of the porch light haloed Jason’s clean and freshly shaved face beneath the hood of his slicker.

She opened the door and admitted him. “Hi. Here, let me take your jacket.”

Unmoving, he stared at her a moment.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she asked, “Is something wrong?”

Shaking his head, his lips tipped upward at the corners. “Not at all. I really like your hair down. You have beautiful hair.”

Both touched and pleased by the compliment, she inclined her head. “Thank you.”

He slipped out of the slicker and hung it by the hood on the standing coat rack in the entryway. He’d changed into soft-looking chinos showing the smattering of rain that had obviously pelted him when he’d been exposed to the elements. His Henley-style long-sleeved shirt was a shade of blue that matched his eye color exactly and stretched over taut muscles. She smothered a sigh of pleasure.