Heavy Artillery Husband (15 page)

“Because they would capture you as soon as you crossed the threshold.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “Not a chance I'm willing to take.”

He had to know taking chances would be required to wrap this up quickly. Like him, she couldn't imagine losing him to that kind of aggressive maneuver. Not without the right backup. Backup Frankie and Aidan could provide if Frank would stop being stubborn.

They were nearing the end of the pier, coming as close as visitors were allowed to the unloading area. Cranes slid and scraped back and forth, groaning with the load of some containers. Diesel engines rumbled, the sound broken only by the call of gulls wheeling in the sky.

“He can't possibly have a full container of drugs,” she muttered, unable to imagine a bust that big.

“Drugs, money, military equipment. It's likely combined.”

Knowing he was right didn't make it easier to stomach. If she blurted out all the violent thoughts in her head, expressed every dire, vengeful idea, he'd never let her help. She recognized the recklessness and reined it in, unwilling to let her emotions jeopardize the ultimate goal of restoring her family.

When Frank turned to walk back up the pier, she followed, her mind turning over more options. Halloran had put all the right pieces in place, recruiting the people with the power to make things run smoothly. How could they dismantle that definitively? There were chinks such as Lowry in the armor, but Halloran would replace those people, shore up the weaknesses and keep right on banking the profits. Frank couldn't have his life back and none of them could rest until they cut the head off this long-tailed snake.

“What are you thinking?”

“Pretty much the same thing I've been thinking,” she replied. “Aside from racking my brain for a contact within the port authority, I'm trying to decide how we can get Halloran into the open where some decent, honest person with the right sort of badge can arrest him. If he slips away, he'll start over. Even if your name is cleared in the process, someone else will be vilified. Much as I hate to admit it, the cyber attack and the money transfer worry me.”

“I know.”

The grim, resigned tone caught her attention. “What are
you
thinking?” It better not be another self-sacrificing idea.

“I want a bird's-eye view,” he said, nodding toward the high-rise buildings on the other side of the access roadways running between the dock and the city.

They left the car parked and walked away from the pier, knowing Hellfire spies watched every step. It was all she could do to ignore them. She wanted to taunt them, to dare them to make a move. Again, too reckless. She was better than those self-destructive urges.

“He destroyed our family,” she said when they found a place that gave Frank an effective overview of the pier. “I want him to pay for that.”

“Does Eddie handle civil suits now?”

“Stop.” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “You know what I mean.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, preoccupied with whatever he saw through the binoculars.

He had always known what her heart needed—frequently before she did. That intuition of his was probably why they were out here in broad daylight when he'd rather be safely ensconced in another motel room.

While Frank studied the pier, Sophia's gaze shifted north, toward her house on Queen Anne. She hadn't been gone a full week, but she missed it. Temptation rode her at every turn. Her house, a home she'd never shared with Frank, felt as if it were within walking distance. She wanted to dump the suitcase and sleep in her own bed beside her sexy husband.

But it was her husband, larger than life, that presented her biggest temptation. Her palms itched to touch him, to reassure her body and heart that he wouldn't disappear again. Would anything ever convince her?

Now that they'd been blessed with a second chance, she wanted him back in her life like before. Forever. She needed to reclaim the dreams they'd shared, and unless she was wishfully misreading his signals, he wanted that, too. The sooner they had Halloran trapped, the better. There was a wedding to plan.

“I need some air,” she said suddenly. “Didn't we pass a vending machine?”

His eyes met hers and her feet froze in place. “You aren't going alone.”

“I am.” Making love had turned her overprotective husband into a nearly obsessive guardian. She rolled her shoulders back. “I thought I'd go for a walk.”

His laughter cracked like a whip through the small room. “Not alone. You're not going out there as bait, Sophie.”

“We have to do something. What do you suggest?”

“Carpet bombing comes to mind,” he said. “Take a look.” He handed her the binoculars.

She adjusted the view in time to see a forklift heading up the pier to Hellfire's warehouse. It carried a sand-colored container labeled with an army code. “No way.” She dropped the binoculars to stare at Frank. “You think this is another tweaked contract shipment?”

“Yeah.” The camera whirred as he took burst shots. “That number is for armored vehicle parts.”

“Parts that must be padded with contraband.” She watched a bit longer, awestruck by the audacity. “We need to get our hands on the computer records.” Lowering the binoculars, she turned to her husband. “They're so damned sure of what we will and won't dare do. Why don't we throw them a curveball?”

Anything to go on the offensive. It wasn't in her nature to sit back indefinitely, hoping the right things would happen. “We have a family to reunite and wedding plans to adjust accordingly,” she reminded him.

He looked away. She told herself it wasn't personal, that he was focused on fixing the bigger threat of Halloran—and rightly so—before he could focus on renewing their personal life.

And hadn't she told him those decisions could wait? She'd told herself she wouldn't pressure him into doing what
she
wanted. He'd been exiled from everything he'd known and loved. That experience had to have an effect. She needed to give him the time and space to adjust.

Except she didn't see anything so different from the man she'd fallen for, married and built a life with. He was the same in all the ways that mattered. Focused, strong, determined. Protective and honorable. His choices, though difficult on all of them, proved it. Why couldn't he see himself through her eyes?

“Hang on.” His jaw clenched, the muscle in his profile jumping.

“Frank?”

“We're staying put,” he said in that ironclad tone no argument would overcome. “Farrell is here.” He dropped the binoculars and raised the camera once more.

A ripple of excitement coursed through her body. She wanted to get down there immediately. “Mr. Accounts Receivable. Can we intercept him?”

“And what would we do with him?”

She arched an eyebrow, her silence speaking volumes.

“Aside from tear him limb from limb,” Frank said. “Or demand statements that won't hold up in court.”

She jerked her thumb toward the pier. “He's diverting at least one container labeled for military use,” she said. “That will get someone high on the food chain involved, right?”

“If the someone offering up the tip isn't wanted for treason, fraud and now murder.”

She swore against his logic. “Mitigating circumstances. I'm calling the police unless you have a better suggestion.”

He sighed as he put his camera back in his pocket. “I'll create a distraction and you do what you can.”

“Just you and me?” Did he think she wouldn't notice his avoidance of Leo Solutions' resources?

“I'll need a two-minute head start,” he said as they crossed the street once more. “When all hell breaks loose, you can go in and do what you can.”

She caught his shirtfront before he could dash off and planted a kiss on his lips. It was quick, but it sizzled right through her. “Be careful.”

He nodded, a smile slowly spreading across his face. “You, too. We'll meet back here.”

During her two-minute delay, Sophia sent a text to Frankie:
Don't worry, sweetie. We're all going to be okay.
Her time up, she strolled down the pier, walking with purpose but not fast enough to draw attention. It didn't really matter. Halloran's men knew who she was, and though she couldn't see them, she knew they had to be watching.

* * *

F
RANK
STUCK
TO
the shadows of equipment waiting to be put back in use, clearing every corner and roofline. The spies were gone or had found better perches. No one was watching the pier at all right now. Frank counted his blessings and pressed on.

Getting in and out would be easier at night, but if they waited, any product or evidence might be gone. As he searched for the right distraction, he thought an explosion would be ideal. He'd love to plant it in the heart of World Crossing and call the mission complete. Except that left Halloran out there free to start over with a different crew.

One thing he'd learned since going undercover for CID was how many people could be manipulated for the smallest stakes. It made him wonder what kind of world he'd been safeguarding throughout his career.

His jaw set, Frank paused to listen at the open bay door. Hinges squeaked and voices rose and fell with excitement. An engine whined and he peered around the corner as a forklift with yet another sand-colored container moved up along the pier.

He had to come up with something fast. Sophia wouldn't wait forever and Halloran's crew probably wouldn't stick around admiring the haul much longer. Frank jogged ahead and waited for the forklift operator to drive by on his way back to the ship.

The machine moved at a good clip, but Frank caught it, hauled himself up and pushed the surprised driver out of the seat. Turning the machine around, he drove straight to Hellfire's warehouse.

Farrell and the men with him saw Frank coming and scattered. A few bullets sparked off the forklift. He kept the machine moving, driving right through the door as they tried to lower it. Metal screeched and groaned. Gunfire erupted, echoing through the warehouse as more bullets ricocheted around the space.

He did as much damage as he could with the forklift, hoping like hell the chaos gave Sophia enough time to pull something useful from the computers. He picked his targets carefully, systematically clearing a path to return to the car. He had to keep them engaged, but if they took him down, Sophia would be trapped. Any second now they'd have men on the roofs with a better firing angle. He had to get her clear before that happened.

A high-pitched scream carried over the cacophony and froze him in place just outside the warehouse.

The gunfire ceased and a deep voice taunted him, “Give up the fight, Leone.”

Frank peeked at the man shouting, saw it was Farrell and quickly decided that was the only good news. Halloran's crew had Sophia surrounded. Farrell had pushed her to her knees, holding her by her hair. Four men fanned out around them, all of them focused on the trashed bay door and the forklift idling noisily.

“Give up,” Farrell called out again, “and I'll let her go.”

“Don't do it!” Sophia's shout ended in a sputter. Frank's vision hazed red—someone had struck her. He moved silently to a better vantage point, forcing himself to think as a tactician rather than an enraged lover.

She didn't need to worry that he'd believe any promises from Farrell. The man was scum. Taking in the situation, he continued his assessment. Halloran and Hellfire hadn't succeeded because they were sloppy or lazy or left a flank uncovered. They were a brutal team, led by a smart man.

At last Frank spotted the man guarding the path to the front office, and another perched in a makeshift snipers nest in the shelving, covering the men below.

Damn. Even if he had the ammunition, one against seven was long odds. “Way to go, Leone,” he muttered under his breath. What had possessed him to let her come along for this one-way ride?

Obviously, he couldn't go straight at them. Farrell or any one of the others—likely all of the others—would riddle him with bullets in an instant, leaving Sophia unprotected. Surrendering was out of the question. Farrell would be sure he and Sophia were sinking to the bottom of the sound within the hour.

While Farrell shouted impotently, Frank crept around, looking for something more effective than his pistol. An airstrike or mortars would be helpful about now. Too bad those were out of his reach. With a start, Frank recognized more numbers and crates. Halloran must be diverting weapons shipments along with the drugs.

Frank quickly found the part numbers he wanted. Quietly, he raised the lid on an open crate and found grenades and a launcher. A bit more firepower than absolutely necessary, but he couldn't help smiling at the potential.

Knowing the guy on the shelves would have the advantage and the best view, Frank took what he needed and shifted to a better strike point. A plan developed as he went along. Take out the guy up top, scatter the others and pick off only enough to ensure Sophia's safe escape.

Much as he wanted to roll a grenade to Farrell's feet, he couldn't risk hitting her or giving them room to take her beyond his reach.

He hefted two types of grenades, his decision made. Making a big enough move to be noticed by the guy nesting in the shelves, he lobbed a smoke grenade in the direction of the office.

The shout from above, along with the pop and smoke, confused Farrell and his men. Frank used those precious seconds to toss an explosive grenade into the steel shelving just under the sniper's perch. Rifle reports sounded and the bullets flew wide when the shooter realized what Frank had done.

The grenade exploded and that end of the warehouse erupted in dust, fire and bits of whatever product might've been stored there. The scream that followed was male this time.