Читать книгу Deep Cover - Kimberly Van Meter - Страница 9

Chapter 1

“The kids are calling it Bliss,” began FBI chief Patrick Hobbs as the PowerPoint presentation began in the darkened conference room. Special Agent Shaine Kelly and Special Agent Victoria Stapp were the only ones invited to this debriefing, which told Shaine they were about to get into something interesting. “It’s ten times more potent than Ecstasy and ten times more addictive. Whereas X used to be the drug of choice for trust-fund kids partying on Mommy and Daddy’s money, Bliss is cheaper, easier to find and, as evidenced by the bodies in the morgue with the junk in their system, deadly.”

Chief Hobbs switched to the next frame.

Dead college kids, by the look of their clothes, white drool frozen on their curled lips, as if they’d died in immeasurable pain.

“That’s not a good look on anyone,” Shaine said, eliciting a nod of agreement from Victoria.

“Watch the wisecracks,” Hobbs warned before moving on. “The drug is a ticking time bomb. Users say the high is like an opiate high, without the extreme lethargy. It’s simply...bliss.”

Stapp, a short redhead with a stereotypical redhead’s temper, said, “Sounds better than Xanax. Explains why kids are dying to get their hands on it. So did they OD?”

“In a matter of speaking. That’s what makes Bliss unique. It doesn’t kill you right away. Similar to LSD, the drug remains in the system far longer than the high, which then builds up until the body goes into painful convulsions, ultimately giving the user a massive heart attack.”

The lights flicked on and Shaine briefly squinted against the light. “So where’s it coming from?” he asked. “Colombia? Mexico? Guatemala?”

“Miami.”

“Florida?”

Hobbs nodded. “We suspect someone known as El Escorpion is in charge of the manufacturing and distribution, but we haven’t been able to get proof. No one can get close enough to infiltrate the operation.”

“El Escorpion... Spanish for The Scorpion,” Victoria murmured with a wry grin. “Sounds like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want to screw around with.”

“El Escorpion is the worst kind of criminal—smart, rich and anonymous.”

“What do you mean anonymous?” Shaine asked.

“No one knows who this El Escorpion is. Anyone with that knowledge is either dead or missing. He or she is a ghost with a helluva presence.”

“Convenient. This person could be operating in plain sight, thumbing their nose at authorities,” Shaine said. “So how are we supposed to catch him?” Victoria cleared her throat meaningfully and Shaine dutifully corrected himself, saying, “Or her.”

“Since no one knows who El Escorpion is,” Hobbs said, handing out dossiers, “we’re putting a small, elite, multiagency team together to infiltrate the Miami scene. This undercover detail is highly classified, dangerous and top priority.”

“My favorite—” he started to say, but the door opening stopped him.

Shaine didn’t know the man who entered, but it took all of one horrible, gut-grinding second to realize he knew the woman.

Intimately.

Poppy Jones.

Tall, lithe and built like a Norwegian supermodel with long, straight limbs and blond hair pulled into a tight ponytail, Poppy was hard to forget.

Shaine’s expression remained impassive, though every muscle had just been pulled taut.

“Agents Stapp and Kelly, meet DEA agents Poppy Jones and Marcus West. The DEA will be one of our partner agencies for this operation.”

“Pleased to work with you,” Marcus said briskly, extending a hand out of professional courtesy to both Shaine and Victoria. Of course, Poppy did the same.

Since it was bad form to be openly rude, even if the Queen of Hell had just walked in, Shaine offered a perfunctory greeting, “Yeah, likewise,” and accepted a quick handshake from each.

Two high points of color jumped to Poppy’s porcelain cheeks the moment their hands touched, but otherwise she remained perfectly professional.

As if they hadn’t maintained a covert operation of their own, unbeknownst to their superiors while Poppy was still with the FBI.

As if they hadn’t spent hours bathed in each other’s sweat, reveling in their own stink like drug addicts hunkered down in a run-down hotel, except their drug of choice had been each other.

Prior to this moment, two years had seemed a lifetime ago.

Now...it seemed like yesterday.

Marcus and Poppy took their places at the table and opened their folders. Poppy took point, talking first.

Not surprising.

Poppy had always been a little aggressive.

Shaine had enjoyed that aspect of her personality, particularly between the sheets.

But he hated it any other time.

Particularly on the job.

“From what we’ve been able to ascertain, El Escorpion is working the college-aged users, likely recruiting young college coeds to push the product. We believe with the right undercover agents, we can gain access to the inner circle and find out who El Escorpion is, and how his organization is manufacturing and moving the product.”

“And just who exactly are the right agents for the job?” Shaine asked, his tone more clipped than he intended. If Poppy thought for a second they could work together, she was cracked in the head.

Poppy’s gaze remained cool as she answered, “Two people who can blend into the typical Miami scene. One male, one female. Someone who looks younger than they are.”

Hobbs’s gruff voice cut in. “Let’s get to the point. The deputy chief inspector has chosen agents Jones and West from the DEA and I’ve chosen agents Kelly and Stapp. Agent Stapp, you will be Agent Kelly’s tech support behind the scenes, and Agent West will do the same for his partner. Once in Miami, we will have two contacts within the Miami Police Department. These officers have been thoroughly vetted through private means to ensure that they are not on the payroll of El Escorpion.”

Ah, hell.

Shaine chose to ignore Poppy so he could get his thoughts on the right track. This case was the kind that made or broke careers.

It was also the kind that put agents in the ground.

“For the sake of security,” West said, “our contact in Miami will not meet with us until we land. Agent Stapp and I will stay at an undisclosed and newly acquired safe house, while agents Kelly and Jones will be set up in a different location, more central to the college party scene.”

Hobbs nodded. “If you’ll look in your dossiers, you’ll find a comprehensive list of suspected players. We suggest you start there.”

Shaine thumbed through the sheaf, his mind humming. Undercover work fed his need for adrenaline and he loved it—but he’d rather chew nails than work side by side with Poppy and her pretty boy, Marcus.

“With all due respect, this isn’t my first rodeo. Going deep cover gets risky when there are more players involved. I don’t mind the DEA providing support from behind the scenes, but frankly, dealing with a partner just adds to the risk for everyone involved.”

Not to mention I work better alone.

Poppy offered a brief but chilly smile. “The DEA appreciates your expertise in deep cover operations, Agent Kelly. Your success rate for apprehensions is impressive. However, you’ve gained a reputation for being reckless, which makes you unpredictable. El Escorpion has managed to elude capture for years. It will take more than luck to bring him or her down.”

Shaine held Poppy’s stare, amazed at the balls on the woman. “I’m not sure if I should take your comment as a compliment or an insult,” he said, toying with the pen in his fingers.

“Your choice.” Poppy’s smile returned as if daring him to go a round with her.

Hobbs cleared his throat, sensing the brittle tension growing between Shaine and Poppy. “Let’s remember, we’re all on the same side. El Escorpion is the enemy, not anyone in this room. Private transport has been arranged to Miami at 0600 hours tomorrow. Pack light. A Miami summer is hot, humid and filled with alligators.”

“Sounds like fun,” Poppy quipped, scooping up her folder. “See you tomorrow morning.”

Shaine watched them leave, his one thought being, Poppy will fit right in with the wildlife, before turning to Hobbs.

“What’s the deal with you and that DEA agent?” Hobbs asked, narrowing his gaze. “Is there something I should know?”

“Nope,” he lied.

“Then why are you being so hostile? Those agents are highly trained in their fields and your posturing makes us look bad. This is a high-profile undercover case with a lot of pressure from the higher-ups to get it closed. That means you’re going to put on your good boy pants and do what you’re told.” Hobbs put it bluntly. “Whatever bee you’ve got in your bonnet...squash it.”

“You’re the boss,” Shaine said, mock-saluting Hobbs.

“Try to remember that,” Hobbs growled as he headed out the door. “Damn Kellys. Always a pain in the ass.”

“You must have me mixed up with my brothers, Sawyer or Silas. I’m the nice one, in case you were confused,” Shaine called out, but Hobbs was already gone.

Shaine rubbed at the slick table veneer. Time to focus.

And pretend that the one woman he’d ever loved—and who’d subsequently trashed his heart—wasn’t about to be his partner.

* * *

“What was that all about?” Marcus asked as soon as they left the FBI building. “You know Agent Dickwad or something?”

“No,” Poppy answered quickly, not interested in sharing details. “But I know his type and I don’t have time for his games. He thinks because he’s some brilliant undercover agent that he gets to call all the shots, and that just rubs me the wrong way.”

“I get it, but you have to work with him. We can’t let anything get in the way of this case. If you can’t be objective, you need to bow out.”

Poppy shot Marcus a dark look. “Not going to happen. I worked my ass off to qualify for this case. I’m not about to give it up over some FBI agent with a bloated ego. I’ll be fine.”

She knew Marcus was right and that, unlike her, he was being honest, but there was no way in hell she was walking away from this case, not even if she had to work with the devil himself.

Which in this case, was nearly true.

Shaine Kelly.

Why him?

Because he was, simply, damn good at his job.

Of course, the brass wanted him working this case.

Shaine Kelly closes cases.

Shaine Kelly doesn’t get shot.

A phantom pain pierced her chest at the exact spot where a bullet had ripped through her flesh two years ago, narrowly missing her heart.

She tried not to think about how close she’d come to dying that night. Fear clouded judgment.

And she had a lot to prove.

To whom?

Don’t say Shaine, an inner voice hissed as a familiar hurt threatened to boil to the surface.

Marcus, seemingly satisfied with her answer, moved on. That was what she liked about him—he didn’t dwell or dig. Best quality in a man as far as she could tell.

Too bad he was gay.

“Ever think of transferring to the main headquarters here in Washington?” Marcus asked as they climbed into the rental car to head to their hotel. “The weather is a bitch, but it would be nice to be so close to the movers and shakers, you know?”

“I like Los Angeles,” she answered, which wasn’t entirely true. She hated the frivolous culture and the self-absorbed people that seemed to flock to Hollywood trying to find their big break, but there was no shortage of action in the LA office, which had enabled her to make her own reputation.

Marcus, a transplant from the Seattle division, had his eyes on the chain of command. He made no bones about wanting to move up the ladder. “Closing this case will look damn good on our résumés,” he pointed out with a grin. “I heard there’s a potential opening in the New York field office. It’s not headquarters but it’s a step closer, right?”

“You planning to hop, skip and jump right into the chief deputy’s position?” she joked.

Marcus grinned. “Not saying it isn’t on my radar. Gotta have big dreams, Jones. If your dreams don’t scare you, they ain’t big enough.”

“Such a philosopher. Let’s focus on closing this case first.”

Marcus chuckled, his gray eyes bright with the big dreams in his head, content to let the subject go.

Poppy knew all about big dreams—and their cost.

They say to aim for the moon, for even if you miss you’ll land among the stars. But what they don’t tell you is that what goes up, must come down, and the landing was a bitch.

Leaving Shaine was necessary, but it’d hurt more than taking that bullet.

But she couldn’t stay with someone who wouldn’t treat her as an equal.

She’d spent her life being treated as arm candy.

When she’d announced her intention to join the FBI, her family hadn’t supported her decision, saying she was too pretty to take on a job like that.

Her father, an old-school type with decidedly archaic beliefs, had been dismissive.

That’s not the future for you. God blessed you with a beautiful face. Find a good man to take care of you. Treat you right.

She hated saying that being considered beautiful was a burden because people tended to think she was being falsely modest, but it was true.

The irony was that she’d fought to be seen as a good agent because of her skills, but the biggest case of her career thus far would hinge upon her ability to use her looks to her advantage.

Time to put that pretty face to work for more than being someone’s trophy.

No one was going to take this opportunity from her.

Especially not Shaine Kelly.