CHAPTER TWO
“I’m just saying there’s no way he could have contacted someone to do this,” Marcus repeated for the twelfth time as they stepped off of the jet bridge into Miami International Airport.“He’s locked up tighter than a… than a…” Kate looked at him, and he said, “Well, I don’t want to say what I’m thinking, but it’s something we used to say in the SEALs.”
“So, it’s sexist and vulgar.”
“Yeah.But still true.”
Kate sighed.“I’mnot saying that Cox is doing this because I’ve been refusing his requests to meet.I’m only saying that we can’t rule him out just because he’s in prison.We’ve done that before and had to eat our words.”
“I just don’t want to jump right to that conclusion,” Marcus said.
He kept his eyes averted, but the set of his jaw and the flush in his cheeks told Kate that what he was really thinking was that he didn’t want Kate to fall back into her own obsession and endanger her newly repaired relationship with Winters and the FBI in general by letting Cox play on her emotions again.
Kate heated a little at that realization, but he wasn’t wrong.When it had become clear that Cox’s claims about her weren’t entirely sprung from his warped imagination, Katedidallow it to get to her, and thathadcaused her to make poor choices that jeopardized her career, along with that of Marcus and Winters.
“Well, we don’t have that babysitter from headquarters anymore,” Kate reminded him.“That’s good.”
After Kate’s most recent extracurricular escapade, the Bureau had elected to compromise.Rather than fire an agent who, despite her penchant for breaking the rules, had proven to be their best line of defense against Cox and his disciples, she had been written up—again—and the field office had been placed under temporary watch by a pencil-pusher from Washington.They’d endured his not-so-out-of-the-way interference for about seven weeks before he decided things were all good and Kate wasn’t likely to make them bad again.Winters kept her job, Kate kept hers, Marcus kept his, and all was right with the world.
Well, notall.They were here to investigate a double homicide related to the seventh commandment.That wasn’t exactly peachy.
“Speaking of babysitters,” Marcus said.
Kate followed his gaze to see a sharply dressed man waiting for them at baggage claim.He wore an immaculately pressed black suit with a gleaming white shirt and jet-black tie.His equally dark hair was swept back and kept in place by a generous amount of product, and his piercing blue eyes shone all the brighter set within his lightly coppered skin.Full lips, pouty enough to have landed him a job as a supermodel if he was ten years younger, rounded out the impression of a mafioso of middling rank rather than an FBI agent of middling rank, but Kate recognized him as Carlos Rivera, the Miami Field Office liaison assigned to them during their investigation.
She extended a hand.“Kate Valentine.It’s nice to see you, Special Agent Rivera.”
Rivera raised an eyebrow as he accepted her handshake.“Have we met?”
Marcus offered a handshake of his own and a far terser greeting while Kate explained, “Briefly.We both attended the same seminar on organized narcotics distribution in New York a few years ago.”
“Ah, right.I remember that conference.I apologize for not remembering you.You weren’t famous then.”
Kate chuckled politely, but Rivera’s expression didn’t budge.She cleared her throat and said, “Shall we?”
Rivera led them from the airport to a waiting FBI sedan.The Portland Field Office had two such sedans, fifteen-year-old Lincoln Town Cars that had recently developed a wheeze under moderate to hard acceleration.This sedan was a sleek new Cadillac, smaller than the old Lincoln boats but far more modern, and, as Kate noted when she took a seat next to Marcus in the rear compartment, far more comfortable despite the more limited legroom.
Rivera stepped into the driver’s seat.“How are you two with seasickness?”
Kate frowned.“Explain.”
“We’re taking the ferry to Fisher Island.It’s a three-mile ride.Takes about twenty minutes.”
“That should be fine,” Kate said.It was close to lunchtime now, and she hadn’t eaten much of her omelet before Marcus called her away anyway.
“Fisher Island,” Marcus repeated.“That’s some prime real estate.”
Rivera puffed air through his nose.“Yeah, it is.The Carltons weren’t billionaires, but they were closer to it than I am to retirement.”
“What line of work were they in?”Kate asked.
“Well, officially, they were in real estate.Mostly sale of overseas properties to domestic manufacturers who like paying cheap wages instead of benefits.Unofficially, they were probably the most well-known and celebrated swingers on the East Coast.”
Kate and Marcus shared a look.“When you say swingers…” Kate began.
“Yep.Exactly what you think it means.They kept it on the down-low for the general public, but if you’re in the lifestyle, you know who they are.”He glanced in the rearview mirror.“I’m not in the lifestyle.I just happen to have CI’s who are.”
“Hey, we don’t judge,” Marcus said.
