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Chapter Three
Carolina Madison, Special Agent with the Seattle Drug Enforcement Agency finally had a night to relax and pack. With her major cases organized, paperwork completed, and her suitcases zipped, she had everything ready, waiting for her upcoming trip.
She’d spent the better part of the afternoon with her old gramps, the person who’d raised her, her mentor, her hero, the only man she’d ever loved wholeheartedly.
He’d been particularly sassy this day, teasing her about her plans for the future and telling her he’d never get to rock a great-grandbaby if she didn’t fix her skewered attitude toward the noble males of the world.
“Noble? You should have seen what I recently witnessed Poppa John. Trust me; it isn’t particularly honorable when men slink around like sick dogs selling drugs they know will ruin people’s lives. Or theirmalebosses who care only about raking in the millions so they can buy yet another diamond earring or toy they don’t need.”
“Those folks aren’t the ones I’m talking about and you know it. Charli, you gotta loosen up, kiddo. Men scare easily, and when you get that dogged look and your eyes fill with ice, it terrifies them.”
Laughing at the visual, Carolina asked, “Pops, how do you know what I look like when I’m on the job?” She stopped her massage of his shoulders and bent to peer into his lined face. His one good eye, still brown, stared her down, while the bluish blind eye seemed to have sight, though she knew differently.
“‘Cause that’s your permanent expression when you talk about your work, so I’m assuming you probably walk around all day at the office looking like you just swallowed a squishy bug. And, I’ve seen you mad. Remember the time I warned you that the old woman down the hall was breaking into my place and stealing my stuff? I saw the look you got.”
“Yeah, that was because I thought you meant she’d stolen your property, not some silly old medicated cream.”
“Hey, that is my property. And it’s not just any oldmedicated cream,” he sneered the words. “It was my expensive B.C. Bud Rub you order for me online. I shouldn’t have bragged about how well it worked on my knees. or felt sorry for her and given the crazy old woman a sample.”
Keeping her face straight, Carolina remembered how she’d tried to talk him out of his idea that some senior lady from down the hall had broken into his apartment, snuck into his fridge and helped herself to his cream. It had made no sense.
“I know you didn’t believe me, but you sure changed your mind when she woke you up last weekend. I’m glad we’d guzzled too much wine at the restaurant next door, and you couldn’t drive home. You spent the night here and caught her red-handed, right? Not so smart now are we, little girl? See, this old guy’s still got it. And, I saw your expression when you turned on the light and caught her… colder than a witch’s tit.”
“Quit with the expressions, you brat. I wasn’t being mean, just upset. I knew without your hearing aids, you couldn’t hear anyone breaking in. It made me wonder how often she’d taken advantage of you.”
“That never happened, kiddo. When she tried, I fought her off.” Seeing her shocked expression, eyes twinkling merrily, he’d laughed loud and long.
Giggling again over his cheekiness, she let go of the memory.
Relaxed in her oldest, gray sweat pants with the wordsexywritten in bright pink over the butt cheeks – a gift from her goofy grandfather – paired with a t-shirt from Quantico, thick socks in rose-colored fluff and her red curls tied up in a mess over her head, she felt like a teenager.
Just that day, she’d finished writing up the intel on her latest undercover drug case, organized all the paperwork, and had handed the huge file in to her superiors.
Happily accepting their praise during the debriefing, she’d finally unwound when they’d agreed she should take time off. Drastically in need of a break, Carolina knew her limitations. They’d been reached weeks ago.
Infiltrating a gang of known felons, getting them to trust her enough to let her carry some of their precious cargo had taken perseverance and smarts. She’d lived on the edge; becoming a criminal in every way to fit in had taken its toll.
Starting at the Mexican port of entry, where they collected their drugs from their cartel associates, they taught her the Points of Entry and the avenues of delivery used to transport the cocaine to their hideaway in Seattle.
That knowledge had been a huge boost in helping her set up the sting. She’d led the taskforce to them, finally shutting down those corridors and charging two of the biggest drug lords in the city of Seattle.
Understandably, the adrenalin she’d lived on for the last three months had worn off, leaving her drained, quick to anger, and too jumpy by far.
And in the end, they’d moved in and taken the gang down in a shootout she’d never envisioned. Maintaining her cool with heavy doses of headache medication and sporadic, brief, but delightful, visits with her gramps had reached its pinnacle. She was done.
But that was over, she was home and wanted to forget those horrific moments. Last night, for nine hours she’d been out for the count with only a cup of milky hot chocolate and an open window as sedatives to help her sleep.
Home was the west coast of Washington State where they suffered from continuous rain for months, and she was tired of it. Her parents, both deceased from a horrific car accident on a slick road when she was a very young girl, had once rented them a house in Fort Lauderdale with a swimming pool and a full backyard of luxurious living.
The memories they’d made were still precious to this day. They’d taken Poppa John along with them, and his dunking her in the pool and making her play catch, and the constant hugs and teasing still ranked as some of her favorite recollections.
During that vacation, her gramps and mom had taught her how to make her favorite food, Perogies. They’d made a shitload and stuffed those dumplings with everything from potatoes and cheese to blueberries. God, she missed those days when they’d shared a home.
Left with only her weekly visits at the retirement home – affectionately known as the lodge – taking him on daytrips for lunches and shopping, movies and very short hikes, Carolina decided that her recent abandonment issues were stupid. He didn’t want to live with her and give up all his activities with his peers who lived at the same old-age facility. Her guilt was misplaced.
There, he bowled, played a crazy kind of sit-down hockey, danced at the weekly happy hours and teased the ladies so that they babied the heck out of him. The caregivers adored the old coot, almost as much as she did. Even though she’d have loved to have him live with her, she accepted he’d have spent too many lonely hours waiting for her to come home. And that would be unthinkable.
Starting tomorrow, she had a month’s vacation and meant to spoil herself with every costly treat she could think of. After her spinster aunt’s will had been probated many years earlier, she’d come out with a cool million, both her and her parents. Since their money had eventually passed on to their only child, she’d have no financial worries. Invested properly, it would give her a nice home one day and a very good retirement.
