Page 80 of Fierce Seas


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“Fucking bitch,” Jim grunted. “That was Conchello’s idea. He likes playing games. All kinds of games. He baits traps and catches people, he stalks, he watches, he does all kinds of shit, and when she got away the night of the raid he ordered me to send her here, then told Dan Miller to hunt her down. It was weird though,” he continued, as if talking to himself, “Conchello liked Elizabeth, and he doesn’t like anyone—except that old housekeeper of his.”

“Did he know Elizabeth and Manny were DEA?”

“If he did, it wasn’t from me.”

“Why didn’t you—”

“Tell him?” Jim interrupted. “You really are an idiot. I have someone else working for Conchello, but you won’t catch him either.”

“What’s your point?”

“If I’d shopped them and he found out, what the fuck do you think would happen? The line I walk is as thin as a piece of thread.”

“Correction, walked,” Scott declared. “I already know about that someone else, and that ship has sailed.”

“I don’t believe you, there’s no way in hell. You’ll meet your maker, asshole. No one outsmarts Conchello, no one,” Jim shouted, then suddenly broke into a grin and lowered his voice. “There’s nothing like having the power of life and death. It’s such a rush.”

“The evil psycho finally speaks.”

“Are you fucking her? I bet you are. Yeah, you’d be her type. What’s she like? Is she a squirmer? A squealer? I bet she’s both.”

Though the desire to land his fist in the middle of Jim’s face blasted through him, Scott turned and walked out the door.

Jim’s admission had shocked Elizabeth to her core. As Scott walked in the small office, she lifted her eyes from the screen and stared up at him.

“Words fail me,” she stammered. “How could I have been so wrong about him—again?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. Psychopaths are masters of deceit and manipulation. They can mimic emotions in a heartbeat, and know how to read people and play to their weaknesses.”

“How were you able to see through his act?”

“Watching the two of you, I was able to study him. I’ve interrogated many just like him, and I’ve learned how to recognize the signs. When we have a minute, I’ll show you.”

“Uh, Scott, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You have that amazing, high-tech safehouse on your little island, then this small home here on St. Thomas. They’re so different. What’s the deal? Can you tell me, or is it top secret?”

He grinned. “This small home is only used for interrogations. The safehouse is designed to protect high-value targets. They come in from all over the world.”

“What kind of people?”

“Witnesses needing protection, VIPs under threat, that sort of thing. The house keeps them under wraps and out of danger. Sometimes we’ll have an entire family, that’s why it’s so big.”

“Interesting…” she mumbled, “and about what’s happening now. You have Jim and Dan being sent back to California, and David Clark and Ewen MacDonald working with you against Conchello. Do you think you’ll be taking him in soon?”

“Elizabeth, the operation is in full swing. If things continue to fall into place, the answer is yes. I have a plan, and I’m almost ready to share it with you.”

“I can’t wait to hear about it, but you just said the safehouse on the island is for international guests?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy crap,” she breathed, her eyes widening. “You work for the CIA.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

Scott narrowed his eyes, then slowly nodded his head.

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