Chapter 4
Here goes nothing.
Mack opened the conference room door to find Quinn sitting in the chair. When he noticed her, his eyes widened.
“Hi there.” Mack didn’t know what else to say. She felt like an idiot around him. Forming full sentences and acting normal was impossible.
“What’s goin’ on?”
“We’re gonna have a conversation, you and me.” And everyone else will be eavesdropping. “Come on.”
“I could use some help here.” His hands were still cuffed, and he lifted them a little to show her. “My balance is off.”
“Sure, right.” Mack laid a hand on his shoulder to steady Quinn while he stood. They both sucked in a breath at the contact.
“Are you gift-wrappin’ me for the FBI?” he asked.
“Not now.” And then she realized she was still touching him, so Mack let go. “Come with me.”
“Where to?”
“Our holding cell.”
He shook his head. “I swore I'd never set a foot in a cell again.”
And for some reason, Mack felt bad. She shouldn’t. He was a fugitive who’d slipped through their fingers and she shouldn’t have any qualms about locking him up.
And yet, she did.
She bit her lip. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you roam around.”
Mack didn't know how he'd survived. Federal prison was no joke. All of his movements would’ve been tightly controlled. The loss of freedom must’ve been excruciating.
“Think about it. I showed up on your doorstep, so y’all didn’t have to hunt me down. I’m not a flight risk.”
“I wish I could believe you, and I promise it’s only temporary.”
“Until I get taken to a real prison?”
“I can’t predict the future. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” It was an evasion, and they both knew it, but Quinn didn’t call her on it.
“Okay then, but I want you to understand something.”
“What?”
“I'm placing myself in your custody, not theirs. I trust you.”
For some reason, the words made her shiver.
She didn't know what to think. Was he trying to forge a bond with her, so he could play her later? Or was he telling the truth? It was difficult to tell, and he’d fooled hundreds of people. Chances are, he was an accomplished liar. Her attraction to him didn't help matters. Mack wasn't able to separate her feelings from the equation.
Maybe because you’ve been ignoring your social life. If you had a real boyfriend this wouldn’t be an issue.
Lately, she’d been all work and no play. Back in the day, when she’d been a fed, Mack was a dating machine. Since she worked in the intelligence community, her workplace had been a real sausage fest, so there’d been plenty of opportunities.
Until Harold.
Shaking off the unwanted thoughts, Mack led him down the hall until they stopped at the armory. Across from it, was a small cell, in case they ran into someone they needed to detain. There was a keypad on the handle and Mack punched in the access code.
The door swung open to reveal a steel bed, with a thin foam mattress, which had been bolted to the floor. The only other furniture in the room was a metal toilet in the corner.
Quinn surveyed the space. “Cozy.”
“Yeah.” Mack winced. “Here, let me take the cuffs off.” It’s not like he could go anywhere. She reached over and unlocked them and stuffed the manacles in her back pocket. “I have to pat you down to make sure you don’t have any contraband.”
“Your friend, Lucy, already took care of it.”
“Better safe than...”
“Fine, if you wanna touch me, have at it.” Quinn obliged her, holding his arms out to the side and widening his stance. His eyes locked on hers, and somehow this felt like a challenge, a dare.
Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve done this hundreds of times.
“I don’t want to touch you, this is just a routine procedure.”
He flashed a knowing grin. “Of course. It’s purely professional.”
What a dick.
Ugh. Bad choice of words.
She carefully felt every single inch of him, each muscle, the coarse hair over the smooth skin on his arms. As though they had minds of their own, Mack’s fingertips slipped between the buttons on his shirt as she examined the length of his chest.
Aren’t you supposed to be searching for weapons? Instead, she seemed to be copping a feel. Mack suddenly realized she was holding her breath.
And Quinn made a ragged noise, somewhere between a moan and groan.
She could almost feel it. A honeyed warmth flowed through her veins, as though she were melting, yielding. Mack had to take a moment to pull herself together. It’s like her rational mind went on vacation.
Yeah, to Sex Town.
Stop it. Focus.
His legs bunched as she brushed the length of them and when she examined his inner thighs, he hissed at the contact. Mack made quick work of the rest, eager to finish.
“I need to make sure you're not a danger to yourself or anyone else. So, the shoelaces have to go.” She’d actually seen a prisoner hang himself with them, out of desperation.
“Fine by me.” Quinn toed out of the shoes. He wore white athletic socks. She unthreaded the laces and he placed the shoes beneath the bunk. They’d slip off his feet, without the laces holding them in place.
Mack stood. “Please remove your belt.”
He smirked. “Why don't you do it for me?”
Quinn was right. She should remove the belt herself and check it for any possible contraband like she’d do with any other inmate. But touching the man was risky.
“Fine. Keep your arms raised.”
“Yes, ma’am.” The words were polite, but his nostrils flared. There was a thick, fog-like tension in the room.
It was ridiculously intimate, unbuckling his belt and tugging it from the loops. Undressing Quinn, Mack tried to keep her touch cool and professional, but it was impossible not to think about unzipping other things.
Dammit! Stop it, Mack.
I need a breather.
If she stayed in this room any longer, Mack might do something stupid. Er. Yeah, stupider. Hadn’t Storm mentioned getting Quinn some food? Playing the good cop? The gang wouldn’t be listening in until she’d lock the doors. Then they would file into the hallway, and flip on the intercom system.
When they did, Mack wanted to be calm, cool, and collected.
“You’re all squared away, and I should go.” Mack backed away, ready to bolt.
Quinn sat on the bed. “Why?”
“Are you hungry? I could use some breakfast.”
“I could eat, but you seem awfully jumpy. Are you afraid to be alone with me?”
The nerve! And just like that, he flipped the bitch switch. Every woman has one and hers had a hair trigger.
“Fuck you.”
His eyes turned molten.
She gasped. Oh no. This would’ve been so much easier if he’d gotten angry instead.
“Anytime you like, any way you like.”
“I wasn't coming on to you,” Mack snapped.
“Pity.” Quinn leered.
“To be clear, I'm not afraid of anyone or anything. Not anymore.”
Once, Mack’s life had burned to the ground around her, and somehow, she'd survived. Mack knew she could handle anything the universe threw at her.
He clucked his tongue. “You’re not afraid of me, but you sure are skittish.”
Quinn was right. Something about the man scared the ever-living shit out of her. Maybe because she wasn’t immune to his charms.
“I’m gonna make us some bacon and eggs. When I come back, we’ll eat and talk. And there won’t be any sex.” Her voice squeaked just a little on the last bit. “And if you touch me, I'll kick you in the nards.”
“I’ve been warned.” His lips twitched.
But he didn’t promise not to try something.
***
“Why did you come in from the cold? You had it made. Nobody knew where you were.”
Mack sat on the far end of the bed from Quinn, because there was no other furniture in the room. They’d just finished breakfast. There was at least four feet between them, but it didn’t feel like enough.
Outside, the group was eavesdropping, hanging on every word.
“Because I’m being hunted, and so are you. We’re on a kill list.”
“I don’t get it. Explain.” He’d hinted at it earlier, but Mack still didn’t understand why.
“In a second.” Quinn rubbed the back of his neck. “Your friends are listenin’ in, aren’t they?”
Mack thought about lying to him, but he’d probably pick up on it. Might as well build the trust.
“Yes, they need to know why you’re here.”
His eyes narrowed. “And do you trust them?”
“With my life.”
“Fine, they’d better listen up though because I ain’t repeatin’ myself and I refuse to talk to anyone else.” Quinn leaned against the wall. “Back in the day, I was an FBI agent. I was assigned to a special task force, a joint operation, between the CIA and the FBI.”
Her mouth fell open. “You were an FBI agent?”
“Yeah, just like you. And before I became a G-Man, I was in Special Forces.”
Strangely enough, it made sense. When she'd first met him, Mack guessed he was former military, judging by the way he handled himself. In a crisis, he kept it together.
“Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”
“I think you’re full of shit.” Mack wanted to test him and make sure she was getting the whole truth.
“No, you don’t.”
“Continue.” She waved a hand.
“Anyway, we were focused on infiltratin’ drug cartels, to see if we could stem the flow of drugs into the country. Both the CIA and the FBI identified drugs and drug money as a threat to national security.”
Criminal enterprises often use illegal drugs as a means to fund their activities, including terrorists and the mob.
“You posed as a kingpin?”
“Hell no.” Quinn sighed. “I was playin’ a distributor on this side of the border, working for the Maldito Cartel. I started at the bottom and worked my way up. These people are paranoid, and it took me two years to gain a little bit of trust.”
Mack wasn’t surprised. Drug kingpins moved around a lot, disposed of their cell phones on a regular basis, and took other security measures to protect themselves, including murdering friends and family members if they were suspected of betrayal.
“So, the agency was playing the long game.”
“Well, it’s an ongoing problem that ain’t goin’ away anytime soon.”
“And what about your family? Your life?” Since the operation took years, it must’ve taken a toll on his relationships.
“I ain’t got no family to speak of. I don’t know who my dad is, and my mom overdosed when I was sixteen. I’ve been on my own ever since.”
“I’m sorry.” It sounded awful lonely. She’d grown up with a family, people around her who cared about Mack. At least in the beginning. After her parents got divorced, she’d been left on her own.
“Yeah, me too.”
“What about a girlfriend? Or a wife?” As soon as she asked, Mack wished she could take it back. It sounded like she was chatting him up for a date.
“I had a fiancé, when I shipped out, but when I got back from Afghanistan, she’d moved on.”
“Yikes.” So much for loyalty.
“Yeah, but I met someone at work. Karen Sanders was special, and I thought we were meant to be. Everything happens for a reason, right? But that ended badly, too.” Quinn stared at the wall straight ahead and the muscles in his jaw tightened.
Whoever this woman was, he must’ve loved her deeply. Mack didn’t know how to feel about it.
“Anyway, while I was workin’ in Mexico, one of my informants told me—”
“How’d you get informants if you were undercover?”
“Once I had somebody dead to rights on violating the law, I turned them, and offered them a deal, in charge for cooperating.”
It was a common tactic. Especially when the agency was interested in the head of an organization, not the low-level punks. It allowed them to build a rock-solid case against someone who was more valuable.
“Anyway, my snitch told me someone high up in the FBI was involved in the operation and I’d better watch my six.”
Mack had heard the term before. Six was military lingo for “back.”
“Hold up, somebody at the FBI was working with the cartel?”
“Yeah. As it turns out, it somebody we both know.”
Mack frowned. She wanted to know more, but Quinn was telling this story. For now, she’d listen and then ask her questions later.
“So, what did you do?”
“I figured the dirty agent must be in one of the local field offices, somebody who was just over the border. I decided to go higher up on the chain of command because I didn’t know who might be compromised, so I chose the Deputy Director, Harold Peters.”
She hadn’t heard the name in years. It felt like someone had just slapped her across the face.
Quinn went unnaturally still, studying her with a frightening intensity, as though he knew every sordid little secret Mack had.
She sucked in a breath. “What happened?”
“I told him everythin’ and he burned me, outed me to the cartel.”
Okay, stop.
This was close to sounding like a James Bond novel. Burned was a spy term, and it referred to an agent who'd been exposed.
“Harold Peters is working for the cartel?” The man had a serious lack of boundaries and morals. She’d experienced his treachery firsthand, but Mack didn’t think he’d betray his country.
“Yes.” Apparently, Quinn was serious. “He's been helping them smuggle drugs across the border, using his influence to give them safe passage all over the country.”
Mack was stunned. As illegal operations went, it was a great plan. The FBI had offices in every single state. Harold would be in a position to offer bribes to any agent in the field. It didn’t even have to be money either. He could entice them with a raise or a title bump.
“How does it work?” Mack wanted to hear about the logistics, so she could poke holes in his story.
“Harold's got a buddy working in the Border Patrol. Once the drugs get past the gate, it’s easy.”
Mack stood, pacing back and forth, trying to wrap her head around this.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked.
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Come on. Does the corruption really surprise you? With all of the agency resources devoted to stoppin’ the drug trade, how do you think it continues to flourish?”
He had a point.
Border patrol agents and even beginning FBI agents didn't make that much money. Not compared to what drug smugglers made. Getting kickbacks from cartels would be lucrative, enough to support a family, pay off a student loan, maybe buy a house.
And what do your instincts tell you?
Ultimately, people always do what's in their best self-interest, even if it's bad for society. Her psychology training and experience in the hostage unit had taught her that.
“You're talking about a huge conspiracy involving dozens of people. There would have to be a weak link along the way.”
Quinn nodded. “You’re right, there has been.”
“Don’t leave me hanging.”
“Anyone who discovered what was really goin’ on and refused to take a bribe got silenced, real permanent-like.” Is that what happened to the woman he’d loved?
“You’re saying agents have been killed?”
“Yes, but it shouldn’t shock you. You've seen what the cartels are capable of.”
Whenever someone challenged them, they took action. They had deep pockets, so they could bribe companies, government officials. And if money didn’t work, the thugs went all scorched earth on the person. They’d kill the instigator, as well as their family members.
No one stood against them for long.
“Did Harold offer you a bribe?”
“Of course.”
“And what did you say?” Mack asked.
“I told him to go fuck himself.” Quinn swallowed. “Sometimes, I wish I’d taken the money.”
I bet.
“What happened next?”
Quinn shrugged. “I didn’t have much choice. It’s not like I could go back to work like nothin’ happened. The cartel has a lot of reach, plus I had to watch out for the FBI.” He glanced away. “When he couldn’t find me, Harold took his anger out on Karen.”
“The woman you were dating?”
“The woman I loved. I begged Karen to come with me, but she didn’t want to give up everything. She had a family and friends she cared about, and Karen refused to abandon them.”
“Quinn, I’m sorry.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. Mack wasn’t certain if she believed the rest of his story, but the emotions were real.
“Thank you.” He clutched her hand and she tugged it away, mindful of her teammates outside the door.
“While I sympathize with your situation. Harold didn’t make you rob banks.”
Quinn squared his jaw. “Oh, yes, he did.”
“What do you mean?”
“I wasn’t about to give it up, and let Harold get away with this. So, I continued my investigation.”
“Seriously? If you've been on the run for years, how in the world do you maintain a relationship with informants?”
“Cash. Why do you think I've been robbing people? I needed bribe money.”
Woah. Wait a minute. “Is that why you steal from—?”
“Assholes? Yes. I'd never hurt innocent people. And what did Harold make you do?”
Her stomach twisted into a tight little knot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.”
Mack ignored the statement. “I don't believe you.”
“Why not?”
“You got arrested for pity’s sake. He would’ve recognized you. I remember the case, and your face was plastered everywhere.”
“I was arrested under the name John Doe. I didn’t use my real name, or the alias the government gave me.”
Quinn had a point. If he’d used a known alias or his real name, all of the information would’ve popped up on their screens.
“Besides. I got caught nearly a decade after I ran. I’d aged. My appearance had changed a lot, and I worked undercover for years, I know how to cover my tracks and hide in plain sight.”
“How did you change your look?”
“I'd gained 25 lb. of muscle. Not to mention, a different hair color, and eye color from the contacts.” He pointed to his face. “I also got my nose fixed.”
“You had plastic surgery?”
“Yes, I broke it when I was a teenager in a fist fight, so I had it straightened out.”
Maybe he was telling the truth.
No, this is ridiculous. Push him.
“What about your DNA records? All FBI agents have their information in the system.” In case any of them were killed in the line of duty. Not to mention, it came in handy during forensic sweeps. Their DNA could be eliminated from the scene easily.
“When I agreed to join the task force, they wiped me from the system.”
“Which system?” she asked.
“All of them. The cartel has toeholds in both the private and public sectors on both sides of the borders”
“So, they checked you out.”
“Absolutely. I bet they check everyone they come into contact with, to safeguard their investment.”
“Okay, I'll play along. Why is he coming after you now? It’s been years and you were in hiding.”
“Us. I said he was coming after us, not just me.”
She sighed. “Fine. Us.”
“Somehow, Harold found my hidey hole. I bet he’s been searchin’ for me this whole time. Apparently, he's running for Senate and wanted to tie up some loose ends.”
She gasped. Mack hadn’t heard anything about a congressional run.
On some level, Mack wasn't that shocked. Harold was someone who craved power and position. Moving into the political sphere would be the natural progression for his career.
“How did you hear about it?”
He smirked. “I have my sources and I did some diggin’ around.”
“Rumors are helpful but what actual proof do you have?”
Quinn raised his brows. “He’s puttin’ together a Super PAC.”
Hmm. Harold wouldn't need one of those unless he was running for office.
“You think he’s up to something, don’t you?”
“Maybe the cartels want to buy themselves a Senator? He wants to represent Texas, so he'd be in a position to help them out. He could influence United States policy, especially when it comes to the border.”
“And if someone in their operation got arrested, he could intervene.” Senators had a great deal of access. It was an ingenious albeit diabolical plan.
“So, why would I merit a hit squad?” She'd been driven out of the FBI with her tail between her legs. Mack has been humiliated, both personally and professionally.
“What if you want all #metoo on him?”
“Oh.”
True, she was in a position to embarrass him. Harold might survive the bad publicity, but it would damage his reputation. Sometimes, she could kick herself for not coming forward, bringing him down when she’d had the chance.
“Does he think you have any incriminating evidence?”
Oh, God.
“Yes.” Mack didn’t elaborate. The shame was overwhelming.
“Then he couldn't dismiss you or discredit you as easily. Therefore, you're a threat.”
Mack squared her shoulders. “Is there anything else you want to tell me? I'm going to check out what you’ve said.”
“You mean verify my story.”
“Yeah.” Mack headed for the door. There were so many thoughts swirling in her head. She needed to sort through all the information and talk it over the group.
Quinn stood. “You’re gonna leave me all alone in here?”
“This is only temporary.”
“Promise me, you’ll take precautions.”
“Like…?”
“Even mentioning my name could trigger a shit storm.”
“Got it.”
“Take care of yourself.” He crossed the room and grasped her hand, squeezing it.
Mack sucked in a breath. His hand was large, warm. He had long tapered fingers, and somehow, she could picture them trailing over the length of her arm, maybe along the back of her neck. Against her inner thighs.
Get a hold of yourself, girl.
She pulled back, holding the hand against her chest protectively.
“I will.”
“There’s somethin’ else you need to know. He’s gonna announce his campaign run in a few days’ time. And after he does, Harold will be surrounded by staffers and security guards. It will be nearly impossible to reach him.”
Could this really be happening? Mack didn’t know what to think.
“And Mack? Please be careful who you trust.” His brow furrowed. “Both our lives depend on it.”
Sweet Jesus. What if he was right?