The Choice Page 9

  She blinked. “Are you telling me you’ve been angry all night because I took out the garbage? And that phone call had nothing to do with turning me in?”

  His eyebrows furrowed and the strong, stubborn jaw tightened. “Fuck Marcie, what kind of asshole do you take me for?” It was obvious from the weary lines on his face he hadn’t slept.

  With a shaky hand, she skimmed over the dark hair on his chin, two days without shaving. “You confuse me.” Sam dimmed in front of her when tears glazed her eyes.

  He softened his tone. “I was talking to my partner, Diane, in Gardiner.”

  Her scalped tingled and her face warmed with excitement. Then the worry dashed away all her hope like a splash of ice cold water. This was help for him. Or was it something else?

  “Can I ask you something Sam?”

  He looked so tired. How much sleep had he got since watching over her?

  “Sure.”

  “Is Diane your girlfriend?”

  His eyes widened in what could only be explained as shock. “Ah no, she’s a very good friend and my partner on the task force. Why would you ask that?”

  She knew why. It was the way he spoke of her. But also, some deep distrust that rose out of some hurt cubby in her heart—jealousy—and she didn’t quite care for it. So she said nothing and merely shrugged.

  “What about Elise, some of the things Jesse said? Are they true?”

  He turned away and stared vacantly out the window. She wondered if he’d answer.

  When he finally did, his baritone voice was gruff.

  “We grew up together. Jesse was right. I loved her since we were kids. I suppose I did follow her around like a fool. She was as screwed up as all of us.”

  “There was this woman named Mama Reine. She provided a home for all us local vagrants. When I met Jesse, he took me to her, after my Daddy knocked me around. She patched me up, told me to come back anytime. She did that for every lost kid who showed up on her doorstep. That’s where I met Elise, an unlikely sort. She stumbled in and crashed there often. I think she stole from Mama too. Of course, Mama knew. But said the Lord provided everything she ever needed.”

  “Elise pulled herself together and entered the academy before Jesse and I. She was scooped up by the ATF not long after.”

  “I wanted her, with all her tough take-no-bullshit attitude. I tried to be her knight and save her, stupid huh? We survived Katrina. Lost our home, most our belongings. She took it hard. I found us an apartment and salvaged what I could. But then, she started keeping long hours, became secretive, more so than usual. I thought it was some big case she was working on. We never talked about our cases. So I didn’t push.”

  “When she killed Leon, she told me he pulled a gun when she tried to arrest him. I didn’t know what to think. He was Mama Reine’s grandson. He’d been in trouble since he was a kid, mixed up in gangs, always something. Then the next day while Elise was at an outdoor café, Della followed her. Walked right up to her, put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.” Sam wouldn’t look at her. He rested his forehead against his arm braced against the chipped window frame.

  She couldn’t imagine a man who loved a woman so much he’d do anything to fix things for her. To love her so much he wore blinders.

  “I holed up here in this cottage for a long time after, drinking. Then the rumors started. Elise and I were on the take. I didn’t try to fight it. Instead, I went back to the apartment and searched through everything of hers. I found a file she kept that outlined some guy in the Pacific Northwest who shipped marijuana, guns and cocaine. Some big time operator she was keeping an eye on. Then I found a note. Leon worked for the broker here, who was this big dealer’s contact. That was when an offer came from the DEA to join them and a new task force they were assembling out of the Seattle office; to target all the marijuana grow ops running rampant on the isolated islands in the Pacific Northwest. And I jumped on it. Knowing this was my ticket to finding this grower responsible for killing my wife. If she hadn’t been investigating that smuggling ring, she never would have come across Leon. This chain of events would never have happened. Three lives destroyed Elise, Leon and Della.

  “Six months ago, our task force went international. We had the Sequim Sheriff’s Department, the Coast Guard, Interpol. A lot of bodies; which ups the ante too, of someone on the team being an informant. A high profile investigation, the leads, the stakeouts, and each day we got a little closer to establishing rock solid evidence on the largest marijuana smuggling ring operated by this big drug lord, Lance Silver. This guy’s almost untouchable. And he screwed me, by turning the tables. A knapsack of marijuana was discovered in my locker after an anonymous tip was called into the Sequim detachment. At exactly the same time we’re raiding his deserted huge estate on the island of Las Seta.

  Lance Silver … just hearing that name again triggered something familiar. Except, she couldn’t pull that elusive thread from her memory—even the name of the island—her tummy gave a little pang, but why?

  Headlights flashed, and Sam jumped back. “Stupid, careless, do you see what you do to me.” He muttered under his breath as he peered out the side of the window, tracking a car when it pulled up and parked behind his Camaro. He seemed to relax for a minute before grabbing his blue shirt dangling over a shabby orange easy chair and pulled it on. Marcie couldn’t see who it was, and Sam didn’t waste any time hurrying to the door. Each porch step creaked under the weight of an unknown intruder.

  Marcie held her breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage.

  “Get in the bedroom and stay there.” Sam whispered the order.

  His gun was drawn. An unmistakable click pierced the silence when Sam removed the safety. Where’d he get the gun? She didn’t argue but backed away fighting cold panic while slipping quietly into the bedroom. A heavy hitch in her breath echoed, she was sure through every room in the cottage. It was too late to close the door. She couldn’t remember if the hinges squeaked. She needed something to use as a weapon. Only the darkness made it impossible to see. She bumped the nightstand, rattling an old-fashioned wind up clock. She grabbed and held the loud ticking against her chest while she slid behind the door. Marcie could see only a sliver of light. The front door squeaked, and in a blurred flash, a wild tussle ensued, followed by a muffled curse.

  Marcie struggled to see, but the kitchen’s dim light was blocked by a large man’s shadowy outline whose determined footsteps fast approached. She could taste the fear in her mouth, briny and sour as her heart rose higher and thumped erratically in her ears. What happened to Sam? Was he hurt? With both hands, Marcie gripped the alarm clock, raising it high over her head. She held her breath when a large man stepped into the room. She didn’t think. She reacted, bringing the clock down hard, aiming for the back of his head. Only he quickly whirled around, knocking the clock from her grasp. It sailed, landed with a shattered clang across the room.

  “What the hell, Marcie?” Sam. Her Sam, incensed, tired, and he smelled so good. Her fear transformed to overwhelming relief when she fell into him. She looped her arms around his neck and cried a real messy tears flowing, nose-running cry.

  “Hey, hey what’s this? It’s okay.” He rubbed her back and tightened his comforting hold. Marcie burrowed her face into his strong chest when hit by an aftershock of what transpired. Her body trembled. He wasn’t injured so it must have been the other guy.

  “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

  “I thought you were hurt, that it was the bad guy coming in here.” She felt the rumble deep in his chest, before his thunderous laugh burst out.

  “The bad guy, Marcie?”

  He chuckled in a way that sent her emotions tumbling. She planted both palms on his chest and tried to back away, only his powerful arms held on while sliding teasingly down her curvy waist, as if appreciating all the curves of her slim womanly body.

  “Sam! What about the bad guy?” She pointed when he wouldn’t let go. Sam reached for her hand and dra
gged her out of the bedroom to the open front door. He flicked on the dim porch light, and there was Jesse sprawled on his stomach, cursing while he stirred and struggled to push himself up.

  “Sam, did you hit him? He’s hurt.”

  “It was dark. I didn’t know it was Jesse. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” Sam released her hand and squatted down beside Jesse and helped him up.

  “You asshole, what the hell did you hit me for?” Sam guided Jesse to one of the old kitchen chairs. The chair creaked when Jesse sat. He winced as he leaned back pressing his hand to the back of his head. “Shit, I think I’m bleeding.”

  “Oh, stop your damn whining, will you? You’re not bleeding. And just what the hell are you doing here? I asked you to call me—hey wait a second how’d you find me anyway?”

  The look that passed between them was brotherly. Marcie couldn’t help feeling left out.

  “Calling you after I’m telling the Cap’n I don’t know where you are would not be smart. Since, I’m sure, my calls are now being monitored. Besides, this is where you came the last time you hid out. You may want to ask yourself how many others know about this place.”

  Hide out, when was this? Marcie watched raw emotions dig in around Sam’s eyes. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t.

  “Okay, okay, I get your point. So what’d you find out?”

  “There’s a lot of heat right now on this whole situation surrounding you and the girl. Derek’s quite the hothead, and he’s really pumping up your involvement; another notch in his belt to look really good with the commissioner. They’ve interrogated Reggie about his role in the missing backpack, except he clammed up and demanded a lawyer. And his lawyer pointed out we got nothing, since the video’s not solid evidence of a crime. As a matter of fact, the video shows clearly Reggie didn't take the backpack. And as far as passing something to the guy who robbed Marcie, the lawyer said that’ll be hard to prove. The video doesn’t show what was passed. Also, we’re not allowed to talk to her client again unless she’s present, and she warned us next time we had better have real evidence. We had no choice. He’s been cut loose.”

  Sam shut his eyes and tilted his head up.

  “Sam, we got a tail on him. You and I both know whatever he’s part of; he’s only the little guy. What I’m worried about is Derek’s tunnel vision, in wanting to see you go down for all this. He doesn’t give a shit about Reggie. It’s you he’s trying to pin this on, as if you’re this big connected guy overseeing some smuggling racket from up north. Derek’s determined to talk to Marcie. He’s convinced Reggie and Marcie are mules. And the only reason she’s with you, is so you can keep her quiet. He even ordered one of the detectives to go through all baggage claim security footage to see if you or Marcie appear at other times. But then guess what happened? Local Feds shut him down and are now claiming jurisdiction at the airport. They even yanked all the security videos Derek confiscated.”

  “Well this is getting better and better.”

  “It actually does get better. Derek put an APB out on you and Marcie. Even went to your boss, implying you’re a dirty cop and a drug dealer. But then a funny thing happened. Apparently, your boss didn’t share his suspicion. Indicating this is the first time you’ve been back in New Orleans in over six months. He shut Derek down; said he won’t even consider the notion unless credible, solid evidence is produced.”

  “Then before I got here, this amazing woman by the name of Diane Larsen calls me; says she’s your partner. Well organized lady pulled out all the stops. She’s responsible for sending the Feds to get Derek off your back. It’s nice for me to hear she’s watching your backside.”

  Sam shrugged. “She has integrity, an anomaly on our team, and works damn hard to make sure we follow the letter of the law so scumbags won’t get off on a technicality. I don’t have to prove my innocence to her. She knows me. She’s a good friend.”

  “Yeah I figured that much. She’s about ready to hop on a plane. Come down here and save your ass. Help clear up this mess with Marcie—clear your name.”

  Just listening to the woman’s name, sparked another wave of jealousy. Sam said they weren’t involved, but they sounded really close.

  “Sam, if Derek keeps pushing, you and I both know evidence could suddenly appear against you. And then the Feds won’t have a choice; you’ll be dragged into this investigation, your career gone, your freedom too. Is that what you want?”

  Marcie couldn’t believe what she heard. She waited for Sam to say something, anything. But he clammed up. The hard lines in his face turned to granite.

  “Look Sam, just let Derek talk to Marcie. Don’t piss him off any more than you already have. If you give him something, he might back off on you.”

  “Why does he want to talk to me? I don’t remember anything.” Marcie crossed her arms over her braless chest.

  “Well see, that’s the thing; he doesn’t believe it.” Jesse shuffled over to the sink and splashed cool water over his face and then dunked his head under the rusty tap.

  “Sam, maybe I should just talk to him and tell him I don’t know anything. I’m sure if I explain, it’ll clear this whole thing up. Maybe then Derek will leave you alone.”

  Sam gave her a look as if she sprouted a second head.

  “Okay, maybe not.”

  “Marcie that’s a very honest gesture, it’s also very naive and dangerous. Jesse here wants me to throw you to the wolves to save my own skin. And no Jesse, I won’t do that. Marcie doesn’t know who she’s dealing with. You aren’t talking to Derek or any cop right now. These guys are trained to twist your words. You wouldn’t stand a chance. Derek’s not looking to find the right guilty party, he wants to close this and doesn’t care who takes the fall, just as long as he looks good to the brass. They’d have you confessing to crimes, without any clarity from your lost memory. I wouldn’t be able to get you out, Marcie.”

  Sam grabbed a tin percolator from the back burner of the stove. He tossed Jesse a dishtowel and then shoved him aside to fill the coffee pot with water, sprinkling in ground coffee and set it to boil.

  Jesse dried his face. Both men continued as if she wasn’t there. “You want coffee Jesse?”

  “Sure, and then I need to head back before Derek decides to put an APB on me too.”

  Didn’t they realize she stood beside them? Even with this lapse in memory, Marcie knew, she had a voice, yet she said nothing.

  Sam was being high handed and protective, and honestly, she liked it. Jesse, what could she say? He was Sam’s friend.

  Jesse cocked his head toward Marcie, a purely chauvinistic motion. “You sure she didn’t get her memory back, even a little?”

  Both men studied her. Marcie felt her cheeks burn from being thrust into the hot seat, her integrity constantly in question. She directed her response solely to Sam. “No, the girl didn’t get her memory back.” Her voice mocked an imitation of Jesse’s southern drawl. “And please stop talking around me as if I’m not in the room.”

  Jesse flashed a wide smile. His deep, raspy laugh shook his soft belly. Marcie wasn’t sure if this was humor or another insult. So she glared, and in a childlike retreat, turned and walked over to the stove, pouring herself a cup of coffee that had just begun to perk.

  Sam reached around her and grabbed a second mug on a plastic rack above the stove. He poured a cup and handed it to Jesse.

  “Thanks.”

  Marcie felt heaviness expand the room. For a moment, nothing was said. Sam and Jesse exchanged some shared knowing only they were in on.

  “You’re not going to let me take Marcie, are you?”

  “No Jesse, I’m not. There are too many pieces missing in this puzzle. Look at her. She wouldn’t stand a chance with Derek. I need to find answers first.”

  “I better get going. Call me, especially if mystery girl here remembers what she was really doing. Oh and thanks for putting me in touch with Diane. At least now I know who to call to make sure you stay out of trouble.” Jesse
blew on the hot coffee and took a couple swigs before setting the mug on the table.

  “Ma’am.” Jesse’s dark eyes cut deep in her heart, a warning she understood—don’t mess with my boy. Then he gave Sam a friendly slap on the shoulder. “Watch your back.” Sam followed Jesse and locked the door behind him.

  Irritation steeped a standoff on opposite sides of the room. Marcie dumped her coffee out and listened to the gurgled idle of Jesse’s car. Tension burned in this after silence, magnified by her soft breath and the intensity of Sam’s mutinous glare.

  What a childish game. But Sam caved first with a heavy sigh. He walked right up to her and rested his palms on her shoulders, sliding them down her slender arms. A gentle caress, and then he leaned his forehead against hers. “Don’t get so pissed off. Jesse’s put his neck on the line.”

  She touched the tobacco colored two-day growth shadowing his face. On any other man, it would look disheveled, but not Sam. It only accentuated his full lips that looked like they were made for kissing a woman and knew how to do it right. He was a stretch. The top of her head only reached his chin. His blue eyes darkened as he slid both hands to her waist.

  “He loves you, and he’s trying to protect you from being hurt by me.”

  He framed her face, combing his fingers through her long wavy hair.

  “He pisses you off.”

  “Yes, but I respect him. And in an odd way he gives me peace knowing he’s one person watching your back.”

  Boy, did he look good, that wavy, sandy blonde hair, those magnetic blue eyes that sparkled when they connected with her. Not to mention his well-defined shoulders, strong, solid, something a girl could really lean into.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, as if he was the only steady thing that could anchor her.