“You have a baggie of coke on you, I might buy that a criminal planted it on you. But sixteen kilos?” He looked over. “What is it, Parker?”
Parker held up a test tube that was now blue. “Cocaine. Fuck, at twenty a pop? You’re looking at over a quarter mil on the street.”
Warren looked at Nate. “A quarter million in product.”
“My boss is on her way.”
“We need to take your weapons.”
“No.”
“There’s sixteen kilos of cocaine in your vehicle. Don’t make this more difficult for yourself.”
“I will stand here and not move until my supervisor gets here.”
“You will not remain armed and put my officers at risk.”
“What is your fucking problem, Sergeant?”
“What’s yours, Agent Dunning? I’m doing my job, and you’re not cooperating. Williams, take his sidearm. Don’t fight me on this, Dunning. What else are you carrying?”
“Nothing else on me, sir,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Sorry.” Williams mumbled so low Nate almost didn’t hear him as the cop pulled Nate’s Glock from his shoulder holster, then patted him down.
Warren said quietly, “You feds think you’re all squeaky-clean, then come into my house and put my men and women under a microscope. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on.”
Information began to click into place. The FBI had taken down several corrupt cops, including one who had seduced an FBI agent in order to access confidential information which he then shared with a known drug dealer and cop killer. Nate thought that the air had been cleared between the agencies, but there was still tension among the rank and file. And clearly, they all knew that Nate had helped take down the bad cop.
Nate didn’t respond to Warren baiting him, though he ached to punch this prick in his arrogant face. He stood there, at ease, falling back into his military training to not respond in the face of an adversary. His drill sergeant had put him through far worse than this jerk.
“Let’s see what else you have in that tricked-out Ford you have there, shall we?” Warren said. He turned to his men and women. “Finish it.”
They hadn’t taken his phone. He texted Lucy.
Someone planted sixteen kilos of coke in my truck. I’m being detained by SAPD and can’t get Jesse. This is no coincidence.
Chapter Eight
Lucy stared at her phone. Nate was in trouble.
Sean and Nate were in trouble.
Sean was looking into Elise Hunt. He talked to Mona Hill. Nate had arrested Elise, he’d been part of the SWAT team that came in and killed Elise’s sister. Was that the reason? Revenge?
Dammit, Sean!
She wanted to put her frustration aside, but something big had been going on this week and he’d kept her out of the loop, which meant that he was trying to protect her. She’d believed they’d gotten over this hurdle! He’d promised no secrets.
Maybe he didn’t take the threat seriously. Maybe he was looking into it … trying to confirm … but why keep her in the dark?
He had his reasons. She’d find the truth, but first things first.
Keep Jesse safe.
Get Sean out of jail.
Find out who killed Mona Hill.
Clear Nate’s name.
The person who killed Mona was likely the same person—or same group—who had planted drugs on Nate.
One of the female SAPD officers was watching her closely, and that’s when Lucy realized that she’d likely been assigned to keep tabs on Lucy while her house was being searched.
That irritated her. Sure, she knew they were just doing their job, but it grated on her that she was being watched in her own home.
She was standing in the kitchen alone, except for the watchful cop. Brad was outside with the pair of cops searching the pool house, and Garrett was monitoring the search inside.
She walked outside to talk to Brad. The cop followed.
She turned and said, “You can wait here, Officer.”
“I need to keep you in sight at all times, Mrs. Rogan.”
“Agent Kincaid,” she snapped, and wished she hadn’t. Now the cop knew that she’d gotten under her skin. That this whole damn search had gotten under her skin. “Keep me in sight, but stand back,” she said.
She walked outside. Bandit ran up to her. He looked concerned—if a large, happy golden retriever could look concerned—and stayed at her side as she walked over to where Brad stood outside the pool house. She motioned to her friend, who came over, his face set. “They found two guns in the pool house. A rifle—which they claim they can take, though I think that’s bullshit—and a handgun. Small pistol, looked