Stealing Taffy (Bigler, North Carolina #3) - Susan Donovan Page 0,33
had worked before he was killed in the raid.
This small-town incestuous shit was why Dante had to get back to a city—anywhere with a population over a half million north of the Mason-Dixon line would work. He wasn’t picky. He’d even go to Philadelphia if it were absolutely necessary. But he couldn’t stay here. Because in Bigler, a man couldn’t trim his toenails without it becoming common knowledge, let alone debauch Tanyalee Newberry with a modicum of privacy.
Well, technically, he would be continuing the debauchery, since he’d already gotten a real good start. Suddenly, Dante swore he really could smell her … that heady mix of her sensual perfume, hot, sweet female skin, girl juice, and clean sheets. Damn. His head began to spin. His palms started to sweat. His breath was too shallow.
O’Connor glanced his way, her eyebrows raised impatiently. Had he missed something? Had someone asked him a question? Since everyone’s eyes were now on him, he figured the chances were good he’d been thinking about Taffy when he should have been concentrating on the task force.
“Cabrera?” O’Connor looked truly pissed. It was reassuring to see that even regular sex hadn’t permanently altered her personality. “Can you offer any perspective on what we might be looking at on Possum Ridge?”
“Absolutely.” Dante sat straighter in his chair, forcing himself to get his mind off that woman and onto his job, since a transfer to Arkansas wasn’t exactly what he was shooting for. He was grateful that prior to the meeting, O’Connor had thoroughly briefed him on what information had been obtained while he was at Quantico. “I’ve worked cases similar to this, though not in this region of the country. It seems to be a fairly sophisticated setup, with a complex irrigation system. My guess is the open acreage and greenhouses are part of the overall operation, and the farmhouse probably has an indoor growing space in addition to curing facilities.”
“How many total plants?” asked the federal prosecutor.
“A conservative estimate would be about five thousand, but that’s based on what we can see out in the open and what I’ve dealt with in previous busts. We won’t know for sure until we execute the search warrant as they prepare for shipment.”
The FBI agent scowled. “What’s the value of that kind of haul?
“Bulk, maybe three quarters of a million, and at least three times that on the street. But it could be much more. We really won’t know until we intercept the shipment.”
Halliday whistled. “That would be the largest seizure in Cataloochee County history, by a long shot. Can we tell how close they are to moving it?”
Dante nodded. “Surveillance shows the outdoor plants are in flower now that the nights are getting longer. After harvest, the drying and curing process will take a couple weeks. So if everything goes well for our local entrepreneurs, I’d say they’ll be moving a large harvest in about four weeks.”
“If what goes well?”
Dante shrugged at the FBI agent’s question. “A lot of steps can go wrong between now and transport. If our small-business geniuses don’t keep the cartel happy, a few of them might disappear. A floater or two could make their way down Pigeon Creek to Paw Paw Lake.”
O’Connor interjected. “Let me remind you again that the DEA doesn’t have anyone working inside, and we’re basing our conclusions on air and ground surveillance. There’s been no product shipment since we’ve had our eye on them, though there’s been plenty of car and pickup traffic going in and out.”
An assistant federal prosecutor raised her finger as she asked a question. “How many suspects are on-site?”
“Eighteen at last count, and we’ve ID’d all but a few,” Dante said. “Most have misdemeanor or felony drug priors, but pretty low-budget stuff. Two are in violation of probation, which might give us some leverage down the line. I’ll get a list to you right after the meeting.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a flirty smile.
Dante decided she was kind of cute, despite the fact that she couldn’t have been more than a few years out of law school and was clearly a Title IX type, soccer probably. Maybe tennis. She wasn’t tall enough for basketball or volleyball. Yes, she was cute, but that smile didn’t do it for him, because it wasn’t … dammit! He didn’t want to think about Taffy anymore! He didn’t want to remember her sweet scent or the soft brush of her flesh under his fingers!
Dante felt the pointy heel of O’Connor’s shoe grind into