Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“All right,” he says. “But there are conditions.”
“Name them.”
“You’re back on the Voronin case officially. You will run analytics in this building only and any fieldwork must be with a partner. You will not be at the office before seven or after eight. You will install additional security systems at your house, and you will check in with me by close of business every day. You’ll carry a panic beacon that I’ll issue you this afternoon and if at any point Agent Royce or I assess your exposure has escalated, you go to the safe house. No argument. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed.”
Royce closes her folder. “Good. Let’s begin.”
The meeting runs for another hour and Royce assigns us additional federal resources. Cole and Reid run scenarios with Royce’s junior agent, who turns out to have more field experience than I’d assumed based on his looks. The plan to surveil the next probable off-load window takes shape on a whiteboard, and the entire time, all I can think about is that while I’m back on the case, I actually am the case.
These two things are now braided together, and I can’t pull them apart.
When the meeting ends, everyone gathers their materials and rises from the table.
“Oh, and one other thing,” Royce says, and we all turn her way. But it’s to Cole that she’s looking. “We’re going to be setting up interviews of the two men who rescued Ms. McAdams from the water.”
Cole nods as if he was expecting this. “Finn Marlowe and Marcus Whitfield.”
“I’d love it if you could handle point.” She thumbs at the agent beside her. “I’ll probably have Agent Kazawic join you.”
A burst of adrenaline shoots through me at the realization that they’ll be talking to Finn. I mean, I suppose I knew that was a possibility, but no one had even mentioned his name until today.
“Not a problem,” Cole says. “We’ll coordinate it.”
I want to offer to sit in on it, but they won’t let me. I’m an actual witness and we can’t have me coloring the interview. Not only that, I don’t want to seem overly interested in Finn.
Everyone starts to clear out and Reid bumps my shoulder with his. “Welcome back to the team, McAdams.”
I’m the last one to leave, but before I do, I grab the photo of Mikhail Sokolov that was left on the table. I think about Finn and the fact that he’ll be getting a call from Cole very soon. He probably expects it, but I should give him a heads-up.
I don’t know what telling him would do, but it would give me an excuse to see him tonight.
I haven’t heard from him since he dropped me at my house last night. That kiss had me believing I would absolutely hear from him, but I’m doubting it now.
CHAPTER 9
Finn
I’m on my third walk through the house—some would call it pacing—and I don’t have any clarity. The Lagavulin I poured thirty minutes ago is on the kitchen counter. I’ve been past it four times and not spared it a glance.
This is what I look like when I can’t decide what to do. A genuine pacer by nature, trying to figure out my problem stride by stride.
It’s been a little over twenty-four hours since Mikhail waltzed onto The Quartermaster looking for Josie and two days since I’ve seen her.
It’s only been about thirty seconds since I last thought about her, though.
I can’t figure out what to do in my mind. I’ve analyzed it over and over again. Voronin’s people are now active, and the wide-berth arrangement we’ve had in place is now broken. Mikhail boarded my boat and proclaimed they think I was the vessel that rescued her. They’re never going to accept my word that it wasn’t me and every additional contact with Josie increases her exposure.
It also increases the risk to Marcus and my crew. Hell, it even exposes a man named Walt Brown to harm who’s done nothing wrong except take my money so I can use his dock a handful of times a year.
My mother had a thing she used to say whenever I came to her with an important decision I couldn’t make. Most of those were decisions a teenager has—should I quit the kitchen job, should I tell her about the kid I was running with, should I take the deal an older man offered me when I should have known better.
She would say, “Finn… when you can’t decide what to do, the answer is usually not the smarter choice but the scarier one.”
And Josie is the choice that scares me the most. Because it means I’m committing to taking on Voronin and that’s not wise at all.
The smarter choice is not Josie, and maybe if I can go another twenty-four hours without calling her, the urge to do so will recede.