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)
“For you, always.” I close BOB’s overlay because it hasn’t moved in two hours and won’t miss me.
“Let’s head upstairs. Rumor has it Anna brought in snickerdoodles.”
“My hips will thank her,” I mutter and follow him up the staircase to the fourth floor.
The community kitchen is empty and quiet except for the espresso machine running through a self-clean cycle. Cole bypasses it and heads right to the drip pot that looks freshly made and pours us two cups. I spy the plate of snickerdoodles and remove the plastic wrap, taking a cookie and biting into it. I make a mental note to add an extra gym day this week.
“You look like shit,” Cole says as we settle at the table.
“You always know exactly what to say.”
I expect him to laugh, because we’re joking, right? Instead, he says, “I’m worried about you.”
“Why would you be worried about me?”
Cole stares at me as if waiting for me to come to the conclusion about why he’s worried, but when I don’t say anything, he sighs. I watch as he takes a sip of coffee, ignores the cookies and sets the mug down.
“I went to talk about Finn Marlowe,” he says.
A mild pulse of anxiety hits me. “And that’s why you’re worried?”
“I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m sure you already know I interviewed him yesterday and he admitted you two were seeing each other.”
I nod but keep my mouth shut.
When I don’t say any more, Cole scrapes his hand over his jaw. “Jesus Christ, Josie. This isn’t an interrogation.”
“It sure feels like one.”
“Look… I can put two and two together. Finn’s out on the water in the dead of night with no running lights and fishes you out. You come to Jameson with information about Voronin from a protected source. It’s not difficult to figure out it’s Finn, which means he knows Voronin, which means Finn is into some dirty stuff himself.”
“He’s not,” I exclaim, dropping the cookie to the table. “He’s a good man, Cole. He’s a business owner, which I’m sure you checked out. And you’re only guessing that Finn’s the source.”
“I’m trying to do more than guess right now,” he says bluntly.
“Cole, please don’t ask me questions and I won’t have to lie to you.” I hold his eyes. “I care for him and he’s concerned about me. Those are both true statements and all you need to know.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“With him?”
I roll my eyes. “He’d protect me with his life. In fact, he’d prefer I leave town until…” I stop, unwilling to put Finn and Voronin in the same sentence together. I take a beat. “He pulled me out of the water, Cole. He’s the only reason I’m still drawing breath and I’m asking you to trust me on this one.”
He studies me carefully, then says, “I trust you.”
“Thank you.”
“But I don’t trust the situation. There’s a difference.”
“I know.”
Cole nods and stands up. He taps a finger on the table. “Anything goes sideways—anything at all—you call me. Not Malik. Not Reid. Me.”
“Okay. I promise.”
Cole shakes his head and looks resigned. “I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have this conversation. But I’m not going to make it part of the case either. Not unless I have to.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief as I’ve just realized, in addition to taking down Voronin, an equally important mission is keeping Finn safe.
Cole moves past the table but stops at my chair. “And for what it’s worth… I liked him.”
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah?”
“It was clear to me he cares about you. I think you found a real one.”
He squeezes my shoulder once on his way out.
CHAPTER 17
Finn
The bench where Connie usually sits for these meetings is empty. Marcus is on his third cup of coffee and I’m on my second. The Tuesday run is three days out and we’re supposed to be here going through the final pass on logistics this morning.
It’s a simple route, we’ve done it dozens of times over the years, but we still need to go over it again. Pickup at Steveston, the crossing window, Walt Brown’s dock, the handoff.
The mechanics.
Instead we’re sitting at the chart table looking at Connie’s empty seat.
“Call her again,” I say to Marcus as I scan the water patrol routes.
Marcus sighs but punches Connie’s contact on his cell phone, then hits speakerphone so I can hear, once again, her voicemail.
“It’s Connie. Leave a message or don’t. You know I don’t care.”
Beep.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “She’s pissing me off.”
“Me as well.” Marcus ends the call without leaving a message. It would do no good, because when Connie decides to be a brat, she goes all out.
Unless she’s not being a brat and has gotten herself in trouble. If she went to Mikhail to give up Josie, he could easily have killed her for hiding information about her in the first place.