Renegade Read online

  “I’m sick of this chase,” the cartel boss sighed. “My spy in the DEA hasn’t been able to bring this man down either. All this money, for this cucaracha to keep slipping through my fingers.” He cast his trusted friend a sideways glance. “Bring me this Monroe’s head, with his dick shoved in his mouth. Put out a bounty. I want him dead before the DEA captures him. And if you’re the one who finds him, I’ll double the bounty.”

  His second-in-command nodded and turned to leave.

  “Emilio?”

  The man stopped.

  “Both him and his puta. Make it painful.”

  “Kudos to you for dodging our agents a whole year. Not an easy task.” Jace studied his opponent, now in handcuffs across the table in the sheriff’s interrogation room. It was small and stuffy, and as gray as a Seattle sky.

  Monroe scoffed. “Dodging the cartel was harder.”

  “I bet. You had some pretty nasty bastards after you.” Jace held up a few black and white photos of dead men’s faces, covered in blood. “These two cartel thugs were found dumped in a river outside Wenatchee. And you just happen to be holed up in a tiny town a short distance away. Coincidence?”

  Monroe never lifted his eyes from the table. According to Sheriff Wyatt, the suspect was just as silent the entire ride over to the county office. Didn’t make a single sound, nor seemed the least bit nervous.

  Jace leaned forward. “Looks like your murder tally just got upped to three.” He stood and slowly walked around the table. With a single finger, he pulled down the high neck of Reed’s sweater. Revealing nasty bruises all the way around. “Where’d you earn that horse collar?”

  “I tripped.” Monroe cast scornful eyes at him.

  “Into someone’s vicious grip? Or while you were dumping the bodies? Come on. You’ve been in and out of Seattle a half a dozen times this past month. That’s how those guys tracked you. Hell, that’s how I tracked you. I have your face recorded in a nearby coffee shop. Just sitting there glued to your laptop for hours.”

  Monroe chuckled and shook his head. But he stayed silent.

  “Pathetic disguise you wore, by the way. Fake glasses and a ball cap? Got your truck’s license plates off the bank’s security footage from across the street of the coffee shop. Made it all too easy to follow you here through traffic cameras.”

  The man still wouldn’t talk. Normally throwing additional evidence on top of suspects’ heads, they’d cave under the weight. The threat of an even worse sentence. They’d always give something. But not this one. He was either really fucking stupid or trained very well.

  “You were driving hours out of your way to hack into servers, hiding your footprints by piggy-backing off someone else’s WiFi signal. Must’ve been really important. Did you have fun?”

  “Do you think I haven’t been through this before? Interrogated with the tough guy routine?”

  Jace sighed. “I know you have. Where you somehow escaped your handcuffs and strolled right out of the El Paso division like you owned it.”

  “Not bad for a tech geek, huh?”

  Smug sonuvabitch.

  Jace leaned his hands menacingly on the table. “They underestimated you. A mistake I won’t make. I’ve read your entire file. I know how you earned a living prior to the DEA. By the time we’re through, you won’t touch another computer or smartphone for the rest of your life.”

  Monroe shook his head. “Then why tell you anything? No matter what I do, you’ll string me out to dry.”

  Jace sat down and leaned his elbows on the table. “I’ll keep the cartel off your ass. We’ll have a nice, cuddly cell waiting for you along with three meals a day and Big Bang Theory reruns on the community TV. It’s the least you deserve for killing your partner. Cabello, on the other hand, will have a special torture chamber set up for you and keep you alive God knows how long to inflict as much pain as any human can’t take.”

  For some reason, Monroe didn’t seem scared or even anxious at that little detail. With a lazy expression, he finally looked up at Jace. “Cabello knows everything you know. He has access to all of it. I have the evidence to prove it. Someone in the DEA is tipping him off. My partner discovered it and was in the process of finding out who it was. They killed him for it, and came after me.”

  Jace leaned back in his chair, the creak echoing off the walls. Finally, he was talking. “Which is when you turned yourself in to the El Paso office. Two days later. Enough time to wipe all your evidence off the hard drives you turned in.”

  Reed’s mouth parted.

  That one struck home. Jace tried hard not to smile. “Didn’t think I knew that detail, did you?”

  “When I turned those in, those backup drives were full. Are you saying they’re empty?”

  “Don’t act surprised, Monroe. You already knew that.”

  His jaw tensed. “It’s all wrapped up in one, pretty fucking bow for them. Why else would the DEA have to dig any further?” he mumbled to himself. Then he buried his forehead in his cuffed hands.

  Jace pulled out his phone and started to call for a transfer. After all, he was only brought onto this case to find and capture Monroe. He’d leave the official investigation into this guy’s crimes for the El Paso folks. Another case solved. He could finally go back home.

  “If I was guilty,” the suspect continued, “why would I have turned myself in? If I had wiped everything, I could’ve just walked away and disappeared for good. You’d’ve had nothing to chase.”

  He paused before he hit the call button.

  Monroe’s gaze turned hard. “I thought it was a damn debriefing,” he snapped. “I followed protocol for undercover agents. The first step is to lose any tails, then come in. With all evidence. There’s a confirmed mole in the DEA. Clearly capable of deleting reports from our own systems. From wiping hard drives after they’ve been turned in. You’re not a techie, Ivy, but you’re not a dumbass either. They’re getting rid of everyone and everything associated with the Cabello investigation. I’m the last one. You yourself said they were after me. Then how could I be the mole?”

  Jace stared at the man for a long time. For a former identity-thief like Monroe, disappearing would’ve been easy for him. Hell, he’d accomplished that much for a full year. Why would Monroe continue to research the psycho cartel boss after he’d successfully disappeared?

  “Shit,” he whispered. Then he put his phone back in his pocket. Dammit, he just wanted a clean-cut, get-in-get-out case. His gut yelled that something wasn’t right. As tight-lipped as this suspect was, he had a point. Maybe he didn’t kill his partner. Just maybe, this was all a cover-up. “You said you had the evidence to prove Cabello is working with a mole?”

  Monroe clasped his cuffed hands together on the table. “You believe me?”

  “Not yet. But show me that evidence, and I’ll do everything I can to help you.”

  He shook his head. “How do I know I can trust you? You could be the mole.”

  He cast his gaze to the ceiling. “We don’t have time for this.”

  A chime on his phone made Jace pull it from his pocket. His boss sent him a text.

  Cabello issued contract on Reed Monroe for nephew’s murder. Cartel hitmen en route. Find him and bring him in ASAP.

  “Fuck.”

  “What?” Monroe asked.

  “Your time is up. Is your alleged evidence close by?”

  “Why?”

  “Because the Cabello cartel has just issued a contract on your head for killing one of their own. Assassins are coming for you. I have to get you out of here now.”

  His eyes widened. In three seconds, his whole face paled. “I can’t leave without Skye. They’ll find her.”

  “Why? Was she there when you killed these guys? Which one’s the nephew?”

  He pursed his lips and glanced around the room.

  “I’m your only chance right now. You have to turn over what you have.”

  “Put Skye in protective custody, and I’ll give you everythi
ng.”

  Jace listened through the three rings.

  I need insight on this one. I’ll go to the one person I can trust to guide me.

  “Hey, slugger, how are you?” Philip Sterling, his mentor and father’s best friend, answered the phone as his usual cheerful self. “How’s your golf game?

  Jace chuckled out loud. “No time for golf these days.”

  “Right, so how’s your assignment going? Still chasing after that undercover delinquent?” Phil asked. His scraggly voice sounded a little distracted, but at least he had the time to answer Jace’s call.

  He scraped his hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah, but it’s complicated. That’s why I’m calling.”

  “You?” He snorted. “You could write a book on complicated.”

  “Yeah, real page-turner. Look, I caught up with him.”

  The line went quiet.

  “Phil?”

  “Took you long enough,” he laughed. “Congrats, Jace. Another case in the bag. I’m sure you’ve earned some well-deserved time-off after this one.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not sure I can hand him over yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Jace took several steps away from the interrogation room door and moved toward the lobby. “What has the El Paso division done about this mole? I can’t ask them this question if the cartel rat is, in fact, out of that office. If I transfer him back, we’ll be turning over the only witness to corroborate his partner’s reports on the cartel.”

  There was a rustling on the other end. From the clear voice on the other end, Phil just took him off speakerphone. “You don’t think he’s the mole?”

  “I’m not sure. I’d rather make the mistake of believing him than putting an innocent agent in prison.” Jace looked up. Through the front office windows, he spotted the Tinkerbell blonde from the diner sitting on the lobby benches. Lynée. She sat next to her waitress friend, Skye. Who chewed on her finger like a neurotic on ten cups of coffee. Hell, had they been sitting out there this whole time?

  “Have you told any of your superiors this?” his mentor asked over the phone.

  “Not yet. Look, I know fieldwork is beneath you now that you’re all cooped up in your fancy office at headquarters…”

  “Kiss my ass. Your father woulda smacked you for that comment.”

  He forced himself to look away from Lynée, her adorable face too distracting. “I’m only asking if you were staring down the barrel of this case, what would you do?”

  After a heavy sigh, his mentor continued. “Well, it’s not my area anymore. But first, I would secure any evidence he has.” The unmistakable sound of an opening soda can clearly showed Phil hadn’t kicked his caffeine habit. “If he really isn’t the mole, it’s his only thing to prove it. Second, I’d stash him somewhere safe the DEA doesn’t know about. But let me ask you one important question. Is this guy worth risking your career? Because if you’re wrong, and he’s really the mole, you’ll be lucky if you don’t end up with charges yourself.”

  Jace swallowed hard. “If you were being framed for something, wouldn’t you want someone to give you a chance to prove it? If all the evidence together, combined with what he gives me, isn’t enough to exonerate him, I’ll drag him into that trial room myself. Fully shackled and muzzled. But if it proves he’s telling the truth, I’d be handing him over to slaughter. And the cartel gets to keep their rat. You know I can’t stand for that.”

  A low growl on the other end proved his point. “Fuckin’ rats. The El Paso division has always been the most susceptible. Shows the cartel can get to anyone. So you have to keep this guy under lock and key. Tell your boss where you are in case those thugs catch up with you. But don’t tell anyone else. Not even me.”

  Jace couldn’t help another glance at Lynée, holding her friend’s hand. The nonchalant way she pushed her black-rimmed glasses up her nose was completely irresistible. Laying in her lap sat a manila envelope.

  “You hear me?” Phil urged.

  “Yeah, got it. By the way, that soda you’re drinking better not have any sugar.”

  “It’s diet, jackass. What are you, my wife? Go fix your own fucking business.”

  The line clicked dead. Jace chuckled. He really knew how to pulverize that man’s last nerve. Hell, he’s been fraying them since he was a kid. He followed in the same footsteps as his father, much to Phil’s regret.

  He stuck his phone back in his pocket.

  “They can’t do this to him,” Skye whispered in the lobby. “Reed is innocent.”

  “It’ll be okay,” Lynée urged, patting her friend’s hand. With a quick glance at the clock, it had been four hours since they took Reed away in the back of the sheriff's squad car. The federal agent had followed on his motorcycle and Skye behind them in her car. Lynée had immediately gone to the library to do a quick search and then met up with her best friend to keep her company. The sheriff’s office was next door, so it was easy to skip out of work early.

  She imagined a lot of these interrogations could be twice as long as this, but she knew her best friend wouldn’t leave. Not without seeing Reed again.

  “Wyatt, how much longer?” Skye asked the sheriff.

  The balding man with white scruff on his chin looked up from his desk on the other side of the lobby window, sitting open.

  “This is a DEA investigation. I don’t call the plays. You probably should head home.”

  “Fat chance of that,” Lynée scoffed.

  The bearded federal agent appeared from behind the lobby window, talking on the phone. From his furrowed brow and scrunched up shoulders, he was irritated. Maybe things weren’t going well in the interview room. Whatever was going on, Lynée was certain she didn’t want to be in the chair opposite that man. Intimidating as heck. Easily over six-feet with a perfect, brooding disposition, Jace Ivy sent all her mental red alarms into overdrive. Including the dormant hot buttons she hadn’t used since her marriage. They were all screaming too.

  Skye had urged her to start dating again after the fiasco with Todd, her ex-husband. Lynée had successfully dodged each attempt her friend had tried to set her up with. No way in hell would she start with this guy. Despite his compliments and roving stare at the diner.

  He looked over at them and ended his call. Somehow his features turned even more serious. Lynée hadn’t thought that was possible.

  Her heart hammered against her sternum. What was that mountain of muscles thinking?

  Probably some Wild West cliché of a lawman always gets his man.

  He disappeared behind the walls of the lobby. Walls that held big secrets that only badges got to know. Or criminals. He reemerged through the reinforced doors many long minutes later, the metal clicking noise of the lock echoing throughout the empty lobby.

  “Skye Winters?” His voice almost boomed in Lynée’s ears.

  Skye shot to her feet. “Where’s Reed?”

  “Come with me.” He was so gruff and unpleasant.

  Lynée frowned. They had done nothing to deserve this kind of treatment. Everyone was cooperating, and this pistol of a man had apparently not learned that one catches more bees with honey than vinegar.

  Skye’s hand tightened in hers. Her whole face had gone pale. Which ticked Lynée off even more.

  “If you’re going to question her, she should probably have an attorney with her.” She lifted her chin, forcing herself to have more confidence than she felt.

  Jace’s gaze slowly moved up and down Lynée, something flickering in his eyes as he did.

  Shit. I’ve pissed off the brooding lawman.

  Her mouth turned dry, but there was no way she would back down. This was her best friend he was threatening.

  “This is not a questioning. Miss Winters is not in trouble. But I need to speak to her. Alone.”

  “The hell you are,” Skye shot back. “She’s coming with me. I need to see Reed.”

  “You don’t dictate the terms. I’m doing Reed a favor here. B
oth of you are in danger. Your best move is to shut up and follow instructions.”

  Lynée blinked. “Danger?”

  Skye cast a stunned glance her way, and her clammy hand tightened around Lynée’s.

  Despite the rudeness of the man’s statement and tone, maybe following his directions was in their best interests. At least while Reed was in custody. Lynée nodded with a reassuring smile to her friend and released her hand.

  Skye followed him, her chin held high.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Ivy?” Lynée stepped forward.

  Both he and Skye stopped in the doorway. His expression changed to one of curiosity. Even amusement.

  “First of all,” she cleared her throat, “you need to work on your manners when addressing a woman.”

  His eyebrows nearly hit his shaggy hairline.

  “Secondly,” she shoved the envelope out, the edge hitting his broad chest, “this is a list of all the federal agents in the last ten years who were falsely accused and later exonerated on charges of working for the cartel. The conviction rate is less than ten percent.”

  He glanced at the envelope like it was an insult. “How did you get this information?”

  “I’m a librarian. Research is what I do best.”

  Very slowly, the corner of his mouth tilted up. Cracking the rough, intimidating facade just enough to warm her cheeks.

  “Surely, research can’t be the only thing you’re good at. Miss…?”

  “Clark.” Her cheeks nearly burned. Just what exactly was he implying?

  “Do you really want to help your friends, Lynée?” The question came out softer, his tone almost caressing her nerves in ways she didn’t dare admit she liked. Because fudge, the way his eyes sparkled like that—like he was setting a trap for her just because he could—she might as well be a deer drawn to a sugar lick.

  “Of course,” she whispered, suddenly out of breath. Then with more conviction because she meant it. “Of course. I’ll help her any way I can.”