CHAPTER 11
Finn
The music is on low, playing some old outlaw country that I remember my mom listening to when I was younger. I’m at the stove in my boxer briefs, scrambling eggs and trying to decide what I’m going to say to Josie when she comes down the stairs.
I rolled out of bed half an hour ago, and it was an exercise in pure willpower to leave her.
She was spooned against me, naked and warm and apparently the three times we fucked last night wasn’t enough for me.
I wanted nothing more than to put my hand between her legs and tease her awake.
I wanted it bad and I learned enough about Josie’s appetites last night to know she’d want it too, but alas, we really do need to talk.
Therefore I’m making breakfast and enjoying a solo cup of coffee while I get my thoughts in order.
I stir the eggs slowly over low heat—small soft curds, butter, a pinch of salt and a dash of freshly chopped dill at the end.
There’s sourdough in the toaster and fresh ground beans in the French press ready for water on low boil in the kettle.
I even made two place settings at the island complete with linen napkins and silverware.
I glance out at the water and cloudy, gray sky. It looks turbulent, which is a good word to match my mood. Because no matter that Josie and I just evolved our relationship last night, we are facing perilous times that could end it just as quickly.
I think about last night.
I think about her hand on my cock and the sounds she pulled from me. The way she took control and submitted all at the same time. I think about the way we lay in the dark and talked about inane things like life hacks and musical one-hit wonders until we were kissing and fucking again.
And the easy, easy way we simply fell asleep tangled up in each other. It was so comfortable and the sleep was without dreams.
I push the eggs once more before taking the pan off the heat. I sprinkle the fresh dill and then put the lid over the top to keep them warm.
And then I think some more about the decision. I made it last night around the second time her hand found my chest in the dark and I held it there. I knew it then and I know it now.
I am going to give her Voronin.
Footsteps on the stairs have my head twisting that way and I don’t try to analyze the low burn in my chest and the stirring of my dick as she comes through the doorway.
She’s in one of my white button-downs, which hangs to the middle of her thighs. The sleeves are rolled up at her wrists, and her hair is a wild, blond jumbled mane.
Josie’s in my kitchen, in my shirt, most likely a little sore between the legs, and it’s the most beautiful thing this house has ever held.
I don’t say it.
“Morning,” I say instead, taking the kettle and pouring the water into the French press.
“Good morning,” she says brightly, leaning over the counter to examine the eggs, toast and place settings. “You really do like to cook.”
“It’s scrambled eggs.”
She lifts the lid on the pan to inspect it. “But it’s scrambled eggs with dill. That’s a level of fancy you just can’t hide, Finn.”
I snort and plate the food. “Sit.”
She takes a seat on one of the high stools and I slide the dish toward her. I then press the coffee and pour two cups.
We sit side by side at the counter as we eat. I watch as she doctors her java with cream and sugar and then loads her eggs onto a piece of toast. Josie ignores the knife and fork and gently nibbles at the toast while holding it in her hand, using her fingertips to ensure no eggs fall free.
“You’re staring at me,” Josie says after licking a crumb from the corner of her lip and then dabbing it with the napkin. She sets her food down, takes a sip of her coffee and then swivels her stool to face me.
“I find you utterly beautiful and fascinating,” I say dryly. I reach down, place my hand on her thigh. “Of course I’m staring at you.”
“You’re very much a charmer,” she murmurs, ducking her head and at the same time, laying her hand over mine.
“If only we could spend the rest of the day in bed, where I’d do nothing but charm you and give you endless orgasms.”
Josie blushes, her lips tipping upward. “But we can’t do that, because we both have work to do.”
I nod. “Adulting sucks sometimes.”
She chuckles but then her expression turns serious. “And… we have very adult problems before us.”
My lips flatten in disdain, because she’s not wrong. I’m going to give her more information, not just because we made a deal but because I’m now emotionally invested in this woman and I need to keep her safe.
The only way to do that is for Voronin to be taken out of commission. “Before I tell you what I’m about to tell you, I need something from you.”
She nods, once. “What is it?”
I take a breath. “I’ve spent many years being very careful about what I know about Anatoli Voronin. The arrangement I have with him has kept me and my crew alive. They’re like family to me and I have to protect them.”
Josie’s expression is sympathetic. “I completely understand that. I suppose you’re not going to tell me exactly what you and your crew do for a living, are you?”
I angle my head, my eyes censuring. “You know I won’t. You know I can’t. You work for people who hunt people like me down.”
Josie flinches, as that’s the closest I’ve come to admitting what I am.
“I don’t get it, Finn,” she says, reaching to take my hand. “You own a successful art gallery. Why do you need to—”
I place my fingertips over her lips to quiet her. “I own an art gallery, Josie. That’s all you need to know, okay?”
She stares at me a long while before pulling my hand away from her mouth. She nods, voice soft and brittle at the same time. “Okay.”
“Your people and the FBI know I picked you up out of the water, but that’s all the involvement I want them to think I have in this.”
“They’re going to want to interview you,” she reminds me.
“I know, and that’s fine. I’ll avoid them as long as possible, but I’m not going to give them anything, Josie. They’ll only see the successful businessman.” I lean forward, brush a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “But there’s something I need you to know first.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t do what Voronin does. You understand that, right? I don’t traffic humans. I don’t kill people.”
“You do victimless crime, right?” she says, and I hear the tinge of disapproval laced with sarcasm.
I give her another chastising look. “Come on, Josie. We both know there’s no such thing as a victimless crime, but I can promise you that I don’t physically hurt people.”
“I know that,” she says quickly, hands going to my thighs to lean into me so that our faces are close together. Her eyes flick back and forth between mine. “I don’t know what you do, Finn, but I know you don’t hurt people. You saved me, and that told me everything I need to know about you.”
I tip my forehead to rest against hers for a moment before pulling back. “What I’m about to give you is going to break the arrangement I have with Voronin, which is basically for us to give each other wide berths. I’m prepared for that. I made that decision last night.”
“Finn.”
“Let me finish.”
She nods.
“What I’m asking you for is your word that my name is never associated with what I’m going to give you.
Not to Agent Royce. Not to your colleagues, your family, your friends.
Not now and not later. If anyone asks you where your information came from, you say you have a confidential source.
I need you to do that so that my people are protected. ”
“Of course I won’t mention you,” she says reassuringly. “You have my word and I knew that from the start when we made our deal. I’ll take any bit of info that will point me in the right direction. That’s all I want.”
Relief courses through me and I trust her promise. I don’t know why I do, but I’m guessing after you’re repetitively balls deep in a woman, you get a glimpse of her soul. That’s the only explanation for the gut instinct that Josie is trustworthy.
“Then let me tell you what I think will help you nab Mikhail, which will give you the tie to Voronin.”
I grab a pad of paper and a pen, sliding it over to her, and proceed to give her all the knowledge I’ve accumulated over the years from observing Voronin’s crews on the water and through mutual underground contacts.
I tell her about a warehouse in the Georgetown industrial district that I believe is used for “cargo” that must sit for more than a day before it’s distributed.
I tell her about a small Russian bakery on a side street in Bellevue where I’ve seen Mikhail and Voronin meeting at times and I give her a description of all the vessels I’ve seen on the waters.
“Voronin uses another guy like Mikhail. His name’s Yevgeny Karpov and he’s based out of Vancouver. Runs what looks on paper like a high-end seafood import business, but he’s been in the pipeline with Voronin for a few years.”
I give her all my knowledge of Karpov’s vessel patterns as well. “The bureau hits him and Voronin loses his Canadian feed, but he won’t have the real dirt the way Mikhail does.”
I let her sit with it for a beat, then I tell her the harder thing.
“There are people inside law enforcement who feed Voronin.”
“The FBI suspected that already. How do you know?”
“A lot of years watching. Voronin’s had information he shouldn’t have. His operations have shut down hours before raids. That’s the word on the street, but I don’t have names nor have I ever tried to learn them. Most of my information is by passive observation or scuttlebutt.”
She nods slowly. She is, I can tell, already thinking about what this means for how the next operation has to be planned.
I save the best piece for last. “I know of another dock where they unload the women.”
Josie’s eyes flare. “Really?”
“Yeah. The one you blew on Fidalgo… they’re never going to use that again. But I know of another I’ve seen them at. I’ll show you on a map.”
She closes her eyes for a second and when they open, they’re pinned on me. “Finn.”
“Yeah?”
I expect she’s going to tell me how grateful she is for this, but I’m shocked when she says, “Will you ever give up whatever it is you’re doing that you don’t want me to know about?”
I physically jerk at the question. I think I’ve always been on edge that she’ll poke at me for information, not because she wants to turn me in but because she wants to understand me.
I never would have imagined she’d ask me to give it up, especially without even knowing what it is. But in the back of my mind, I understand why she needs to know.
Because in the end, assuming Voronin goes down and Josie becomes safe, she can’t work in a profession that takes down people like me. We’re ethically on opposite ends of the career spectrum. It would never work… not for the long haul.
“I’m not going to promise you something I’m not sure I can deliver,” I finally say. “But what I do know is that I’m not the same man I was before I met you. What I’ve been doing for twenty years stopped making sense to me sometime around the moment I pulled you out of the water that night.”
Her smile is grateful. “That’s not a yes, but it’s not a no either.”
“It would be life altering for me. I have people who depend on me and ending it would have to be done in a way that doesn’t hurt them.”
She stares at me for a long moment. “You’re a good man, Finn. I certainly don’t know what you do, and I probably don’t want to know, so in my mind, I think you smuggle Canadian angora bunny rabbits, but the only thing that matters is you’re a good man.”
Josie takes my hand and holds it. We sit at my kitchen island and sip our coffee, looking out at the water beyond the windows. Our eggs have gone cold. There’s so much left to decide and so much that can hurt us both.
But none of that matters right now. I won’t really remember any of this next week.
What I’m going to remember is her hand on mine, the way she fit against me last night, and how much I loved watching her eat her eggs on toast.
Josie clears her throat. “I have to get into the office.”
She stands from the stool, but I don’t release our entwined fingers, forcing her to stay. My hand goes to her cheek, slides to her neck, and I pull her to me for a kiss. “When are you going to invite me to your place?” I ask when our mouths part.
She grins. “Tonight? I’ll cook you dinner.”
“That’s an offer I won’t be able to refuse.”
I clean the kitchen as Josie dresses upstairs. When she comes back down, I walk her to the door and thoroughly possess her mouth one last time.
Just to start our day right.
I watch her get into her car, drive away, and I start to catalogue the ways in which my life has now drastically changed.
Could I give up the smuggling? I obviously do it for the money, but also because I’m good at it. It’s really the only thing in my life I’ve ever truly excelled at.
Could I have a happy life running an art gallery?
Or maybe I could look at another career.
I glance around my house. I certainly can’t afford this lifestyle if I give it up but not sure I really need any of this. Especially if the gain is Josie.
It’s a lot to think about, but first… we need to take Voronin down and secure Josie’s safety.
Then we can worry about what we might be together.