Chapter 29
Elenie
It had been a long twenty-four hours since the gala dinner, and Elenie craved Roman’s dark eyes and serious face with a force that staggered her. She rubbed a palm over her heart as she walked. Sunlight dappled through the trees, spilling onto the track beneath her feet, and the back of her neck grew damp from the heat.
Even as her lips still buzzed from the scrape of his stubble and the pressure of his mouth, she’d read herself the riot act.
Don’t be an idiot.
Don’t get ridiculous ideas.
Don’t think that your life can ever be some kind of crazy-assed fairy tale with a happy ever after.
Yes, he’d kissed her. Yes, they appeared to have a physical connection. A thrilling, stomach-flipping, physical connection. But Roman was in a different league. Even if he wanted her now, she would never be enough to keep him.
Not with Zena hovering in the background.
Elenie didn’t believe he’d treat her badly on purpose. Every inch of him seemed honest and genuine. He might consider himself remote, but she found him easy to read. His integrity shone like a beacon. The things he’d seen, the horrors of his work, added faceted layers of gravity that only added to his appeal. He was complicated, wounded, and careful. Not perfect. Just nearly perfect.
It was an unavoidable fact of life that men like Roman dated women like Zena. Not girls who collected facts rather than cosmetics and smelled of waffle batter. Even if he had kissed Elenie like he would never get enough. And sent texts that mangled the breath in her chest.
Thea (Roman):
Hey. You there?
I’m here.
Thea (Roman):
Thinking of how you taste every other second. It’s making it hard to get much done.
Maybe that was the fascination of something different. Takeout after fine dining. Or tinkering under the hood of a rusty Jeep with a sleek Corvette in the garage. She’d reread his message a dozen times before she could bring herself to delete it.
The next text he’d sent had brought her here, walking the quiet back road out of town just as Sunday afternoon was turning to early evening. No one had asked where she was going. No one cared. Her stomach rolling nervously, Elenie sauntered, just as she’d been told to.
Lost in her thoughts, the unmarked electric car nearly scared the crap out of her when it pulled up alongside, silent and ominous. The rear window whirred down; a hand inside flicked open and held up an ID wallet.
“Please get in.”
It was a pleasant voice. Female, melodic.
The appearance of the car, although it had made her jump, was expected. The request, too. Elenie swallowed and took a steadying breath. Fingers and toes tingling, she pulled open the door and slid in.
“I’m DEA Special Agent Faith Dorsey.”
The agent handed over her ID so Elenie could read it properly. There was a second one with it; she read that too.
“Thank you for meeting us.”
The driver eyed her shrewdly in the rearview mirror.
“Chief Deputy Shawn Booth,”
he said as the big car pulled away again.
“I’m with the County Sheriff’s Office.”
“There’s a turnoff a little further along here. We’ll be able to park up and run through a few things.”
Dorsey turned to face the front and Elenie took a moment to study her.
She guessed the agent’s age to be somewhere around mid-to-late forties. Tall and muscular, with a fierce pixie cut so current it made Elenie feel like a scruffy child, she looked firm but approachable.
Booth turned the car onto an unmarked track, drove another couple of hundred yards into an area surrounded by Northern red oaks, and killed the engine. He undid his safety belt and twisted to face them.
Dorsey broke the silence again.
“The DEA are pleased to have you on board as a confidential informant. I will be your handler. Although we thought a two-officer approach was best for this initial introduction, in-person meetings will be limited after this to avoid breaking your cover. OK?”
Elenie nodded, her eyes shifting from Dorsey to Booth and back again. She wished Roman was there.
“We need to be convinced of your suitability before it’s full steam ahead.”
Booth’s brows were heavy.
Dorsey tapped short fuchsia nails against the paper file on her lap, the pink standing out boldly on sepia fingers.
“We will complete a suitability report today and then you’ll be issued with a code name and CI number to protect your identity. You’ll be given a cell phone with my number and we will speak every third day. If I leave you a message, I expect you to get back to me within twenty-four hours.”
Dorsey waited for another nod.
“Your role will encompass passive observation and active evidence-gathering, so you need to be sure you feel comfortable with that.”
“And we need to feel comfortable that you can come up with the goods. In a realistic timeline.”
Booth again. There was an antagonistic edge to his words. Elenie’s eyes flashed to him, then returned to the special agent. Her fingers clenched on her lap.
“Let’s get started.”
Dorsey opened the file.
The registration process took nearly two hours. Multiple times, Elenie wondered what the hell she was doing. There were questions about her personal history, her current knowledge of Frank’s criminal activities, colleagues, movements, and as much detail as she could give on past offenses. Dorsey asked about her social life (pretty non-existent) and her connection to Roman Martinez (complicated). Elenie tried to answer as simply and honestly as she could.
As the agent laid out the DEA’s expectations and discussed what was needed, Booth pinned her with a stare that reeked of his resistance to her involvement. Elenie’s head ached. The nerves she’d been trying to ignore began shredding her intestines. Especially when Dorsey started talking about recording devices and mobile forensic tools, two-party consent and the eavesdropping statute.
This was her life now. She was Elenie Dax, diner waitress and nemesis to the criminal fraternity. She served pancakes and ice cream sundaes, had wrapped her legs around the waist of the local police chief, and was signing up to feed information to the DEA.
What. The. Actual. Hell.
“This wouldn’t be happening if Chief Roberts was still in office.”
Elenie’s hand stilled on the CI Agreement in her lap, pen poised above the signature strip. She looked at Booth.
“I’m very glad he isn’t, sir.”
“Not a fan of yours, is he?”
Mistrust coated the statement like buffalo sauce.
She tipped her chin.
“That goes both ways.”
“I worked with him for years and I had no reason to doubt his views. He served Pine Springs long enough to know his town.”
“Sometimes a fresh view gives a clearer picture.”
Elenie pressed her knees together so neither Booth nor Dorsey would see the tremble.
“Chief Martinez is not involved with this operation. You will not be keeping him in the loop or running to him for backup. Understood? He can pass on information as a last resort and that’s it. You say you’re friends. He says you’re friends. We’ve taken that under advisement only because this is a small damn town and everyone knows everyone. But you use any personal connection to him in the wrong way and you’re out.”
Booth unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth.
Dorsey’s calm voice broke in.
“Moving forward, we need to trust and depend on each other. It’s the only way to ensure your safety. And that is the ultimate goal, above and beyond gathering information.”
Booth grunted.
“But you’re no good to us if you can’t nail Frank Dax and his associates. We want results.”
“I wouldn’t have said I can do it if I didn’t think I had a chance.”
Elenie kept her eyes on Dorsey.
The agent nodded.
“I believe you can,” she said.
Elenie scrawled her signature across the agreement and handed the papers over. Dorsey held out a cell phone. Honestly, now she was making a collection of them!
Booth met Elenie’s eyes in the rearview mirror again and started the car.
“In my experience, criminal informants think they’re VIPs when really they’re just a royal pain in the ass.”
Double life or not, Elenie was back in the diner as usual for her shift the next day. She stacked a tray with the empty glasses, cups, and plates from a recently vacated table, her head all over the place, focus shot to pieces. Fortunately, Diner 43 was all but empty, bar Peggy Winterburn and old Mrs. Elliott who sat chatting together in the far corner.
Placing the tray on the counter, Elenie turned back to the table with a cloth and found Craig leaning against the wall.
“Hey, Ellie.”
He flashed her a smile of white teeth and empty promises.
“Hi, Craig.”
As she did every time she’d seen him recently, Elenie compared him to Roman and noted the million ways in which he came up short.
“Looking hot in your uniform, babe. Polo shirts bring me out in a sweat. They remind me of sports and gym skirts at school.”
She met his mocking eyes with careful gray ones that hid how many fucks she gave.
“I’ve got stuff to do, Craig. I’ll have to chat later.”
He caught her arm as she tried to walk past.
“I have a couple of business dinners. One on Thursday and one on Saturday. I need you to come with me.”
“Oh?”
“They’re networking meetings and I could use a date.”
He grinned.
“Fortunately for you, I’ve chosen to support the underprivileged and blown out everyone else in my little black book.”
She looked down at the cloth in her hand so he wouldn’t see the roll of her eyes.
“Great. Give me the details and let me know the dress code.”
Craig pulled her closer and ran a finger along her lower lip. Elenie was tempted to bite it.
“It’ll be smart during the evening, but you can take off as much as you want afterwards, babe.”
When she tried to step away from him, his hand gripped tightly enough to leave a mark.
“Maybe we should renegotiate our business terms. I’m not sure I’m getting all the benefits I could be.”
He walked her backward until she was pressed up against the wall. Trying to avoid his breath in her ear, Elenie smacked the side of her head on a wooden shelf. He was crowding her so closely she could count the hairs in his nostrils. She wished for the luxury to knee him in the balls.
“Dammit, Craig. Were you bullied in those gym classes or something?”
Elenie blew the frustrated question through tight lips.
“Why do you always have to be such a dick?”
An unexpected shadow flitted across his eyes. It was the first time she’d seen anything approaching vulnerability on his face and it surprised her. Maybe she wasn’t so far off the mark.
“I would steer well clear if I were you.”
Caitlyn’s drawl shattered the moment. The redhead had hitched herself up onto one of the stools by the counter. She watched them with her chin on both hands.
“It was only recently she was asking me if I thought she should see the doctor with a particularly personal complaint. If you get my drift.”
A look of alarm and distaste flashed across Craig’s face.
Elenie stifled a snort.
“Mind your own business, Caitlyn. The rash is a lot better now. It hardly itches at all.”
Craig stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets.
“I have to go. Be ready on Thursday. I’ll pick you up at half six.”
He pushed through the door of the diner like it had personally offended him.
Elenie leaned a tired shoulder against Caitlyn’s.
“Hot chocolate on the house for my savior?”
she offered.
“It’s the least you can do,”
Caitlyn answered, with a twinkle in her eye.