Chapter 119 - Julia
Julia
The body was barely zipped into a bag before the station filled with whispers.
Word traveled fast in Copper Cove—faster than bullets.
By the time I reached the Sheriff's office, every deputy in the building had heard that a cartel member had swallowed poison in the interrogation room.
The Sheriff walked in and shut the door.
I dropped into a chair and pressed my palms against my eyes. “We had him, Sheriff. We finally had a lead.”
Hawk stood by the window, the early evening light cutting across his face. “You still do. Copper Ridge Mine.”
“You think the cartel’s using it as a base?”
“I’d bet my last breath on it.”
I looked up at him. “Then you just volunteered to help me prove it.”
His mouth curved. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“Listen, you two need to be careful. Someone here is working for those cartel men. I don’t know what else to think. I hope I’m wrong, but I don’t think so; the mine has been closed for fifty years.”
We drove out to the old mine at dusk. The sky burned orange behind the trees, and the air smelled like rain. The closer we got, the quieter it became—no birds, no crickets, just the rattling of gravel under the tires.
The mine sat behind a chain-link fence, half swallowed by vines. The old rusted “KEEP OUT” sign swung lazily in the wind.
“Creepy enough for you?” Hawk asked.
I switched off the headlights and scanned the area with my flashlight. “You take the east side; I’ll check the west side.”
He leaned closer. “Splitting up is how people die in horror movies.”
“This isn’t a movie,” I said.
“Exactly my point.”
Despite myself, I smiled. “Fine. Stay close.”
Inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint chemical sting of acetone. I swept my light across the walls—metal drums, workbenches, scattered tools.
Then the beam caught something that made my stomach twist.
Crates. Dozens of them. Marked in Spanish with chemical names I recognized from DEA reports.
“Cooking components,” Hawk said behind me. “They’re already set up.”
He stepped around me, studying the ground. His hand brushed my arm as he pointed to fresh boot prints in the dust. “They were here recently. Maybe still are. Don’t touch anything, it could kill you.”
The click of a safety being released froze us both.
“Drop your weapons,” a voice barked from the shadows.
Two men stepped out, rifles aimed straight at us.
Hawk’s tone went low and calm. “Julia, do exactly what I say.”
I lifted my hands slowly, heart hammering. “We’re local law enforcement,” I said. “You’re trespassing on—”
The taller one laughed. “You shouldn’t have come, detective. Leave us alone and we won’t bother anyone.”
Everything happened fast after that—Hawk lunged, kicking the rifle barrel up. I dove behind a crate as a shot cracked the air. Wood splintered beside my head. I returned fire, hitting one man in the shoulder. The other bolted toward the back tunnel.
Hawk grabbed my wrist. “We have to go. There’ll be more.”
We sprinted for the exit, bullets echoing off the metal walls. Outside, the sky had turned dark, and thunder rumbled in the distance. We ducked behind the truck, breathless.
He looked at me, eyes blazing. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I panted. “You?”
He grinned. “Never better.”
The adrenaline crashed, and suddenly I realized how close he was—his chest brushing mine, his hand still gripping my arm. The air between us felt electric.
“Next time,” I whispered, “we do things my way.”
He smiled, that slow, dangerous smile that made my heart race. “As long as your way keeps us alive. Hawk drove my vehicle away from the tunnel.
The storm broke then, rain pounding on the truck roof, lightning flashing over his face. He reached out, pushing a wet strand of hair from my eyes.
“You’re soaked,” he said softly.
“So are you.”
“Guess we’ll have to dry off somehow.”
Before I could answer, he leaned in and kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle—it was raw, and desperate, the kind of kiss that comes after a near-death moment and years of wanting.
When we finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against mine. “That’s been a long time coming, Detective.”
“Fifteen years,” I whispered.
Back at the station, we reported the shootout, but neither of us mentioned the kiss. That was ours.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the cartel knew we were coming. Someone had tipped them off again.
And tomorrow, I planned to find out who.