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.
That intense burn of fear for Josie hits dead center in my chest. It’s been coming and going since my confrontation with Connie three days ago.
The only peace of mind I’ve had is that Josie is relatively well protected.
When she’s at work at Jameson, I know she’s the safest. She told me about the security measures on that building and no one’s breaching it.
Not to mention she’s surrounded by a host of ex-military, most of whom have special forces skills.
Also not to mention she’s proficient with a gun and hand-to-hand combat herself.
Outside of work hours, she’s with me. I got her to agree to that as a compromise to her stubborn refusal to leave Seattle. We packed up her belongings and moved her into my house temporarily until this is resolved.
However, I very much like her being there, so I’m hoping that will turn permanent when Voronin and Mikhail are behind bars.
Marcus takes a long sip of his coffee, setting the cup back on the table with a thunk that jolts me.
“She’s gone to him,” I say.
“You don’t know that, boss.”
“I know it.”
Marcus shakes his head. “Connie can be flighty, sure. And she’s got a temper.
You know that as well as I do. But it’s not the first time she’s gotten in a mood and went off grid.
She did it after Jim’s funeral. She did it the week you took that gallery girl on a date and countless other times when she’s gotten in a snit. It’s what she does.”
He’s not wrong about that, but none of those other times has she threatened someone I care about. “Yeah, but she’s never not shown up for a run meeting. Say what you want about her moods, but she’s never let me down when it comes to work.”
“She’s hurting more than usual,” Marcus reasons. “She knows that Josie’s the one and it’s put a final end to her fantasies that you’ll see her as more than a friend one day.”
“You think I don’t know that? But a hurt Connie is one I don’t trust.”
Marcus picks up his coffee and drinks again. The thing about Marcus is he doesn’t argue when he doesn’t have ground to stand on. He goes quiet and pensive, and the message is clear. I hear you. I don’t agree. I’m not going to fight you on it.
“All right,” he finally says, hands spread wide. “Walk me through what you think she’s done.”
More fire in my chest and an angry churning in my gut.
“She went to Mikhail and told him she had information about the girl in the water. I’m sure she attempted to get reassurances to keep you and me safe in exchange for the valuable information.
I’m sure she downplayed our roles and I’m confident she didn’t tell Mikhail that I’m in a relationship with Josie.
She’d stupidly think she was keeping you and me safe, but Mikhail is going to slaughter anyone harboring Josie.
Connie’s too fucking stupid to realize she’s at risk too.
Mikhail’s not above taking her out once he gets the info. ”
Marcus grimaces. “That’s a theory.”
“It fits.”
“It fits one version of Connie… the possibility of betrayal. But what about her loyalty?”
“It fits the version of Connie I created when I told her in the alley what would happen if she made that call. A woman scorned and all that…”
Marcus considers it. His coffee thermos has the same coffee-stain ring on the lid it’s had for the last three months because he refuses to replace it. He says it gives it character.
“If she’s gone to him,” he says slowly, “what’s the play?”
“The play is to keep Josie safe and hope to fuck those feds can take Mikhail and Voronin down sooner rather than later.”
“She at work today?”
“Yeah, and it’s where she’s safest. That building’s a fortress. She told me you can’t even get in without retinal scans. She’s safer in there than anywhere else in the city.”
“And when she’s not in the building?”
“She’s with me. Always with me. I moved her in the day after the gallery event.”
Marcus lowers his eyes to his thermos, a goofy smile on his face.
He’s known me for nine years and in all that time, he hasn’t seen a woman at my house for more than a weekend.
Now there’s a toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom, her laptop’s on my dining table and her shoes are by my front door.
I came down to make coffee this morning and the kitchen smelled like her.
I stood at the counter, registered the change, and decided right there and then that I was going to spend the rest of my life with that smell in my kitchen if she’d let me.
“No offense, boss, because you’re badass and all that, and I know you’re packing, but you want me to stick by you guys? Extra gun? I can move in with you.”
I shake my head quickly. It’s an offer I knew he would make, just as I knew I’d decline it. Not about to put anyone else I care about at risk, and next to Josie, Marcus is the person I’m closest to in this world. “No. I need you to keep things going, especially on this Tuesday run.”
Speaking of which.
“Let’s go through the plan,” I say, redirecting. “Coast Guard rotation hasn’t shifted—my guy at the station ran the latest cutter pattern last week. We’re good on the window.”
“Two-fifteen to four-forty.”
“Pickup at midnight on the Canadian side in Steveston. Run dark. Hand off at Walt’s by oh-five hundred. Same plan as we ran with the de Hooch.”
“And the transfer to the buyer?”
“He wants the figurine in Burlingame by Thursday end of day. Private jet handles the leg after Walt’s.”
“And we’re a woman down if Connie doesn’t show.”
“She won’t show. I plan on making the run with you. I’ll have Josie stay with someone at Jameson while I’m gone.”
“Nah… I can do it solo. You stick with her.”
The relief I feel at his offer is staggering, and for the first time in my professional criminal career, I realize I’d rather the entire job blow up than leave Josie at risk.
“You sure?”
“I’m good. The figurine’s fourteen inches and twelve pounds. I can stash it, run it, hand it off without Connie. It’s the lightest cargo we’ve moved in eighteen months. If I can’t do that without a deckhand, I should have stayed in the navy.”
“You should have stayed in the navy. It’s far more honest work than this.”
“I was bored in the navy.” He flashes me a wide grin. “Plus the pay can’t compare.”
“It’s not always about the money, my friend. You’d have made chief by now.”
“I’d have made chief and divorced twice and I’d be drinking myself stupid in some bar in Bremerton instead of doing this with you. Pass.”
I let myself smile.
It’s the first time it’s happened since I sat down at this table but it’s short-lived as business creeps back in.
“All right. You run it solo. I cover Josie. If anything moves on you up there, you abort. I don’t care what the broker says, I don’t care what the contract says. You abort and you come home.”
“Understood.”
“And I want you packing at all times.”
If Connie went to Mikhail and gave him Josie, it means she’s inadvertently giving us all up.
He’s going to be furious because bottom line is that I’m now standing between him and the woman who can put him in a federal cell, and there is no version of Mikhail that lets that stand.
He’ll come for Josie and he’ll want me dead as well.
Marcus is a soft target, so he’s in equal danger.
He reaches inside his jacket and pulls his SIG P226 from the shoulder holster. He sets it on the chart table next to the coffee thermos.
“I’m covered. No need to worry about me.”
I turn my coffee mug a quarter rotation, a habit I developed when I’m thinking through something that weighs on my mind.
“I told Josie,” I say.
Marcus blinks at me in surprise, because he knows what I’m talking about.
“Everything. After the gallery. I told her about Jim and what I really do for a living. All of it.”
He’s quiet for a long beat. “That’s a hell of a thing. It means you trust her.”
“Yeah. I trust her the way I trust you.”
Marcus nods in understanding. “How did she take it?”
For the second time, I smile. “She didn’t even flinch. Just put her head on my shoulder and told me she was falling for me. Smuggler and all.”
“Dude,” he drawls, thumping his fist once against his chest. “That got me in the feels.”
“Fuck off,” I mutter. But then my eyes lift to his, locking hard. “She asked me if I’d ever walk away from this.”
Marcus goes still. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her I don’t know yet. But I need you to know, I think I’ve found something I want more than I want this.”
He nods slow. “You should follow your heart, boss.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“I expected more.”
“You expected me to tell you what to do.”
I roll my eyes. “Well… yeah.”
He shakes his head with a grin. “Not my job.”
“You’re my best friend, Marcus.”