to the bedroom, she stared at the gun lying on the bed. “Did you touch it?”
“No way. But with my luck, whoever put it there would have found a way to get my prints on it. Or my sister’s,” Alex said.
“You got a trash bag?”
He left and returned with one, Odin in tow. “More bad news: Miri’s gun is missing from the kitchen drawer.”
“Of course it is.”
Morgan put the trash bag over her hand, then picked up the gun, reversing the bag over it to try to preserve any fingerprints. “I’ll be right back. If the cops show up, don’t let them in unless they have a warrant. Oh, and could you get Odin some water?”
“Sure,” he replied, but she could tell he was only half paying attention. No doubt his head was already back in prison, hearing the cell doors close behind him.
Not this time.
Morgan slipped out the back door into the late morning heat. A quick walk through the neighbor’s yard got her to the next street—and Sam, waiting in a car at the curb.
He looked up as she approached, seeing the bag in her hand. “You found something.”
“Yeah, we did. Have Crispin thank our contact in the DEA. I took care of the coke, but I need you to take the garbage out for me,” she said, handing over the plastic bag. “Run the serial number and see if you can get prints off of it. I want to know this gun’s history before it was dropped into Parkin’s life. Oh, and his sister’s weapon is missing. She’ll need to file a police report for that.”
“I’ll let Neil know.” Sam placed the plastic bag on the passenger seat. “Who do you think planted the dope?”
“Parkin had an impressive string of busts against some seriously nasty people. Any one of them could have left these little ‘welcome home’ presents.”
“They’d have to know he was out of the house. You think the assault on the sister was planned ahead of time?”
“That’s a possibility. I’ll take Alex to the safe house. Lars can pick Odin up there and get him back to his handler. He deserves a juicy steak.”
“You regret taking lead on this mission now?” Sam asked.
“Not yet, but it’s getting close,” she said, then headed back toward the house.
The sound of slamming car doors had Alex up and at the window. His gut twisted when he saw four uniformed cops headed toward the front of the house, one with a battering ram. In front of them was the man he hated most in the world: his ex-partner, Dennis Simms. Simms had packed on the pounds over the last six years and was going bald. It was petty, but Alex was pleased to see that time hadn’t been good to him. He could never understand what his wife had seen in the guy. No wonder she dumped your sorry ass .
Morgan entered through the back door. He shot a look at her. “They’re here.”
“Keep your cool. If you throw a punch, you’re back in jail and the mission goes south.”
Alex hesitated, his hand on the doorknob now. It felt molten in his fingers, he was clenching it so hard. “He was screwing my wife. He executed the search warrant on my house. How do I know he didn’t plant the dope then . . . and now?”
“You don’t. But you have to trust me.”
He glared at her, his jaw muscles tightening. “Last time I trusted someone, I got fucked over.”
“This time you won’t. Are you on board here?”
Alex took several deep breaths. “I have no other choice, do I?”
“No. I’m an attorney licensed to practice in the state of Louisiana. So as of now I’m your legal representative, so just look innocent and keep that anger to yourself. If you act like some juvenile dickhead, we’re all screwed.”
As she moved to open the door, Alex caught her arm. “You can be a pain in the ass, you know that?”
To his surprise, she winked. “Yeah, but right now, this pain in the ass is in your corner, so let’s get this done.”
Morgan opened the front door and he took a long look at the man he’d once considered a friend. All Alex wanted to do was
“No way. But with my luck, whoever put it there would have found a way to get my prints on it. Or my sister’s,” Alex said.
“You got a trash bag?”
He left and returned with one, Odin in tow. “More bad news: Miri’s gun is missing from the kitchen drawer.”
“Of course it is.”
Morgan put the trash bag over her hand, then picked up the gun, reversing the bag over it to try to preserve any fingerprints. “I’ll be right back. If the cops show up, don’t let them in unless they have a warrant. Oh, and could you get Odin some water?”
“Sure,” he replied, but she could tell he was only half paying attention. No doubt his head was already back in prison, hearing the cell doors close behind him.
Not this time.
Morgan slipped out the back door into the late morning heat. A quick walk through the neighbor’s yard got her to the next street—and Sam, waiting in a car at the curb.
He looked up as she approached, seeing the bag in her hand. “You found something.”
“Yeah, we did. Have Crispin thank our contact in the DEA. I took care of the coke, but I need you to take the garbage out for me,” she said, handing over the plastic bag. “Run the serial number and see if you can get prints off of it. I want to know this gun’s history before it was dropped into Parkin’s life. Oh, and his sister’s weapon is missing. She’ll need to file a police report for that.”
“I’ll let Neil know.” Sam placed the plastic bag on the passenger seat. “Who do you think planted the dope?”
“Parkin had an impressive string of busts against some seriously nasty people. Any one of them could have left these little ‘welcome home’ presents.”
“They’d have to know he was out of the house. You think the assault on the sister was planned ahead of time?”
“That’s a possibility. I’ll take Alex to the safe house. Lars can pick Odin up there and get him back to his handler. He deserves a juicy steak.”
“You regret taking lead on this mission now?” Sam asked.
“Not yet, but it’s getting close,” she said, then headed back toward the house.
The sound of slamming car doors had Alex up and at the window. His gut twisted when he saw four uniformed cops headed toward the front of the house, one with a battering ram. In front of them was the man he hated most in the world: his ex-partner, Dennis Simms. Simms had packed on the pounds over the last six years and was going bald. It was petty, but Alex was pleased to see that time hadn’t been good to him. He could never understand what his wife had seen in the guy. No wonder she dumped your sorry ass .
Morgan entered through the back door. He shot a look at her. “They’re here.”
“Keep your cool. If you throw a punch, you’re back in jail and the mission goes south.”
Alex hesitated, his hand on the doorknob now. It felt molten in his fingers, he was clenching it so hard. “He was screwing my wife. He executed the search warrant on my house. How do I know he didn’t plant the dope then . . . and now?”
“You don’t. But you have to trust me.”
He glared at her, his jaw muscles tightening. “Last time I trusted someone, I got fucked over.”
“This time you won’t. Are you on board here?”
Alex took several deep breaths. “I have no other choice, do I?”
“No. I’m an attorney licensed to practice in the state of Louisiana. So as of now I’m your legal representative, so just look innocent and keep that anger to yourself. If you act like some juvenile dickhead, we’re all screwed.”
As she moved to open the door, Alex caught her arm. “You can be a pain in the ass, you know that?”
To his surprise, she winked. “Yeah, but right now, this pain in the ass is in your corner, so let’s get this done.”
Morgan opened the front door and he took a long look at the man he’d once considered a friend. All Alex wanted to do was
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