doorframe. He scanned the area, logging details. She stood next to a couple of boxes—which accounted for the dragging noises—a clipboard shoved under one arm. The place smelled of decay, paint crumbling off the damp walls. He frowned. “I thought I heard you talking with someone.”
“Just myself.” She shifted nervously, acting as guilty as hell. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged and let it go. “Decided to do a little sightseeing. Thought I saw you when I got off the boat.” He nodded in the direction of the landing and pushed away from the wall.
“Figured I’d come and check out what you were up to.”
Sorcha’s eyes flared, darting to the door as if measuring her escape. When she realized he blocked the exit she looked pissed. If it had just been his ego involved, he’d have been deflated. But it wasn’t his ego. It was a crime that carried a life sentence. Not to mention the location of forty kilos of high-grade cocaine with a street value in excess of five million dollars—the last consignment from Santayana’s cartel.
“I’m busy.” She thrust the clipboard into the smaller box. She wasn’t throwing him any of those seductive glances today. In fact, she was giving him the cold shoulder. His getting-to-know-her plan wasn’t working.
Holding his hands wide in a non-threatening pose, he stepped to the side so he didn’t block the light and got a better look at her face. Her skin was ice-white, her eyes suspiciously bright. She looked pretty wired for someone just moving boxes. Suspicion turned sour in his chest. It was time to dig deeper.
“Hey, I won’t get in your way.” He tried to get a look inside the boxes of equipment she’d hauled out of what must be a storage room behind her. He needed to get inside that room but right now he couldn’t raise any alarms. Trying out his rusty charm, he put on his best smile. “Let me help.”
Instead of looking grateful, she drew a hand over her face. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled a tense breath.
“What is it?”
Chewing her bottom lip, she squatted to rifle through the boxes. Whatever she decided to tell him wouldn’t be the truth.
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m a bit emotional today.” She lifted the first box, shifted it in her arms and staggered slightly, adjusting the weight. “Kevin would say it was PMS, but then he’s a jerk.” She darted a look at Ben that dared him to join the ranks.
Ben scooped the box out of her arms. He didn’t give her the chance to refuse his help or get himself entangled in a discussion on women’s hormones. He wasn’t stupid. She surprised him with a smile, those quirky lips lifting her face like sunshine on a rainy day.
He felt a little kick inside his chest. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Leaning closer, he caught the scent of lemon in her perfume, so much sweeter than the ancient decay that surrounded them.
Her expression closed up. She was holding out on him, but he was used to that. Most people lied to federal agents. Hoisting up the smaller carton, she grabbed a shovel and squeezed past him into the fresh air. Ben glanced at the heavy inner door, rammed down his impatience and followed her outside.
“I had a camera system set up and someone trashed it.” She hunched her shoulders.
“What makes you think it didn’t just break down?” God knew he’d had enough surveillance equipment crap out on him at the worst possible moments. That was why he’d had a partner in Magangue. Jacob had run the gadgetry.
Sorcha bent down and pulled out a metal box that Ben recognized as a light-sensitive surveillance camera.
“I was careful when I set it up to make sure it was recessed and well protected. But the wires have been torn out.” Fingering the ragged ends of the connections, she pointed the camera at him. Her voice cracked, though she controlled the waver. “And the lens is broken.”
Smashed beyond repair. Ben’s skin prickled.
“Why would someone smash your
“Just myself.” She shifted nervously, acting as guilty as hell. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugged and let it go. “Decided to do a little sightseeing. Thought I saw you when I got off the boat.” He nodded in the direction of the landing and pushed away from the wall.
“Figured I’d come and check out what you were up to.”
Sorcha’s eyes flared, darting to the door as if measuring her escape. When she realized he blocked the exit she looked pissed. If it had just been his ego involved, he’d have been deflated. But it wasn’t his ego. It was a crime that carried a life sentence. Not to mention the location of forty kilos of high-grade cocaine with a street value in excess of five million dollars—the last consignment from Santayana’s cartel.
“I’m busy.” She thrust the clipboard into the smaller box. She wasn’t throwing him any of those seductive glances today. In fact, she was giving him the cold shoulder. His getting-to-know-her plan wasn’t working.
Holding his hands wide in a non-threatening pose, he stepped to the side so he didn’t block the light and got a better look at her face. Her skin was ice-white, her eyes suspiciously bright. She looked pretty wired for someone just moving boxes. Suspicion turned sour in his chest. It was time to dig deeper.
“Hey, I won’t get in your way.” He tried to get a look inside the boxes of equipment she’d hauled out of what must be a storage room behind her. He needed to get inside that room but right now he couldn’t raise any alarms. Trying out his rusty charm, he put on his best smile. “Let me help.”
Instead of looking grateful, she drew a hand over her face. Her shoulders slumped as she exhaled a tense breath.
“What is it?”
Chewing her bottom lip, she squatted to rifle through the boxes. Whatever she decided to tell him wouldn’t be the truth.
“Nothing. I’m sorry. I’m a bit emotional today.” She lifted the first box, shifted it in her arms and staggered slightly, adjusting the weight. “Kevin would say it was PMS, but then he’s a jerk.” She darted a look at Ben that dared him to join the ranks.
Ben scooped the box out of her arms. He didn’t give her the chance to refuse his help or get himself entangled in a discussion on women’s hormones. He wasn’t stupid. She surprised him with a smile, those quirky lips lifting her face like sunshine on a rainy day.
He felt a little kick inside his chest. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong?” Leaning closer, he caught the scent of lemon in her perfume, so much sweeter than the ancient decay that surrounded them.
Her expression closed up. She was holding out on him, but he was used to that. Most people lied to federal agents. Hoisting up the smaller carton, she grabbed a shovel and squeezed past him into the fresh air. Ben glanced at the heavy inner door, rammed down his impatience and followed her outside.
“I had a camera system set up and someone trashed it.” She hunched her shoulders.
“What makes you think it didn’t just break down?” God knew he’d had enough surveillance equipment crap out on him at the worst possible moments. That was why he’d had a partner in Magangue. Jacob had run the gadgetry.
Sorcha bent down and pulled out a metal box that Ben recognized as a light-sensitive surveillance camera.
“I was careful when I set it up to make sure it was recessed and well protected. But the wires have been torn out.” Fingering the ragged ends of the connections, she pointed the camera at him. Her voice cracked, though she controlled the waver. “And the lens is broken.”
Smashed beyond repair. Ben’s skin prickled.
“Why would someone smash your
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