wasn’t going to happen. Plus, her dreams were filled with an odd painter named Bob who kept telling her to give the truth to Quinn. While the imaginary guy may be correct, she’d make up her own mind. “Why are you dressed?”
“I had a call—need to go to work.” He leaned down and kissed her. Slow and deep. Finally, he stood back up. “Take your time. There’s coffee on, and I think there are bagels in the pantry. Maybe.”
She nodded. “I need to get to work, anyway. Sophie’s show was pushed up, and we have a lot to do.”
He reached in the night table drawer and grabbed a gun to tuck at his waist. “Tonight, Juliet. We talk.” With a hard look, he turned on his cowboy boot and left the room.
Well, that wasn’t good.
…
The rain drizzled the day into gray. Quinn tipped the brim of his hat to shake off the water, his boots sinking in the soggy weeds. The wind cut through his sheriff’s jacket as if it wanted to draw blood. An abandoned barn crumbled behind him, while a dead body lay before him. It had been a while since he’d seen a dead body.
Male, about six feet tall, long, blond hair. Maybe around thirty? “Bullet hole, back of the head,” Quinn murmured. “Execution style?”
“Probably.” DEA Agent Reese Johnson nodded to the state coroner. “You can take him.”
Federal evidence techs bustled around, collecting evidence from grass and dirt.
Reese’s phone buzzed, and he flipped the lid open. “Prints found a match. Leroy Vondoni, recently paroled from Rikers. Shouldn’t be out of New York state.”
“Rap sheet?” Quinn asked.
“Possession, robbery, intent to sell, assault, attempted murder.” Reese tapped his phone. “Nice guy.”
Why the hell was Vondoni in Maverick? More importantly— “While I appreciate you’re calling me in on this, why is the DEA in my county?” Quinn eyed a man he’d trust with his life…in fact, he had at one time. But that didn’t mean the DEA could set up camp in Montana.
Reese tucked his phone in his back pocket. “We got an anonymous tip the body would be here. An hour later, we were wheels up from LA, and here we are. I called from the plane the first chance I found.”
Quinn narrowed his gaze…and waited.
Reese watched the coroner load the body. “I was heading here anyway at the end of the week. Our sources have confirmed there’s a large shipment coming down from Canada, and we think Montana will be the entry point.”
“Drugs?” Irritation washed down Quinn’s throat. What he wouldn’t give for a couple of old guys running moonshine.
“Prescription.” Reese yanked off his Dodger cap and wiped his forehead. “The new front line. Oxy is more valuable than gold on the streets right now.”
“When?” Quinn asked.
“Don’t know. Gut feeling? Soon. What do you think, Sarge? Your gut has to be humming.”
“Sheriff,” Quinn said absently. His gut was fucking rolling. “Soon is right.”
Reese cleared his throat. “Are you going to fight me on jurisdiction?”
“No. I don’t have near the resources the feds do. That fingerprint-scanner thing is impressive as hell.”
“The machine is yours if we catch these guys.” The white scar Reese had earned in Iraq stood out on his forehead. “Though why you don’t take one of the many job offers you’ve received from federal law-enforcement agencies, I’ll never understand.”
“I’m home, and I like it here.” Usually. When there weren’t dead bodies dumped on forgotten acreage. “The DEA can have this case, but I want in. I want to know everything.”
“That means lunch is on you.”
Quinn gave a short nod. “Tell me this is the first body you’ve seen in connection with whatever’s going on.”
“Third.” Reese rubbed his chin. “These guys use people and then kill quickly. No witnesses.”
“Efficient.” Quinn headed for his truck. “Come into town. I have three deputies I want to bring in on this—we’ll keep it to a small task
“I had a call—need to go to work.” He leaned down and kissed her. Slow and deep. Finally, he stood back up. “Take your time. There’s coffee on, and I think there are bagels in the pantry. Maybe.”
She nodded. “I need to get to work, anyway. Sophie’s show was pushed up, and we have a lot to do.”
He reached in the night table drawer and grabbed a gun to tuck at his waist. “Tonight, Juliet. We talk.” With a hard look, he turned on his cowboy boot and left the room.
Well, that wasn’t good.
…
The rain drizzled the day into gray. Quinn tipped the brim of his hat to shake off the water, his boots sinking in the soggy weeds. The wind cut through his sheriff’s jacket as if it wanted to draw blood. An abandoned barn crumbled behind him, while a dead body lay before him. It had been a while since he’d seen a dead body.
Male, about six feet tall, long, blond hair. Maybe around thirty? “Bullet hole, back of the head,” Quinn murmured. “Execution style?”
“Probably.” DEA Agent Reese Johnson nodded to the state coroner. “You can take him.”
Federal evidence techs bustled around, collecting evidence from grass and dirt.
Reese’s phone buzzed, and he flipped the lid open. “Prints found a match. Leroy Vondoni, recently paroled from Rikers. Shouldn’t be out of New York state.”
“Rap sheet?” Quinn asked.
“Possession, robbery, intent to sell, assault, attempted murder.” Reese tapped his phone. “Nice guy.”
Why the hell was Vondoni in Maverick? More importantly— “While I appreciate you’re calling me in on this, why is the DEA in my county?” Quinn eyed a man he’d trust with his life…in fact, he had at one time. But that didn’t mean the DEA could set up camp in Montana.
Reese tucked his phone in his back pocket. “We got an anonymous tip the body would be here. An hour later, we were wheels up from LA, and here we are. I called from the plane the first chance I found.”
Quinn narrowed his gaze…and waited.
Reese watched the coroner load the body. “I was heading here anyway at the end of the week. Our sources have confirmed there’s a large shipment coming down from Canada, and we think Montana will be the entry point.”
“Drugs?” Irritation washed down Quinn’s throat. What he wouldn’t give for a couple of old guys running moonshine.
“Prescription.” Reese yanked off his Dodger cap and wiped his forehead. “The new front line. Oxy is more valuable than gold on the streets right now.”
“When?” Quinn asked.
“Don’t know. Gut feeling? Soon. What do you think, Sarge? Your gut has to be humming.”
“Sheriff,” Quinn said absently. His gut was fucking rolling. “Soon is right.”
Reese cleared his throat. “Are you going to fight me on jurisdiction?”
“No. I don’t have near the resources the feds do. That fingerprint-scanner thing is impressive as hell.”
“The machine is yours if we catch these guys.” The white scar Reese had earned in Iraq stood out on his forehead. “Though why you don’t take one of the many job offers you’ve received from federal law-enforcement agencies, I’ll never understand.”
“I’m home, and I like it here.” Usually. When there weren’t dead bodies dumped on forgotten acreage. “The DEA can have this case, but I want in. I want to know everything.”
“That means lunch is on you.”
Quinn gave a short nod. “Tell me this is the first body you’ve seen in connection with whatever’s going on.”
“Third.” Reese rubbed his chin. “These guys use people and then kill quickly. No witnesses.”
“Efficient.” Quinn headed for his truck. “Come into town. I have three deputies I want to bring in on this—we’ll keep it to a small task
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