"I'm okay," she told him.
"Test your leg."
No one else paid any attention to her leg. How did he know her so well? Terri shifted her weight and gritted her teeth over the ache, but said, "It's fine."
He slowly removed his support until she was standing again. She used her remote to open the locks. When she reached the driver's door, he opened it for her, but kept his face turned away.
"You asked what I wanted to do?" he said.
"Yes."
He turned slightly, but still didn't face her. "Kiss you."
As if her heart wasn't still thumping, it took another leap at that. She slid onto the leather seat and, without looking up, said, "Who are you?" But this time she asked softly, with yearning he had to hear.
"I can't tell you until if and when it will not put you at further risk or jeopardy, particularly with your agency."
"I never actually said I was with an agency."
"You didn't have to. Where are you going from here?"
"Back to the precinct."
"Do me a favor and stay there for another hour at least." He closed the door and turned to start walking away.
She shoved the key in, turned the ignition, and hit the window button to lower it. She pulled alongside him. "If you aren't with law enforcement or a government agency, what is so important that you're willing to go inside that property knowing you may die?"
He paused. "The same reason I can't run you off from this case... justice." At that, he continued walking.
She tried to swallow the lump in her throat as he disappeared into the night.
A phantom? Possibly.
A turn-on? Definitely.
But what else?
She pressed the accelerator and turned her car back toward the main highway. He'd be watching for sure.
Terri tapped a finger on the steering wheel. Something was going down inside that warehouse. Brady might share his leads if she included him now.
But where would that leave her mystery man?
"Terri Mitchell is definitely with some agency, because the paperwork is buried in so many layers nobody can figure out who authorized her consulting contract," Duff said quietly into his Bluetooth headset. Fra Bacchus had texted him a message to call immediately, but there had been no real emergency. The wine sometimes gave the Fra an urge to be more talkative than other times. Duff eyed a pair of girls sashaying past Cafe Du Monde where he'd just met with a contact. The redhead with the sleek boots was a looker, but the blonde... now she was prime.
"I don't like it," Fra Bacchus answered. "What about the product?"
"I've got the container under twenty-four-hour surveillance. They switched to one guard last night. If that holds true tonight, we should have no problem."
* * *
CHAPTER TEN
Nathan waited until the taillights of Terri's Mini Cooper shrunk to two glowing red dots.
After that kiss, he'd never get any sleep tonight.
Or tomorrow night.
He'd never ached for a woman, but he did now. Not just to make love to her, although that was central to every thought that skated through his mind. She had an energy and freshness all her own. Everything about her drew him, even when she was snapping at him. Sometimes, especially, when she was crabby.
Like now, but at least she'd be safe while he finished here, then Nathan would follow her home.
He waited for two cars to pass by, then moved across the front of the property, sucking deep into the shadows. Nathan couldn't believe Terri had been heading straight for a trip wire that would have set off alarms. His lips curled at her lack of training, but then she'd never been trained for Special Ops.
She definitely kept him on his toes. Being around her thrilled and frustrated him at the same time. He wanted what she clearly offered, wanted what she made him feel again.
But he had as much chance of ending up with a woman like her as having a normal future to enjoy with a partner.
Besides, sooner or later she'd learn his true identity.
Or at least one of them.
He was either Nathan Drake, who she believed was dead and involved with a drug lordoh, and don't forget army deserteror he was Jamie Drake, ex-con with a two-year prison sentence for drug dealing on his record.
Great choice. On one hand, a felon, and on the other, a felon. Take your pick, identical twins.
Identical losers.
Then again, he'd never been identical to Jamie. His brother had been born with brains. Nathan's IQ was no slouch, but he was destined to do the dirty work. And he wouldn't have minded if his brother had lived to do something worthwhile in this world.
Nathan stopped when he reached the side entrance to the warehouse. Why had Jamie come to work at this shipping company? Jamie had to have known something wasn't straight with the job or he wouldn't have left the cryptic message on the refrigerator. Marseaux's group here must have been paying his brother in cash or the Feds would have traced a connection back to this place by now.
Taking a deep breath, Nathan used the small B&E tools Jamie had caught him employing once to open their back door when Nathan had come home unexpectedly on leave. He didn't explain them and Jamie hadn't asked. Nathan had more back at base, so he left this set in his and Jamie's red toolbox, taped to the inside and accessible only when the drawer was removed.
Thankfully, some things hadn't changed.
Just inside the door of the warehouse was a walkway that ran left and right with rows of tall shelving adjacent to the walkway. Deep male voices talked back and forth near the loading dock.
Nathan moved silently across the slick concrete floor toward the voices, but far enough back to be out of sight. When he reached the end of the shelving, he had to wait for the right moment to move to one of four head-high stacks of wooden crates. He'd made it to the last one next to the corner of the building when the door he'd entered opened.
Nathan dove around the side of the crate that protected his position. If no one walked over to the wall.
Hooknose Rodaine was marched in, hands tied behind his back, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Right eye was swollen. His head was still bandaged from Nathan's discussion with Hooknose, but he was obviously out of observation for a concussion.
Hooknose shouldn't have pulled a gun on Nathan, which turned out to be a favor, since the snitch had carried the first decent weapon smaller than a rifle. His 357 Magnum was now tucked inside the waistband of Nathan's jeans at the small of his back.
Showing no regard for having his hands tied, Hooknose swore at everyone, but serious gutter cursing erupted at one person in particular. Zink, Marseaux's first lieutenant.
Nathan squinted. The bony guy on the dock wearing a business shirt, pressed slacks, and slicked-back blond hair didn't resemble the burly Zink Nathan remembered from back during the trial. This version looked sickly. Dabble too much in the snort and that stuff will kill you.
If Nathan didn't get his hands on Zink first.
Two years ago, Jamie had gone to Marseaux for a loan, nothing more. One of Marseaux's men had tricked Jamie. Zink used him to get one of his men free after a bust.
Nathan had been the one to take care of his brother when Jamie had hugged the toilet for sixteen hours, returning too much alcohol ingestion back to nature. After that, the hardest thing Jamie would dabble in was the occasional beer... only with Nathan.
Zink was as much at fault for setting up Jamie the first time as Marseaux.
They all owed Nathan for two years of his life and more.
"What's the deal, Zink?" Hooknose yelled at him. "I've known Marseaux for eight years. Eight years. Most people aren't smart enough to stay clean in this business. I do and I keep my ear to the ground, telling him anytime I got news, so what's this bullshit?"
Zink finally turned away from where he was overseeing the packing of some gaudy-looking glass statues. Nathan couldn't tell if the shipment was camouflaging illegal products, but why would they be here a
t this time of night for what looked like two crates being loaded into a truck. Going for overtime pay?
"Shouldn't have told anyone about the shipping company." Zink pointed a finger at Hooknose for emphasis.
"I didn't. I swear it."
"I know differently. Got proof. Whatta you got?"
Hooknose stared silently, then started shaking his head. "Not true. Drake isn't dead. He knew things, got it from others, not me. The bastard jumped me from behind and cracked my head."
From behind? Nathan shouldn't have been so easy on the sniveling liar.
"I-I didn't say nothing, not really," Hooknose continued. "The guy ain't dead. Nahwlin's PD must have put out a false story. I bet Drake is working with them. He was asking questions about this place, as if he hadn't been here for a couple weeks. Spooky. I didn't say nothing he didn't already know. What'd you expect me to do?"
"I got a skanky dog with more brains than you and bigger balls." Zink stopped to approve something on the crate packing, then turned back to Hooknose. "Eight years in this business should have taught you what happens to people who can't keep their mouths closed."
Nathan shouldn't feel any responsibility here since Hooknose was another layer of skin on the underbelly of New Orleans illegal activities. But neither did he want to watch someone killed in cold blood because Nathan had questioned him. He was only playing judge and jury with the ones behind pulling Jamie into this and getting him killed.
Criminals that would never have to walk into a court and be tried by twelve jurors, because they were made of Teflon.
Nathan sized up the opposition. Two men were rolling the second wooden box on a dolly to the end of the dock. One jumped down as the crate was lowered on the hydraulic platform.
That left Hooknose, Zink, and Zink's backup, a redheaded guy with a matching beard that belonged back in the sixties. Plus Red Beard had an automatic weapon hanging from his shoulder.
"No, no, no. This ain't right. Drake is shaking down everyone. Ask FinMan. I heard Drake busted up his bodyguards."
Zink grinned at Hooknose. "I've already heard FinMan's lame story, as well. He won't be ratting again... ever. Tie his feet."
Red Beard produced a length of wire and wrapped it around the snitch's ankles, twisting the ends securely.
Hooknoses face squeezed with anxiety.
Nathan had no remorse for FinMan. The slimeball had boasted over how he had both the cops and Marseaux in his pocket. Had threatened Nathan with cutting him to pieces while alive and letting him bleed slowly to death.
Of course, that was when FinMan thought his muscle was only the press of a button away. When he'd slipped his hand under his desk to press a silent alarm, his face had lost color when no one came busting through his door, guns blazing, to save his worthless ass. Changed his tune then and started dealing immediately.
"No, Zink," Hooknose pleaded. "Don't do this. I got the inside line on where they put the coke. We can get it for Marseaux."
Red Beard shoved Hooknose down on his knees. Serious begging rolled into action.
Zink stood over Hooknose. "Marseaux's got bigger concerns than the snort from that shipment. I'll tell you the same thing I told FinMan. Drake is dead. If you were stupid enough to believe some guy scamming you, you deserve to die. Like the old saying, dead men tell no tales."
Nathan sighed, pulled back the hood hiding his face, and stepped out from his cover. "This one does."
The three looked up. Hooknoses mouth dropped open. Red Beard squinted as if he needed glasses to see that far.
Zink muttered, "No fucking way."
Nathan shrugged and crossed his arms, for about half a second. Zink whipped his hand behind his back and he pulled a small canon into view.
The two men loading the truck dove into the cab from opposite sides. The engine fired into action and tires squealed as they fled from the lot. Not sticking around for the fun, eh?
"Who the fuck are you?" Zink cocked the gun. Red Beard had swung the automatic from his shoulder.
Nathan dove behind his barricade of crates. He hoped there was more in these boxes than glass doodads.
Shots pinged off the top of the wood, ricocheting against the wall. Splintered pine hit Nathan on the head and shoulders.
"Don't hit the fucking boxes, moron." Was Zink going for manager of the year?
Nathan peered between two crates.
Zink and Red Beard had split apart, moving toward him and cutting off his exit passage in two directions. Nathan stayed hunched and shuffled quietly around stacks of crates, drifting deeper into the warehouse.
He reached around and slipped out his weapon, then started moving quietly. He found a spot where he could stand at the end of an aisle out of view and see anyone approaching from the loading dock area.
Red Beard stepped cautiously around the far end and eased down the walkway, passing row after row of shelves on his left. Thick silence tightened the air. Each time he paused, he'd glance to the right first, check the separation in the rows, then to his left and move on. Sweat trickled along the side of his face and droplets clung to his beard.
When he reached Nathan's row, Red Beard glanced right.
Nathan moved forward, cupped his mouth, and snapped his neck in one move. He lowered him to the floor, dragged the body a few feet out of view, and removed his rifle.
An M-16 with a scopenice. Loadedeven better. Nathan shoved the .357 inside the front of his jeans to keep handy.
Moving carefully around to a new spot, Nathan paused at the sound of struggling. He bent his head low and found an opening to peek through.
Hooknose was wiggling spasmodically toward the door. He wouldn't get far with his legs tethered.
Zink popped into the space between Nathan and Hooknose, raising his handgun to aim at Hooknose.
Nathan stepped out. "Miss me?"
Zink yanked around, weapon arm following as smoothly as a dancer's move. But Red Beard had shared his toys. Nathan swung the M-16 like a bat, ramming Zink's head.
Just when things looked promising, the rear door slammed open. He sighed. That meant at least one more to deal with. The guys hauling the shipment must have called in reinforcement.
Nathan angled for cover. Zink was still out cold, but in plain view. That wouldn't be so bad if he hadn't fallen on his weapon. No way to get it from him without drawing attention. Nathan lifted his hood back in place and blended into the shadows.
Until he knew who had entered, he wasn't showing his face any more than he had to.
He expected to see bullets fly any minute, but all he heard were footsteps and a high-pitched curse. Female.
"Might as well come out, Drake," a male voice called out from between him and the door. "I'm tired of you shaking down my people. I paid you too well to turn on me this way. Good thing I was already headed here when I got a call from my men or I might have missed you... and this little gem."
Nathan had heard that voice once before. Back during ...
Anton Marseaux stepped into view.
With Terri.
The bottom fell out of Nathan's stomach. Marseaux had her with his arm around her throat and a hand cupping her mouth. His other hand pointed a Walther PPK at her head. The color had washed out of Terri's face and it wasn't because of the massive overhead lights.
"Drop the purse." Marseaux had paused next to a crate. Terri undipped the strap of her shoulder bag and tossed it on the wooden box.
Marseaux moved three steps away until his back was to a wall. "Come out, Drake. Or I'll kill her."
Nathan stood. "She's not involved in this."
"Really? Could have fooled me by the way she'd reached this building. Don't blow smoke up my ass and tell me the woods are on fire. She wouldn't have made it past two of my cameras undetected without being trained. I'm figuring she's the DEA bitch you've been spilling your guts to."
"What do you want?"
"Your weapons, for starters."
Nathan walked past Zink's prone body and l
aid the M-16 upon a crate on his left, then placed his handgun beside it.
"Move forward."
Nathan took several steps.
Marseaux said, "That's enough."
More than enough to see Terri's eyes, which should have been rounded in fear, but God love her, the woman was spittin' mad.
Of course, after hearing that comment about working for Marseaux, she might be just as mad at both of them. "Let her go."
"Why should I?"
"You want me. Let's trade."
Terri's eyes widened, then changed from anger to fear. For him? Nathan didn't deserve her concern. He'd gotten her deeper into this than she should have been.
"Way I see it, I get you both," Marseaux quipped.
"Let her go and I'll tell you who ratted out your shipment."
That got Marseaux's full attention. "Tell me now unless you want to watch her brains sprayed across the floor."
Nathan shook his head. "Let her go first." He held his hands up, showing he had no weapon.
A gun cocked behind Nathan. Ah, hell, Zink was back up on his feet and had the .357.
"I got your back, boss," Zink called.
"Okay, I'll trade." Marseaux flashed a smile of victory and released his hold on Terri.
Nathan moved forward, within twenty feet of Marseaux, who pushed Terri to move.
She stumbled.
Nathan had to clench his fists to keep from reaching for her or they'd both wind up full of holes. She took another step and started to speak, but rapid shots blew out the overhead lights.
Nathan dove forward to grab her and came up empty. Praying she'd found cover, he rolled to his right as more bullets snapped all around them.
A third shooter had entered the fray, but that didn't mean he was a friendly. Could be NOPD or an enemy of Marseaux's.
The place was stark black, except for where the outside lights shined in past the open loading dock.
What Nathan wouldn't give for his night-vision monocular right now. He silently worked his way back to where he'd left the M-16.
More scuffling noises reached his ears from two spots, but not a third. Marseaux and Zink most likely. Neither had shown any covert ability.
Where was Hooknose? Ambient light dusted over a blob near the rear exit door that had stopped moving. Nathan doubted Hooknose had been hit. More likely he was waiting to see the winner of this.