More Than Nothing (Pine Springs), page 20
“And we need to feel comfortable that you can come up with the goods. In a realistic timeline.” Booth again. There was an antagonistic edge to his words. Elenie’s eyes flashed to him, then returned to the special agent. Her fingers clenched on her lap.
“Let’s get started.” Dorsey opened the file.
The registration process took nearly two hours. Multiple times, Elenie wondered what the hell she was doing. There were questions about her personal history, her current knowledge of Frank’s criminal activities, colleagues, movements, and as much detail as she could give on past offenses. Dorsey asked about her social life (pretty non-existent) and her connection to Roman Martinez (complicated). Elenie tried to answer as simply and honestly as she could.
As the agent laid out the DEA’s expectations and discussed what was needed, Booth pinned her with a stare that reeked of his resistance to her involvement. Elenie’s head ached. The nerves she’d been trying to ignore began shredding her intestines. Especially when Dorsey started talking about recording devices and mobile forensic tools, two-party consent and the eavesdropping statute.
This was her life now. She was Elenie Dax, diner waitress and nemesis to the criminal fraternity. She served pancakes and ice cream sundaes, had wrapped her legs around the waist of the local police chief, and was signing up to feed information to the DEA.
What. The. Actual. Hell.
“This wouldn’t be happening if Chief Roberts was still in office.”
Elenie’s hand stilled on the CI Agreement in her lap, pen poised above the signature strip. She looked at Booth. “I’m very glad he isn’t, sir.”
“Not a fan of yours, is he?” Mistrust coated the statement like buffalo sauce.
She tipped her chin. “That goes both ways.”
“I worked with him for years and I had no reason to doubt his views. He served Pine Springs long enough to know his town.”
“Sometimes a fresh view gives a clearer picture.” Elenie pressed her knees together so neither Booth nor Dorsey would see the tremble.
“Chief Martinez is not involved with this operation. You will not be keeping him in the loop or running to him for backup. Understood? He can pass on information as a last resort and that’s it. You say you’re friends. He says you’re friends. We’ve taken that under advisement only because this is a small damn town and everyone knows everyone. But you use any personal connection to him in the wrong way and you’re out.” Booth unwrapped a stick of gum and folded it into his mouth.
Dorsey’s calm voice broke in. “Moving forward, we need to trust and depend on each other. It’s the only way to ensure your safety. And that is the ultimate goal, above and beyond gathering information.”
Booth grunted. “But you’re no good to us if you can’t nail Frank Dax and his associates. We want results.”
“I wouldn’t have said I can do it if I didn’t think I had a chance.” Elenie kept her eyes on Dorsey.
The agent nodded. “I believe you can,” she said.
Elenie scrawled her signature across the agreement and handed the papers over. Dorsey held out a cell phone. Honestly, now she was making a collection of them!
Booth met Elenie’s eyes in the rearview mirror again and started the car. “In my experience, criminal informants think they’re VIPs when really they’re just a royal pain in the ass.”
Double life or not, Elenie was back in the diner as usual for her shift the next day. She stacked a tray with the empty glasses, cups, and plates from a recently vacated table, her head all over the place, focus shot to pieces. Fortunately, Diner 43 was all but empty, bar Peggy Winterburn and old Mrs. Elliott who sat chatting together in the far corner.
Placing the tray on the counter, Elenie turned back to the table with a cloth and found Craig leaning against the wall.
“Hey, Ellie.” He flashed her a smile of white teeth and empty promises.
“Hi, Craig.” As she did every time she’d seen him recently, Elenie compared him to Roman and noted the million ways in which he came up short.
“Looking hot in your uniform, babe. Polo shirts bring me out in a sweat. They remind me of sports and gym skirts at school.”
She met his mocking eyes with careful gray ones that hid how many fucks she gave. “I’ve got stuff to do, Craig. I’ll have to chat later.”
He caught her arm as she tried to walk past. “I have a couple of business dinners. One on Thursday and one on Saturday. I need you to come with me.”
“Oh?”
“They’re networking meetings and I could use a date.” He grinned. “Fortunately for you, I’ve chosen to support the underprivileged and blown out everyone else in my little black book.”
She looked down at the cloth in her hand so he wouldn’t see the roll of her eyes. “Great. Give me the details and let me know the dress code.”
Craig pulled her closer and ran a finger along her lower lip. Elenie was tempted to bite it. “It’ll be smart during the evening, but you can take off as much as you want afterwards, babe.” When she tried to step away from him, his hand gripped tightly enough to leave a mark. “Maybe we should renegotiate our business terms. I’m not sure I’m getting all the benefits I could be.”
He walked her backward until she was pressed up against the wall. Trying to avoid his breath in her ear, Elenie smacked the side of her head on a wooden shelf. He was crowding her so closely she could count the hairs in his nostrils. She wished for the luxury to knee him in the balls.
“Dammit, Craig. Were you bullied in those gym classes or something?” Elenie blew the frustrated question through tight lips. “Why do you always have to be such a dick?”
An unexpected shadow flitted across his eyes. It was the first time she’d seen anything approaching vulnerability on his face and it surprised her. Maybe she wasn’t so far off the mark.
“I would steer well clear if I were you.” Caitlyn’s drawl shattered the moment. The redhead had hitched herself up onto one of the stools by the counter. She watched them with her chin on both hands. “It was only recently she was asking me if I thought she should see the doctor with a particularly personal complaint. If you get my drift.”
A look of alarm and distaste flashed across Craig’s face.
Elenie stifled a snort. “Mind your own business, Caitlyn. The rash is a lot better now. It hardly itches at all.”
Craig stepped back, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I have to go. Be ready on Thursday. I’ll pick you up at half six.” He pushed through the door of the diner like it had personally offended him.
Elenie leaned a tired shoulder against Caitlyn’s. “Hot chocolate on the house for my savior?” she offered.
“It’s the least you can do,” Caitlyn answered, with a twinkle in her eye.
Chapter 30
Roman
“Good timing.” The corner of Roman’s mouth hitched as they pulled up behind Frank Dax’s truck at the stop sign.
He flipped the roof light on and caught Frank’s glance in his rearview mirror as it flashed. Both vehicles cleared the intersection and pulled over at the side of the road. He took his time exiting the police car, strolling leisurely to the driver’s door of the Dodge. Officer Forsberg followed.
“Mr. Dax.”
“Chief Martinez.” Dax nodded. “Anything I can help you with?”
“May I see your license?”
Frank Dax dug into the pocket of his jeans, took out a dog-eared wallet and flipped it open, handing over his license without another word. Roman passed it to Officer Forsberg, who walked back to the Interceptor to make the checks.
Leaning toward the window, Roman ran his eyes over the interior of the truck. A tangle of jumper cables lay on the passenger seat, next to a bottle of water and a pack of cigarettes. A thick pair of gloves had been tossed on the floor. The rear of the cab was clear, but one end of a baseball bat stuck out from underneath a discarded sweatshirt in the footwell.
Roman raised an eyebrow.
“I like a knockabout with my boys here and there.” Frank followed his gaze. His burly shoulders were relaxed, hands propped casually on the bottom of the steering wheel. “By all accounts, you were quite a player, back in the day. Maybe we’ll end up on the same team sometime.”
“Stranger things have happened.” Roman kept his tone genial, while the non-professional core of his being ached to pull the older man out of the truck through the window. He lifted his eyes from Frank’s tattooed knuckles, tore his mind away from the thought of them connecting with Elenie’s face. Flames of rage licked low in his stomach. He’d never stop coming after Dax for that alone.
He let the silence draw out before he spoke again. “I had a call from law enforcement in Battle Creek. They pulled over a Grand Cherokee early hours of this morning. Brand-new plates.” Roman paused as Officer Forsberg stepped back up to his elbow. He waited for a huge semitruck to rumble by so his words wouldn’t get drowned out. “Brand new, but false. The car turned out to be stolen. They took a couple of young guys into custody and your name was mentioned.” Frank’s expression didn’t change. “Any idea why that might be?”
This was nothing more than a fishing expedition. All his colleagues had been able to say was that one of the little shits, not blessed with the sharpest of brains, had let slip Frank’s first name before zipping up and refusing to give anything further. The other hadn’t said a word. It was nothing to go on, far from conclusive. No hard proof Dax was involved at all. And only the local knowledge of the Battle Creek police had tied the possibility of this particular “Frank’s” involvement to the case. The car had likely been stolen to order. Roman suspected it could well be another dirty Dax sideline exposed to the half-light.
“My name?” Frank Dax gave a slow blink.
“Yes.”
“I have no idea why that might be, Chief.”
“If we look into it, will we find any connection between you and these guys?”
Dax lifted one beefy shoulder. “I know a lot of people.”
“Any false plates lying around in your garage?”
“Not last time I looked.”
“Maybe I should be the one looking.” Roman took Frank’s license from Officer Forsberg and tapped it against the palm of his hand.
“I tell you what.” Frank’s eyes shifted between Roman and Officer Forsberg as the corner of his lips twisted. “You get a warrant and I’ll give you a guided tour.”
Stalemate. There was no hope of a warrant without more proof. “Seems to fit your remit though. Stolen cars have featured heavily on your rap sheet in the past. You can see why I wanted to have this chat.”
“I can, Chief. I’m only sorry I can’t help you. Especially since Chief Roberts and I found a way to rub along together just fine.”
“Roberts and I have very different priorities.” There was a clear warning in Roman’s tone.
Frank brushed at a speck of dust on the dash. “Is that all? Only, I have places to be.”
Roman nodded, considering his options. They were few. “I won’t keep you any longer then, Mr. Dax.” He handed Frank back his license and stepped away from the Dodge. “You have a good day now.”
Forsberg let out a low growl as Dax pulled away. She tightened her ponytail with jerky fingers. “That guy pisses me off. He seems to come out on top every single time. Pulling him over achieved nothing.”
Roman allowed himself a small smile. “Not exactly.” They strolled back to the car. “He had to have heard his boys got taken in, but now he knows we don’t have any hard evidence he’s involved. The more he thinks we’re floundering around in the dark, the more invincible he’ll feel. And then he’ll make mistakes.”
“He’s not wrong though. We are floundering and he does seem invincible.”
“For now, maybe. But his time is coming. I’ll look in on Millie Westlake again on Monday. A little space might have given her a different perspective on things.”
“Think you can get her to talk?”
“I’ll do my damnedest.”
He’d be a friendly face, a safe haven, a supportive and nonjudgmental ear. However many regular visits it took to the teenager and her parents, Roman would let the Westlakes know they could trust him. He was convinced Millie held at least one of the cards they needed to scupper Frank Dax’s winning streak.
“The guys have been talking, boss.” Forsberg angled herself toward him. “Your idea of a no-blame, anonymous Drug and Alcohol Helpline is one we all want to get behind.”
“Good.” He’d never doubted it but the support of his team was gratifying.
“Everyone wants to sign on for a shift. Maggie, too. We’re all happy to be on a rotational standby but I’d like to take the lead on it, if you’ll let me.”
“It’s yours if you want it, Kristina.”
“Thanks, boss.” Her previous frustration discarded, Forsberg straightened her shoulders. “Maybe we can provide a safety net for the next teenager before they take the leap, rather than afterward.”
“That’s the idea.”
For the ten minutes it took them to return to the station, they discussed how to get the helpline up and running.
Back behind his desk, Roman logged his notes and caught up with the rest of his paperwork. Dougie and Officer Morgan arrived for the late shift, chatting with Maggie on their way through. For a few hours, the open office buzzed with shared jokes, good humor, and teasing. When school finished, the Renner kids appeared. Dougie set one up with a pile of shredding and had the other cleaning windows, slipping them both a cookie from the stash in his desk.
Roman glanced at his watch. After an early start, he was more than ready for a shower and some food, but going home to an empty house wasn’t appealing. On impulse, he picked up his phone.
You there?
Elenie:
I’m here.
Any chance you can get away? I’m picking up takeout. I can get enough for two and meet you anywhere you like.
He hadn’t seen or talked to Elenie since the gala dinner last weekend. They’d exchanged a couple of brief texts but he needed more details about her meeting with the DEA.
Grabbing his jacket and his keys, he closed his office door, checked with Dougie that there were no last-minute issues, and headed out of the station. As he crossed the parking lot, his phone lit up with a reply from Elenie.
Elenie:
Give me half an hour and I can meet you up at the point off Archer’s Road?
Roman’s lips lifted. He knew the spot from his teenage years; it was a good place to meet. The track had been a deathtrap for vehicles way back then. He’d ripped a cable out of the transmission case housing on an old Mustang at seventeen. He guessed it could only be worse now and almost definitely secluded.
He made it there in twenty-five minutes, his battered F-150 handling the terrain far better than the patrol car would have. Roman parked halfway up the narrowing track and walked the last part, food tucked under one arm.
Elenie was already waiting, and a small smile lifted her lips as he turned the corner. Her jeans and t-shirt combo bore no resemblance to the glitz of the red dress, but his chest hitched regardless. Damn, she was potent.
An unexpected rightness spread through him. Attraction layered over respect layered over destiny, as if he was walking toward everything that mattered. Elenie, the transmitter, sending an energy pulse that resonated through his every cell, calling him onward.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“No problem getting away?” He raised an eyebrow.
Elenie shook her head. “No sign of the boys. And Frank and my mom were getting ready to go out. They’re seeing a movie later. I cut through the woods without touching the road.”
Roman nodded. He searched for a response, digging for smooth, reaching for charming, chatty—anything—and came up empty. A thousand unspoken words whirled in the air between them, like a flock of birds, twisting and diving in soundless motion. The gala dinner, their kiss, the touchpaper that smoldered between them, impossible to extinguish, threatening to blaze. He wanted to reach for her but stopped himself. Wanted to tell her how much she’d been on his mind but didn’t know how to begin.
Instead, he smiled again. She smiled again. And it was enough.
The food smelled good when Roman unwrapped it. He was starving. They tucked into the tacos with greedy delight. The pork belly was juicy; the salsa and slaw made for messy eating but it was delicious. Any awkwardness disappeared. Elenie shot Roman a sideways glance and grinned.
He made sure he didn’t have sauce on his chin. “I don’t know what you’re laughing at. Most of your filling is in the bottom of the carton. At least I’m getting mine in my mouth.”
Her eyes flicked to his lips and the tiny movement was incendiary. Roman’s dick twitched in his pants. He shifted slightly, smothering a curse under his breath. She was pure temptation. And the pull between them seemed to grow stronger every time he saw her.
It was impossible to chat while they ate but Roman asked about Elenie’s meeting with the DEA once they’d finished up.
“Don’t give me any details, but did you feel comfortable? Did they explain everything you needed to know?” He’d had his own dealings with CIs before now and knew the fine balance of the relationship well.
Elenie shuffled her feet. “The DEA agent was fine.”
Roman frowned as he wiped his hands. “Who else was there?”
“Chief Deputy Shawn Booth. From the Sheriff’s Office.”
“Damn. Yeah, he seems a bit of a hardass. Did he give you a tough time?”
“No, he just made it clear he wasn’t one hundred percent on board with the whole thing.” Elenie picked at the grass. “It’ll be fine. Special Agent Dorsey was nice.”
It was so damn frustrating being outside of the loop. He wanted to quiz her further, make her tell him everything from start to finish—especially whatever it was that weighted her words with reserve—and yet he knew he couldn’t. “If you’re having second thoughts—”
