Dead Draw, page 12
“Still trying to sort that out,” Marsh said. “She works for an investment firm in London but frequently visits the US.”
“Laundering,” Matt said.
“Likely,” Levi agreed. “We’re still digging.”
“All right,” Matt said as he pushed off the wall. “I’m in.”
Levi straightened where he stood next to Marsh. “Just like that?” They’d both been hopeful Matt would play ball, and they’d worked hard putting things together and deciding how to present the case, knowing this would be the first of many times they’d have to do it, the first of many people they’d have to convince, but even Marsh was surprised at Matt’s swift buy-in.
“This is our job,” Matt said. “This is also why we have legats and interagency cooperation. Crime rarely happens in a bubble. I learned that working kidnapping cases. Yes, many of those cases were tied to domestic disputes, but drugs and debt were often involved. I also saw enough kids illegally trapped and transported, including people close to me, to know how these trafficking systems work and why they have to be stopped. It’s why I requested this assignment. So what’s the plan?” He put his waving hands back on his head as if he was holding in more.
What Marsh had heard was enough. He looked to Levi, who likewise gave him a go-ahead nod. “Our plan is to attack Eder’s foundation here in the States, their capital and supply, starting with your case.”
“We intercept the next transport,” Levi said, “and we cut off the flow of victims and funds.”
The corner of Matt’s mouth twitched, the agent fighting a smirk. “Using Frederick.”
Marsh didn’t bother to hide his. “Exactly.”
“We get the evidence to tie EC to this,” Levi continued. “And we also force them to make a different move, to show their hand. I want them on their heels, scrambling like we’ve been for the past eighteen months, and that’s when we strike.”
Marsh wanted to reach out again and clasp Levi’s hand. Hell, any part of him. He wanted to feel the confidence and determination that vibrated in his words and around him. But before he even got around to the mental debate of whether he should, his phone on the desk vibrated with an incoming text.
“It’s from Kwan,” Marsh said as he read the message. “She wants to see me ASAP.”
Levi and Matt exchanged a glance, then turned their gazes to him, the foreboding stares aimed back at him the same feeling that had settled in his own gut. Whatever she wanted, it couldn’t be good.
Seventeen
“You wanted to see me?” Marsh said, closing Kwan’s office door behind him.
She gestured at the visitor chairs across from her. “Levi updated me,” she said as Marsh slid into one. “Seems he’s caught a break on two cases.”
“That’s right.” On their way in, he’d driven while Levi had called to brief the ASAC—on speaker. “I’m happy for him.”
Kwan opened her mouth like she was about to lay into him, then pressed her lips together, inhaled a long slow breath, and proceeded with a forced calm that reminded Marsh so much of Brax he almost called her on it. She’d picked up a lot from her first CO at Camp Casey. “There are a half dozen cyber agents a floor up, and none of them have seen hide nor hair of you, and none of them helped Agent Bishop break a bitcoin laundering case.”
He removed his hat and rested it on his crossed knees. “Bitcoin is a new favorite tool of transnational organized crime. It’s on every legat’s radar. I might have mentioned it to him.”
“If you actually want to reside in this office, this is not the way to go about it.”
“I want to do my job.”
Arms crossed, expression grim, she leaned back in her chair, not buying the shit he was shoveling at all.
“I know you, Kwan. You’re a results soldier. So long as the mission gets done, the cases get closed—”
“You forget there’s an assistant at the front of my title.” She spun half-around, grabbed a folder off the credenza, then tossed it onto the corner of her desk nearest him. “SAC Bell requests your assistance on a case.”
“But I need—”
“You need to repair your image with the decision-makers in this office.”
He couldn’t argue with that mission either, not if he wanted to st—
He hit the brakes on thoughts of a long-term future he wasn’t supposed to be contemplating and grudgingly snatched the file off the desk. Short term, he needed to stay in Kwan’s and Bell’s good graces long enough to close Levi’s trafficking case and make headway on his own against EC. He flipped through the file… and snorted. “A junior cyber agent could handle this.”
“Then you should be able to do the job quickly.” A smile threatened, the soldier he knew breaking through. He, Levi, and Matt were in a position to move two cases off her board. He just had to appease the SAC and deal with this identity theft matter first. “You have a meeting with Bell in ten,” Kwan said. “And put on a goddamn tie before you go in there.”
“You think I have one?” Marsh said on the way to his feet.
“Borrow your husband’s. And lose the hat too.”
“I think you’re secretly enjoying this.”
“Nine minutes.”
He was still chuckling as he ducked into Levi’s office on his way to the elevator. “You got what you need to track accounts and transports?”
“Team’s already on it. Why?”
“Your SAC wants me on an identity theft case.” He dropped the file and his hat in one of the visitor chairs, freeing his hands to rummage through the garment bag that lived on the back of Levi’s office door. “Kwan says I need a tie.”
“She’s not wrong, but you won’t find one in there. Ketchup attack last week.” He unknotted the paisley blue one around his neck, slid it out from under his collar, and tossed it across the desk to Marsh. “Bell’s old school.”
“And I’m career military.” He looped the tie around his neck, tucked it under his collar, and tried to remember how to knot it.
“He’s also racist and homophobic.”
“Again, career military.” Foiled by the slippery silk, he tried again. “I also grew up brown and gay in Texas. Tell me something I don’t know how to handle.”
“A tie apparently.” Levi circled the desk to stand in front of him and made quick—close—work of the shiny strip of fabric.
“Once I took off the uniform, I banished these things.”
“Fair.” Before Levi could step back, Marsh reached out and flicked open the button of his collar. He didn’t need to keep it buttoned with the tie gone. Flicked open another. Levi gasped, a wobbly stuttered thing, and it was all Marsh could do not to slide a hand under Levi’s collar and—“Just tread carefully.”
About Bell or about the heat bubbling between them? Same answer, Marsh suspected. He stepped back before temptation ruined the only tie in the room. “Best behavior. Promise.” He grabbed the file and tucked it under his arm. “If you get stuck, call Brax.”
Levi hitched a hip on the edge of his desk, looking effortlessly handsome. “You’re not the only cyber agent in the building.”
“I’m the only one I trust. Call Brax if you get stuck. He’ll get Holt or one of Redemption’s other hackers on it.”
“Okay, I’ll call Brax. If it comes to that.” He slid off the desk, snatched up Marsh’s hat, and flipped it onto his head. Fuck the tie that had set off his blue eyes; Marsh liked the cowboy hat look on him even better. “And remember, we have to be out of here at four to pick David up and head to PB.”
“See?” Marsh tapped his knuckles against the doorjamb. “SAC Bell is the least of today’s worries.”
Marsh stood in front of the closed door a floor up from Kwan’s office and ran two fingers inside his collar, trying and failing to loosen the obnoxious binding. He was not made for ties and had happily packed his away with this uniform. He’d knelt by his father’s grave last year in a T-shirt, jacket, and jeans, and sworn on his mother’s rosary that he was done putting on ties to try to impress people, like his father, who would never see past his brown skin or sexual orientation. Yet here he was again, putting on a tie to try to impress another old white guy. It had never worked with his father; why would it work with SAC Bell? At least this tie smelled like TexMex casserole and peppermint tea. He adjusted it a final time and knocked.
“Come in,” a deep voice called.
He opened the door and stepped inside, unsurprised to find that Special Agent in Charge Bell’s office looked like ninety percent of the SAC offices Marsh had been in. The walls were covered with plaques and certificates, the cabinet tops were littered with framed pictures and etched crystal things, and an obligatory family photo sat perched on the corner of his desk.
The SAC himself was standard-fare older white guy, maybe a bit fitter than the average SAC, but this was San Diego. Given his trim build, blond hair, and the smell of saltwater in the air, Marsh guessed he either surfed or ran by the ocean every morning. “You must be Agent Marshall,” he said, a faint Midwestern twang to his voice. “I’m SAC Bell. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He gave Marsh a once-over, then smiled, politician perfect, as he extended his hand. “Not at all what I expected based on the warnings.”
“I like to surprise.” He shook the other man’s hand. “Thank you for your office’s hospitality.”
“Anything for a fellow army man.”
“You served?” Marsh asked while mentally recataloguing the room. He didn’t recall any military medals among the other law enforcement recognitions.
“I did a tour in Germany.”
Ah, a short-timer. “It’s lovely there,” he answered with a political smile of his own. One useful skill he’d learned from his father.
“You don’t want to go back?” Bell asked. “To Europe?” He gestured at the visitor chairs, then circled behind the desk.
Marsh claimed a chair and forced himself not to fiddle with the tie. “If it’s a choice between Europe and my husband, I’ll take my husband.”
Bell squirmed in his seat. “Of course. Love does make us do irrational things.”
Marsh could counter that dig a million ways from Sunday, but Kwan’s warnings—Levi’s too—rattled around in his head. If he wanted to get back to helping his husband, he needed to play nice. For now. He removed the folder from under his arm. “Maj—Agent Kwan—said you needed my help with this identity theft case.”
“Ah, yes, one of my contacts on the Hill is particularly interested in the outcome. I wanted our best cyber agent on it.”
“Well, thank you, sir, but you have cyber agents on your team already who are more than capable and who have been with the Bureau longer.”
“Come on, Agent Marshall.” He leaned forward, a predatory gleam in his dark eyes that made the collar around Marsh’s neck feel even tighter. “Your reputation precedes you.”
Trap, his mental warning systems blared. There was definitely more to this than a fake ID. Maybe if he handled it quickly, he could avoid getting stuck in whatever mess was seeping his direction. “I took a brief look at the file. I should be able to make some headway.”
“Excellent.” Bell stood, and Marsh followed suit. “We thank you for it.”
He’d almost escaped, his hand on the doorknob, when the truth revealed itself. “Oh, and Agent Marshall, if you wish to stay in this office with your husband, Representative Anthony’s son is not to be implicated in whatever you might find.”
Eighteen
Following David along the terra-cotta path to his parents’ front door, Levi experienced a rush of insecurity. Not about the obvious—the fact that he’d married Marsh without his mother present—but about what the cowboy by his side would think of his childhood home. It was smaller than the house in PQ. Older and quirkier. A funky flow inside and even funkier on the outside with desert orange stucco, a red tile roof, decorative tiles around the windows, and an arched front door with a sun carved into the wood. It was the type of house you’d expect his once-a-hippie mother to call home, a radical departure from the military bases where she and his father had worked. A perfect escape for them and their family, the epitome of love and whimsy and acceptance, and the perfect retirement oasis for the bohemian beach bums they’d become. It was the polar opposite of Aunt Liz’s sprawling Rancho Sante Fe mansion where June’s wedding would be held the next day.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Marsh said.
“You have been too. Is it work or nerves?”
“Me? Work.” He held a bouquet of flowers in one hand and adjusted his hat with the other. “You?
“Nerves,” Levi admitted. “Are you gonna tell me about the meeting with Bell?” There were work nerves for Levi too, mixed in with the meet-the-parents ones. After his meeting with Bell, Marsh had returned Levi’s tie, and Levi had offered him his office since he’d be in the war room with his team. Too tempting, Marsh had said, then disappeared to his assigned desk with the other cyber agents, only returning when it was time to leave.
“One battle at a time,” Marsh said with a sideways smile that widened when Amy opened the front door, her ten fingers spread. “Is she scoring my outfit?”
Ten points seemed too little for Marsh’s bright white Stetson, matching dress shirt with an open collar and rolled sleeves, dark jeans, and a shiny belt buckle and boots. But, sadly, that wasn’t the meaning of Amy’s jazz hands. “It’s our signal for code red.”
“Code red?”
“Mom’s trying to set me up,” Levi explained.
“Ohmigod.” David cackled. “It just keeps getting better.”
“Watch it,” Marsh playfully warned as he and Levi joined David and Amy inside the gated courtyard. “I will whoop your ass at chess tomorrow morning.”
“If you haven’t been murdered first.” Snickering, David scooted past them, veering left through another gate and around the house to the patio and backyard where Levi heard the rest of his family.
Marsh leaned close, whispering conspiratorially. “He can never meet Helena Madigan.”
“You know he’s gay, right?” Just this morning, there’d been a heated debate over which Bond was hottest. Levi had been voted off the island for even suggesting Roger Moore be in the top three.
“Yes,” Marsh said with a smirk. “I know, and Helena is in her midthirties and happily married to a woman, but those two in the same room would set off a snark explosion that would kill us all.” He stepped from Levi’s side to Amy’s, bending to kiss her cheek. “Amy, good to see you again.”
She blushed and smiled for Marsh, swooning in a way that would never not be hilarious on her, but her amusement quickly vanished when she turned her dark-eyed glare on Levi. “You should have at least told Mom you were bringing a date.”
Levi cringed. “How bad is it?”
“On a scale of one to ten, about a six.”
“That’s not terrible,” Marsh said.
“I’m pretty sure Renée is more interested in my wife than she’ll ever be in either of you, but Mom’s grasping at straws.”
Marsh angled his direction. “It’s really that important to her that you have a date for this wedding?”
He probably should have spent more time this morning filling Marsh in on the Morelli sisters and less time lobbying for Roger Moore, but alas, hot Bond debates were more enjoyable. “Mom and Aunt Elizabeth were born nine months apart.”
“But they weren’t close?”
“Oh, they were besties… until they weren’t. Puberty kicked in, everything became a competition, and here we are, fifty years later.”
It only took a second for Marsh’s eyes to grow big and his jaw to drop, the light bulb going off. “Wait, Margaret and Elizabeth? Were they named after the British royals?”
“Yep,” Amy said. “It’s like Grandma Morelli set them up to battle forever.” Amy slapped the back of his shoulder. “Now you can try to lasso them, Cowboy. The flowers are a good start. Bring smaller ones to the wedding for Aunt Liz.”
Before Marsh could comment, the gate to their left swung open and an attractive woman Levi didn’t recognize appeared in the courtyard. “Oh, you must be Levi.” She extended a hand and a kind, easy smile. “Hi, I’m Renée. Can you apologize to your mom for me? I just got a call from a coworker that, not gonna lie, I’ve crushed on for years. She was stood up by a date and needs a shoulder to cry on.”
“No worries.” Levi opened the gate for her to exit. “I hope it works out for you.”
Marsh doffed his hat and drawled, “Good luck.”
Renée dramatically swooned against the gate, a hand splayed over her chest. “Ugh, if I liked dick.”
“I know, sweetie,” Amy added. “Said the same thing the first time I met him.”
Renée’s gaze shot to Amy, and she seemed to swoon for real at the casual endearment. “If it doesn’t work out with me and Sheila, you and Courtney game for a third?”
“Could be.” Amy’s smile was more seductive than Levi ever wanted to see. “She give you our numbers?”
Renée nodded.
“Good luck, then, with a caveat.”
Renée skipped down the path, a winner either way, and so was Levi’s sister. “Did you just pick up my date?”
“It appears I did.”
Marsh hip-checked him. “One skirmish won.”
“Don’t get cocky, Cowboy,” Amy warned. “The battle’s just begun.”
Instead of going around the house, Amy led them through it, and Levi’s nerves returned. The many decades of furniture, decorations, and technology were eclectic at best, haphazard at worst, a minefield for a guy as big as Marsh to navigate, but he managed it well. He swerved from the path Amy cut to take a closer look at the dining room walls covered in family photos. “I know it’s tight and cluttered,” Levi said, trying to distract him before he reached the awkward middle school years.
Marsh rotated in the narrow space between the wall and table, surveying again the living area they’d walked through. “It’s perfect.”
“Perfect?”
