Dead Draw, page 6
Other agent.
He did resist. Barely.
Leaving the ring in Levi’s hand, Marsh withdrew and returned to the laptops on the bed. He snagged his personal one and opened it on the desk. “We’ve got a few minutes,” he said as he booted up the computer and navigated his multiple layers of security. “Let me show you what I’ve got.”
Levi seemed relieved by the change of subject. He tucked the ring back into its case and circled the desk to stand beside Marsh. “Is this what you mentioned to Matt and the team?” He jutted a chin at the files Marsh was opening on-screen. “About the money being too much for one transport?”
Marsh nodded. “My legat team specialized in transnational organized crime. Three years ago, we were investigating a human trafficking operation in Europe.” He pointed at the first spreadsheet. “These are the accounts and transactions we identified as associated with the operation. Similar overpayment pattern. The traffickers weren’t paid for each transport but for multiple transports at a time.” He brought forward the PDF of the wire confirmation he’d found the day of the Vienna bombing. “This was a deposit made to a Balkan-based ISIS cell three days before the bombing in Vienna that killed Sophie.”
Levi leaned closer and peered at the screen. “Same bank, and the account numbers are close.”
Marsh maximized the third file, an account ledger. “This is the account that wired money to your traffickers.”
Levi straightened, tilted his head, and with his blue eyes catching the sun, Marsh couldn’t help but think of a curious wolf. “That’s not the same bank as the first two.”
“Correct, but—”
“Same transaction behavior.” Sharp as a wolf too.
“Which is why I submitted a warrant and pulled the account control agreements. Got the names of the account holders. I did some digging, and these are the corporate org charts. The entity that funded your traffickers in San Diego and the entities that funded traffickers and suicide bombers in Europe.” He opened the charts on the computer screen. “See the pattern?”
“Layers and layers of subsidiaries that all lead back to this company in Vienna.” He tapped the screen with a fingertip, and the computer nerd in Marsh barely resisted the urge to slap it down. “Eder Capital.”
“Want to know where else EC invests?” Marsh opened the interactive map he’d been building the past three years. Red dots of varying sizes appeared in the Balkans, Belarus, Syria, Mexico, Thailand, and the Central African Republic.
“Where are they in the US?” Levi asked.
Marsh scrolled left to the Americas and more dots appeared on-screen. “DC, Nevada, California, and Missouri.” Three of those locations were among the top five trafficking risk areas in the States.
Levi’s mouth opened and closed several times, questions no doubt flying as the investigator’s brain made connections. He finally settled on the most obvious query. “Why haven’t you gone after Eder before?”
“We tried, but this is a sophisticated operation. EC is well insulated by lawyers and corporate structures, and their funds flow is structured to look like donations, infrastructure projects, and casinos that are touted as efforts to revitalize local economies. They’ve got more politicians in their pockets than those yahoos out of Kansas could ever hope for. To most of the world, Eder Capital looks like a group of philanthropic venture capitalists promoting enlightened capitalism worldwide.” He maximized the last file he’d opened. “This is the path of just one of those payments.”
Ten million dollars traveled a circuitous route around the globe and ended right back in EC’s account—as thirty million dollars.
Levi scoffed. “They’re not philanthropists. They’re fucking money launderers.”
“That’s the generous interpretation. They’re murderers taking their cut from the terrorists and traffickers—human, organ, arms, drugs, you name it—they do business with.”
“Jesus.” Levi backed away from the desk, clasped his hands behind his head, and paced the longest part of the room from the entry door to the balcony door. Marsh recalled the day he’d put it all together—that tangled rush of revelation, frustration, and excitement. Now all that lingered was frustration, hence the drastic maneuver in the velvet box still sitting on the other end of the desk. He waited for Levi to burn the rush out and return to his side. Once there, Levi pointed at the western half of the map. “This was the route we were working for the traffickers.” He traced a path from Mexico to San Diego, then two branches, one north to Nevada and the other east to Chicago via Missouri. “Nevada and Missouri are the usual destinations, but sometimes they transport victims as far as Chicago. We’ve been using funds flow, cargo manifests, and missing person reports.”
“Then that’s where we start.” Marsh closed the laptop and rocked back in his chair. “We try to get ahead of the next transport.”
“So we’re after the facilitator, then?” Facilitators were the middlemen, connecting capital to criminals.
“Nailing the facilitator is phase two on our way to ultimately nailing EC.”
Levi rested against the edge of the desk. “And phase one?”
“Disrupting operations here in the States so badly that their source of funds and their supply chain, as awful as I know that sounds, are compromised. The facilitator, or better yet, EC, will have to show their hand.”
“That’s what you were trying to do last weekend.” The usual anger in Levi’s voice about the botched raid had morphed into understanding, a welcome change.
Marsh nodded as he stood. “They moved the transport up. That part worked. The last-minute location change was the miscalculation. And there was a missing minute in the security feed I should have spotted when their man waiting on-site abandoned ship. In any event, the idea is to exert enough stress on the foundation of the operation that they’ll have to poke their heads out to take action. We keep this next operation locked down—need to know only, and I go about things more carefully—so your traffickers don’t have time to make adjustments, then EC will have even fewer options.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Deterrence, retribution, or soliciting new clients.”
One corner of Levi’s mouth hitched. “And that’s when we catch them.”
Marsh smirked to match. “And that’s when we catch them.”
It felt good to have a partner again. Someone to strategize with, to bounce ideas off, to celebrate the wins and mourn the losses in what would be a guerrilla effort. Had been so far. The welcome camaraderie sank into Marsh’s bones, reminded him just how long he’d been going at it alone, propelled him closer to the source of that companionship.
Beside him, Levi inched closer and tilted his head. His eyelids fluttered closed, dark blond lashes on pale cheeks, and a breath escaped his lips, ghosting over Marsh’s, drawing him the rest of the way—
A phone alarm trilled, startling them apart, Levi reversing hard and fast. “What’s that?”
“Our reminder.”
“Reminder for what?” His voice trembled as he ran a shaky hand through his hair.
Marsh didn’t think his answer would help those ripples of banked desire, the same ones coursing through Marsh, but it was now or never. He snatched up the ring box. “Time to I do.”
Eight
Levi lowered the phone from his ear and disconnected the unanswered call, not bothering with a voicemail after the other three he’d left already. “I can’t get David to pick up.”
Marsh parked the Bureau cruiser in the county administration building’s parking lot. “Our appointment is in ten minutes. Even if he picked up now, could he get here in time?”
“Fuck.” Levi dropped the phone into his lap and slumped in his seat. Eyes closed, he scrubbed a hand over his face, mentally cursing the too swiftly moving clock and also Marsh for not giving him enough heads-up. “I can’t get married without my son there.”
“Is this about David or about his mother?”
There was that too. In Marsh’s hotel room, Levi had let the this better not fuck up my job talk and the this cowboy is smarter than I gave him credit for feelings distract him from the hardest part of the entire scenario. The guilt that had started as a dull ache in the pit of his stomach and intensified as they’d neared the waterfront now sat like an elephant on his chest as he eyed the distinctive government building through the windshield. He rubbed at the wretched pain with his fist. “It feels like a betrayal.”
Marsh gently grasped his wrist and drew his hand down, holding it lightly on the console between their seats. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. Yes, this is a legal marriage, but your heart hasn’t betrayed Kristin. But, Levi…” Marsh’s gentle tug drew Levi’s gaze. “One day you will fall in love again, and that won’t be a betrayal either. From what I’ve gathered about Kristin, she’d want that for you.”
He nodded, remembering those final days in hospice and the muted conversations he and Kristin had shared during her more lucid moments. Recalling the lectures—no, adjustments—she’d given him because she knew him better than he did himself. “She made me promise her.” Tears escaped as he forced words out around the lump in his throat. “She didn’t have the strength to eat or drink, could barely even move, but she squeezed my hand and made me promise to look love in the face again one day.”
Marsh squeezed the same hand his late wife had, a connection bridging past and present. “You can do this, Levi, but only if you want to. We can call this whole thing off. It’s your play.”
He withdrew his hand and swiped at the wet on his cheeks. “She’d also tell me to do whatever it takes to solve this case.”
“All right, then, let’s do this.” Marsh cranked the car long enough to roll up the windows, then reached into the backseat to grab the white hat he’d swapped for the black one.
Levi glanced once more at his phone. “I just wish…”
“Wouldn’t you rather David be there when you’re ready to look love in the face again and say I do?” He settled a big warm hand on Levi’s shoulder. “He should see how brave his father is to take that chance.”
Fuck, he was too perfect. Levi wanted to lean across the console and kiss him and wasn’t that a complete and total mindfuck after the conversation they’d just had. “Jesus.”
Marsh smirked as if he had a front row seat to Levi’s mental gymnastics. “Haven’t we covered this?”
Levi shook his head, bemused. “Amy’s gonna love you.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Inside, they rounded the corner to the clerk’s office and Levi spied Amy at the end of the hall, chatting with a tall spindly man Levi recognized as Braxton Kane. As soon as she caught sight of them, she stopped midconversation and made a slow sweep of the man beside Levi from his polished boots to his bright white hat. Her dark eyes widened, and her mouth rounded into an O.
“You must be Amy,” Marsh said as they approached. Levi had been around him enough now to notice how he modulated his voice, laying the accent on thicker when he wanted to charm or distract. “Emmitt Marshall,” he said. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Don’t let the syrup fool you,” Brax said, wise to Marsh’s ways.
“Zip it, Brooklyn,” Marsh said with a zipping motion of his fingers and a spot-on impression of Brax’s New York accent.
Amy tore her gaze from the cowboy long enough to cast Levi a devilish grin. “I don’t care how this came about”—she gestured between the two of them—“Aunt Liz is gonna shit.”
Levi laughed out loud, the elephant from earlier traipsing off for now, its weight lifting off his chest. “Marsh, my sister, Amy Bishop.”
“I like you,” Marsh said to her, then clasped Brax’s shoulder. “Better than I like this one.”
Brax scoffed around a crooked smile. “Get over here, asshole.” Marsh’s faux affront melted, and the two men embraced, their hug tight and lingering. Something else Levi had noticed about Marsh—despite his swagger, there was a vibrating tension about him, a mental chess game always running behind his dark eyes. He expended so much energy being the Emmitt Marshall, but in Brax’s arms, Marsh let the front drop, his big body relaxing, his smile stretching into something easy and true.
It was a sight to behold. One that made Levi insanely, irrationally jealous. He wanted to be that person for Marsh.
Marsh leaned back and clasped Brax’s shoulders. “Thank you for being here.”
“Wasn’t gonna miss this. Holt sends his regards. Toddler emergency.”
“Aww, you could have brought the princess with you.” He flicked the brim of his cap. “New hat for her to destroy.”
“Next time, I promise.”
Levi snapped out of the green-hued fog when Amy whispered in his ear, “If I wasn’t a lesbian, I would let that cowboy ride me all night long.” She snickered at his answering splutter.
“Bishop-Marshall party,” the clerk called from the office behind them, saving Levi from further embarrassment. At least for the next twenty minutes while he and Marsh filled out the necessary paperwork. The clerk only once gave them a sideways glance when they both presented their FBI badges as a second form of government-issued ID. Marsh unfurled his honeyed-accent, assured her she wouldn’t get in trouble for marrying them, and once that media-induced hiccup was overcome, their group followed the clerk out of the building.
“How did you manage an appointment on such short notice?” Levi asked as they made their way down to the arbor by the water. “Given her reaction to our badges, I don’t think you played the FBI card.”
“Different badge, so to speak. This is a military town. Your family served, I served, there’s always someone who knows someone, even across branch—”
His words and steps faltered, and Levi nearly stumbled beside him. “Marsh?” When that didn’t garner a response, he gave his shoulder a nudge and said his name again. Still nothing.
Was Marsh getting cold feet? Now?
Levi glanced from Marsh to the arbor where the clerk and their friends moved into position beneath the arch of flowers.
The flowers.
Bougainvillea.
Levi couldn’t stop the grin from splitting his face. “You didn’t look at pictures before you booked the appointment?”
Marsh removed his hat, held it over his chest, and shook his head. His expression of wonder and peace, a dash of that same easiness from earlier when he’d embraced Brax, was a lovely sight.
His hand curling around Levi’s was an even lovelier feeling.
“There a problem, Major Marshall?” Brax called.
“I thought you were a colonel?” Levi said.
Marsh cleared his throat but didn’t take back his hand. “Wrong titles are a thing with him and Holt.” His gaze, though, remained locked on the arbor that bloomed with the magenta flowers he loved. “If I believed in fate…”
“Don’t most cowboys?”
Marsh swung his gaze to Levi and his rich brown eyes were full of something Levi couldn’t put words to. Was afraid to. “If you’re not careful, Agent Bishop, this one might start to.”
Marsh rested against the harbor railing and watched as Amy laughed at something Levi said, the two of them seated on a stone bench near the arbor. Heads close, it was impossible not to notice the sibling resemblance—same high cheekbones, same straight noses, mismatched lips that stretched into balanced smiles, a shared spark of mischief in their eyes. Those two would be trouble—the good kind.
“When we talked Thursday night, I don’t recall ‘marry Agent Bishop’ being on the list of ways to get back into Kwan’s good graces.”
“Friday morning, technically.” Marsh tore his gaze from the Bishops and gave his attention to the man who’d hopped a same-day flight for him. “Thanks for getting down here so fast.”
“My business partner has a private jet at her disposal.”
“How is the bounty hunter business going?”
“Well.” Brax shifted, blocking Levi and Amy from Marsh’s wandering gaze. “Now quit dodging.”
Damn cop, always with the interrogations. “I took the evidence Holt helped me gather and put it to good use. Beyond that, it’s better if you don’t know. Plausible deniability and all that shit.”
Brax quirked a brow. “Rewind three sentences. My husband is already involved in this.”
Holt was a digital assassin, Marsh’s fucking protégé, who could hack all his secrets in ten minutes flat, but Marsh could try—and fail—to deter his friends. “Need to know basis.”
“Marsh—”
“I’m trying to keep your family safe and in the clear. I’ve already told you both too much.” He had no doubt the Madigans could handle anything thrown their way, but Marsh had already lost one friend to this crusade. He would avoid aiming bullets at his other ones as long as he could. “I cannot lose you too.”
“Okay,” Brax conceded. “But you’re family too, and if you need tactical support, we’ll be there.”
He was lucky to call Brax family after going AWOL on him for months. Even luckier to call Lily, Holt, and the rest of the Madigans family too. They were a force to be reckoned with and more family than an only child could ever hope for. “The Madigans protect their own, I know.” But he’d rather try moving this through pseudo-official channels first. He needed collars, not coffins. “You’re on the call list if it comes to that.”
Satisfied, Brax relented and relaxed against the rail beside him. Marsh’s gaze went right back to Levi, unable to take his eyes off his new husband. He tapped his new ring against the railing, still not quite believing the whirlwind weekend that had resulted in a whirlwind marriage, even if it had all been his idea.
“You like him,” Brax said.
“He’s a good agent and a good father. He just needs a little help.”
