There was silence on the other end. Staring into the dark, where the tree line met the glassy water, Cross continued, “He came for me, but we got away. We’re good for now, but he’s not using just his crew; he’s got hired guns sniffing. I’ve got no idea how he found me or even knows about me. I need to talk to Tessa.”
Tessa’s voice came down the line. “Hey, Cross. How are things?” She sounded relaxed and happy, something that hadtaken weeks to accomplish. Now he was going to have to destroy all that.
He didn’t bother to cushion the blow. “Rodriguez found me.”
“Oh my God! Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I got away, but, honey, he’s coming for you. He hasn’t given up, and he’s not just pissed. He’s desperate. And desperate makes him dangerous.”
“Oh my god,” she mumbled. “I knew he wouldn’t buy that I died. It was too easy, too pat. The deal falling apart was just too much for him to take at face value.”
“We had to try,” Cross countered. “Do you think he knows you’re ATF? That you were the one who called in the raid that got his shipment confiscated?”
There was a long silence. “He might,” she said in a small voice.
“What aren’t you telling me?” Cross demanded.
“There was one guy who might have guessed I was a cop.”
“Who? And how did he know?”
Tessa sighed. “It’s Rodriguez’s cousin. Dunlop is his name. He’s a screw up. A total goofball, but a good guy. He kept trying to get Rodriguez to throw him a bone. Give him a job so he could make some money and build a reputation. Rodriguez just had him clean his clubs. I kind of told him he didn’t want to get involved with Rodriguez. That he was a good guy, and should find a safer situation.”
“I see.” Cross couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Dunlop? Didn’t Drew mention his name? Shit.
“Look, Rodriguez told Dunlop he could be at the exchange when the shipment arrived, mostly as muscle to move the crates. I told him to avoid going. It would be better for his health.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, I know it was stupid, but if you met this guy you’d have done the same thing. He just fucks everything up, and ifhe had showed, I’m sure Rodriguez would have found a way to blame him. The fact that Rodriguez barely escaped as it was had to make him suspicious. Me being stabbed while supposedly awaiting trial was too much. Rodriguez probably put two and two together. If Dunlop had mentioned I was extra nice to him, well, that would probably have been the final nail in the coffin.”
“Okay.” Cross blew out a long breath as he tried to marshal his thoughts. “I guess it doesn’t matter so much now, but Rodriguez has hired outside guns to get us. Keep your head down. I mean seriously down.”
“Does this mean I have to move again?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.
Cross grunted, “Not yet. The fact that he’s so intent on me means he has no idea where you are. We’re gonna keep it that way. I won’t let anything happen to you, promise, honey.”
Stone came back on the line. “I’ll be extra careful. If I don’t hear from you in twenty-four hours, I’ll move her.”
“Good. Take care of her. Keep her safe. I can’t let anything happen to her. It would kill me.”
“You and me both, buddy. I’m on it.”
A door creaked faintly behind Cross. He turned to glance back. The bathroom light inside the cabin flicked off. He caught a glimpse of Drew in the reflection of the cracked glass window, standing just out of sight. She’d heard him. Or at least part of it. He didn’t say anything. Just ended the call and tucked the sat phone away.
He made his way back inside. The small kitchen area was dimly lit by a gas lantern hanging from an overhead beam. The old camp stove hissed softly on the counter, a kettle perched on top. The metal was scorched with use, blackened by years of swamp humidity and cook fires.
He poured the boiling water into two tin mugs and tossed in tea bags. Drew stepped in, freshly washed, damp hair tied back.Her skin had more color than it did earlier, but her eyes were tired. Guarded.
He asked, “Still like it strong?”
“I still hate tea,” she replied. “But sure.” He handed her the mug. She held it like it was a lifeline.
“You want food?” he asked, nudging a dented crate with his boot. “There’s stew. And… other canned atrocities.”
She glanced into the crate, nose wrinkling. “Unless you’re hiding a rack of lamb behind that crate, I’ll pass.”
He gave a low chuckle. “So picky.”
