Strangely, that made Rebel laugh. Plenty was wrong with him. First and foremost, he wasn’t afraid. He just wasn’t. Second, he had a lot of confidence in his abilities.
“I got a quick glimpse of him, but he was in a hoodie,” Rebel continued.
“You need to get out.”
“Can you arrange for a plane?” Rebel raked his hand through his hair.
“Oh, sure, now you need me. You know, I’m more than a damn taxi service.”
“You knew what you were gettin’ into when you accepted this case.”
“I’d heard you’re insane, but I didn’t believe it. I’m sorry, Rebel, but I’ve gotta request a different assignment, if I’m not yanked off this one.”
“I understand.”
“Which airport?”
“Corpus Christi.”
“You got it. A plane will be waiting. Good luck.” The line went dead.
Rebel drove in silence, his thoughts laser-focused on the person who took out the dealers. Months and months of hard work, gone. He was minutes away from securing that drug run… unless they’d found the wire and pumped him with bullets.
Never woulda happened. That wire is well hidden.
He had complete confidence he would have closed that deal, then set in motion the biggest fentanyl arrest in the US.
What an effin’ waste.
He’d get reassigned to a new case, or worse, get assigned fucking desk duty for not following procedure.
Maybe the sniper had the right idea.
Just drop the scumbags and move on.
4
DADDY’S SECRET WEAPON
Britain
The last several hours had been a total whirlwind. Brit got back to Denver at seven in the morning, booked a flight to DC, threw some clothes in a duffle. Then, back to the airport where she made her plane at last call.
Once in DC, she took a taxi to FBI Headquarters.
Though she had no confirmation her contact would be there, she doubted he’d be anywhere else.
At four in the afternoon, she entered the building through the employee entrance, flashed her government ID, and continued inside. Instead of stopping at the elevator bank, she headed down the hallway.
At the end of the corridor, she held her ID against the scanner, the light turned green. She yanked open the door and took the stairs down to the basement. Few had access to that level. The eeriness of the dimly lit hallways reminded her of a medieval torture chamber or a haunted house that she and Addison would create as kids in their backyard at Halloween.
She turned the corner and continued on to a closed door in the middle of the hallway.
Knock-knock-knock.
“Come in.”
She opened the door.
