Page 56 of Witness Security Breach

Bill leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin tugging at his mouth. “I’d like that very much.”

“Where?”

Without hesitation and with plenty of zeal, as if he’d given it a lot of thought, perhaps the only thing he’d thought of, Bill said, “Same place we bring the girls through.”

The old port. Bill trafficked young women through on boats in shipping containers. The Coast Guard never went near it, the police were paid to steer clear, and the feds didn’t have a clue Bill used it. A good spot for delivery and whatever else Bill had in store for the package.

“What about the information I need?” Bill cut another piece of chicken and chewed.

“There’s a flash drive that supposedly has everything you could possibly want on it, but the package lost it. I’m working on getting it back.”

“How in the hell are you going to do that?” Bill asked around the food in his mouth.

Devlin crossed his legs and folded his hands, letting his confidence shine through. He had this under control. “The flash drive is in New Orleans.”

“I’m not tracking.” Bill dropped his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Explain.”

“Two marshals that were protecting the package have it. Aiden Yazzie and Charlotte Killinger. I framed them for the murder of one of their own and a local cop. Under the heat, they ran. I made sure to drop bread crumbs that led to me. They followed them and they’re here. In New Orleans.”

“How are you going to get the drive from them?”

“Leave that to me.” One way or another, Devlin would get it and take care of them permanently. “I want the first payment. Three and a half million. Wired now to the same offshore account I used last time.”

“Two million,” Bill said flatly and took a long, hearty sip of his stout beer.

“Your math must be fuzzy. Seven million for the package alive. Half of seven is three and a half.”

“Where’s my proof of life?” Bill gestured dramatically around the office. “I have no doubt that you have him, but Edgar might’ve caught a stray bullet during the kidnapping and could be dead, for all I know. Two now. Five on delivery.”

Devlin reached into his jacket pocket, past his holstered gun, took out a burner phone and dialed.

It rang twice. “What’s up, D?” Tate asked. “We get paid?”

“We need proof of life. Send it now.” Devlin disconnected. Eight seconds later, the phone buzzed. Devlin opened the text, bringing up a picture of the package.

His wrists and mouth were duct-taped, and he was wide-eyed with terror. A receipt from a gas station, with today’s date and time stamp, was next to his head.

Devlin held up the phone, the picture facing out. He zoomed in on the receipt and then refocused on the package’s horrified face.

Evil amusement lit up Bill’s eyes as he flashed a Cheshire cat grin. “Three and a half million it is.”

THEIR HALF-BAKED plan might get them both killed.

At least death would put her out of her misery, but the thought of anything bad happening to Aiden made Charlie physically ill. She could tolerate a lot, but not that.

She walked beside Aiden down quiet St. Philip Street in the heart of the French Quarter. The city was steeped in history, practically dripping with it. Nineteenth-century homes that lined the road resembled colorful dollhouses. The cheery, built-to-withstand-anything atmosphere was a stark contrast to their predicament and the current status of their friendship.

Charged silence stretched between them, prickling her nerves.

When she sidestepped a stray glass bottle as an excuse to move closer to Aiden, their hands brushed. He recoiled as if he couldn’t bear the slightest physical contact with her and quickened his pace.

A cold shroud settled around her despite the sweltering temperature. With her stomach churning, she caught up and matched his stride.

She was a real mess, emotions running wild, and she couldn’t let any of it show.

It was one bad thing after another. Losing a witness, being framed for the murder of a colleague, no loyalty from a shameful boss, and now being on the run. Yet the distance from Aiden clung to her like a choking vine, tightening her throat, squeezing her chest and making it hard to breathe.

Finally, they reached Bourbon and turned left. The famous bustling street vibrated with crackling energy. The cacophony of laughter, conversations, jazz and rap music was an overwhelming relief.