Hidden Agenda. Maggie Price

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СКАЧАТЬ than what appeared on the surface. He simply didn’t know.

      “Reilly!”

      Linc looked up, saw Quintana leaning out of his office door.

      “Yeah, Lieu?”

      “Need to see you. And bring an extra cup of coffee.” Quintana glanced across his shoulder, then looked back at Linc. “Black. Make sure there’s no sugar in it.”

      Eyes narrowed, Linc checked the glass panel on Quintana’s office. The coppery-red flash he caught through the open miniblinds told him Carrie McCall was now seated in a visitors chair.

      Setting his jaw, Linc slid the file into the drawer and locked it. Damn if the woman hadn’t gotten that cup of coffee out of him after all.

      Even without looking toward the office door, Carrie McCall knew the instant Linc Reilly stepped inside. She’d felt the same sizzling awareness when she’d spotted him at the coffeemaker. She had spent a week studying his file. Learning about the man. Yet none of that had prepared her for the electric current that had zipped through every nerve in her body when she came face-to-face with her prey.

      Forcing the cadence of her breathing to remain even, she told herself her reaction was to be expected. After all, she was under strict orders to get close to Reilly. Take him down for murder, if the evidence was there. He was her first undercover assignment—one that was risky at best. Dangerous at worst.

      Carrie kept her attention centered on Lieutenant John Quintana, sitting at the tidy desk in front of her. SEU’s commander was a toughly built, compact man in his mid-fifties who gazed at her with serious, dark-brown eyes. The stark bareness of the office walls and nondescript tan miniblinds at the window were in direct contrast to Quintana’s starched white shirt, red tie, blue blazer and gray slacks. He looked comfortable and competent. By all accounts, Quintana was an experienced, solid supervisor who commanded the respect of his troops.

      Carrie understood that—it had always been vitally important she earn the respect of her fellow officers. But if Quintana knew the real reason she’d been placed in his unit, his esteem would not be among the things she earned.

      Although her shoulders were as stiff as wire, she kept her expression relaxed as she smiled at Quintana. “I’m looking forward to working in your unit, Lieutenant. After more than five years in patrol, I’m ready for a different type of police work.”

      “You’ll get that here.” Quintana glanced up, then gestured at chair beside hers. “Reilly, have a seat. Linc Reilly, this is Carrie McCall.”

      Turning her head, Carrie watched the man stride toward her. Six foot four, powerfully built, yet rangy and lean. His hair was pitch-black, edging toward renegade length. He had a sharp-cheeked face with a street-smart look about it and the exotic golden eyes of a tiger that no woman drawing breath would overlook. Including her. That lean, rangy body was clad in snug, worn jeans, and a red fisherman-style sweater, its sleeves shoved up to reveal muscular forearms.

      The man made an impressive package. A dangerous one, too, if he was the cop who’d coolly executed six people.

      “Your coffee,” Linc said. “Black. No additives.”

      “Thanks.” Because of his earlier refusal to shake her hand, she set the cup on the lieutenant’s desk and offered hers again. “Pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Reilly.”

      He kept his eyes on her face as his fingers engulfed hers. “Likewise, Sergeant McCall.”

      She might as well have touched a lightning bolt, Carrie thought, as an electric shock flashed through her system. It took every bit of her willpower not to jerk from his hold.

      Telling herself she would deal later with her overall brainless reaction to the man she was here to investigate, she forced a cool smile. “That errand you mentioned you needed to run must not have taken you long.”

      His fingers tightened, as did his smile. “Not long enough.”

      Since he made no move to loosen his grip, she had to tug her hand from his.

      Quintana frowned. “You two know each other?”

      “Met at the coffeemaker,” Linc replied, and turned. “Did you need me for something other than beverage delivery, Lieu?”

      Quintana stabbed a finger toward the chair angled beside Carrie’s. “Have a seat.” He waited until Linc complied, then asked, “What’s the status of the crackdown on The Hideaway?”

      Carrie sensed Linc’s hesitation. She didn’t have to wonder why—when she received her assignment, she had done her research. Selective Enforcement was an undercover unit that worked closely with Intelligence and primarily targeted career criminals. Their work was sensitive and could adversely impact numerous investigations—even get people killed—if information leaked. By necessity, SEU operated as a highly compartmentalized unit. The cops assigned there were even closemouthed with each other. Officers who were friends might not know the specifics of what each other was working on. And certain questions that fell outside the need-to-know area automatically generated suspicion. Good detectives were habitual, generic snoops, but this unit called for cops who were very localized snoops. Which meant Carrie was going to have to be careful in how she ferreted out the evidence she’d been sent there to obtain.

      Seconds ticked by before Linc said, “Annie and I will make our first visit to The Hideaway tomorrow night. I’ll write you a status report on everything that’s been done so far.”

      Quintana shook his head. “Give me an oral report. Now.”

      Linc slid Carrie a look, then remet his boss’s gaze. “Like we planned, guys from Intelligence have been watching The Hideaway’s parking lot. They’ve photographed employees and customers, compiled a list of tag numbers off their vehicles. When I get the list, I’ll have dispatch run twenty-eight checks off those tags. Once they give me the name of each vehicle’s registered owner, I’ll have background checks on each name run through the CCH and NCIC,” Linc continued, referring to the department’s Computerized Criminal History and the National Crime Information Center computers. “That’ll give Annie and me an idea of the people we’ll be dealing with at The Hideaway. From that, we’ll firm up our final plan on how to play the assignment.”

      Quintana nodded. “How many visits you figure it’ll take to pile up enough citations to raid the place?”

      “Five or six, depends on what we find once we’re inside. We need enough violations to shut the place down permanently. Hopefully, Annie and I will have everything we need so the raid can go down before Thanksgiving. I can’t promise that, though.”

      “Sounds good, Reilly. Except one thing.”

      “What?”

      “Annie’s no longer working with you on this. McCall is.”

      Linc shifted his weight. “Look, Lieu, we know from my informant there’s lots of illegal activity at The Hideaway. Some we’re only guessing about at this point. My partner and I have to observe the violations, identify who’s doing what, then write up nightly reports. Anything inaccurate listed in the arrest warrants, any screw-ups during the bust could mean the entire case gets tossed. We also have to be careful how we interact with The Hideaway’s customers and employees—most who probably don’t know the definition of ‘upstanding citizen.’ Annie’s good, СКАЧАТЬ