and went. He’d just used the express lane.
Chapter Six
Damien downed his third cup of coffee and resisted the urge to leap up and pace. Huck Finn was too important to miss a single detail, but he was so full of energy he couldn’t stay still.
The joint task force for the mission was comprised of the Drug Enforcement Administration, the Toronto Drug Enforcement Unit, and Chicago police. Everyone gathered at the mobile–staging center, a large trailer with workstations and a very cramped meeting space. Everyone wanted a piece of this pie. If Huck Finn went down next weekend as planned, there might easily be twice as many officers, with two more departments involved and four times the suits.
The agent in charge of the case, Giovanna “Gio” Veronesi, stood next to Damien’s seat, flipping through a few pages of her notes. Their director, Howard Cooper, stood not far off, his beady gaze narrowed and aimed at Gio’s back. The man had tried everything to pull the case from Gio, but he didn’t have the years or experience working in Chicago to do it. He would be on hand to stand in front of the camera and take the glory, though. That was fine. Damien had worked with Gio for years on Emilio’s crimes, with no more acknowledgment than a nod of thanks for proper paperwork. It pissed Damien off, but not Gio. The woman had always had a calm, levelheaded approach. As much as Damien wanted to be lead on this one, it was probably best that she was the lead agent.
Hell, his mind was still partially back at House Surrender, with a tattooed, golden-haired siren. His balls were so blue he didn’t know if he’d survive how much he wanted the woman.
Damien resisted the urge to check his personal cell phone for a call from her. A text. Morse code. A doodle. If he were lucky an erotic picture or a video. He hadn’t heard from either Rapunzel or Yamamoto all day, and he hadn’t had time to worry about it.
“Gio?” he muttered.
“One sec.” She flipped a few more pages.
He held his tongue. This was Gio’s show, after all, but they were working with a small window of opportunity.
“Okay. Let’s roll,” she said, for his ears alone. Gio straightened up, adjusting her suit jacket and flipping her wild curls over her shoulder. She might be only a few inches over five feet, but Gio was one spitfire of an Italian, and one hell of an agent.
Gio stepped into the space at the end of the room. There was a whiteboard behind her. They’d sketched the layout of the area, and how the men would be positioned in a best-case scenario. The audience slowly hushed, and she waited until she had their full attention.
“I want to thank everyone for being here. I know this is seven days earlier than expected. We’re missing manpower, but the team we have is the most skilled set of officers I’ve had the honor of working with.” She turned slightly toward the board and glanced at her notes.
“Chicago DEA welcomes you all,” Cooper said, stepping forward to hover at Gio’s side. The man dwarfed her in stature, but Gio shone in the spotlight. If she didn’t like the trenches so much, she could have done a nice job as a suit.
“Thank you, sir. Let me get everyone up to speed. At roughly eighteen hundred hours on Friday, José ‘The Money Man’ Morales”—she pulled a photograph from her file and stuck it under a clip above the whiteboard—“phoned our Chicago area kingpin, Emilio Molina.” She pulled out another photograph and stuck it next to the accountant’s. “He said that the quarterly accounting meeting was going to be moved up. At the time, that was all we knew. At oh one hundred hours this morning, we heard from our undercover agent, Matías Govea. He’s been embedded with the new Valdez cartel, and he got a message out from California, where he’s positioned with the Columbian leaders. Not only are The Money Man and Emilio meeting with enough drugs and cash to put them away for a very long time, Aarón Valdez
Chapter Six
Damien downed his third cup of coffee and resisted the urge to leap up and pace. Huck Finn was too important to miss a single detail, but he was so full of energy he couldn’t stay still.
The joint task force for the mission was comprised of the Drug Enforcement Administration, the Toronto Drug Enforcement Unit, and Chicago police. Everyone gathered at the mobile–staging center, a large trailer with workstations and a very cramped meeting space. Everyone wanted a piece of this pie. If Huck Finn went down next weekend as planned, there might easily be twice as many officers, with two more departments involved and four times the suits.
The agent in charge of the case, Giovanna “Gio” Veronesi, stood next to Damien’s seat, flipping through a few pages of her notes. Their director, Howard Cooper, stood not far off, his beady gaze narrowed and aimed at Gio’s back. The man had tried everything to pull the case from Gio, but he didn’t have the years or experience working in Chicago to do it. He would be on hand to stand in front of the camera and take the glory, though. That was fine. Damien had worked with Gio for years on Emilio’s crimes, with no more acknowledgment than a nod of thanks for proper paperwork. It pissed Damien off, but not Gio. The woman had always had a calm, levelheaded approach. As much as Damien wanted to be lead on this one, it was probably best that she was the lead agent.
Hell, his mind was still partially back at House Surrender, with a tattooed, golden-haired siren. His balls were so blue he didn’t know if he’d survive how much he wanted the woman.
Damien resisted the urge to check his personal cell phone for a call from her. A text. Morse code. A doodle. If he were lucky an erotic picture or a video. He hadn’t heard from either Rapunzel or Yamamoto all day, and he hadn’t had time to worry about it.
“Gio?” he muttered.
“One sec.” She flipped a few more pages.
He held his tongue. This was Gio’s show, after all, but they were working with a small window of opportunity.
“Okay. Let’s roll,” she said, for his ears alone. Gio straightened up, adjusting her suit jacket and flipping her wild curls over her shoulder. She might be only a few inches over five feet, but Gio was one spitfire of an Italian, and one hell of an agent.
Gio stepped into the space at the end of the room. There was a whiteboard behind her. They’d sketched the layout of the area, and how the men would be positioned in a best-case scenario. The audience slowly hushed, and she waited until she had their full attention.
“I want to thank everyone for being here. I know this is seven days earlier than expected. We’re missing manpower, but the team we have is the most skilled set of officers I’ve had the honor of working with.” She turned slightly toward the board and glanced at her notes.
“Chicago DEA welcomes you all,” Cooper said, stepping forward to hover at Gio’s side. The man dwarfed her in stature, but Gio shone in the spotlight. If she didn’t like the trenches so much, she could have done a nice job as a suit.
“Thank you, sir. Let me get everyone up to speed. At roughly eighteen hundred hours on Friday, José ‘The Money Man’ Morales”—she pulled a photograph from her file and stuck it under a clip above the whiteboard—“phoned our Chicago area kingpin, Emilio Molina.” She pulled out another photograph and stuck it next to the accountant’s. “He said that the quarterly accounting meeting was going to be moved up. At the time, that was all we knew. At oh one hundred hours this morning, we heard from our undercover agent, Matías Govea. He’s been embedded with the new Valdez cartel, and he got a message out from California, where he’s positioned with the Columbian leaders. Not only are The Money Man and Emilio meeting with enough drugs and cash to put them away for a very long time, Aarón Valdez
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