to his bare chest.
An image of Carolyn standing at her door with her hand around her daughter's shoulders floated into his mind. For the first time since that terrible night, Mac fell asleep thinking about something other than the bloody scene at the docks and the cop killer he was trying so hard to remember. His body relaxed in sleep but not for long.
His thoughts about the evening with Carolyn couldn't stop the inevitable. His pleasant visions of her soon turned into the nightmare that returned him, as it did almost nightly to that dock.
Mac's nightmare skimmed past the fact the special force had been working on this case for almost a year. Deep undercover, Mac and Sam had worked their way up in the crime organization from different entry points to positions of trust. They relayed the information concerning when the merchandise was to come in and when it was to be exchanged for the case of bills.
Using a prearranged signal, the message was to be sent to Bob Morris, who was hidden within radio range and would have the dock surrounded in seconds. When the money changed hands, the police would enter the warehouse and cut off the exits so the arrests could be made. Hines and his partner would lead in the pack. Mac felt good about the plan, confident it would work.
It should have worked. But it didn't.
The late spring night had felt cold. Clouds had covered the moon and the ever-present nighttime fog blurred the few lights on the dock. The intermittent mournful drone of a foghorn somewhere put nerves of steel on edge.
Mac stood outside the warehouse where he'd been dispatched as one of the lookouts. As he left to take up his position, he glanced at Sam to see a stern but confident look on his face.
In position in the darkness, Mac crouched on top of a stack of crates beyond the cones of light shining from the broad-shaded fixtures high on the side of the building. He checked the gun in his shoulder holster and adjusted his jacket so he would have an easy draw if he needed it. He slid his hand over the outside of his calf to be sure his second one was in place, too. Inhaling the damp fishy air, he listened to the muted sounds of the night.
He wished Sam was outside so they would be better able to protect each other's backs, but he'd been ordered to stay inside as a backup bodyguard for the seller. Mac hadn't dared object without arousing suspicion.
The low guttural growl of an inboard motor grew louder as it approached. From his position on the dock, he watched the launch stop and tie up next to the ladder to the dock. The running lights were cut and then two men strode into the warehouse. Two others took places where they could see the door and the launch and a fifth stayed at the wheel with the motor idling.
After a short time the door opened, one of the buyers stepped out and signaled to the boat with a wave of his hand. One of the lookouts climbed onto the dock and went in the warehouse with the boxes of merchandise.
Mac wiped his palms on his jeans-clad thighs. His fingers touched the butt of his shoulder arm for a final check. The time had come. The goods and the payment, the buyers and the sellers were all in one place.
Mac pressed the button on the cigarette lighter in his pocket that would transmit the signal for the police cars to move in. He allowed himself a tiny smile, but it disappeared in seconds when he heard nothing. No police cars. Nothing.
He scoured the road approaching the dock. There should have been police cars racing down, but he saw nothing. Where the hell were those guys? He held the lighter up over his head to increase the likelihood of a distant transmission and pushed the signal button again. And again. Come on. Come on . The deal wouldn't take much longer.
A ship's horn blared a signal in the distance. Risking being seen by the men from the launch, Mac rose on his knees to get a better look at the road. Still nothing.
The second lookout on the dock by the launch dropped a cigarette.
An image of Carolyn standing at her door with her hand around her daughter's shoulders floated into his mind. For the first time since that terrible night, Mac fell asleep thinking about something other than the bloody scene at the docks and the cop killer he was trying so hard to remember. His body relaxed in sleep but not for long.
His thoughts about the evening with Carolyn couldn't stop the inevitable. His pleasant visions of her soon turned into the nightmare that returned him, as it did almost nightly to that dock.
Mac's nightmare skimmed past the fact the special force had been working on this case for almost a year. Deep undercover, Mac and Sam had worked their way up in the crime organization from different entry points to positions of trust. They relayed the information concerning when the merchandise was to come in and when it was to be exchanged for the case of bills.
Using a prearranged signal, the message was to be sent to Bob Morris, who was hidden within radio range and would have the dock surrounded in seconds. When the money changed hands, the police would enter the warehouse and cut off the exits so the arrests could be made. Hines and his partner would lead in the pack. Mac felt good about the plan, confident it would work.
It should have worked. But it didn't.
The late spring night had felt cold. Clouds had covered the moon and the ever-present nighttime fog blurred the few lights on the dock. The intermittent mournful drone of a foghorn somewhere put nerves of steel on edge.
Mac stood outside the warehouse where he'd been dispatched as one of the lookouts. As he left to take up his position, he glanced at Sam to see a stern but confident look on his face.
In position in the darkness, Mac crouched on top of a stack of crates beyond the cones of light shining from the broad-shaded fixtures high on the side of the building. He checked the gun in his shoulder holster and adjusted his jacket so he would have an easy draw if he needed it. He slid his hand over the outside of his calf to be sure his second one was in place, too. Inhaling the damp fishy air, he listened to the muted sounds of the night.
He wished Sam was outside so they would be better able to protect each other's backs, but he'd been ordered to stay inside as a backup bodyguard for the seller. Mac hadn't dared object without arousing suspicion.
The low guttural growl of an inboard motor grew louder as it approached. From his position on the dock, he watched the launch stop and tie up next to the ladder to the dock. The running lights were cut and then two men strode into the warehouse. Two others took places where they could see the door and the launch and a fifth stayed at the wheel with the motor idling.
After a short time the door opened, one of the buyers stepped out and signaled to the boat with a wave of his hand. One of the lookouts climbed onto the dock and went in the warehouse with the boxes of merchandise.
Mac wiped his palms on his jeans-clad thighs. His fingers touched the butt of his shoulder arm for a final check. The time had come. The goods and the payment, the buyers and the sellers were all in one place.
Mac pressed the button on the cigarette lighter in his pocket that would transmit the signal for the police cars to move in. He allowed himself a tiny smile, but it disappeared in seconds when he heard nothing. No police cars. Nothing.
He scoured the road approaching the dock. There should have been police cars racing down, but he saw nothing. Where the hell were those guys? He held the lighter up over his head to increase the likelihood of a distant transmission and pushed the signal button again. And again. Come on. Come on . The deal wouldn't take much longer.
A ship's horn blared a signal in the distance. Risking being seen by the men from the launch, Mac rose on his knees to get a better look at the road. Still nothing.
The second lookout on the dock by the launch dropped a cigarette.
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