Chapter 17

"I uncovered some major intel regarding my case," Joelle began the minute they sat down at a table in the small restaurant Mike had chosen. Mike had wanted to pick her up, but she still wasn't quite ready for him to see her sad little living arrangement. Not that he probably didn't already know where she bunked. The well-connected man, no doubt, would have had any and all available PD units scouting the area for her, so he'd be fully informed.

Joe liked her semi-autonomy, but found herself unbothered with Mike's presumed stalking. Still, should she fill Mike in on what she'd found?

Her gut was telling her she'd need him and his team onboard before things went much further.

Mike quirked a brow. "Are you sharing that tidbit because you're excited, or because you're thinking of taking me up on my offer of help?"

"A little of both," she told him, her amusement sparked. This man wasn't shy about interjecting himself into questionable situations.

"Well, don't leave me hanging," he chuckled.

"I found a warehouse." She dangled the tantalizing morsel.

His mouth hardened. "In my jurisdiction? And you went in?"

"Duh," she snorted. "You want to compare credentials, or hear about my night?"

"Tell me," he grunted.

"Well, you know my tracker alerted me to movement, so I followed it a storage facility, then to a remote location west of town."

Mike nodded and she went on.

"I witnessed a meet-and-greet at this out-of-the-way warehouse, where my two previous suspects were having a conversation with what appeared to be a boss-figure. The building was a piece-of-shmuck-rust-trap that otherwise would have been a place of no interest, but it had been given some recent and serious updates that gave me pause."

"Updates such as…?" Mike inquired, still not looking happy.

"Such as a new, overhead door, with shiny, state-of-the-art locking devices on both it and the walk-in entry on the side."

"So you hunkered down…" Mike prodded.

"I did. And from there I watched my two original suspects chat with guy number three before they left in a car, and the tractor I'd previously tagged. The third perp went into the building, and I waited him out until Mr. Nugget finally left the premises an hour or so later."

"Mr. Nugget?" Now Mike's lips twitched.

"Yeah. That's what I'm calling him until I get an ID. The dude wears a gold nugget earring in his left lobe and is missing the pinky finger on his left hand."

"Shit." Mike's face went from indulgent to furious in a hot second.

"What?" Joe asked.

"That's Anthony Galici."

"You know him?" She sat forward, expectantly.

Mike practically snarled. "Indeed, I do. He's on every Maine police department's radar. The man is known to have ties to the mob, and has had his grubby little fingers in a lot of illegal pies. It's just that nobody's ever been able to pin him down to charge him with anything specific."

Joelle's whole body lit up. "Shritt, that's good news. Because now that I have a positive ID from you, I can make a prediction. Anthony Nugget's reign of terror is almost over," she gleefully informed Mike.

"Tell me what you found when you broke in," he commanded. "Because I know you did breach, new locking devices be damned."

Joe grinned, but Mike's whole body tightened as he waited, placing his clenched fists on the table.

Oooh.Mike in seduction mode was damned potent. But Mike in bad-asp operative mode was a total turn-on. And the fact that he hadn't blinked over her breaking in? Steeeeamy!

"After Anthony left," Joe filed that name away so she could do her own research, later, "I did break into the warehouse and found cases of liquid xylazine, a cooking station, and bags of the resulting xylazine powder they'd manufactured already."

"Shit," Mike swore. "The man's cutting fentanyl."

"Exactly," Joe agreed. "But there wasn't any at the warehouse. At least not yet," Joe told him.

Mike looked anything but pleased. "You know your findings so far won't put Galici away, as much as I'd like it to. It's not illegal in Maine to possess xylazine."

"I'm aware of that," Joe commiserated with a pat of her hand to the back of his clamped digits. "But I'm following some pretty solid leads, and I'm sure he'll implicate himself with the fentanyl, as soon as it gets to its final location."

"Final location?" Mike questioned, and why wasn't she surprised he'd picked up on that unintentional slip of the tongue.

"Yeah," Joe sighed, knowing she'd just opened a door.

Well, hulk. She guessed there was no time like the present to fill her back-up in on everything she'd uncovered so far.

She started her intel sharing with her initial discovery. "You know I've been undercover as a server at the Local Moose."

Mike nodded.

"Well I got lucky. The night I was under your ex's car, tagging it, I heard a couple guys talking about ‘product', so I stayed put and listened. Turns out the tractor owner I mentioned, whose name is Benji Havastill, agreed to keep the group's product in his rig because the storage facility where they normally hide it is up for sale and under inspection right now. I watched that transfer happen earlier last night. The second guy who was with Benji, whom I've yet to receive a profile on? Benji called him Chuck. He's the one who told Benji to keep the fentanyl in his semi until their unit is out from under scrutiny."

"Benji and Chuck," Mike glowered and shook his head. "They're known to all law enforcement around here."

He then gave her the information her own office had neglected to forward. "Chuck's last name is Banito, and he's been in and out of jail a lot. All minor infractions. Benji, too. Although I'm surprised at Benji's involvement. He's been on the straight and narrow for four or five years now, having married a local gal who's a ball-buster. They even have two kids, if I'm not mistaken." Mike grimaced. "Tiffany bought Benji his tractor with some settlement money she got from a botched surgical procedure that killed her mother. Tiff would put Benji's prick in a vise if she knew he was back into illegal dealings."

Joe tapped her lip. "Benji actually sounded very reluctant to store the substance in his rig. He complained, but Chuck shut him down. The higher-ups must have something on the man."

"No doubt," Mike speculated.

"But you know it's not Benji we want," Joelle felt the need to say.

"No. I get it. You're working your way up the food-chain to shut things down." Mike concurred. "Now, thanks to sharing with me, you know Anthony's name, and can consider him your prime suspect."

"Mmm, hmm," Joe murmured, finally picking up the menu in front of her at Mike's mention of food-chain. She was slammed hungry. "But I need to make sure Mr. Nugget is the man shipping to the local cartel we're looking to bust in Nevada. If not, I'll have to be patient and wait to see if there's someone more important involved. Thoughts?" she asked as her eyes flew over the restaurant's offerings.

Mike grinned. "About the menu, or about whether or not I think Anthony is your number one?"

"Both," Joe snickered.

"Okay. Here's my food pick. It's always safe to go with the prime rib."

Joe liked that choice.

"And as far as we know," Mike continued, "Anthony doesn't answer to anybody. So I think he's your man."

Joelle smiled. "Good." Maybe it wouldn't take much longer to shut the operation down. Although that meant a new career choice was on the horizon, which made her both worried over what and where that should be, and giddy that it might involve Mike.

The server came over to take their order, and Joe, bringing her mind back to present, did as suggested, and ordered the prime rib with a baked potato and spinach. Mike followed suit, but chose Brussel sprouts as his vegetable.

"Eww. Brussel sprouts?" Joe made a face. She'd never liked the nasty green orbs that she thought tasted like skunk perfume.

"Are you kidding? They're the best," Mike countered with a gleam in his eye. "I'll share if you like."

"Uh, uh. No way. Don't think you're getting anywhere near me with those horrid little monsters." Joelle narrowed her eyes. "As a matter of fact, since you're eating them, if you're thinking of getting your mouth up close to mine tonight, you'll have to brush your teeth first. Twice."

"That bad, huh?" Mike chuckled.

"Worse. My uncles used to cook them when they were on leave, and the house would smell like snit for days. I'd gag every time I walked in."

Mike threw back his head and laughed. "I was that way with liver," he commiserated. "My dad loves it, and it made me want to puke."

Joe chuckled. "I wonder what it is that you cook for your kids that they'll hold against you when they're older."

"Nothing," Mike answered smugly. "I'm perfect. Didn't you know?"

"Gosh, you sound like my uncles."

Mike laughed and regarded her closely. "This is the third time you've mentioned uncles. Why don't you tell me about them?"

Joelle grinned. They were one of her favorite subjects. "They're quite the pair. Twins, you know. They're my father's younger brothers, and when he passed away during my senior year in high school, they both left the service to make sure I had a solid home, a lot of love, and an education in the finer points of swearing."

She despised Lester, her supervisor, for taking that away from her.

"They were a couple of profane, retired Army Rangers, but they nurtured me and paid for my college education."

"Which only makes me have a slew more questions." Mike took a sip of his water.

"Ask away," Joe allowed.

"What happened to your father, where did you live, and what did you study in college?" he shot off.

"My dad died because he had a melanoma—skin cancer—that he didn't catch until it was too late." It always made her sad that her father's life had been cut short by such a stupid oversight. She, herself, got a skin check every year because her primary care doctor had told her it could be hereditary. She also made her uncles undergo the exam annually, which made them grumble every time.

"I'm sorry," Mike said, simply.

"It was almost twenty years ago," Joe sighed, "but I still miss him every single day." She brightened. "Still, my curmudgeon uncles don't let me wallow in self-pity." The thought of the feisty pair always gave her a ready smile. "Those two…" She shook her head. "Although they never married and never had kids, they left their thirty-year careers, came back to Nevada, took me in hand, and made sure I was okay. Once I proved to them, after my father passed, that I wasn't going to fall apart, I was bundled off to college. And to answer your third question, they were proud as peacocks when I graduated from law school."

"A lawyer, huh?" Mike grinned. "I knew you were a smarty-pants."

Joelle huffed. "I'm not sure about the smarty-thing, since I never ended up practicing, but it was what I needed for credentials when I went with my…current job."

"About that," Mike asked pointedly. "Don't you think it's about time you told me who you work for?"

Joelle wasn't sure she wanted to out herself, but if she was expecting help from him and his team…

Fine.

"I'm a DEA agent," she told him.

Mike didn't look surprised. He simply nodded. "That makes sense. Kyle had his money on FBI, but Welker and I thought DEA, for sure."

Joe snorted. "Of course you did. And your other friend? Doug?"

Mike chuckled. "He told us to leave you alone and mind our own business. That if you wanted us to know, you'd tell us soon enough."

"I like Doug," Joe smirked.

Mike snuffed in amusement, then got back to her uncles.

"So where are the cranky codgers, now?" Mike queried.

"Well, after I was finished with college and settled into my new job, they realized that I traveled so much, it didn't matter where they ended up; that I'd visit them just about anywhere. So they moved from Nevada to Baraboo, Wisconsin."

"Bara-where?" Mike's brows went up.

"Baraboo," Joe laughed. "Apparently my grandparents, whom I'd never met, hailed from there, and my uncles had such fond memories of the place, they decided to spend their retirement years there."

"In Baraboo," he repeated.

At Mike's skeptical tone, Joelle continued. "It's actually a very nice place, with lots to do. Tons of outdoor activities, and…" she gave him an impish look, "…the town is known as Circus City. It even has a clown museum."

Mike gave a mock shiver. "Remind me never to visit."

Joelle threw back her head and laughed. "Seriously? I wouldn't have pegged you for a coulrophobic."

"That has to mean fear of clowns," Mike shivered exaggeratedly, "and to give weight to your supposition, the answer is yes. Because…I'm alive, aren't I? Which means my healthy caution has served me damned well."

"So far." Joe winked. She knew her eyes twinkled with mirth, but she let Mike off the hook by changing the subject. "Enough clowning around. Why don't you tell me about you?" Although she'd done her research, she'd enjoy hearing things about him from his own lips.

"Like you haven't run a background check on me already."

It was like he'd read her mind. She smirked and made a rolling motion with her hand for him to get to it.

But he just sat back, folded his arms over his impressive pecs, and waited.

"Fine," she huffed, once she figured he wasn't going to hand anything over to her. "Here's what I already know, so you can fill in around the edges. You're a lieutenant on the Bangor PD, and second in charge of your Downeast SWAT team. You were a jiu jitsu champ in college, and almost went to the Olympics that year. You have two kids, Timothy and Addilynn, and you eat dinner at your parents' house almost every Thursday night."

Mike's brows went up. "How did you find out that last thing?"

"Kyle told me," she snickered. "Now, what am I missing? Why didn't you follow through on the Olympics?"

Mike's face soured. "Because of Melanie."

"Your ex-wife torpedoed your chances?" Joe gaped.

"Not exactly. But we'd been together since high school, and married for a year at that point. She didn't actually tell me I couldn't go, but she was already upset that I traveled so much for competitions. When talk of the Olympics came up, she made me feel guilty that I'd be leaving her for an extended period of time to pursue a passion that wasn't her."

"She was jealous," Joelle speculated.

"That, and she was sure I'd cheat on her with half the well-honed athletic women I'd be meeting."

"Only half?" Joe teased.

"Well, I'm not superman," Mike threw back.

Joe let her eyes wander over the man's massive chest which sported muscles on muscles, and sighed.

Not superman, but damned close.

"So you didn't go," she concluded.

"I didn't. Which was okay in the end. We settled in the Boston area where I'd gone to college, and I used my skill set to become a police officer in the city, then joined the SWAT team there."

"What made you leave for Bangor?" Joelle asked and Mike shrugged.

"When Mellie became pregnant, she lamented that she wanted to raise our kids where we grew up, and I agreed. So we moved back here, near our parents and all our old friends."

Joe spoke softly now. "It seems like you lived a lot of your life around what your ex-wife wanted. So tell me Mike. What is it you want for yourself now?"

His eyes smoldered as he stared back at Joe.

"You."