Chapter 29

Joe had to hand it to Mason. He'd played Lester just right when her in-name-only boss had called this morning. Mase had affected a persona that was half bad-ass SWAT chief, and half country-bumpkin cop.

Lester had, predictably, lorded his credentials over Mason, and Mase had purposely caved, obsequiously telling the man that Downeast SWAT would do whatever he needed.

The previous night, as Mike had predicted, the squad staking out Joe's little motel room had called in with the arrival of Lester and his rotten handful of agents. Opal and Nolan—the SWAT team's tech personnel—had, earlier that afternoon, set up some fast-tracked, court-approved surveillance, which included both video and audio, and had since commenced monitoring.

It hadn't taken long.

They had Lester dead to rights, planting drugs in her room and talking smack about how, in death, she was going to get the reputation she deserved.

Now, Mason, Mike, Cisco, and Welker, along with their squads, were all poised to go out and help the arriving DEA "look" for Joe's body.

And that pissed her off. Not because everyone was mobilized on her behalf, but because she wasn't invited to the party.

"I need to be there," she posited to Mason, trying not to whine. "I'll dress in riot gear. A helmet and shield. The sprick will never know I'm part of the op."

"Listen, Joe," Mason returned patiently. "We need this buttoned up, tight. The man can't be granted an inch of wiggle room, and having you on scene could potentially muddy things up." He canted his head toward Mike, who nodded.

She knew they were right, but still…

"We'll keep you posted. I promise. However, you're sitting this one out."

"I concur," Hank Twidelle seconded. "You and I will stay in the bus, Joe, and help run the op remotely."

Mason had invited Hank, the Portland DEA Chief of Operations, to join them from his office in Portland to make sure the takedown and arrest went smoothly. "As soon as they have Lester Gavin and company on their knees, I promise, you and I will move in and you can confront the asshole."

Joe had found out in the past couple hours that Hank—another big, burly man like Mike—was the kind of superior she wished she'd always had. He was a person she could seriously get behind. He was even-keeled, fair, and…he swore like a merchant marine. When asked, tentatively, if he minded his female agents having dirty mouths, his answer had amused her.

"Fuck, no," he'd chuckled gruffly. "I wouldn't cross verbal-swords with any one of them. They spout terms for things I've never heard before, and I take notes so I can keep up."

Yeah.She'd lost out on the boss-lottery when she'd been assigned to Lester.

Because Hank was being such a straight shooter with her, Joe stopped arguing with Mason and gave in. "Okay. I'll do command-central with Chief Twidelle, alongside Opal and Nolan," she capitulated, turning to Mason. "But I'll have some words for Lester once you have him in custody."

"Agreed," Mason replied, just before the intercom on the long table in front of them crackled to life.

"Chief. You have a Chief Lester Gavin and several agents from the DEA here to see you."

"Time for you two to disappear," Mason told Hank and her. "Head into the next room and watch from behind the glass."

Lester would know that the mirror was one-way, but in his arrogance, he'd never think anyone was currently behind it, observing.

Joe nodded to Hank and they made their exit into the neighboring chamber, closing the door behind them as Mason gave the okay for Lester's arrival over the intercom.

"Thanks, Randy. Show the agents in, please."

Joe was jazzed as she waited, and couldn't get her body to behave long enough to take a seat. But in tune with her, Hank also stood.

"When this is over," he said, conversationally. "I don't suppose you'd contemplate coming to work in Portland?"

Joe blinked. After all the drama and schmitt that had followed her, he'd made the overture before she'd even had a chance to feel him out? And even with the Lester debacle, he still wanted to offer her a job?

"You don't want to wait to see how this plays out with my current boss?" she asked cautiously. "I may still be implicated with wrongdoing if things go sideways."

Hank laughed. "I think we have him right where we want him, Joe. Last night's surveillance shows that he's setting you up. And we have testimony from his underlings that they were following his orders not only to manufacture and distribute their product, but to kill you. An admittance of guilt from him would be nice, but we don't need it. Besides…" he looked at her slyly. "I see how it is between you and Lieutenant Carlese. I'm pretty sure going back to Nevada isn't on your agenda. Two-and-a-quarter hours away in Portland versus eight from the west coast sounds like a pretty good trade-off to me."

Yup.Charming and smart.

Joe gave Hank a grin, going right into negotiation mode. "Can I work remotely unless I'm needed in the office? Maybe two days a week? Mike's already told me that he wants me to eventually move in."

Hank pondered for a moment. "Will he have a problem with you going off on assignment?"

"Nope," Joe said with certainty.

Mike might want her to live with him, but he'd never, she knew, keep her from traveling for her vocation.

"Then I think we can?—"

At that moment, Lester and his dirty-workers blustered into the conference room, cutting Hank off.

"Chief Sothard." Lester spoke first, as if this was his jurisdiction and he was in charge. "I'm so glad you could make time to help me out."

Mason, instead of putting the loudmouth in his place, greeted the dipshift with diplomatic aplomb, and Joelle found that highly amusing.

"Anything for our friends at the DEA," Mase said with just the right amount of deference in his voice. "Now where do things stand?"

"We've tracked Agent Piken's phone," Lester apprised him. "It's stationary, and has been for some time. We have her location as west of here. That's where we'll head, now."

Mason stroked his chin. "You haven't told me much about this agent you're following. Can you fill me in?"

"She's…" Lester began, then pretended to choke up. "Well, she was one of my top field operatives, but in the past year she…"

Lester gave a huge, fake sigh, his face a picture of disappointment.

Joe snorted. The man's acting skills were actually pretty good.

He continued. "Let's just say I've had my suspicions she's had her fingers in some illegal endeavors lately. But understand, I still hold out hope that what we discover here when we find Agent Pikens, will ease my worries and exonerate her."

Flubbing masspipe, Joe fumed.

Hank put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. It almost brought tears to her eyes. Real ones. Hank's gesture was the only display of solidarity she'd had from any DEA agent in a very long time.

"It'll be over soon," he assured her.

"I hope so," Joe responded, a heartfelt breath hissing out from between her lips.

Her focus went back to the large room.

"How many officers do you have joining us?" Lester asked, sending his gaze dismissively over Mike, Cisco, and Welker as if they were simply fodder.

"Oh. Excuse me for not introducing my colleagues," Mason deliberately disregarded the slight. "This is Lieutenant Carlese, officer Deluthe, and officer Vestore from Downeast SWAT. They'll bring their squads of five with them to the designated site. Will that be enough for you, or would you like me to call in a few more units?"

"No. No. That number will be fine," Lester assured Mason.

Joe could almost see the crooked agent mentally rubbing his hands together. He thought the nineteen SWAT members were going to be his witnesses to destroying Joe's reputation. Wasn't he going to be surprised when he and his minions were the ones taken down, instead.

Lester snapped upright. "Let's move out. I have to be back on the West Coast first thing tomorrow morning. Here are the coordinates where our agent should be." Lester turned his phone to them.

All four SWAT members leaned over and nodded.

"Off Old Bay Road," Mike put in. "We're familiar with the area."

"Right," Mason concurred. "Our squads are already geared up and ready to go," he told Lester. "I'll send them out in a caravan after you, and I'll notify our command bus where to meet us."

With Lester taking the lead, the group walked from the room.

"Now I really need youon my team," Hank told her. "You've managed ten years working for that arrogant prick? Your patience must be off the charts; far better than mine would have been under similar circumstances."

Joe was thunderstruck by the compliment. "I…I don't know what to say. I've just been trying to do my job and survive."

Hank smiled. "I can see we're going to have to work on your self-esteem. But in an arena where enormous egos are often the norm, you are a breath of fresh air."

Joe fumbled with how to respond.

"You're supposed to say thank you, then we move on," Hank gently prodded. "As a matter of fact, not to be presumptuous, but your transfer papers are on the bus ready to be signed if you're really interested."

Joe managed to answer around the lump in her throat, knowing she'd put pen to paper the minute she stepped foot in the vehicle. "Yes. And…thank you," was all she could manage.

Rather than look smug, Hank simply nodded, and after giving Lester and company a decent head start, they walked out to the command bus.

Twenty minutes later,they were parked outside the warehouse; a place with which Joe was becoming far too familiar. She hoped, as she watched her one-time fellow Nevada agents—backed up by three SWAT squads—that this was the last time she'd ever have to lay eyes on the freaking place, or those grasspoles, some of whom she'd thought were decent people.

Mason had left his mic live, so the occupants of the bus were privy to everything going on once the group walked inside the warehouse.

"A fucking cooking lab," Lester's voice boomed, holding just the right amount of disgust.

Again, stellar thespian material. Maybe once he was in prison, he could join whatever drama club the place offered.

He barked to his agents.

"Shiley, Caston. Get prints"

Two of his men would dust the equipment, then the fun would really begin.

It only took a few minutes before one of his flunkies spoke out. "We've got enough impressions to run through the system, Chief."

"Do it."

With the DEA's advanced technology, they'd send a file of what they'd found to the national archive, where the images would then be run through a specialized app that stored tens of thousands of prints. Because hers were on file, they'd find a match almost?—

"Yes, sir. They belong to Agent Pikens, sir," Shiley, not surprisingly, clipped out.

"Well, shit…" And didn't Lester sound profoundly disappointed. "I had my suspicions, but finding actual confirmation…"

Mike clearly wasn't feeding into Lester's pity-party. "Right. So where is it you say her phone's been traced to? I think that's our next priority."

Lester grunted, and Joe wasn't sure if it was due to his plan coming together nicely, or because Mike had dared to speak up, but he responded snarkily.

"North of here. There's a small river," he hmphed at the group.

"The stream that cuts through the county is about three tenths of a mile back through the trees," Mason corrected, but without seemingly doing so.

Sweet.That small amendment would still seer Lester's butt.

Joe heard the warehouse door opening, then the bus contingent had eyes on the group as everyone from within trooped from the building, into the woods.

"Fifty yards this way," they heard Lester state with surety.

Yup.He was following the tracker Galici had been supposed to plant on Joe's body. In reality, Cisco had been the one to put it in position the previous night, as part of the plan to trap Lester.

"Over there," Lester finally said a few minutes later.

Joe pictured the group hoofing it to where Lester was indicating.

Mason gave a grunt. "I don't see anything."

Lester's voice sounded tight. "Impossible. My intel says this is where her phone's located."

There was the bait…

"That's funny," Mason replied evenly. "Because her phone happens to be back in the impound area of my station, having been logged in there by me, last night."

Snap!The trap had been sprung.

"What? No. This indicates it's here. She's here," Lester spluttered.

Joe had never heard the pooch-bag sound so uncertain, and she grinned over at Hank, who was looking pretty darned pumped, himself.

"You, uh, wouldn't happen to be getting a reading on this, would you?" Cisco asked. He must have retrieved the tracker and held it up.

"Wh…what's that?" Lester bloviated, trying to take back the authority that had just been abruptly stripped from him. "That's nothing of mine."

"Strange," Mike chimed in. "That's not what Banito and Galici said."

"Gal…? Who? What kind of game are you playing here?" Lester attempted outrage, but it sounded a bit desperate.

"No game," Mason replied easily. "We have sanctioned recording of your last conversation with Glalici, as well as having you on camera last night in Agent Pikens room, planting false evidence," Mason told him dispassionately.

"No. It's not me," Lester spluttered. "It's Pikens. She's somehow managed to manipulate this whole thing."

Mike wasn't as composed as his superior had been. "You fucking asshole. After all the hard work Joe's put in to do her job. You're attempting to implicate her to save your sorry keister? Fucking despicable."

"Nobody's implicating anybody," Lester blustered. "Agent Pikens has clearly gone rogue, and…and…" Desperately, he must have turned to his lackies. "It's their fault. They planted those drugs. I had no knowledge?—"

"Stow it, Gavin," Mason finally barked. "Besides the audio recording and the camera footage, we have Galici, Banito, and Havastill all in custody. They're willing to testify to everything you've done. And I'm thinking perhaps, to save their own asses, these gentlemen here with you today might turn evidence, as well. Especially now that you've shown exactly how well you reward their loyalty."

Ooh.Mason sure knew how to turn the screws.

"I'll have your badges for this," Lester continued, raging. "You'll all answer to me when this is over."

Mason's calm voice cut through the cull-brap.

"You have the right to remain silent…"

Joe easily picturedthe rest of the scene; Lester and his cohorts would have been surrounded and cuffed.

"Can we go meet them, now?" she pleaded with Hank, itching to move and confront Lester.

"I don't see why not," he answered easily. He stood up, but let her lead the way.

Joe's feet flew down the steps, following the team's trajectory out into the woods. She stopped when she saw the group walking toward her; settled her face into a blank stare, crossed her arms over her chest, and waited.

"There's the fucking bitch," Lester's voice rang out in the quiet of the woods. "She's the cunt behind all this. Take her into custody. Now. That's an order."

Joe took great pleasure in the spittle that flew from Lester's lying mouth.

Then she caught sight of Mike's irate glower and clenched fists?—

Oh, snit!

There was no doubt in her mind. He was going to clock Lester. Not that she didn't fully appreciate the sentiment, but he'd be in huge trouble for breaking a nose…and protocol.

Whereas, she had nothing to lose.

Before Mike could take one step closer to her ex-boss, Joe launched herself at the duplicitous man, rearing back with her right hand, and…

Bam!

She punched him smack in his smarmy fucking face.

Nothing had ever felt so good.