Chapter 13

That evening,Avery bustled around her cozy houseboat on Lake Union, tidying up before Mason arrived with Paul to go over the day’s surveillance.

She’d just finished showering after their long day spying from the rooftop. The hot water had finally chased away the chill from her bones. Too bad the pleasant heat couldn’t chase away her frustration with this case.

All she could do in the moment was pray, and hope the Lord would see fit to light the way forward. Prayer lifted, she hurried around the small house, straightening pillows and dusting shelves, but as the minutes ticked by, her nerves grew. She rarely had guests over. A couple girlfriends here and there, but for the most part, she joined friends and family at their places. The older folks didn’t like making the drive over to her side of town, and her contemporaries all had young kids, and bigger houses.

The charming craftsman-style houseboat had been in her family for generations, inherited from her grandmother. With its beautiful woodwork and leaded glass windows, it was a beloved retreat for Avery. Just not the most spotless one.

She wasn’t much of a housekeeper on her best days. And FBI agents didn’t exactly major in Martha Stewart-esque homemaking skills. But suddenly having Mason see her private space made her anxious to spiff up the place.

Which was ridiculous. This was a planning session, not a date. No need to fluff pillows or hide the stack of paperwork covering the coffee table.

Avery paused by the sad little houseplant she couldn’t keep alive. She shifted it from the table to the counter and back again. “Get a grip,” she told herself. She was here to take down a criminal empire, not impress some guy.

It wasn’t like a dead plant would amaze Mason anyway. With a sigh, she tossed the plant in the kitchen trash and resolved to keep focused on the investigation.

Her inconvenient attraction to the terse SEAL didn’t matter. When this was over, he’d be back to his globe-trotting missions. Why that didn’t sound as appealing as it had about twenty-four hours ago, she had no idea.

Mason and Paul arrived carrying barbecue takeout from her favorite local spot. Avery’s stomach rumbled appreciatively.

Avery set out the takeout containers, and they dished up generous portions. “I’m guessing everything went okay with the pickup?”

They decided Paul should drive to a local Indian casino he frequented for dinner and slip out the back, where Mason awaited. That way, his vehicle wouldn’t be travelling anywhere that might alert Rain Bay’s surveillance team.

Mason nodded, swallowing a bite of brisket. “Paul slipped out the rear exit right on time, just like we planned. I was waiting in the alley to pick him up.”

“Nice work,” Avery said.

Mason smiled. “It is coming together pretty nicely so far.”

Her cheeks flushed at the compliment. She was suddenly glad she hadn’t turned on every light in the place, opting for a cozy glow.

Paul glanced around the snug cabin as he ate. “This is a great place.”

Mason grunted in agreement. Or so Avery decided.

“It’s been in my family for generations,” she said. “My great-grandmother actually grew up on this boat when it was still used for fishing. She lived here her whole life and left it to my grandmother, who left it to me.”

Mason eyed the scrollwork on the beams. “Must take a lot of upkeep.”

Avery laughed. “A serious understatement. I can disassemble a Glock blindfolded but keeping this thing floating, and tidy, isn’t in my wheelhouse.”

Mason grinned, a stunning sight. “Copy that. Give me a sniper rifle over a Swiffer any day.”

They both laughed, but Mason soon turned his attention back to his food.

After eating a few more bites, Mason updated Avery on the blacked-out SUV. His team had tracked it to a self-storage facility, where it went inside for an hour before exiting with two men in front.

“No way to know if passenger three was still inside,” he said. “And no justification yet to get cops involved since we can’t prove criminal activity.”

Frustration rose in Avery’s chest. Another dead end, at least for now.

Paul spoke up as they ate. “I didn’t see who took off in that SUV. I was clear on the other side of the warehouse then.”

He looked pale and tired. Mason watched him with concern.

Avery felt the stress too as their window of opportunity dwindled. If they couldn’t substantiate the criminal enterprise soon, Rain Bay would continue operating with impunity.

She had to find an angle, something to force official action. As a federal agent, she should be better equipped for this. Instead she felt powerless, reduced to skulking around with no backup.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Paul dug into his pocket and then held out his hand where a few white pills rested in his palm. “I thought these might be helpful.”

Mason’s expression darkened. “Tell me you didn’t swipe those from inside the warehouse.”

“Seriously?” Paul scoffed. “No one saw me. How stupid do you think I am?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Mason replied.

Avery wanted to smack him in the head. Couldn’t he see his brother was trying to help?

Paul’s face fell at the criticism before he covered it with a cocky grin. “I did a pro job. I grabbed them off the floor of the trailer I was repairing. Stupid driver tagged the corner of a building. One of the pallets inside broke. There were little white pills all over the floor. Easy to pocket a couple. No cameras and no witnesses.”

“Uh huh,” Mason said skeptically. “Just be more careful, alright? One slip and this whole op blows up.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Paul muttered.

Avery knew that longing for approval all too well.

“What?” Mason asked, clearly noting her disapproval.

She bit back a rude reply. Mason was touchy enough as it was. Unlikely he’d appreciate relationship advice from her. Or anyone.

She plucked a pill from Paul’s palm. “Let’s see what these are. Might be just what we need.”

As she researched the markings on her laptop, Paul shot her a grateful look. Her distraction had been welcome, even if the brothers’ complicated dynamic ran deep.

In less than a minute, she had IDed the pills. “Wow. These are expensive.” She eyed the two men. “They’re a specialized form of statins, used by patients who can’t take normal cholesterol meds.” She paused for effect. “A month’s prescription runs three to four thousand dollars.”

“A full pallet would be worth millions. Multiple millions,” Mason calculated.

“Do you think they’re real?” Paul asked.

Avery stared at the pill in her hand. “Doesn’t matter. If they’re counterfeit, they’re still worth millions.”

Paul stared at the pills in his hand, mouth open. Understanding brightened his eyes. “Because people will think they’re real.”

“Exactly.” Avery turned the pill over in her fingers. Her instincts had been right about the criminal activity here. Whether stolen or fake, these drugs represented massive illegal profits.

She met Mason’s gaze, seeing her own excitement mirrored there.

“I know you don’t want to alert the Bureau yet,” Mason said, “but I can find us a confidential lab here in Seattle. It won’t be hard to get those analyzed.”

That she’d have to think on. Paul was a civilian, so the fact that he took the pills wouldn’t necessarily preclude them from being used as evidence. Maybe.

She considered the legalities. But what did she care? At this stage, she wasn’t building a case for the attorney general, she just needed enough facts to goad Ryan into convincing the higher ups to re-authorize her investigation.

She smiled gratefully. “That’s a sound plan.”

Mason set down his fork. “I’ll text my people. We should be able to drop off the evidence first thing in the morning.”

The three of them sat in charged silence as the implications sank in. This pill sample was the hard evidence they’d desperately needed. Part of it, anyway. Now, she just had to prove that it was either counterfeit or stolen.

The sample also proved the danger to Paul was escalating rapidly. She’d suspected the trucking company was involved in transporting some kind of contraband, but pharmaceuticals? They might as well have been dealing with illicit drugs.

Mason’s gaze was granite as he stared her down. “I’ll hang around as long as you want me, but Paul works one more day to wrap things up, then he’s done.”

Fear constricted her throat. She should argue, insist they needed longer, but the words died inside her. One look at Mason’s implacable expression crushed any debate.

Honestly, he was right. The risks were too great now.

“Okay,” she conceded softly. “One more day.”

Paul started to argue, but Mason cut him off. “Not negotiable. We get what we can tomorrow, then you’re out.”

The gravity of their situation pressed down on Avery. After tomorrow, things would come to a head, for better or worse.