EARLIER TODAY, Pirro had driven to the Hilton to inform the two drug dealers that he’d made contact and his dealer was eager to get together with them tonight.

Agent Lopez had wired Pirro, then instructed him to follow his normal routine to the meet, so he drove alone in his car to the farthest stretch of land on the edge of town and parked beneath a thicket of trees. Behind him were a series of old abandoned tunnels, which used to run between the United States and Canada. Years ago, the state police had detonated explosives, causing the tunnels to cave in on themselves, making them impassable in either direction and ending an illegal drug trade. Pirro had originally picked this location because it was far from town and remote enough that no one would stop by and no local cops would canvas the area.

Ironically, Pirro had chosen to meet his dealer near the tunnels, never once considering that he was engaging in the same illegal act. All he’d wanted to do was make his friends as happy in bed as he was. And look where that had gotten him, he thought as he nervously paced the dirt-packed ground and waited for the drug dealers to show.

“Calm down and stop pacing. You’re making me nervous,” the DEA agent waiting alongside him said.

“Where are Rafe and Sara?” he asked, his gaze darting around the dark night.

“We’re here!” they both called out in hushed tones from their position behind the bushes. Earpieces enabled them to hear everything.

Backup, they’d explained to him.

“Are you satisfied?” Agent Lopez asked. “Now, like I said, you need to relax.”

Pirro stopped in his tracks. “I’m sorry, Agent Lopez. I’m just nervous.”

The other man placed his hand on Pirro’s shoulder. “Remember what I told you. Stop calling me Agent Lopez, and act normally or this will never work,” he said in a low whisper.

The sound of a car driving over the unpaved road announced Biff and Todd’s arrival.

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“Oh, my God. They’re here. Oh, my God.” Pirro’s stomach churned. Nausea overcame him. “I’m going to be sick,” he muttered aloud.

“Pull yourself together!” Agent Lopez ordered. “Here they come. Now, act normally, introduce us and I’ll handle the rest.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Pirro hissed.

Agent Lopez had no time to reply.

Biff and Todd strode up to them, briefcase in hand. If Pirro didn’t know better, he’d think they were two college kids on their way to school. Unfortunately, he did know better. They were drug dealers, arsonists, and he was about to screw them over.

Pirro knew he was supposed to perform the introductions. Instead, he leaned over and threw up all over Biff’s expensive leather shoes.

Or maybe they were Todd’s.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

SARA AND RAFE KNELT in the bushes, guns drawn and ready. Just in case. Earpieces enabled them to hear the discussion a few feet in front of them, and from what Sara could tell, Pirro had just puked.

“On my shoes! Man, what’s wrong with you?” Todd yelled.

“Gross.” This from Biff. Sara recognized their different voices.

“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous,” Pirro said.

Rafe met Sara’s gaze and winced.

She placed her finger over his lips in a silent shh.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Todd muttered.

“This is A—Lopez,” Pirro said, quickly catching his mistake.

Sara let out a long breath.

“I’m Biff, and the one with puke on his shoes is Todd.”

“A. Lopez.”

“What happened, your parents couldn’t think of a first name?” Biff laughed.

“He’s making fun of my name? Where’d yours get Biff? Wasps ’R’ Us?” Agent Lopez shot back.

The man brilliantly deflected. Sara stifled a laugh. From the look in Rafe’s eyes, he was doing the same.

They trained their gazes—and guns—back on their targets.

“Pirro here says you can get us the goods?” Biff asked.

Lopez needed them to talk specifics, and he couldn’t mention drugs or do anything that would smack of entrapment.

“Depends on what you want.”

“Oxy to start. If the quality is good, we’ll go from there. Do you have any on you?” Biff asked.

Lopez had the pills in a brown paper bag, and Sara heard the crinkling of paper.

“Looks good to me,” Todd said.

“How much?” Biff asked.

“Forty-five grand for one hundred pills.” Some more crinkling of paper.

“That’s small potatoes. If our boss likes the quality, we plan to use his trucks to transport a hell of a lot more for distribution in the city,” Todd said. “Can you handle the demand?” he asked Lopez.

“Of course.”

Sara heard the crinkling of paper again.

“Where are you going with that?” Biff asked.

“I thought you said it wasn’t enough,” Lopez said.

“It’s a start. We’ll take it, our boss will test it and we’ll be in touch for more. Here.”

Sara envisioned Todd giving Agent Lopez the money.

The crackling of paper told her Biff had snatched the drugs.

“Freeze!”

At the sound of Lopez’s voice snapping out the command, Sara and Rafe pounced, surrounding the two men.

Sara’s knee popped under the strain of kneeling for too long, but she held her position, gun trained on Biff and Todd.

Pirro had long since dropped to the ground, crying in relief.

As Lopez read Biff and Todd their rights, Rafe and Sara cuffed the two men.

It was over as quickly as it had begun, a successful operation from beginning to end except for the painful certainty that Sara wouldn’t pass the rigorous exam necessary for her to return to active duty at the NYPD.

FOLLOWING THE BUST, Coop was given his promised interview and was free to run the story after Agent Lopez vetted the information Pirro had given to make sure their case didn’t suffer from the older man’s embellishing.

Rafe and Sara finally arrived back at his place. “I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted,” Rafe muttered.

“Wiped out.” She collapsed, propping her leg on the arm of the nearest couch.

Eyeing her in concern, he headed for the kitchen, returning with an army of supplies, which he deposited on the table. “Scoot over.”

With an adorable smile, she wiggled herself closer to the couch, making room so he could sit beside her.

“Here.” He first handed her ibuprofen for the pain and obvious swelling, which she gratefully accepted.




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