And being on opposite sides in the courtroom doesn’t count as a relationship. Look, all I’m saying is that you need to take a long hard look at your feelings for her before you do something you might regret.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, if she didn’t really matter to you, on a personal level, do you honestly think you would have twisted my arm to get the judge to reduce her bail? And how many DEA agents would have paid to get a car out of the impound lot and would have driven it to the police station for a woman they don’t care about?”
Nick ground his teeth together. “I never told you about that.”
“You didn’t have to.” Rafe gave him a smug look. “I have eyes and ears all over this town. That’s part of what makes me a great detective.”
“Humble, too.”
Rafe shrugged, obviously not caring about Nick’s insult. “As I was saying, you obviously care more about Heather than you’re willing to admit, even to yourself.”
“Since when did you become so touchy-feely?”
“I guess since I married a hot therapist.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Not that I ever did.”
“But—”
“Drop it.”
Rafe held his hands up in a placating gesture. “All right, all right. I’ll drop it. You said Waverly wants you to meet with the task force. You have to have some idea of why he’d want you to do that. And don’t give me the line about apologizing for your girlfriend. That’s weak.”
Nick let out a deep sigh. Rafe always could read him, like a Jedi knight using the Force to probe his mind. Or was that Spock on Star Trek? Either way, it was damned aggravating.
“My DEA buddies tell me the task force still has Heather and her sister in its crosshairs,” Nick said. “They think Heather’s sister is running drugs for a dealer operating out of Key West. They think Heather’s been helping her sister move the drugs, and that Heather flushed that kilo to try to avoid the sting. They believe she would have flushed all of the drugs if she’d had enough time.”
His brother’s eyes narrowed. “She couldn’t have purposely tried to avoid the sting unless she knew about it ahead of time.”
“Bingo.”
Rafe swore. “That’s the real reason they suspended you. Not because you’re a terrible judge of character and got mixed up with a girlfriend who may or may not be dealing drugs. They think you tipped her off about the raid.”
“If I were them, I’d probably think the same thing,” Nick said. “I’ve been practically living in Key West this past year, building my cover to gather intelligence on the drug activity down there. Maybe they figured I’ve gone in a little too deep, that the past few months I spent up here were more than an extended vacation. Maybe they thought I was helping move drugs up the pipeline, and that Heather and Lily were in on it with me.”
His brother cursed again, impressing Nick. With language like that, Rafe could go undercover as a DEA agent and blend right in with the dealers as if he were one of them. Too bad he’d wasted his talents as a detective and part-time bomb-squad technician in the Saint Augustine Police Department.
“How can I help?” Rafe asked.
“Answer me a question. If you were heading up a task force whose sole goal was to catch a drug dealer with ties to Heather and Lily, what would you do right now?”
“If I was dumb enough to waste my talents as a DEA agent, you mean?”
Nick grinned. “Yeah. That’s what I mean.”
“If I believed the girls were a lead to a major drug dealer, I’d keep my distance. I’d wait for the dealer or some of his lackeys to show up.” His gaze shot to Nick. “I’d use the girls as bait.”
“Exactly.”
Rafe groaned. “Ah, hell. You want me to keep an eye on your girlfriend for you.”
“Ex-girlfriend. And I want more than that. I need you to keep her alive.”
* * *
HEATHER FINISHED CLEANING the kitchen and stood with her hands braced on the edge of the sink. She stared through the cutout into the family room and shook her head. To say her apartment was a disaster was an understatement. Lily had always been incredibly messy, but this was the worst Heather had ever seen. Lily usually tried to confine her piles of dirty clothes and discarded items to her bedroom. This morning, Heather’s entire apartment looked as if a tornado had gone through it.
Probably Lily’s way of paying her back for flushing the cocaine.
Heather’s shoulders slumped. She slogged her way through the mess to the short hallway that led to the two bedrooms. She paused outside the guest bedroom door and tried the knob. Still locked, like when Heather had first gotten home. She hadn’t even seen Lily yet, because her sister was acting like a spoiled brat, hiding behind a locked door with classic rock blasting from the room. Heather banged her fist against the door. Still no answer.
“Come on, Lily. You can’t ignore me forever. Open up. We need to talk.”
Heather rested her forehead against the door. Maybe she should give up on her sister for now and get that shower she’d been longing for since she’d gotten home. The only reason she hadn’t taken a shower already was because when she’d walked into her apartment the smell of rotting garbage coming from the kitchen had nearly knocked her over. How Lily could have ignored that smell was beyond her. It had permeated the entire apartment.
After taking out the garbage, Heather had started setting the rest of the kitchen to rights and one thing had led to another until she’d ended up scrubbing the entire room. Now the thought of a hot shower sounded like heaven. She might even soak her aching, tired muscles in that bubble bath she’d been wanting since Friday. She hurried into her bedroom, shut the door and took off her clothes.
* * *
NICK PAUSED IN the opening to the conference room, surprised to see an assistant district attorney sitting at the table, along with another man Nick had never met. His boss, Zack Waverly, was at the head of the table and motioned for Nick to come in.
Nick shut the door and took a seat beside his boss.
“Nick,” Waverly said, “you already know ADA Tom Hicks. He only has an hour window before his next court appointment next door. That’s why we met over here instead of at the DEA office.”
Nick leaned over the table and shook Hicks’s hand.
“And this,” Waverly said, motioning to the man sitting at the other end of the table, “this is Special Agent Michael Rickloff. He works out of the Miami office and is heading up the Key West Task Force. He’s the one who called and asked us to perform the sting on the club Friday night.”
Nick shook Rickloff’s hand. “Miami? You’re not from Key West?”
“Miami native, born and raised. Key West
