Page 77 of Deep Tide

“Thank you,” Nicole said.

“Sure.”

He replaced the scoop. Whatever weird moment had just happened between them was over now. Or maybe she’d imagined it.

Emmet pulled his phone from his pocket and frowned at the screen. Someone was texting him. Someone from the bar, most likely.

He slid the phone into his back pocket. “I should go.”

“Yeah.”

She led him to the door, and he paused beside it.

“Bruised ribs are a bitch,” he said. “I used to get them in football. You should use an ice pack.”

“The doctor recommended two ibuprofen.”

“Which won’t do shit.” He smiled. “Unless you chase them down with some more bourbon. That might help.”

“Maybe I will.”

His smile faded as she opened the door.

“Next time call me,” he said. “Or call someone. You shouldn’t have gone over there alone.”

“Sure, whatever.”

He stepped out and turned around. “I mean it, Nicole.”

“Next time, I will.”

CHAPTER

THIRTEEN

Sean drove down the two-lane highway, keeping his gaze trained on the Jeep’s taillights. He checked the gas. He was down to an eighth of a tank, which wasn’t good. He’d meant to fill up after dinner tonight, but he’d gotten sidetracked going to see Leyla.

The low gas tank was sloppy. Normally during an op, he was on top of details like that. But nothing about this op had been normal, starting with meeting Leyla Breda on day one and then kissing her tonight in her kitchen. He shouldn’t get involved with her. And she sure as hell shouldn’t get involved in anything he was doing. But Leyla was stubborn, and she seemed to have a burning need to jump right into the middle of everything.

He focused on the Jeep two cars ahead of him. He’d been tailing Gagnon for sixty-five miles, which was much farther than Sean had expected when Gagnon pulled out of his neighborhood for a little late-night drive. Where the hell was he going? He’d crossed the causeway to the mainland more than an hour ago and was now deep into the Rio Grande Valley, a region made up of ranches and citrus farms and the occasional ag town.

The Jeep’s turn signal went on. Sean tapped the brakes.

Gagnon turned onto a narrow road, and Sean had no choice but to sail right past it or else risk drawing attention. He drove about a hundred yards farther before making a U-turn and heading back.

Sean turned onto the road. No sign of the Jeep now, and Sean consulted the map on his phone. The road was a winding cut-through that crossed a creek and connected two state highways. Sean drove through a couple of bends, then dipped down over a low-water bridge. He came up a rise and spotted the red taillights again. They glowed brightly as the Jeep slowed and turned left.

Sean pulled over and cut his headlights. Consulting the map, he saw that the Jeep had turned down what appeared to be a private driveway.

Sean waited a few minutes, then followed the Jeep’s path, slowing at the turnoff. As suspected, it was a driveway. Sean passed it, taking note of the electronic gate and keypad set back from the road. Sean curved around a bend and pulled his SUV over beneath the shadow of a gnarled oak tree.

Using his phone, he checked his location. He was at about the midpoint of the cut-through that connected the two highways. Judging from the terrain and the barbed wire fencing, the property on both sides of the road was private ranch land.

Sean pulled up a satellite map of the area. The roads were visible, but there wasn’t a house or any other building nearby. The place where Gagnon had turned was a short dirt road that dead-ended at a circular clearing and what appeared to be a pump jack. How old were these satellite images? Sean had no idea whether any more roads or buildings had been added since these pictures were taken.

Sean screenshotted his location and forwarded it to Moore with a text. Then he grabbed a flashlight and his binoculars and slid out of his truck. The air smelled of dust and juniper. Emerging from the shadow of the tree, he put his flashlight on dim mode and used it to light his path as he jogged back to the turnoff. He stopped shy of the driveway and looked around for security cameras or motion-sensitive lights. Now he had a decision to make. Go in or wait for instructions?

Patience wasn’t Sean’s strong suit. And anyway, whatever was going down right now could be over by the time Moore got back to him.

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