Page 76 of Mike

“Propofol,” Joe hissed.

Acutely groggy now, she realized she was losing the battle against the fast-acting drug.

“Smart,” the man chuckled evilly. “But not smart enough, Miss Pikens.”

Miss Pikens?

Fuck.

Nugget knew her name.

She was screwed.

Wendel sunk back into the shadows.

Goddammit. He’d seen the four men watching with more than idle interest as Elle left the bar, and knew they were up to no good when three of them got up to follow. Wendel had called over another bartender and quickly shadowed the three outside, keeping his distance to see what would occur.

He observed as two men kept their distance, and the third, the large guy, approached Elle from the rear. He’d tackled her around the waist which sent her hands smashing into a white car, which had almost made Wendel intervene, but… What he hadn’t expected was the way Elle had turned the tables on the big asshole, kicking him, then reaching back with one leg to sweep him to the ground where he hit, hard.

Wendel thought that might be the end of it; that she’d get away. But the gargantuan was quick on his feet, and was up and following her like a man who hadn’t just eaten dirt.

When the thug grabbed Elle’s ponytail and smashed her head into the truck, Wendel had almost stepped forward again, but before he could make a move, Elle had. He’d watched in awe as she did some fancy ducking maneuver that put her in charge and ended with her yanking the man’s arm up behind his back, to the point of breaking.

Wendel winced as she turned the guy, almost feeling sorry for him. But that was when he realized things weren’t going to end well for his waitress. One of the two remaining men who’d held back, snuck up behind her and jabbed a needle into her neck while she struggled ineffectually.

It might have been twenty seconds or maybe thirty before she went limp. The big guy caught her as she fell, lifted her up over his shoulder, and carried her to a white sedan, dumping her into the trunk the other guy had popped open, before slamming it shut. Then all three men got into the car and started backing out of their spot.

Shit, shit, shit!

This was beyond crazy and way over his paygrade. And it had become clear during the five-minute encounter that Elle was not as advertised. If Wendel had a guess, he’d say—especially after meeting her boyfriend—that she was some kind of undercover cop. He’d almost stepped in to help, but when things had gone to hell with the drugs being injected, Wendel backed off. Taking on one guy in a normal fight? He wouldn’t have flinched. But fighting three? Getting involved with who knows what? Human traffickers? Substance smugglers?

Not happening.

What he needed to do was get an ID on the car as it drove out of the lot, then call Elle’s boyfriend. But…

As Wendel took down the pertinent details of the bad-guys’ car, he knew he couldn’t just call the Bangor PD and ask for a lieutenant named Mike. Whoever answered the phone would want details. Then they’d send squad cars, and possibly fuck everything up since this looked like some, covert, undercover bust kind of thing Elle was running.

He needed to find this Mike dude a different way, and he knew exactly how.

Hustling back in, he first noted that the fourth man at the table was still nursing his beer, watching the door. That was something he could take care of.

He approached a table of men with whom he’d grown up. A rough crew, several of whom now logged for a living.

“Able, Chet,” he greeted as he sidled up to their table. “I have a favor to ask.”

“Name it Wendel, but if we agree, the next round is on you,” Able laughed, then must have noticed the dead-serious look on Wendel’s face, because his became equally as grave. “What?”

“You see that guy by himself at that table?” He tipped his head in the direction of the remaining man. “Can you detain him for me until the cops get here?”

“Sure.”

These guys were damned good friends. They didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask questions. They simply got up as one, approached the probable criminal’s table, and sat their asses down, making it immediately known that the man was not to move.

Wendel sighed in partial relief. One task down.

His eyes went next to the table where he knew Mike’s ex-wife sat. The pair had made enough noise about their past relationship the previous night, and had even mentioned some kids, so there was no doubt the brunette would know how to get in touch with her one-time-hubby.

“Do you—” Wendel was cut off as he approached the table.

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