Page 59 of Fighting for Tawny

“Um, is it okay if I take a shower first?” Finnigan said, pointing at the bag he’d brought with him.

“Okay by me. The bathroom is free.”

Finnigan showered, brushed his teeth, and dressed in an extra uniform. He adjusted his holster and checked his service weapon before leaving the bathroom with his dirty laundry.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he told Yolanda. “I just want to throw these in the wash.”

An avalanche of jumpsuits, cotton underwear, and bras landed on him. “Okay, okay. I’ll do your laundry, too. You’re welcome.”

Tawny had risen from her bunk while he’d been in the bathroom. Her lips, swollen and bruised from passion, drew his attention, and his gaze lingered on them. Finnigan swallowed. Memories of making love with her in the toolshed played like an X-rated movie in his mind. Before he turned away, he caught her knowing smile.

Finnigan staggered away under the weight he carried. Out of earshot, he muttered, “My cover is going to be blown before this weekend is over.”

Bunkhouse B was empty. He loaded the washing machine, dropped two pods into it, and pushed in the old-fashioned starter. Taking advantage of being alone, Finnigan thoroughly searched the bunkhouse. He didn’t expect to find anything because of how well-hidden this organization kept its illegal activities. Still, to his disbelief, he discovered a balloon stuck in a box of tampons in the bathroom.

“Bingo.”

Finnigan untied the top of the small red balloon and squeezed it. Black tar oozed.

“Jesus Christ. Heroin.”

He took pictures of it with his cell phone and sent them to Jiena. Then, he hid it in the toolshed.

When he returned to Bunkhouse A, he cheerfully announced, “Put me to work, ladies. Want pancakes? They’re my specialty.”

They said yes to the pancakes. Finnigan mixed pancake batter in a bowl, and Yolanda fried link sausages.

“You don’t act like a guard,” she observed. “Aren’t you supposed to be standing outside?”

“My job is to keep an eye on all of you, and all of you are in here. Besides, I have great instincts. I’d know if you were in danger from an outside threat.”

“You mean like a bunch of people who might want to cause us harm because they’re afraid to have convicts around decent folk?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“So, did ole Warden Stoltz send you? Because you don’t fit his mold.” She snapped her fingers. “Maybe Director Dickinson sent you. He don’t like Stoltz.”

“Neither.”

He’d spoken in a low voice and turned to stare at her. Her eyes widened in understanding, and she sucked in her breath. “Holy Mary, Sweet Jesus. You’re him.”

Finnigan flipped four pancakes onto a platter and poured more batter onto the hot griddle. “Yeah.”

“Somethin’s escalatin’.”

“Yep. We’ll talk later.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Everyone gathered around the redwood table and filled their plates. As they began to enjoy the fluffy pancakes and link sausages, Debbie declared, “Hey! Where are Dee and Barbie?”

“I haven’t seen them all morning,” Terrin remarked. Her inquisitive eyes studied Finnigan. “You were in Bunkhouse B. Did you see them?”

“I had my arms full of laundry, so I was focused on the washing machine. I didn’t look at the bunkbeds.” Finnigan rose to his feet. “I’ll go check now.”

“I’ll go with you.” Clearly, Terrin didn’t trust him. He’d have to tell her the truth. She already knew Tawny was undercover.

A few steps from Bunkhouse A, Finnigan confessed, “My name is Marcus Finnigan. I’m Captain Finnigan’s brother. I’m also an LA SWAT officer and Tawny’s fiancé. We learned that Whitcomb and Macintosh recruited Dee and Barbie to run drugs, so we extracted them in the middle of the night. They’re with the FBI right now.”