Page 17 of Two Hearts
When JW had called to tell him that their favorite snitch had given him the lowdown on a meeting between the nameless drug lord and his henchmen, Jack had damned near shouted for joy.He’d had to bite his lip to keep from doing just that, waking Grace and ruining everything.Over.It would be over.
He could hardly believe it.
He’d left the house in the best mood he’d been in since the day he’d asked Grace to be his wife and heard her whispered “yes.”
But by the time he got to the address JW had given him, he was losing that mood considerably.He didn’t like it.Didn’t like it at all.
He was unfamiliar with the area.It was outside the city.Way out.An exit off the thruway, that led to not much more than the biggest swamp in the State of New York, or at least, the biggest one Jack knew of.Montezuma was real picturesque if you liked cattails and rushes and the occasional wood duck, Canada goose or blue heron.
It was also a favorite dumping ground…and that wasn’t referring to your typical garbage, either.Bodies were routinely found…more oftennotfound…in the brackish muck of Montezuma.
Anyway, the address was that of a tumbledown house along the edge of the slime-bottomed wetlands.One story, drooping eaves, brown shingles for siding and gaping places with none at all; a mouth with missing teeth.
Not a light from inside the place, either.
Jack drove on by the first time, nice and slow, but steady.Not to give himself away, although the unlikelihood of anyone just happening to be on a dirt road that skirted a swamp at midnight on a Tuesday was probably not going to be lost on anyone with anything to hide.
Hell.
He went a quarter mile farther, then pulled off onto a hard bit of ground along the roadside.And when he did, he spotted JW’s car already there, waiting.
JW got out.Jack did, too.“Did you see the place?”he asked, looking about the way Jack felt.Jittery, not at ease.Something wasn’t right here.It was chilly for early summer, and even so, JW had sweat beading on his upper lip.And his thick black hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it too much.It was usually neat, unless he was playing an untidy role.
“I saw it,” Jack said.“I didn’t like it.”
“Me neither.”JW looked at the patch of solid ground on which they had parked and were now standing.It wasn’t a natural occurrence.It had been built here.“What do you suppose this is for?”
Jack shrugged, looking at the dark water with its green foam border lapping at the edge.“A boat launch?”
“Illegal to put boats in.It’s a wildlife refuge,” JW pointed out.
“Hey, the DEC boys must have to patrol it now and then.Check on their duckies and what not.”Jack shrugged.“And the real cops, when they’re looking for bodies.”
“I suppose.”
“You think we’re being set up?”Jack asked him point-blank.
JW took a deep breath, bit his lip.“One way to find out.”
He took out his gun, checked it, put it back.“You wearing armor?”
Jack nodded, having taken the Kevlar vest out of hiding and put it on before he’d left the house.“You bet I am.You?”
“Hell, I sleep in it.”JW sent Jack a wink.“Let’s go.”
It was dark, and the walk back to the little house seemed longer than it was.It always did.Jack could barely see the dirt road under his feet.They couldn’t walk beyond the treeline, because that would have put them in the muck up to their knees, so they had to walk the road.Right in plain sight.Except there was no moon and the night was as thick as tar.That might work to their advantage.
Or not.
After all, if the bad guys knew they were coming, they could be sitting still.Listening.Waiting.Ready to open fire the minute Jack or JW snapped a twig or rolled a pebble.Jack could almost feel their damned sights on him.
The house came into view.
It wasn’t dark anymore, and it wasn’t silent.There were voices floating from it now.And the light from the shack’s open door spilled into the driveway to illuminate the car that sat there.
It was Grace’s car.
“What in the—”
