Page 20 of Chill’s Chance

“Wait.” I call out and get narrowed eyes staring back at me. “We have another problem and I think they may be useful in cleaning up that mess, too.”

“What are you talking about?” Puma asks, but I see Wildcard made the connection.

“You found out something when you followed our guest?” He asks and I nod.

After Dice assures us he can handle moving the prisoner on his own, I follow the others to Chill’s office, where I tell them what I found while following the DEA agent. I play them the recording and send them the photo of the woman.

“Did you have a one-night stand with her?” Chill asks Puma, who glares at her as she simply raises an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who’s banged women from coast to coast.” I glance at Chill, wondering if I hear jealousy in her tone, but I see nothing in her eyes or in her expression. But then I don’t expect to. She always had the best poker face. It’s why none of our unit would play against her.

Wildcard snorts, which has Puma glaring at him before frowning. “Ok, yeah. Shut up.” Puma grumbles as he examines the image again. “I don’t recognize her.”

“Spark’s looking, he’ll find something. In the meantime, we need to figure out what to do about the DEA agent.” Wildcard says.

“I was thinking about and I don’t think he wants to plant the drugs, but she’s threatening him. If we can come up with an alternative that saves his job and gets an arrest, he might listen.”

“You want him to plant the drugs?” Chill asks. “Where?”

I pull out a set of car keys. “I have a place in mind. Found them in the pocket of one of Alberto’s minions.”

Puma nods. “Let’s go talk to a DEA agent.”

The look on Pence’s face when he opens the door is one I recognize. It’s the same look I saw in the mirror when I lost Chill. The look of someone who has made a really terrible choice in life.

He shakes his head before turning around and sitting on the bed next to a half-packed suitcase.

“I’m done.” He says. “I’m leaving.”

“I can see that.” Puma says, eyeing the suitcase. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Reed Pence.” He answers. “DEA Agent. Former DEA Agent.”

“You resigned?” Puma asks.

“Not yet. Although I might not get the chance, either.” Reed says.

“Where are the drugs? Or did you already plant them?”

Pence’s head snaps up as he goggles at Puma. He shifts his eyes to me and narrows them. “You were at the coffee shop.”

I nod. “Sitting right behind you. Got it all on record. So if you planted those drugs…”

“I didn’t.” He says, standing up. We all stiffen, while Puma, Wildcard and Chill all reach behind their backs, putting their hands on their weapons. Pence raises his hand and nods at the bathroom.

Chill jerks her head at me and I go look. I find the open package sitting on the counter. Inside is a wrapped brick. Using a towel to pick up the box, I return to the room.

“What is it?” Wildcard asks him, he shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe cocaine, but it could be heroin. I haven’t tested it. Hell, it could just be sugar for all I know. But I don’t think it is. You heard what she said.” He says to me.

“Who’s the bitch?” Chill asks. “And why does she have a hard on for Puma?”

“Her name is Lauren Gates.” He says.

“Gates?” Both Wildcard and Puma say, glancing at each other.

“You know her?” Chill asks.

“No, but…” Puma’s phone dings and he says “Spark” before answering. Whatever Spark says has Puma nodding and sharing looks with Wildcard. I can tell Chill’s getting impatient. Knowing her, she’s not angry because she feels left out, but angry because she’s missing intel. Puma ends the call and huffs out a breath. “Well, shit. Looks like our past has fucked us up.” He says to Wildcard. “Spark identified her. She’s an agent with the DEA. She’s a widow. Her husband was an FBI agent. Martin Gates. He died in a shootout at the Demon Dawg’s clubhouse right before I took over the club.”

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