The Puppeteer

CHAPTER 4



“I'M EARLY,” TY OFFERED. An unrepentant smile played on his lips.

Dani eyed him for a long moment before deciding to let him in. She stepped away and turned back to the room. As she placed her duffel bag on the bed and gathered up the last of her belongings, she heard him enter and close the door.

“So, how'd you get the name Ella?” he asked. The lock on the door clicked into place. Her eyes flickered toward him as he leaned against the wall.

“Danielle Gabriella Williamson.” Turning her back to him, she grabbed a pair of shoes—the very same pair she'd worn to the bar. She didn't look at him as she tossed them into the bag, but she could feel his gaze follow their trajectory as they landed atop the sage green top he'd peeled off of her less than twenty-four hours ago.

Dani reached for a sweater she'd brought and shoved it into the bag, pushing down both the shoes and the shirt. Without a word, she zipped the bag and then reached for her gun and holster which were lying on the side table. She strapped on the holster and removed the gun.

“So,” Ty said from across the room. “How long are you going to ignore what happened last night?”

Once again, she let her eyes flicker to his. His tone was a mixture of curiosity and good-humored mockery. She held her gun up and checked the clip. It wasn't pointed anywhere near him, and the safety was on, but she hoped he got the message.

“Forever?” he prompted.

“Pretty much,” she replied. The crispness in her voice was punctuated by the sound of the clip snapping into place. To her surprise, he said nothing. She slid the gun back into her holster and pulled a zip-up sweatshirt over the t-shirt she'd changed into. She didn't so much need the warmth, but it hid her weapon. Closing her case and grabbing her duffel, she gave him another measured look. And reminded herself that he didn't create the situation any more or less than she did. But she did need to be clear that, from here on out, they were professional associates only. Nothing more. This was the first time she had ever had to deal with this kind of situation and now, on this case, well, the fates really were a bitch.

She allowed herself a smile as she walked toward him. “Although you have to admit it is rather ironic, don't you think?”

He raised a brow in question.

“My guess is that you were out last night looking to release a little tension after hearing the feds were coming to town,” she stopped in front of him and searched his eyes. He didn't bother to answer, so she continued. “I was looking to do the same. The fates must have been laughing when they threw us together.” She meant to close the door on the conversation, but standing there, looking into his eyes, for a moment she slipped back to a few hours earlier. The same eyes that had held hers as they lay tangled in his sheets, catching their breath, held hers now.

The tension in the room was so thick Dani had to remind herself to breathe and, in an instant, it wasn't funny anymore. Her pulse kicked up, but it wasn't out of desire. She'd been in enough situations to recognize her own reaction to fear. Why she was afraid, she didn't know. But now was not the time or place to sort it out. She pushed past him, breaking the contact.

“Ready?” she asked moving toward the door.

“For everything,” he replied.

* * *



He should be more pissed, Ty thought as he followed Dani out of the hotel. He had been irritated less than an hour ago. Her willingness and ability to ignore what had been a pretty incredible night should put a damper on his ego. But somehow it didn't. Or maybe it did, but the feeling was replaced by an altogether different feeling when he watched her check and handle her gun. He must be sick in the head. There was something just plain wrong with being turned on by watching a woman handle a gun. Then again, confidence was always seductive. And Dani was nothing if not confident.

They entered the parking lot and he led her to his car. He put the duffel in the trunk then opened the passenger door and motioned her in. As she folded her long legs inside he flashed back to last night when those legs had been wrapped around him. His eyes caught hers as she pulled the door shut. Even her frown didn't dampen his attraction.

He slid into the driver's seat. “So, where to, Agent Williamson?”

“Take a left. Head to Highway 1, then turn north. And you can call me Dani,” she added.

“Not Ella?”

She shook her head. “Not many people call me that.”

He could see the minute the words left her mouth, she regretted saying them. She had given him leverage. And it just might be worth it to call her Ella every now and then—in private—to see what kind of reaction he might get. If it was anything like the night before when he'd called her name, it would be worth it.

“So, how long have you been working this case?” Ty asked, pulling his mind away from the gutter, or bed, as the case may be, or kitchen table, or elevator.

Dani stared out the window for a long moment. “About a year, more or less.” Her voice held a weary tone that suggested more. But her voice shifted back to ‘agent’ with the next comment. “Take 88 North toward Broad Cove. Then take the third right.”

“And he's big enough to warrant the interest of an entire team of DEA agents?”

“Getz is a man of interest to a great number of people,” she answered. “But yes, he is of interest to us, for all the reasons I mentioned today. The network is big enough now that it's showing up on the radar in a number of cities. That and the apparent tie to the Eagle's Wing group upped the priority to bring him in. Or down, whichever works.”

“So how long do you think this will take?” he asked, following her directions. It was early still, so as he turned east toward the water, the sun hit them full in the face and they both reached up and flipped down their visors. With brilliant blue skies, cool temperatures, and calm winds, it was Ty's favorite kind of day. But a storm somewhere out at sea caused waves to crash against the rocky coast, throwing spray high into the air. The juxtaposition between the peace and violence of nature, in his mind, defined Maine. Defined a lot of things.

To his right, he caught Dani lifting her shoulder in response to his question. “Hard to say. Our intelligence indicates the transfer is going to occur at his place, here in Portland, sometime in the next few weeks. Of course, we all know how reliable dealers are, so that could mean tomorrow or it could mean two months from now.”

“And you're here for the duration?”

Dani hesitated for a second before answering. “It's likely, yes. But where I go and how long I stay is up to the team director.”

“But it's unlikely the director is going to reassign you.”

Ty felt her gaze fix on his face as he focused on the road. From the corner of his eye, he saw her big brown eyes narrow in calculation. Not a coy, catty calculation, but a professional, agent-to-detective assessment. He'd wager her mind was firing in rapid sequence.

“What makes you say that?” she asked, turning her body back around and transferring her eyes to the side mirror outside her window. Her nonchalance surprised him given the intensity of her focus seconds ago. And then he recalled her control earlier in the day. She had moments when it looked like she thought about letting her guard down—like that one, brief moment in the hotel room—but he would do well to remember she was a trained federal agent. He would be able to read her only when she wanted him to.

“Just a guess.”

He glanced over in time to see her take a quick study of him before turning again to the window. For a while she remained silent, except for telling him the turns he needed to make. After a few moments dragged on, she seemed to come to some conclusion.

“It's unlikely my director will reassign me,” was all she said.

“And why are you so adamant about ignoring what happened last night?”

The only indication that she'd heard him at all was her sudden stillness. And then she spoke. “Last night was personal.”

“Very personal,” he said.

She ignored him and continued. “And work is work. They have nothing to do with each other.”

“Personal is personal and professional is professional and never the twain shall meet,” he offered.

“I hope that's not a problem for you.”

It was, but he wasn't going to tell her that. He understood the situation. It wasn't that he was blind to the problems that could happen when colleagues became romantically involved. But depending on how things progressed, he also wasn't one to use the ‘problem’ as an escape hatch.

“Here,” Dani interrupted his thoughts by pointing to a driveway all but hidden by landscaping. He pulled in and stopped at the gate. Dani gave him a code to punch in.

“If you're alone, use the code we just used,” she directed. “If you're traveling with someone authorized to be here, add a one at the beginning. If you happen to be traveling with someone who isn't authorized to be here, add a one to the end, before you press the pound sign.”

He glanced at her to make sure she wasn't joking with him, hazing the new guy. Between the gate and the four cameras he saw hidden along the shrub-covered fence, it was a hell of a security system for a DEA sting.

“The house is a private home that has been loaned to us,” she explained. “The system was a standard, code-based system but the two additional features were added by our team. We've got good people and expensive government technology on this case, we want to make sure we protect all the assets.”

“And everyone is based here?”

“It's a big house.”

He wanted to ask how the DEA managed to get the wealthy owner of a prime, ocean-view estate to ‘loan’ the house out but, as they made their way up the winding drive, he just closed his mouth and stared.

Ty had a few investments and had done well for himself over the years. His salary wasn't much, but his investments more than made up for it. He considered himself a fairly wealthy man with a nice loft and a few small properties scattered around the country. But he had never seen anything quite like the house looming in front of them.

The place—the grounds and the building—was huge. The house itself was a combination of traditional Colonial, with an Italian influence, and easily over ten thousand square feet. With a façade of white, painted brick, it was more along the style of the Hamptons or Newport than the cute summer cottages of Southern Maine. Long, black shutters lay open and lined each of the tall and numerous first floor windows. Matching shutters lined the windows on the second floor and half of the third. The other half of the third floor was all glass and looked to be some sort of sun room. In a more traditional Maine house it would be a widow's walk where, in days past, a sea captain's wife would sit and watch for her husband's ship to come in. But this was unlike any widow's walk Ty had ever seen.

“Park in the garage around the corner,” Dani directed, pointing the way.

He pulled to the side of the house and saw a discreet five-car garage. From the front of the house, the garage looked like another room on the first floor. Modern convenience meets old-world charm.

He pulled into an empty bay and killed the engine.

Dani moved to exit the car but he held her back with a hand on her arm.

“Is this your usual boondoggle? Whose house is this?”

Dani laughed. He'd heard her laugh last night, but this was the first time he had heard it since they had met this morning. Maybe because the genuineness of it was such a juxtaposition to her cool control, or maybe because it reminded him of last night—either way, he liked it. A lot.

“No,” she said shaking her head. “It's not our usual boondoggle. Usually we cram into a couple of dirty hotel rooms in the parts of town most normal people like to pretend don't even exist. But none of us are complaining now, that's for sure.” She smiled again, slid out of her seat, and headed for the trunk.

“Wait,” he said as she grabbed her duffel and headed toward a door. “Whose house is it?” It was public record, he could look it up, but he was more interested in hearing the story behind how the DEA ended up using it, which the public records wouldn't be able to tell him.

“Oh, the house?” she turned, looking around the cavernous garage. “It's my sister's.”