I, Michael Bennett (Michael Bennett 5)

We continued to watch and wait. A vein twitched along my eye when Hughie’s cell phone trilled at eleven on the dot.

The thumbs-up he gave me confirmed it was the FBI operations team up in Westchester County that was surveilling Candelerio. Aerial and ground teams had been covering the Dominican for the last week. This morning we’d brought every local PD from Westchester to the Bronx into the loop in case there was some unforeseen detour and we had to do a traffic stop.

“Candelerio is rolling, headed out toward the Saw Mill River Parkway right on schedule,” Hughie said, ending the call. “ETA in thirty. Get this, though. Our spotter said his wife and three girls are with him, and they’re all dressed up.”

I frowned. We were already doing the arrest in a public place. Having Candelerio’s family around would only make things even more complicated.

“Dressed up?” I said. “He’s bringing his family to meet Perrine?”

McDonough shrugged.

“Who knows with a family of drug dealers?” he said. “Maybe meeting the Sun King is like meeting real royalty to them. How many opportunities do you get to have an audience with a king?”

I went back to my window perch. I pinned the glasses onto every car that slowed, onto every pedestrian who walked past on the sidewalk. With Candelerio on the way, it meant that Perrine would be coming along any moment now.

My heart fluttered into my throat as a kitted-out black Escalade suddenly pulled up in front of the restaurant. A back door popped open, and out came three men. I tried to spot faces, but all I caught were Yankees baseball caps and aviator sunglasses before the three were inside.

“Did anybody see? Is it Perrine? Can anyone confirm ID?” I frantically called over the radio.

“Negative. No confirmation,” called the DEA SWAT.

“Not sure,” called a cop from the team at the restaurant’s rear. “They went in too fast.”

“Damn it,” I said as Hughie whistled by the window.

“Mike, movement. Six o’clock,” he said.

I panned the glasses back to the restaurant, where a dark-skinned Dominican waitress with big silver hoop earrings and short black hair was stepping out onto the sidewalk.

The attractive Rihanna look-alike was named Valentina Jimenez, and she was a cousin of the informant who was helping us out on the case. She’d come out to give us the signal. If Valentina lit a cigarette, it would mean that she had spotted Perrine.

I watched her intently as she stood in front of the restaurant, looking up and down the street.

“Stand by,” I said into the radio, ready to give the other teams the green light.

That’s when it happened.

Valentina did something, but it wasn’t lighting a cigarette.

She glanced back into the restaurant and then bolted in her high heels at top speed down Saint Nicholas Avenue as though she were running for her life.

CHAPTER 7

“WHAT IN THE name of God?” Hughie yelled, giving voice to my thoughts.

“Have her picked up,” I said into the radio.

“What does it mean? It was Perrine who just went in there? Did she forget the signal?” Hughie said.

“We still don’t know. We have to wait and talk to her,” I said. “She could have just gotten spooked.”

My cell phone rang a second later.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do, okay? I’m so sorry,” Valentina said, sobbing.

“It’s okay, Valentina. I’m having you picked up. You’re safe. Just listen closely. Was it him? Did Manuel Perrine just come into the restaurant?”

“No. Those men were members of Candelerio’s crew. They were just laughing with the manager about how much par-tying they would be doing today since Candelerio is away. Candelerio isn’t coming to lunch. I knew I had to call you, but I was afraid they’d see. You know what they would do to me if they saw me calling a cop? That’s why I left. And I’m not going back. I don’t care what you do to my cousin. These guys are killers. I can’t take working there anymore.”