"No problem." Spike sat across from him, coffee cup in hand, dark circles of sleeplessness lining sharp, clear eyes. "Had to come in anyway after how things shook down last night."
"I'll take that as a good sign." J.T. downed the dregs of his java, his fourth cup of the day.
"You'd be right." Spike tipped back his coffee. "DEA cameras confirmed the boats were picking up the drugs and coming back clean. Until last night, we couldn't figure out how they were offloading the drugs. Turns out, they were packaging up the stuff and placing it in the shrimper nets. They cast the net out, but with the webbing loose on one side so the drugs drop into the harbor. Net comes back empty. Looks like a bad throw to the casual observer. They repair the net and keep right on trawling for the rest of the day—or in this case, evening."
"And how's the exchange made?"
"We're still tracking that, but we're pretty certain a small underwater craft, minisub, retrieves it and runs it up the coast. It's freaking genius when you think about it. Without this tip-off, who the hell knows how long it would have taken us to figure it out? Now we just need to pinpoint who's receiving on the other end. We've already connected two independent shrimpers and a market here. We expect more to fall."
"And do you think this ties in to what Chris saw?"
"Could be. Based on your message, I made a few calls before you got here. The young woman, Miranda Casale, has already been picked up for questioning. Everyone at the restaurant will be questioned sometime today. A lot of base kids work at that place. Could be coincidental. Could be someone looking for a new contact. With any luck, that common symbol on the bumper sticker, the brick and the girl's necklace will lock in the final connection."
J.T. nodded, crumpling the disposable cup in his fist. These bastards had come after his wife and kid. He hoped they fried. His job might have brought stress to his home life, but at the moment he couldn't help being damn glad he'd played a part in bringing down scum like these.
Spike placed his cup on the table. "Hey, dude, no matter how this shakes down, you're going to be okay and your son's going to be okay. Chris stepped up in time. Plenty of military kids get in trouble—just like anybody else's kids. He gave us a heads up on another lead. He's a good kid who got stuck in a bad situation."
"Thanks for looking out for him."
Memories of those days in a Rubistanian cell hummed in the air, whispers of the minor victory they'd all silently celebrated by diverting their captors enough to buy Spike an extra couple of hours before his round of questioning.
Now the time had come for J.T. to buy some of that time for his family. To keep the heat off them until the threat passed.
Spike smiled. "Hey, dude, it's what we do for each other." He drained his coffee and stood. "Your part's finished here. Go home and hang with your family."
Chapter 14
Exchanging her work clothes for stretch pants and an over-long T-shirt, Rena turned her back on her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Facing herself and her mistakes wasn't easily done, and she would have plenty of that soon enough.
Time and excuses had run out. She and J.T. would have to come to a firm decision on their future. It wasn't fair to Chris to string things out.
The trip to and from the base had been quiet, as if J.T. understood any talk would require full attention—and likely be too long to accomplish during the short ride.
She tugged her hair free from inside the overlong T-shirt and searched through a basket by the sink for a matching hair scrunchie. Purple? Black? No. Gray, like her mood. Maybe she could just entice J.T. into having a quickie before they opened Pandora's box. Rena gathered up her hair and—
Huh? She focused all her attention inward—
There it was again. The tickle inside her. Gasping, she dropped the hair scrunchie and savored those butterfly whispers of life within her she'd never expected to feel again.
She pressed a hand to her stomach and didn't even breathe for fear of missing repeats. Her baby became all the more real—hers and J.T.'s—this new person who deserved so much more than a couple of parents who pitched plates and stormed out of rooms.
"Are you all right?" J.T. asked from the open door connecting the bathroom to their bedroom.
She hadn't even heard him walk up.
Rena nodded, her hand still cradling the sensation inside her. Her lip trembled. "The baby moved. I'd forgotten what it felt… How incredible… I just…" Her chin trembling, she shrugged. "Our baby moved."
His throat convulsed on a long swallow. His hands clenched and she knew he wanted to touch her, even if he wouldn't be able to feel the flutters yet.
She hated that he had to be hesitant, but if he touched her right now, she would weaken. She would forget all about her resolve and give in when she needed to make a stand more than ever for the baby. For them.
Still, this was his child, too.
She angled past into their bedroom and slid the ultrasound photo from her dressing table. "I never got the chance to show you this last night."
He took the slick black-and-white image and stared at it for so long she grew dizzy holding her breath.
A smile dug dimple brackets around his mouth. "You're right. This is incredible. Even more than I remembered. Thank you."