Ring of Fire (15 page)

Nate waited for a moment to give her a chance to calm down.

“Do you understand, honey?”

Erin unwound her hands and stepped back, indecision marking her face. She was silent for a minute then tipped up her chin.

Nate sighed. He knew a bad sign when he saw it.

She frowned at him and then turned toward Sam.

“I see. So Nate is concerned about you as well, correct, Sam? Since Nate is worried about your safety, he no doubt assumes that you are unable to protect yourself. May I presume you also have been taken off duty?”

Erin moved next to Sam and addressed him directly, her eyes flashing.

“So what’ll it be, Sam? Do you want to lead the school tours—after you finish all of your reports, of course? Or maybe we should bake cookies and take them to the Senior Citizen Center. We can tell all the residents that they are courtesy of the big bad Detective Stryker trying to shore up his elderly fan base.”

Nate stepped closer to Erin, putting space between her and Sam.

“Erin, listen to me. Sam is a veteran cop and former military hotshot to boot. He’s trained in more weapon systems than you know the names of. He has my back. I need him the way I need Dan and the Chief. This is what we do, honey. This is what we are trained to do.”

Erin hesitated and then moved closer to the door. Her cheeks were flaming. She crossed her arms over her chest and clenched her hands in tight fists. Nate saw that the frustrated tears welling in her eyes were likely to spill over any second. He longed to pull her into his arms but he respected her too much. He stepped back to give her room.

She tossed her head and bit down on her trembling bottom lip. Nate saw her throat muscles constrict when she swallowed, confirming how hard this was for her. He wanted to hold her but knew her too well. That was the worst thing he could do. She gathered herself and when she spoke her voice was sharp, curt.

“I’m done listening to you, Nate,
and
speaking to you. It’s clear that you have made up your mind. You do not believe that I’m capable of taking care of myself. Nothing I can say or do will change your mind. You’ve made that crystal clear.”

When he nodded in silent agreement, she added, “Just make sure
you
hear me. If you think you’re going to come home tonight all sweaty and brave after you’ve taken down another menace to society—AND think that you’re going to work off some of that adrenalin and testosterone on
my
body? You have another think coming, Detective Stryker. Don’t be surprised when your bed is empty because this ‘little woman’ will not be in it.”

She stormed to the door and slammed it behind her.

Tugging at the facial hair embellishing his chin, Sam said in a mild voice. “That went well, Nate.”

Sam shook his head with a rueful grin and spoke for all the men in the room.

“You really are one lucky son of a bitch. You know that don’t you, Nate?”

Nate grimaced but his lip curled slightly.

“Yeah, Sam, I do.”

He flicked on his phone and barked into it.

“I presume you’re on her? Good. And Mort? She gets more than five feet away from you? You and your fucking detail will be handing out traffic tickets until they wheel you off the streets to the old folk’s home. Got that?”

~~~

Hours later when he got back to the cabin to prepare for the mission, Nate called out for her.

“Erin, baby, I’m home.”

He wasn’t surprised when silence met his greeting. No doubt that Erin had made good on her promise to leave. He’d known she would.

He shook his head with a grimace, knowing in his gut it was just as well. Give her a chance to cool off. This place was hard to protect, even with the multi-thousand dollar security system he’d installed.

“Mort, where is she?”

Mort’s voice over the ether sounded surprised, concerned.

“Damn, Nate. I thought you knew. She’s at your downtown apartment. Been up there for a couple of hours.”

“Fine. That’s as good a place as any. Hell of a lot easier to protect than here. Be sure to let Connor know where she is so he can check on her. And, for God’s sake, don’t let her know you’re out there. As tough as you are Mort, you’ve never dealt with someone like Erin. She’d have you whimpering at her feet in minutes, begging her not to be mad at you. Ten minutes later, she’d leave you in the dust.”

Nate smiled hearing Mort’s chortle, but he wasn’t kidding. He knew how persuasive Erin could be. Except when it came to her safety, he was putty in her hands. She could mold him into a damn lapdog and he’d be glad to curl up at her feet, yipping for attention.

~~~

Nate dragged on his army camouflage. He smeared cammo colored paint on his face and neck and tucked the ski mask in his back pocket. He loaded most of the toys from his amazingly well-stocked weapons safe into the trunk of his car. Stroking the stainless steel barrel, he grinned appreciatively at the military grade AT4. It was one hell of an unguided antitank weapon. He snorted. If ever a rocket launcher would come in handy it was tonight. After all, the reputation of his Northern Minnesota commandos was at stake. Those wussy Feds—excluding Mark Peterson—would be talking about this raid for years to come. And for damn sure, none of them would be swiping any of the raw gold. Hell, no. When he fired this little pussy cat everything within range would be demolished, trucks included. There’d be nothing but rubble. Hell, nothing but fucking ashes.

When he’d finished packing Nate walked down to the lake to make the call. He was a paranoid son of a bitch and he never assumed his security couldn’t be breached. His gut clenched waiting for the guy to answer. He dreaded this call. It would confirm that what he’d known was a bad deal was far worse than he could have imagined. Apparently the guy on the other end knew it as well, because he spoke first.

“I know you’re upset, Detective. But it doesn’t change anything. Honest, Coach, it doesn’t. I planned on taking him out before I ever knew her. But now it’s even more personal. I’m after them both, her father and mine.”

“Damn it, Tucker. You have no idea what will happen if Jeb or your dad finds out that you and Melanie are involved.”

“We’re not ‘involved’, Coach, we’re in love. We’re going to get married.”

Nate gave an aggrieved sigh.

“So Melanie said.”

Nate forced himself to sound calm. “Look, Tucker. I’m not diminishing what you and Melanie have. Fuck, I can’t think of a guy I’d rather have Melanie fall in love with. You are everything a father or a godfather could wish for. IF her father wasn’t a sociopathic mini-Hitler, consumed with hate, and armed up the ass.” He took another breath then added, “I gotta ask, does Melanie know that you’re working with me? That you’re my informant?”

“No, she doesn’t and I don’t plan to tell her. I know I can count on you not to tell her either.”

“Christ, Tucker, the only person who knows and will ever know is the Chief.”

Nate grabbed as much air as his parched throat would allow.

“Listen to me, Son. You keep your head down. Don’t do one damn thing to raise suspicions. And Tucker, for God’s sake, don’t let anyone see you with Melanie until this is all over. Will you promise me that?”

When silence met his request, Nate dropped his voice into what he knew was the danger zone.

“Tucker, when I tell you that your safety and Melanie’s life depends on her father not finding out, I’m not blowing smoke up your ass. One more time, Son. Promise me you won’t see her until I give you permission.”

A long silence was his answer. When Nate was about to bark out another order, Tucker spoke. His voice was tight, as controlled as Nate’s.

“I’ll do my best, Coach. But I’m not making a promise I’m not sure I can keep.”

The buzzing phone confirmed that Tucker didn’t hear the detective’s ferocious curse.

Chapter 17

Leave it to the Northern Minnesota sky to show off—on this night, of all nights. Nate shook his head with a rueful chuckle. It wasn’t as though there wasn’t going to be enough light. Damn, skies like this were why people flocked to the Boundary Waters. The inky black sky was carpeted with thousands of stars doing their level best to out-sparkle each other. The postcard perfect crescent moon played hide and seek with the feathery clouds unable to mask the myriad lights. If excursions to the Boundary Waters were de rigueur for outdoor enthusiasts around the country, it was a rite of passage for hardcore Minnesotans. Many a night in the brisk Northern air, Nate put his bedroll outside of his tent and drank in nature’s light show, certain he was as close to heaven as a boy could get.

At least the phenomenal Northern Lights chose not to audition. They would have brought the carefully planned raid to a screeching halt. But the aurora borealis cooperated and the only thing the good guys had to deal with was enough moonlight to disclose any but the most trained and well-camouflaged fighters.

Nate had known Sam’s LAPD team would be first-rate, but even to his expert eye they were invisible among the trees. The squad had been on site for twenty-four hours and been relaying hourly updates to command central—which meant to him and Sam. The Feds under Mark Peterson’s command had tough shoes to fill compared to the SWAT team, but Mark had chosen carefully. His superiors agreed that the mission was ‘off the books’ and allowed Mark to personally select the squad. Nate’s team included Sam, Dan and four other hardened cops. All were former military and except for Sam had been on Nate’s Delta team in the sandbox.

Glancing through his night vision goggles, Nate allowed himself a moment of pride. To the uninitiated eye, there was no sign of human beings. The fact that fifteen highly trained fighters were in place was a credit to them all. Jeb just didn’t get it. Compared to Nate’s team on the ground, Jeb’s men were rank amateurs. The pathetic men who followed Jeb were tenacious—no question about it. But Jeb’s ideologues were driven by greed and a hideous doctrine. Nate’s team was also driven by ideology—and principle. And by the desire to kick the living shit out of the bad guys.

“How could this place have escaped notice?” Dan’s voice over the com was incredulous.

“You need to look at it through eyes that don’t expect more than an abandoned campsite. Hell, Dan, you know this area is filled with sites like this. Remember,
we
didn’t know it was here until my CI told me.”

Sam whistled. “You’re right, Nate. We owe that guy big time. My SWAT guys agree. If I hadn’t given them pinpoint directions and a satellite image to boot, they never would’ve found it.”

Nate grunted in response not wanting to spend precious time worrying about his CI. He had to believe that Tucker was smart enough to lay low. If for no other reason than to protect Melanie. But Nate would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried sick. He knew how blinded you can get when you’re in love. To stop thinking about the two young lovers Nate focused on the work ahead. Signally everyone to listen up he indicated he wanted to run through the drill. Not that every man on the ground didn’t have the plan etched in his brain—but it didn’t hurt to hear it one more time from the Big Dog.

“Mark, status please. Confirm your location and that your targets are in place.”

Mark’s smooth Southern tones slid over the com.

“Roger that, Nate. We’re in position. As agreed, when you give the signal, we’ll take out the bastards inside the lab. Cocky assholes that they are, they’ve got one guy on night watch and from what we’ve seen the last two days, he sleeps most of the time. Have to admit that this damn moonlight makes it dicey but our guys are pros.”

“I know they are, Mark, and we’re damned lucky to have Feds like you and your men. You know how we local cops feel about the Feds? Incompetence plus connections make for a sorry-assed squad.”

At the sound of low chuckles, Mark replied.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But Big Dog, remember, without us here, you’d be relying on the Staties or mall cops.”

Nate chortled. “Hey, don’t dis the mall cops. They catch a fourteen-year-old swiping a pair of Wranglers at least once a month. But yeah, you guys are A-Okay. To confirm, when you make the move how many of the four men inside will be alive to tell their grandchildren what a hero he was fighting for the rights of white people and assholes everywhere?”

Mark’s chuckle was audible. “Make that a cipher, Big Dog. It’s going to be sweet putting a bullet in between the eyes of four men who would shit their pants if they knew that Marshal is the only white guy on my team. Poetic justice, wouldn’t you say?”

Nate guffawed. “Roger that. And Mark while you’re waiting for us to blow the place, make sure you video every damn piece of equipment inside. I want to document the make and model of each beaker, flask and cooker. From what you’ve reported, my buddy Jeb has invested a chunk of change in his lab. We wouldn’t want his investment to go unremarked. Plus I intend to give him a video report of the evening’s activities. It’s important to acknowledge that he
had
a first class operation. Underscore the past tense.”

“To confirm, Nate. You want us to remove the bodies, correct?”

“Yeah. The small town guy in me wants them to have a proper burial. It’s only right. They weren’t always on the wrong side of things. Plus marking their graves can be a powerful disincentive to the other fuckers who think White is Might. We’ll have time before the trucks arrive to look over the lab. You Federales should take note. Don’t underestimate the power and ingenuity of dedicated men. Jeb is no slouch. The fact that he’s as smart as he is, and as brazen, makes him all the more dangerous. “

Nate crouched with his men in the groves of tall pine trees five hundred yards from the makeshift lab. From the pictures he’d seen of the lab’s interior, it was damned impressive. The fact that it was capable of converting three truckloads of raw material into multi-millions of dollars of high grade crystal meth was downright awe inspiring.

Seeing the signal, Nate clicked on his com to connect with Eric Michaels, the SWAT team leader.

“Reporting in, Big Dog. Just received status from the air reconnaissance team. The trucks are fifty miles out. They’ll likely arrive within our timing parameters—if not to the minute. My men are in position. As instructed we will wait until all three trucks have pulled up. Thanks to Mark’s info we expect a minimum of four men per truck plus the drivers. Hope they’ve all been to confession. It’s a cinch they won’t be getting any last rites from us. As agreed none of them will survive the night. To confirm, the first step they take out of their rigs will be their last.”