The King(190)

“Will you call her?”

“No.”

“Not even to make sure they are safe.”

“She doesn’t wish for that.” And the whys of this waiting by the Hudson were proof of the soundness of her decision to leave him. “A clean break it is.”

Even he heard the hollowness in his voice.

God, he wished to hell he had never met that woman—

The sound was at first indistinguishable from the ambient night noises, but the hum quickly became distinct: Coming from the left, it announced that perhaps their wait was over.

The fishing boat that puttered around the corner was as low to the river as a floating leaf and nearly as silent. As prescribed, there were three men in it, all of them clad in dark clothes, and each had a line in the depths, as if they were naught but plying what open water there was for a meal.

They pulled in bow-first.

“Catch anything?” Assail inquired as he’d been told to.

“Three trout.”

“I had two last night.”

“I want one more.”

Assail nodded, putting his gun away and stepping forward. From that moment, everything went silently and with speed: a tarp was lifted and four duffel bags changed hands, moving from the boat to him and then to Ehric—who hung them off his shoulders. In return, Assail passed over a black metal briefcase.

The tallest of the men put in the code he had been given, popped the lid, inspected the layout of bundles of bills, and nodded.

There was a quick handshake … and then Assail and Ehric retreated into the trees. Duffels went in the rear, Ehric in the back, Assail in the passenger seat.

As they headed off, bumping back over the rutted lane, windows were cracked to catch any sounds or smells.

There was nothing.

As they came out to the road, they stopped and waited whilst still hidden in the trees. No cars coming or going. The coast, as the saying went, was clear.

On Assail’s command, the gas was hit and off they went, into the night.

With five hundred thousand street dollars of cocaine and heroin.

So far, so good.

After extracting everything from both Benloises’ phones, he’d combed through the numbers and the texts—particularly the international ones. He’d found two contacts in South America with whom there appeared to be a lot of communication, and when he’d called from Ricardo’s phone, he’d been routed into a network of secured connections, a number of clicks occurring before a proper ringing started.

Needless to say, there had been a good deal of surprise after Assail had introduced himself and explained the purpose of his call. Benloise had, however, informed his compatriots of his new, biggest client—so it was not a complete shock to them that the one who had once been the wholesaler had become superfluous … and been eliminated.

Assail had offered them a deal to start the relationship off upon the right foot: One million in cash for half a million in product—as a gesture of good faith.

Partnerships had to be cultivated, after all.

And he had approved of the men sent to do the transaction. They were a clear step up from Benloise’s street thugs, totally professional.

Now he and his cousins simply had to parcel the product for street sale, and connect with the Forelesser for distribution. And business could resume as if Benloise had never existed.

Perfectly engineered.

“This went well,” Ehric said as they got onto the road that would take them out to Assail’s glass house.

“Yes.”

As they went along, he stared out the window, watching the trees pass by. A house. That hunting cabin.

He should have been more pleased. This was, after all, going to open up tremendous earning potential. And he loved money and all its power. Truly, he did.

Instead, the only thing on his mind was worry over where his female was whether she had in fact made it down to Miami in one piece with that grandmother of hers.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

She was gone.

Forever.





SIXTY-ONE


As Beth woke up, the first thing she did was a body scan for the urge to run for the bathroom. When that came back with a not-right-now, she pushed herself to a vertical and swung her feet to the floor. How long had she slept for? The shutters were still up so it wasn’t yet daylight, but man, she felt like she’d been out for days.

Looking down at herself, she put her hands on her belly—

Holy crap, she didn’t remember swallowing a basketball.

Under her palms, her stomach was swollen and hard, the protrusion such that she doubted she would be able to pull her pants on.

Her first instinct was to reach for the phone and call Doc Jane, but then she dialed back on the panic and got to her feet.

“Feeling okay,” she murmured. “Feeling pretty good…”