Undercover Operation

Author

Maggie K. Black

Reads

19.9K

Chapters

Author

Maggie K. Black

Reads

19.9K

Chapters

😊 Low Spice 🏙️ Contemporary

ONE

Officer Asher Gilmore of the Pacific Northwest K-9 Unit sauntered down the Rock River boardwalk toward the marina and pier with what he hoped looked like the swagger of a man who was new in town and looking to make friends with the wrong kind of people. The tourist area was bustling, with souvenir stalls and food trucks, along with busking musicians, caricaturists and, above all, tour boat operators urging those who passed to come and experience the glorious Pacific waters from the decks of their boats before the weather turned cold.

It was Asher’s first day of a new undercover assignment as “Dan Johnson”—a Canadian boat operator, newly married to a beautiful American wife, and someone who wasn’t opposed to making a little extra cash by running drugs across the border. He’d grown a beard for the operation and darkened his light brown hair. Mirrored sunglasses hid his eyes to disguise the way he scanned the scene for signs of trouble. His K-9 partner, Spark, an English springer spaniel, walked by his side and was undercover too, with a bright red bandana tied around his neck instead of his usual K-9 vest. On the outside Asher knew he looked confident, maybe even a little cocky. But under the surface he could feel the tension building at the back of his neck like someone had wrapped a thick rubber band around the top of his spine.

He and Spark were used to tackling cases solo or with their fellow officers. But this time they’d be working with the unit’s lead K-9 trainer. Peyton Burns, posing as his wife, “Merry,” was waiting for them at the boat. Asher let out a long breath. He had a whole bunch of complicated feelings about the fact the PNK9’s chief, Donovan Fanelli, had decided that Asher and Peyton should go undercover as a pair of happy newlyweds. In June, three precious bloodhound puppies had been stolen from the PNK9 training center. Peyton had not only been devastated, she’d been determined to find them and bring them home safely. Now they finally had a lead that the stolen pups might be somewhere in the area, and Chief Fanelli had wanted Peyton to be on the mission. As she’d been training Ranger, Agent and Chief, she knew the pups better than anyone. Plus, Peyton was so devoted to her job that she’d even graduated from the police academy and a K-9 training program in order to more fully understand what the dogs and officers needed. Fanelli had felt she brought invaluable skills to this investigation.

But although Peyton would never know it, Asher had actually initially argued against having her with him on the mission. With his own half sister, Mara, currently on the run, a prime suspect in the double homicide of her ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend, Asher didn’t exactly have the best track record for keeping the women in his life safe. The need to protect the beautiful trainer from harm was an unwanted complication and distraction he couldn’t afford.

He felt his K-9 partner tug at his leash. Asher looked down. The black-and-white springer spaniel glanced up at Asher and swished his tail to let him know that his keen nose detected drugs in the area. Asher ran a hand over the dog’s head to thank him for letting him know. He almost felt sorry for the pup. The Pacific Ocean’s Salish Sea that ran between the United States and Canadian border was a hotbed for the illegal cross-border drug smuggling trade. Asher wouldn’t be surprised if his partner’s highly trained nose was picking up all kinds of suspicious smells right now. He knew a little something himself about sensing that something wrong was going down but being unable to do a fool thing about it.

Any drug smugglers they managed to bust and put away on this mission would be a happy bonus. Their focus was finding those three stolen bloodhound puppies.

The smell of hot cheese, bacon grease and decent coffee wafted toward him from the Olympic Snacks and Sandwiches food truck on his right. He aimed for it, trying not to look too eager, and joined the end of the line. Two weeks earlier he and Spark had been searching for the puppies in a network of caves in North Cascades National Park with his PNK9 colleagues. The search hadn’t turned up any puppies. But they had found dog fur and evidence the bloodhounds had been in the caves recently. They’d also found a crumpled receipt for the very food truck Asher was now striding toward. What’s more, Spark had detected drug residue on it, solidifying the theory that whoever had taken the puppies was involved in the drug trade.

Someone involved in the theft of the puppies had been in this area, and maybe even stood in this line, not more than a couple of weeks ago. But did that mean that whoever stole the bloodhounds was somehow linked to the people working at this food truck? Or just that someone linked with the theft had been in this area? He didn’t know. But either way he was here to find out.

He glanced around. “Is the line always this slow?” he muttered, to no one in particular.

“Yeah, pretty much, but the food’s worth it.” A voice came from behind him. He looked back to see a grizzled man with calloused hands who smelled of cigarettes and salt water. The man looked down at Spark and smiled. “That’s a beautiful dog you got there.”

Asher felt the hint of a genuine smile cross his face.

“Thanks,” Asher said and scratched his beard. “Smart as a whip too. But you can thank my wife for that.”

Funny how heavily and uneasily the word “wife” sat on his tongue.

“Is that so?” the man asked. He reached out and scratched Spark behind the ears. Spark wagged his tail approvingly.

“Oh, yeah,” Asher said. “She taught him every trick he knows. If it was up to her, we’d have a dozen more of them.”

The line moved forward. Chief Fanelli had once told him that the best undercover stories contained a small kernel of truth. Spark was absolutely crazy about Peyton. Truth was Asher was hard-pressed to think of a K-9 trainer and all-around person he admired more. It wouldn’t exactly be hard to pretend he cared about her.

But it had been five years since Asher’s disastrously failed attempt at a marriage had ended in divorce. That relationship hadn’t even lasted two years. His wife, Lucie, had traveled a lot for work—along with a colleague who Asher later discovered she’d had an affair with. It had hurt him deep, in a way he couldn’t even explain because his own dad had done the exact same thing to his mom. Asher had been ten when he’d discovered his dad had cheated on his mom. Then his father had left them to marry Mara’s mother and start a new family without him.

Still, he’d been willing to forgive Lucie and work past it. Instead, Lucie had accused him of being controlling and paranoid. She’d practically told him that he was unlovable. She was married to that same colleague now.

Leaving Asher with the knowledge he didn’t have it in him to be anybody’s husband.

And now his boss was saddling him with a make-believe wife?

Lord, he prayed silently. I’m really gonna need Your help with this one.

“What can I get you?” a woman’s voice asked. Asher looked up to realize he’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t even noticed that he’d reached the front of the line. The woman behind the counter had a friendly face and brown curly hair with gray growing in at the roots. Asher always made it a point to notice everything while on a case. The smallest detail could come in handy later.

“Two coffees, please,” Asher said. “Large. And if you can throw some cream and sugar in a bag on the side that would be appreciated. My wife is the kind of gal who knows exactly what she wants, and if I try to mix it myself I might get it wrong.”

The woman chuckled.

“Smart man,” she said. “How long you been married?”

“Few weeks,” Asher said. “Hopefully it hasn’t been long enough for me to make too many mistakes yet.”

The woman laughed again. Then she nodded at the large red maple leaf pin on his lapel.

“You Canadian?” she asked and poured two steaming hot coffees into takeaway cups.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “My wife’s American. We’ve got a really sweet boat we bought from her cousin, and have been running boat tours off the coast of Vancouver for the past couple years. We’re looking at expanding into some whale watching and cross-border trips. So figured we’d come down for a few days, take a look around and try to rustle up some business.”

He slid a business card across the counter with the names Dan and Merry Johnson and the phone number, social media and website the PNK9’s tech expert had set up for their cover story.

“Feel free to pass my name along to anyone you know who could use the help of a good boat to transport their stuff around,” Asher added. He’d been dropping the same message around town since they’d arrived the night before. “We’ve got our ways to get back and forth across the border without a hassle, and I’m never opposed to making a bit of extra money on the side. You know what I mean?”

The woman nodded mildly as if she didn’t and instead just suggested he get a homemade pastry to go with his coffee. Asher wondered if it would look suspicious if he’d lined up this long and only ordered coffee. After all, he still didn’t know what it meant that a receipt for this food truck along with drug residue had been found while the team had been searching caves for the stolen puppies. He ordered six different pastries to be on the safe side and balanced them on a cardboard tray with the two coffees and a small paper bag of cream and sugars.

Then Asher turned back and caught the eye of the same man who’d complimented Spark a few moments earlier. The man’s smile had disappeared, leaving a scowl in its place. Asher had zero doubt that the man had not only overheard what Asher had said, but that he’d understood what Asher meant by it.

Was he a criminal? Or somebody who didn’t much like knowing there were criminals running drugs in his town? Either way, Asher wasn’t here to make friends, and it seemed he was already succeeding in attracting the wrong type of attention.

Now to keep tossing more bait in the water until hopefully he reeled in something big.

Gray clouds hovered at the edge of the horizon as he and Spark walked through the marina toward his boat. October in Washington State could get downright chilly. Tourist season would be wrapping up within days, so Dan and Merry’s cover story was that they were scouting things out now to launch their business in earnest when the weather warmed up in the spring. The day’s forecast hadn’t actually predicted rain, just a faint and gloomy drizzle later in the afternoon that would keep most people from wanting to go outside. Thankfully nothing but clear skies and sunshine was expected for tomorrow morning, before the storm came back later that day.

He rounded a corner, walked down a gangway and along a long dock toward the slip where Peyton would be waiting for him. The forty-three-foot yacht was sleek with wraparound seats in the bow, a small but well-equipped galley below deck and a large U-shaped seating area in the back that opened to a large swim platform. A nice boat but over a decade old, which Asher thought suited their cover story. It was officially the property of the United States government after having been seized in a criminal raid off the coast of San Diego a few years ago. They’d loaned it to the PNK9 for their undercover operation. It had been given a fresh yellow paint job and hull identification number for the mission, along with a new name—The Mixed Blessing.

The boat came into view. Asher’s footsteps froze and a sudden flash of heat rose to the back of his neck. Two rough-looking louts seemed to be hassling Peyton. She was standing on the dock just beside the boat, and the two men had hemmed her in on either side. The man with his back to Asher wore a backward baseball cap and was so thin that his clothes seemed to wilt on his skinny frame. But the other was built like a grizzly, with a thick black beard, and he’d braced one large paw against the side of their boat, while he leaned toward Peyton like someone looming over a fence looking to see what he could steal.

Spark growled softly almost under his breath. The dog’s tail swished aggressively. Asher wasn’t the only one who had a bad feeling about these guys. His footsteps quickened. Peyton looked up, and even with the combination of a blond wig, baseball cap and tinted sunglasses obscuring her features, somehow he knew that her eyes were locked on his face.

“Danny!” she shouted. “Honey!”

Peyton slipped out from between the men and ran a few steps down the dock toward him. A huge smile crossed her face, as if he really was her beloved new husband. As she reached for him, he instinctively set the coffees and pastries down, his arms parted too, and she tumbled into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his neck. The smell of honeysuckle and gardenias filled his senses. Peyton’s hug felt so strange and yet so familiar all at the same time. Her mouth moved past his ear. “We’ve got a lead,” she whispered. “They want our help transporting a package.”

She started to pull back, but his hands lingered on her arms.

“Are you okay?” he whispered back.

They were standing so close he could see her eyes blink behind her tinted lenses.

“Yeah, of course I’m fine,” she said. “Are you?”

And that’s when he realized he wasn’t. Between the sight of those two men leering at her, to the feel of her arms wrapped around him, his heart was now beating a million miles an hour faster than it had any right to be. They finally had criminals wanting to bring them into their drug operation.

And if Asher didn’t get ahold of his emotions—and quickly—he could blow the entire mission.

Peyton watched as Asher stepped back and then he hesitated. She’d felt like she’d been treading water for the last few minutes, trying to keep the thugs from leaving while also refusing their not-too-subtle suggestion that they’d like to take a look around the boat. Although she’d done the same training as the PNK9 officers, she’d never worked as a cop herself and this was her first time on the front line of an active case. She picked up the tray of coffees and silently prayed she wouldn’t let Asher down.

But just as quickly as Asher had seemingly frozen, he got himself unstuck again. He pressed the end of Spark’s leash into her hand and then sauntered down the pier with the grin of a man who was happy to see them for now but who they wouldn’t want to mess with on a bad day.

“Hello. Dan Johnson,” he said. He ran his hand down the side of his jeans as if he was about to extend it for a handshake, but then crossed his arms instead as if something had made him think better of it. “What can I do for you?”

She watched as the men eyed Asher. Was it her imagination or did the large one notice the slight bulge above Asher’s ankle where his untraceable gun was holstered?

“We heard you might be crossing over to Canada today.” The large man spoke first. “Wondered if you’d be free to pick something up for us and bring it back.”

“For a friend of ours,” the thinner man added.

Asher’s jaw moved like he was rolling his words around before saying them.

“Could do,” Asher said. “Doesn’t look like much of a day for tourists. So, the wife and I might go get some errands done.” He glanced from one man to the other. “What are we talking about?”

The larger of the two men gave him a set of coordinates just off the coast of Victoria, British Columbia. So far, he was the one who’d done most of the talking, and Peyton got the impression that he was the one in charge. But she wasn’t sure if that was an official thing or just that he had the more dominant personality.

“A guy will meet you there,” the man went on. “He’ll hand you a package and give you the address to take it to. When you drop the package off, the person you deliver it to will give you a hundred bucks.”

“What kind of boat?” Asher asked.

“Zodiac-style,” he said. “Inflatable one with the motor on the back. You know what that is?”

Asher snorted. “Yeah, I know what kind of boat that is. And does this guy have a name?” The men didn’t answer. “Who do I tell them sent me?”

“Don’t you worry about that,” the larger man said. “We’re a need-to-know operation.”

Asher’s eyes rolled. It was incredible how seamlessly he’d stepped into the role of Dan Johnson. Peyton ran her hand over the back of Spark’s head and stroked the dog’s silky ears. As she brushed her hand along Spark’s neck she could feel a silent growl rumbling through her fingertips. A mixture of anxiousness and hope tightened in her chest.

Could this be the lead they were looking for to find the drug runners who’d stolen the puppies?

But then to her surprise Asher barked out a laugh and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“You want me to take my boat across to Canada, grab a package and bring it back, and you won’t even tell me who you are?” Asher asked. “All for a hundred bucks? You think I’m stupid? Thanks, but no thanks.”

She blinked. What did Asher think he was doing? Was he really going to insult their only lead and send them away? Asher signaled Spark. Peyton dropped the leash and the dog ran to his side. Asher turned and walked toward the boat.

“You coming, baby?” Asher asked her.

“Fine, whatever!” the large man said, before she could answer. He swore. “My name’s Vaughan.” He nodded to his skinnier partner. “You can call him Ridges. I’ve got no clue who’s going to be in the inflatable boat, and I can’t budge on the hundred bucks. I’m just doing a favor for a friend and I’d do it myself, but I’ve got somewhere else I need to be—”

“Don’t need to know all the details,” Asher cut him off and held up a hand. “Your business is yours. Just wanted to know who I was dealing with.” He nodded from Vaughan to Ridges. “It’s all good. Tell your buddy I’ll drop off his package in a bit.”

He turned, started up the ramp and boarded The Mixed Blessing, with Spark by his side. Then he glanced back to Peyton and hesitated. It looked like he was mentally kicking himself for not waiting for her to board first. She smiled at him reassuringly and then, without a word, picked up the tray of coffees. She walked past Vaughan and Ridges, handed Asher the tray, and then untied the boat. Asher set the tray down and she tossed Asher the ropes. The Mixed Blessing began to drift away from the dock. She ran up the gangplank, Asher grabbing her hand and helping her on board. Then he pulled the gangplank up. They made their way to the cockpit and Asher took the wheel. The boat pulled out into the Salish Sea, headed for the Canadian border.

Silence fell, except for the gentle roar of the twin motors and the sound of water sloshing against The Mixed Blessing’s hull. Wind brushed her face and sent the ends of her blond wig dancing. It was only then she realized she was holding her breath and exhaled.

“What was that all about?” Peyton asked. “We get our first solid lead and you sounded like you were trying to pick a fight with our suspects? Were you really going to walk away from the deal if they didn’t tell you their names? You know they could’ve been lying.”

“Didn’t want to look too eager,” he said.

Asher’s green eyes looked out over the water.

“Oh,” Peyton said. She hadn’t considered that. “Because they’ll think you’re a cop?”

“Partially,” Asher said. “But more because I didn’t want to look like this was my first rodeo. My dad was in sales and used to take me when he visited clients. One of his favorite tricks was to pretend he was willing to walk away. Gotta figure that any drug runner large enough to steal and hide three puppies for this long, while moving them around between locations, has to have a pretty lucrative operation.”

“Spark definitely detected a smell on them,” Peyton said. “But that doesn’t mean they’re actually carrying drugs right now. K-9s are trained to detect the smell itself, which can linger, sometimes for hours or even days after the drugs themselves are gone.”

Like the smell of a barbecue hung in the air long after the burgers were eaten. The shore grew farther and farther behind them. Asher blew out a long breath, and she watched as a genuine smile crossed his handsome face. He looked relieved.

“Wherever you find a lot of dirty money you’ll find a lot of criminals wanting their piece of it,” Asher went on. “My guess is he’ll have more drug runners than he needs and there might even be infighting between them. The fact we’re not kids, have our own boat and that we’ve got one Canadian and one American on our boat, makes us a pretty tempting team. So, if I want him to trust me, I’ve got to show I’m willing to do the job but that I’m not a fool.”

He ran his hand over the back of his neck.

“To be honest,” he added, “I’m not sure I like how easy that was. We’ve been here less than twenty-four hours and we’ve already got someone wanting us to run drugs for them?”

He lapsed back into silence. Peyton stood beside him a long moment. Then she went and sat on the deck beside Spark. Towering rocks and majestic trees rose high around them on both sides of the straight. To their left lay the deep and endless waters of the Pacific Ocean. To their right was an intricate maze of islands and inlets that made up Washington State’s north shore, and beyond that North Cascades National Park, where Asher and Spark had found the clue that had led them here. The beauty surrounding her was breathtaking.

“I got a whole bunch of different pastries,” Asher said, “because I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“Thank you,” she said. “I usually have yogurt and fruit for breakfast, but it’ll be nice to change things up.”

She wasn’t used to letting somebody else take charge. As the PNK9’s head trainer, she ran the kennels and was responsible for training all of the dogs that came through. She also traveled around Washington State to do field training with both the PNK9’s dogs and those of other units. But working with K-9 officers was different than following somebody else’s lead. Especially when the lives of those three missing puppies could hang in the balance. If she was honest, she wasn’t sure what to make of Asher’s plan. He seemed to think the best way to find the bloodhounds was to make sure they never tipped anyone off to the fact they were even looking for them. After all, someone had put an awful lot of hard work and trouble into keeping them from being found.

“We find the drug runner,” Peyton said to herself, repeating the words Asher had said when they’d started the mission, “and let the drug runner lead us to the puppies.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Asher. She trusted him implicitly. Respected and admired him too. He was an incredible officer, talented and strong. While she’d never been a fan of beards, she had to admit his undercover look hadn’t done a thing to diminish how handsome he was and made his green eyes seem brighter than ever. Tricky thing was that she’d always had a bit of a crush on him too, despite the fact Asher had a reputation for being a bit of a grump and was open about the fact he was committed to a bachelor life and didn’t see marriage in his future.

Or maybe she was attracted to him because he was unattainable?

She’d never been one to make things easy on herself and had pushed herself to work long hours and take on challenging training above and beyond what her job required. This assignment might be a good opportunity for her to put the foolish crush behind her. It was easy to idealize a handsome colleague from afar. It was another thing entirely to have to work closely with him in a high-pressure situation. And just one day in, she’d learned he was the kind of person who had a clear sense of what was right and didn’t take much time to consider other opinions.

The Canadian coast grew closer. Asher had taken a meandering route, exploring the inlets and coves, looking to anyone who might be watching that they were indeed tour operators checking out the area. On the surface, the rules for crossing into Canada by boat seemed pretty relaxed. All Asher had to do was report they’d arrived at Canadian Border Services in person or by phone. Which made smuggling look easy. The hard part was avoiding being detected by the Shiprider Law Enforcement Team, a vigilant unit comprised of both Canadian RCMP and American Coast Guard members who worked together to spot, stop and apprehend traffickers. Chief Fanelli had coordinated with the head of Shiprider about Asher and Peyton’s mission, and agreed to keep them in the loop and pass on any intel they found. In return, the Shipriders would conveniently avoid searching Asher and Peyton for the duration of the mission.

As Asher and Peyton neared the coordinates Vaughan had given them, Spark began to growl. The dog stood and braced his paws against the deck, as his tail swished. Under the right conditions, a K-9 dog could detect scents for miles away, and Spark had the additional specialized skill of being able to detect objects underwater. Peyton moved back to join Asher at the wheel, as did Spark.

Moments later they saw the gray inflatable boat skimming across the water. The small boat had seemingly come from nowhere. Although she couldn’t prove it, the odd thought crossed Peyton’s mind that the boat might’ve actually come from American water.

The boat drew closer until it pulled up alongside The Mixed Blessing. The young man standing at the motor was shrouded in an oversize hoodie and didn’t look older than eighteen.

“You Dan?” the kid called.

“Yeah,” Asher called back. “And who are you?”

The kid didn’t answer. Instead he pulled a brown envelope out of the inside of his jacket. It had been folded over double and was sealed with something bulky inside. His boat bumped against theirs. The kid stretched out his arm as Peyton leaned over the boat toward him, and the moment she had the package in her grasp, he gunned the engine and disappeared again.

Peyton looked down at the package. There was something printed on it in black marker.

“Gunther’s Scuba Shop, Rock River,” she read out loud. She looked up at Asher. “That’s not far from where we were docked when those two guys approached us. Who’s Gunther?”

“I have no idea,” he said. “His name didn’t show up on my background research. Although it’s possible he’s just a patsy, and the package is intended for someone else. Let’s get back into American waters, call Jasmin and see what she can pull up on them.”

If there was anything interesting to be found about Gunther and his scuba shop, the PNK9’s tech expert, Jasmin Eastwood, would find it. This time Asher cut straight across the waters, taking the fastest possible route toward the American shore. Spark sniffed the parcel absentmindedly, then wandered toward the bow of the boat, curled up in a ball and closed his eyes. Peyton blinked. She turned to Asher. “Whatever this is, I don’t think it’s drugs.”

His eyes widened. “Are you sure?”

“Spark didn’t alert,” she said. “And I trust Spark’s detection skills better than any drug detection test.”

“So do I.”

Then what was she holding if it wasn’t drugs?

“Should we open it?” she asked.

Asher frowned and his brows knit.

“It’s a bad idea,” he said. “If they think we’ve tampered with the package they won’t trust us. Then again, I was counting on Spark to let us know what was inside.” He looked toward the opposing shore. “I’m guessing you don’t have a cell phone signal?”

She glanced at her phone and shook her head.

“Okay,” he said. “Once we get back to the American shore, let’s find a quiet spot and then we’ll see what’s in the package.”

The Mixed Blessing moved smoothly through the water until they reached the opposing shore. They pulled into a small cove outside of Salt Creek and dropped anchor.

Spark barked suddenly and urgently. A motor roared to the right. It sounded small and aggressive. She turned to see a figure clad in a wet suit speed around the corner standing on a Jet Ski. Goggles covered his face.

The figure raised his arm. There was a gun in his hand.

He aimed it at them and opened fire.