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Double Cross (FBI: Houston)

By DiAnn Mills

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DOUBLE CROSS - FBI: Houston Book 2
by DiAnn Mills


Special Agent Laurel Evertson had done everything required of her and more to gain Morton Wilmington’s affections. The gaudy diamond on her left hand proved it. She was prepared to end her undercover work tonight and walk away from this despicable role. All she had to do was find the flash drive that would send her fiancé to prison for life.

Morton reached into his closet and pulled out designer pants, a shirt, and a sports jacket. “Babe, I’m taking a shower. Thought we’d grab dinner downtown before the play.”
“Perfect. I’m ready. So looking forward to tonight.” She despised the lies and the counterfeit love.
“What are you going to do? Read here?”
“I am. A new romance novel.” She pointed to a window seat that offered a scenic view of his condo’s pool bathed in late-summer afternoon sun.
He chuckled, his deep-blue eyes smoldering. “As long as I’m your main man.”
“None other.” She kissed him lightly. “I’m turning on a little Andrea Bocelli to put me in the mood.”
“For what?”
“The book, the play, dinner, and us.”
“Another reason why I love you. Even if you did beat me last night in Monopoly.” He disappeared into the shower.
The moment the sound of water met her ears, she confirmed his location. Four times she’d found herself alone in his condo and attempted to access his safe, but each time she’d failed to hack into his computer, where he stored the safe combination that changed daily. Today she knew his password, and she quickly located the code on his laptop.
She placed the novel on the bed and removed a framed picture of a tank at Fort Knox from the wall to reveal the safe. Odd for a bedroom, but Morton had served four years in the Army. Probably the only thing he could be proud of. She rested the picture against the nightstand while the digital combination bannered across her mind. Squeezing her fingers into her palm to steady herself, she pressed in the code, hoping Andrea Bocelli’s tenor voice drowned out the low click. If she was wrong, the alarm would blare throughout the condo, bringing Morton out of the shower along with his
bodyguard from the kitchen.
Big business had made him one of the most powerful men in the country, and certainly in Texas. Murder, money laundering, and organized crime were his best friends— legitimacy his enemy. But he’d made one mistake, exposing it all on a flash drive. He’d bragged about where it was hidden one night after drinking too much. It had taken her months to locate the safe and figure out how to gain access.
Was she any better than he, using another person for her own agenda? She shook off the thought and concentrated on her commitment to stop Wilmington from breaking the law.
She secured the flash drive and replaced the picture. Stealing her way to the bathroom door, she confirmed Morton was still showering. His laptop sat on his desk as though beckoning her to prove the FBI’s suspicions. She inserted the drive. Her heart
pounded, ached.
“Babe, had an idea for our honeymoon,” he called from the bathroom.
“Great.” She breathed deeply to calm her scattered nerves. “Are you going to tell me?”
“Maybe.”
“You know I love surprises.” The details on the computer rose like rich cream: names, places, bank accounts. She ejected the device and slipped it into her shoe.
“I sent a check to MD Anderson this morning,” he said.
“For the kids or in general?”
“The kids. The fund-raiser we attended hit me hard.”
But you’d killed men who got in your way. “They stole my heart too.” She texted the FBI and Jesse, her partner, providing the code to the condo’s alarm system and telling them where the armed bodyguard was located. “Do you need anything?”
“That’s a loaded offer, but I’m good.”
He wouldn’t be so good once the FBI arrived for the takedown.“What time are we leaving?” She moved back to the window seat and opened her novel.
He stepped from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Is six okay?”
She smiled. “Sure.” Finally this charade would be over.
While discussing what Wilmington wanted to do for the children at MD Anderson, he dressed and she touched up her makeup. Her hands trembled.
“Are you okay?” he said. “You’re shaking.”
“Just hungry.” She hated this game, made her feel as dirty as Morton.
“Want a glass of orange juice?”
“You’re so sweet. Thanks, I’d love it.”
He left the room and went down the hall to the kitchen. She checked her phone.
W r n place. Now
With a confident breath, she pulled her Glock from her purse and trailed after Wilmington. Only moments remained.
A crash sounded from the kitchen and seized her attention.
Morton swore. “Laurel, stay back. Call the bodyguards.”
She rushed from the bedroom, her hand fused to her Glock.
Gunfire exploded. One. Two. Three shots.
A bodyguard sprawled facedown on the floor, blood seeping from beneath him.
Jesse hid in the back of the kitchen by the utility room, trapped but able to fire.
“Morton, drop the gun.” She inched closer.
“You’re part of this?” His eyes and gun stayed fixed on Jesse.
“You set me up?”
“It was my job.”
He called her vile names that would echo forever.
“FBI. Lower your weapon.” She moved closer. “Morton Wilmington, you’re under arrest. Agents are waiting.”
“You know how I operate. No one gets the best of me.”
“You can give orders to the prison guards.”
“You have a choice,” Morton said. “Put down your gun, or I’ll blow a hole right through this guy.”
“That works both ways.”
Morton swung a seething look at Laurel, allowing just enough time for Jesse to move into position.
Morton whirled and fired, sending Jesse backward to the floor, a bullet in his neck. Blood seeped across his upper body. His eyes wide-open. . . The cost of her undercover work.
Agents poured through the door. Morton dropped the gun and glared at her. “I have people everywhere. You can’t hide, Laurel. No matter how long it takes. You’ll pay in blood.”

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