Sex, Lies and Mistletoe. Tawny Weber
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He hadn’t told anyone he was burning out except his direct superior, who’d sworn to keep it to himself.
“Word sounds like a gossipy, giggling teenager,” was all Caleb said, though. “Who’s the gossip and when did you start listening to that kind of crap?”
“It’s amazing how much information you can pick up through speculation.” Hunter sidestepped. “So while you’re considering those options, maybe you might be interested in doing a friend a favor?”
“I’m more interested in lying on a beach in Cabo with half-naked women licking coconut-flavored oil off my body,” Caleb mused, taking another swig of beer.
“What if I used the owe-me card?” Hunter asked quietly, his gaze steady on Caleb’s. Intimidation 101.
Last week, Caleb had faced down a Colombian drug lord who’d preferred to blow up the building he stood in than be arrested when he found out his newest right-hand man was actually DEA.
It would take a lot more than 101 to make Caleb squirm.
Then again, he did owe Hunter. Back in their first year of college, Caleb had been a better con than a student. Overwhelmed by the realities of college life, he’d cheated on his midterm psych project. Hunter had caught him. He didn’t threaten to turn him in. He didn’t lecture. He simply threw Caleb’s own dreams back in his face until he’d cracked, then helped him pull together a new project. He hadn’t snagged the A he’d hoped for, but Caleb had found a new sense of pride he’d never known. Shit.
Caleb hated unpaid debts. Especially sappy emotional ones.
“Cut the bullshit and get to the point,” he suggested.
Realizing he’d won, Hunter didn’t gloat. He just leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his own beer. “You’re from a small town in the Santa Cruz Mountains, right? Black Oak, California.”
It wasn’t a question, but Caleb inclined his head.
“You still have family there.”
“Maybe.” Probably. He knew his sister was living just outside of San Francisco, playing the good girl. And who the hell knew where his brother was. A chip off the ole block, Gabriel was probably fleecing some rich widow of her wedding ring. But their father’s family had founded Black Oak, and while Tobias Black hadn’t ever gone for the political game, he’d always kept his fingers on the strings of his hometown.
But Caleb hadn’t lived there since he’d left for college twelve years before. And he hadn’t been back at all since he’d graduated and joined the DEA.
Eight years before, two months before Caleb had graduated, they’d had one helluva family brawl. Ugly accusations, bitter recriminations and vicious ultimatums.
Tobias Black had raised his three kids alone when his wife had died, keeping the family tighter than peas in one very conniving pod. But with that explosion, they’d all gone their separate ways. Caleb had grown up with an almost smothering sense of family. These days he was more like an orphan.
Just as well. Spending time with Tobias was an emotional pain in the ass at best, a conflict of interest at worst.
“It’s an interesting little town. Quaint even. Your maternal aunt is the mayor, but word is that it’s actually your father who runs the town. Tobias Black, a known con artist with a huge FBI file and no convictions. Estimates of his take over the years is in the millions. And even knowing he was behind some of the major scams of the century, they’ve never gathered enough evidence to convict him.”
Arching his brow, Hunter paused. Caleb just shrugged. So his dad was damn good at what he did. Maybe it was wrong to feel pride in the old man, given Caleb’s dedication to the law. But you had to admire the guy for his skills.
“Five years ago, for no apparent reason, Tobias Black pulled out of the con games. He reputedly went straight, focusing his attention on his motorcycle shop and the small town he calls his own.”
“You’re saying a whole bunch of stuff we both know. Why don’t you get to the part where you fill me in on the stuff I don’t.”
“For the last few months, we’ve been getting reports of a new drug. Some new form of MOMA.”
“Ecstasy?” Caleb pushed his beer away since they appeared to be getting down to business. “What’s new about it?”
“It’s been refined. Higher-grade ingredients, some obscure herbs that counteract a few of the side effects.”
“Herbs? Like, what? Holistic shit?”
“Right. Not a major change, really. Enough to give sellers the ‘healthier choice’ pitch, but that’s about it. The problem stems from the addition of pheromones.”
Eight years in the DEA had told Caleb that just when he’d thought he’d seen and heard everything, some clever asshole would come up with a new twist to screw with the human body. He sighed and shook his head. “So not only does it give the user a cheap sexual zing, but they can drag unsuspecting suckers down with them?”
“Pretty much. As far as the labs can tell, it’s not a high enough grade to classify as a date-rape drug, but the potential is there.”
The potential to make things worse was always there. Once upon a time, Caleb had figured he could make a difference. But he’d been wrong. After years of fighting drugs in the ugly underbelly of society, Caleb was pretty much done waging the useless battle. He’d turned in his resignation two days ago, but his boss had refused to accept it. Instead, he’d told Caleb to take some time off. To go home, visit family, come out of deep cover for a few months and reconnect with himself before he made any major decisions.
The only piece of that advice Caleb had planned to take was the time off.
He noted the rigid set of Hunter’s jaw, then met the man’s steady gaze and gave an inward sigh. Looked as if he was wrong on that count, too.
“Can’t you feebs get in there on your own?” he asked. The bureau didn’t have the same mandate as the DEA, but still, they should have the resources to go in themselves.
“Let’s just say I’d rather use my own resources first.”
Caleb nodded. He’d figured it was something like that. Second-generation FBI, Hunter had a rep for playing outside the tangled strings of bureaucracy more often than not. His close rate was so high, though, that the higher-ups tended to ignore his unorthodox habits.
“You’re looking at Black Oak as the supply center. Have you narrowed down any suspects?”
Caleb wasn’t a fool. He knew where Hunter was going with this. But he wasn’t biting. He’d pony up whatever info he had on the town that might help the case, but that was it. He wasn’t going back to Black Oak.
Which Hunter damn well knew. One drunken college night, Caleb had opened up enough to share how much he hated his father, how glad he’d been to get the hell out of Black Oak. And how he’d vowed, once he’d left, to never return.
“Black Oak appears to be the supply center, yes. But that’s not the big issue for me.” For the first time since he’d strode into the bar and sat across from Caleb, Hunter’s eyes slid away. Just for a second. That’s all it took, though, to let Caleb know he wasn’t going to like whatever came next.
No matter. Wasn’t much about life these days he did like.
Still, he took a swig of the beer. Never hurt to be prepared.
“We’ve tracked the source. As far as we can tell, there’s only one suspect.”
Caleb waited silently. Most people, when faced with six feet two inches of brooding intimidation blurted out secrets faster than a gumball machine spewed candy. But Hunter wasn’t most people.
“A reliable source tipped me to the suspect.”
Caleb dropped the chair back on all four