Secrets Never Die (Morgan Dane #5)(69)

“There are rumors about Joe ordering hits from prison. He’d have a body left in the middle of the street with the face peeled off or the arms and legs hacked off with an ax. Sometimes they were the competition or someone who had crossed Joe in some way.”

“He relies on sheer brutality and terror to keep people in line.”

“Yes. A few months after Joe’s conviction, two of the detectives on the narcotics task force that led the investigation against him were found in the county dump. Both had been beaten and beheaded.”

“Executed.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Money went missing when Joe was arrested and his house searched. There were rumors that the two cops were corrupt and had helped themselves. It seems Joe holds a grudge against those who go against him.”

“Great.” Sharp rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder, and his neck cracked. The sleep had helped. His head was clearer. “Where are we going?”

Olivia plugged an address into her phone. “I don’t know yet. The arrangements were made through an associate through another associate. We’re spinning this as a follow-up to my story on his conviction—that I want his reaction to being released, how prison changed him, his plans, et cetera. Admittedly, I don’t know exactly how this will work.”

“Can you tell me your contact’s name?”

“No.” She drove for about ten minutes, the traffic restricting her speed. “The suburbs have become a hotbed of drug activity. Serious drug dealers are leaving the cities. They don’t want to deal with territorial gang wars. These are real businessmen. They deal in shopping center parking lots and offer heroin delivery services. Most of the legwork is done on cell phones now.”

“Drug dealers have become regular entrepreneurs.” Sharp watched the landscape roll by. Trees, strip malls, and medical centers lined the road. They drove past another residential development.

“The area is low crime, with a large customer base. Mexican heroin is the current trend. It’s cheaper than prescription pain pills.” She spoke with an unusual venom.

“You sound like your hatred is personal.”

The veins in her forearms corded as she gripped the wheel. “One of my cousins overdosed in high school, and two years ago, my nephew died of a heroin overdose. My sister will never be the same.”

“I’m sorry.” Sharp suspected Olivia had changed as well.

With a curt nod, she said, “My cousin’s death prompted me to do the New York Times piece after college.”

Olivia turned into an office complex. The businesses looked closed, with dark windows and empty parking slots. She parked in the back of the lot under a streetlamp. Leaning over, she jammed her cell phone in the glove compartment. “You’ll want to lock your phone and gun in the car.”

Sharp touched his Glock. Going into a gang-infested bar unarmed seemed wrong. “Why?”

“We’ll be searched before we’ll be allowed to see Joe. Wires, phones, cameras, and weapons will be taken at the door. Your things are safer in my car.”

Sharp removed his holster from his belt and placed his weapon in the glove box. He sent Lance another quick text letting him know what was happening before setting his phone on top of his gun. Olivia locked the compartment with her key.

A black sedan pulled up next to her Prius. Sharp couldn’t see inside. The rear windows were tinted Florida-dark.

Sharp’s cop-senses tingled. He was fairly sure this was a very bad idea.

“You’re sure this is safe?” He reached for the Prius’s door handle. They were both unarmed. He had no idea if she could defend herself.

Olivia’s shrug did not ease his fears.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “I’ll find another way to determine if Joe Martin is involved in Paul’s death.”

“Such as?” Olivia asked, returning her sunglasses to their holder.

“Shit. I don’t know right off the top of my head.”

Two young men got out of the sedan. In jeans, T-shirts, and expensive sneakers, they could have worked at the university or a local tech company.

She hid her purse under a towel in the back seat. “Joe requested the meeting. There’s no reason for him to harm us, and why would he risk going right back into prison? If he didn’t want to talk to me, he wouldn’t have agreed to the interview.”

All good points, but unease crawled over Sharp’s skin like spiders as he climbed out of the car. Maybe Joe wanted the interview so he could eliminate two people who were asking questions about him.

A humid wind gusted, sending an empty water bottle tumbling across the hot asphalt. Sharp smelled rain competing with the scent of garbage that had been lying around too long in the summer heat.

The driver wore aviator-style sunglasses. Tattoos covered one arm in a full sleeve.

Sweat gathered under Sharp’s arms. It would take all of two seconds for these men to kill him and Olivia. Her car would be driven to the local chop shop. Their bodies would be dumped somewhere. Just another business day for this bunch.

He’d gone into dangerous situations in the past but never without backup handy. Lance was an hour away. What was Olivia thinking? What had he been thinking?

“Is your contact nearby?” he whispered to Olivia.

“Maybe,” she said.