Her Very Strict Captain, Carpenter, Maggie [top 50 books to read TXT] 📗

envelope from the clip and pulling out the piece of paper, he read the note aloud.

Hey, Sonny, sorry I can’t make it. Here’s the wine I promised, along with a special gift. Make sure you’re alone when you open the crate. Speak to you soon, Leon Hartley.

“Here, you can see for yourself if you want,” Pete said, handing it down to the glowering guard.

“Huh,” the man grunted. “Who the fuck is Leon Hartley?”

“You’ve never heard of Leon Hartley?” Pete exclaimed, feigning surprise.

The name belonged to his high school math teacher, a tiny, bespectacled man who reminded Pete of a woodpecker.

“Can’t say I have.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t know him either, but my daughter drives me crazy. He’s all she talks about. She’ll be tickled pink when I tell her about this.”

“Okay. Step from the truck and carry it in.”

“No can do, it’s a big crate strapped to a dolly. I need a large entryway,” Pete replied, already knowing the house had a small loading dock for oversized deliveries adjacent to the wine cellar.

“Follow me.”

As the man lumbered ahead, an automatic light illuminated a roll-up door behind a high, wide concrete block looking incongruous against the sleek, modern home.

“Just what every international drug lord needs,” Pete muttered. “Scott, can you still hear me from back here?”

“You’re clearer than my cell phone.”

“It’s quiet, real quiet. There shouldn’t be any trouble,” Pete murmured as he expertly backed up and came to a stop. “I’m going in. Wish me luck.”

Jumping from the truck, he walked quickly past the guards and swung open the back door, revealing a large wooden box strapped to a wheeled stand. With one of the guards standing close by, he lowered the truck’s platform to line up with the dock, then pushed the crate out into what appeared to be a storage room.

“It should go in the wine cellar, follow me,” the second guard said briskly.

Following him to a wide arched doorway at the back of the room, Pete stood to the side as the man punched a code into the security keypad. Memorizing the numbers, Pete rolled the crate into the cellar, unbuckled the wide straps, and deftly pulled back the dolly.

“You’ve done that before,” the thug remarked with a grin.

“A few times,” Pete replied, returning the smile as he walked out. “I have one more stop to make before I can call it quits. It’s been a long day.”

“Lucky you, I’ll be here all fucking night,” the guard grumbled.

“Sorry to hear that. Maybe you should look for another job.”

“The pay’s too good.”

“I guess everything in life’s a tradeoff,” Pete remarked, returning the dolly and closing the door.

“Ain’t that the truth.”

Climbing back into the cab, Pete raised his window and drove slowly up the drive, finally letting out a breath as he passed the front of the house.

“Okay, Scott, mission accomplished,” he declared as he headed through the gates, “and I have the security code for the cellar door. Ready?”

“Yep.”

“201918.”

“Clever,” Scott remarked. “The last two digits of the last three years, easy to remember but tough to guess.”

“Yeah, well, no one ever called Conchello stupid.”

* * *

His body curled inside the crate, Danny heard the cellar door close. Peering through the small round holes, drilled to accommodate the width of his eyes, he discovered the room was completely dark. Flipping back the bolts on the side of a panel, he pushed it down and crawled out. Dressed in brown and black camouflage, if anyone had seen him, they would have thought he was a gigantic tarantula. Retrieving a small but powerful LED flashlight from his breast pocket, he shone it up and down the walls, then across the floor.

“Scott?” he murmured softly.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Great, I was worried I might have lost you. It’s pitch black in here. I ran my flashlight around the walls and ceilings and didn’t see any cameras.”

“That validates what we’ve gathered on the network from here. You’re good to go.”

“I saw the door Pete would have come through, and the one leading into the house, so based on the plans, I estimate the entrance to the concrete room is about twenty feet in front of me, but there’s a wine rack against the wall.”

“It will probably slide out, or across,” Scott suggested, “but take it slowly when you try to move it.”

Straightening up, Danny stepped across to the rack and shone the beam across the floor.

“Hey, it’s on tracks,” he said softly. “I’m pushing it now. Yep, there’s a door here,” he announced as it came into view. “I’m trying the handle.”

It turned in his hand.

“Holy crap, it’s unlocked.”

“That’s surprising,” Scott said quickly. “Danny, be extremely careful.”

“No shit,” Danny muttered, moving the light around the door frame. “Ah, there’s a trip wire across the threshold, but that appears to be it.”

“Keep your guard up.”

“Will do,” Danny murmured, stepping over the wire as he walked into the dark, empty chamber. “Okay, I’m in.”

Closing the door behind him, he shone the beam around the barren room, then upward, and saw the huge hole in the ceiling.

“I can see the bottom of the shaft. It looks to be about six feet square.”

“So are we good?” Elizabeth interjected. “Will it work?”

“Like a charm,” Danny declared. “You’re a genius, Lizzy. I’m going to work.”

* * *

The button cameras worn by Scott’s agents inside the house offered a firsthand view of the party. Moving from room to room, the waiters had served spiked drinks to Conchello’s well-dressed wild boys. Many were now sitting down and trying to stay awake, while others had surrendered to the drug and were passed out, slumped on sofas.

“Everything’s in place. It’s time for me to leave,” Scott declared, rising to his feet.

“I wish you were armed,” Elizabeth murmured, standing up and handing him his jacket.

“I’ve got my lethal spray pen and the poison needle cufflinks.”

“But you can’t hold them out like a gun.”

“No, but they’re as deadly as a bullet, and they won’t be taken off me when I walk in the