Locked and Loaded by Alexis Grant

released a long breath. “This means what?”
    “Means he’s either doing the deal as we speak or went there to do a drop-check at one of his warehouses. I can’t confirm that, but my hunch is that he went to personally be sure the location is secure for his incoming inventory. I think he wants to make sure everything is airtight—locked and loaded—and he’d show that to his new, nervous supplier to reinforce that his word is his bond.”
    “We should be hearing something from Agent Alvarez in New York, soon, then—if your hunch proves correct, Wagner. Because as soon as Salazar gets his shipment, he’s got to move it out and away from him as fast as possible.”
    “Right,” Sage replied, and then cracked the stall door to peek out. “I’m gonna have to go soon, Hank, but Bruno said our target will be in Louisiana for a couple days, which leads me to believe that’s when he’ll divvy up the product for his distributors. But the shipment is definitely coming into New Orleans,” Sage added in quick, low-toned bursts of information, listening between sentences for potential eavesdroppers. “He also didn’t take his home security team. How much you wanna bet his A-team is positioned there? The real badass mercenaries. But he’s nervous, has the B-team, Bruno and company, watching me and the house like he’s ready for all hell to break loose from his original supplier.”
    “Man … I thought everything was gonna blow in Miami,” Hank shot back.
    “Me, too. But think about it. If his supplier needs arms, New Orleans is a good place to smuggle them out of with a base and naval air station down there. Flip some manifests, grease the right civilian palms, and it’s not too difficult to make something seem like it’s part of a military shipment from a government contractor.
    “Plus, it’s a port city and right there in the Gulf—with quick access to Mexico, which has practically nonexistent security on their docks, and from there to wherever in the world. Getting stuff from Mexico to Canada or whatever isn’t a stretch. It’s not like the Big Easy’s infrastructure is fully back in place, and I don’t have to tell you that their law enforcement is maxed out, hasn’t come back since Katrina. Their port patrols are a whole lot softer than Miami’s, by a long shot. So jump on it, Hank. Our target went to the airport this morning to meet his supplier and never came back. His jet may still be in the air if they had a long meeting first, for all I know … or they most likely did the meeting on the jet and could have landed hours ago. That’s where the Captain’s MI can help. You’ve got the call letters on the craft. Maybe satellite imaging will show him debarking, what vehicle they entered, and which warehouse they headed to, et cetera.”
    “We’re on it,” Hank said, quickly. “What else do you need, Wagner?”
    “Tell my new best friends, Jacqueline and Suzanne, to listen for a cell phone call from me early this evening—like eight or nine P.M. I’m supposed to be hanging out with my girlfriends and having a drink.”
    “Done. I’ll let agents McCoy and Whittaker know.” Hank paused. “You be careful.”
    “Hank, I’m good. I’m about to get my nails done.”
    She hung up and closed her eyes, fighting fatigue, and then something within made her fingers dial the number that she’d memorized during the van ride over to South Beach.
    Captain Davis picked up on the first ring. She hesitated a moment and she could tell he was waiting to ID her voice.
    “Captain?”
    “Roger. What’s your status?”
    “I’m all right.”
    This time he hesitated, and it gave her a chance to process the deep baritone concern that resonated in his voice. The sound bottomed out in the pit of her stomach until her entire midsection clenched.
    “Copy that,” he said. “Your location? Are you safe?”
    “At the spa. Yes. And there was a development. Hank will fill you in. Your target is currently in