Her Very Strict Captain by Carpenter, Maggie (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

of it, but I admit that shower perked me up, and yeah, I’d love a beer,” he declared, ambling across to her. “I take it Pete’s left to get the pizza.”

“He has. Can you tell me the latest?”

“Sure, let’s sit down.”

Settling at the table, Elizabeth listened attentively as he told her about his unexpected invitation to the party, and Danny’s tip on how to identify Conchello’s wild boys by their rings.

“That’s great news,” she exclaimed.

“It’s fantastic. My agents in the catering companies will now be serving them spiked cocktails. The drug will make them slow to respond, and more than two drinks should put them to sleep.”

“It’s a shame we can’t do that in the VIP area, and Danny was right about midnight. Sonny hits a gong and everyone has to leave.”

“I assume that’s when the hell in the Chamber of Conscience commences,” Scott said grimly. “I take it you were never in there.”

“No, thank God.”

“I should probably tell you its main purpose, but it’s ugly. If you don’t want to hear about it…”

“Chairs on wheels and a trap door?” she asked quietly. “It’s not just a rumor?”

“Sadly it’s not just a rumor. Did you hear Rosemary is the one who pulls the lever?”

“No! Oh, my God. It’s so hard to wrap my brain around all this. Sonny was never nasty to me, and Rosemary was always a sweetheart.”

“Now you know there’s nothing sweet about her,” Scott said gravely. “Conchello’s inner monster surfaces when he’s dealing with people he has to terrify into loyalty and silence, though I’m sure it comes out at other times as well.”

“Scott, I have to ask you something, but please don’t be offended.”

“Go ahead.”

“Why all this plotting and planning? Why can’t you just get a search warrant and barge through the doors? If it’s because celebrities will be there, who cares? Or you could—”

“You can stop there,” Scott said, holding up his hand and cutting her off. “We would much prefer to do something run of the mill, but remember what happened with that raid you told me about?”

“How could I forget? Conchello left just before it went down, and his men ambushed the agents when they came in. All hell broke loose. It was bad, really bad.”

“Any arrests?”

“Only a few street dealers.”

“Any drugs or money found?”

“Oh, I see your point.”

“When an agency manages to nail someone in his organization, they don’t talk. Now I know why. Danny told me about a brothel in Santa Barbara called the monastery. Conchello threatens to send off wives and sisters to work there. Witness protection can only go so far.”

“I can’t believe it,” she mumbled, her eyes widening in horror.

“Elizabeth, that’s only one of his many terrifying threats, and he’s walking around a free man because he has far-reaching contacts who keep him one step ahead. Operation Justice has been in the works for almost a year, but there’s only a handful of agents involved. We’re holding this as close to the chest as we possibly can.”

“We didn’t get him in Los Angeles because of Jim Parker. How could I have been so wrong about that man?”

“You weren’t the only one, and that’s in the past. We need to focus on tonight. Everything is in place, and I’m confident we’ll be successful, but I’m worried about that fucking trap door. If we can’t get there in time…” Scott muttered, shaking his head.

“Maybe Ewen can get in there and disable it somehow.”

“Danny said the door is kept locked, and Conchello carries the key on a chain around his neck. I just don’t—”

“Scott! I know what to do!” she suddenly exclaimed.

“Your pizza boy is here!” Pete declared, marching into the kitchen holding two boxes. “Hi, Elizabeth, sorry to interrupt. You know what to do about what?”

“That horrible trap door,” she said excitedly. “It’s wild, and you’ll have to do without Danny in the surveillance van, but it could work.”

Chapter 32

The Conchello estate

When Scott heard Elizabeth’s suggestion he immediately called Frank. The chief lauded Elizabeth’s idea as first rate, and though he wasn’t sure they’d be able to pull it off in time, he gave the green light for Scott to try. Nail-biting hours passed.

In spite of a couple of hiccups, a few minutes before eleven p.m., wearing a receiver in his ear and a tiny transmitter attached to his shirt, Pete stopped a black truck outside the gates of Conchello’s estate. Elizabeth, Scott, and Brad watched from the surveillance van parked nearby. Though the party was in full swing, Scott wouldn’t go in until Pete’s mission had been completed.

On the island, Jack and his team were also waiting for the go-ahead. They couldn’t commandeer the encampment until the drug lord was neutralized. If he got word his base was under fire he’d likely disappear.

Peering through the windshield, Pete spied a row of limousines lined up along the driveway, and lowering his window, he heard loud, pounding music. Reaching out, he pushed the call button on the freestanding keypad.

“Name, please.”

The female voice sounded young and pretty.

“I’m from Concord Liquor. I have a wine delivery.”

“Go past the front of the house and around to the back. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

“Thanks.”

The gates swung open.

Moving slowly past the long, sleek cars, his pulse ticked up. The rich and famous were inside, and what sounded like a huge crowd of excited partygoers. As he cautiously passed the portico and followed the driveway around to the rear of the majestic home, two burly men dressed in black raised their arms signaling him to stop.

“Here comes the welcoming committee,” he muttered as they approached.

“How many?” Scott asked.

“Two, and they look like they stepped straight out of central casting.”

“What have you got?” one of them yelled as Pete leaned his head out the window. “We weren’t expecting any deliveries.”

“Hang on, let me check my sheet,” Pete replied, picking up a clipboard from the passenger seat. “The address is correct, 3220 Songbird Lane, but there’s a card here. Maybe this will explain it.”

Lifting the crisp white