Page 55 of Fighting for Tawny

Finnigan wore a uniform like the guard’s. He opened the side panel and jumped down to the ground with a gym bag in his hand. He slid behind the wheel of the Honda and continued to the fire camp. In the rearview mirror, he watched the surveillance van make a U-turn and head in the opposite direction.

When he parked on the gravel section of the yard, he sent a quick text to Moira.

I’m here.

She replied with a thumbs up emoji.

Finnigan exited the Honda and shoved his cell phone in his back pocket. He checked his service weapon and surveyed the area. It appeared empty. He gazed upward and turned around in a 360-degree circle. Finnigan didn’t spot any security cameras. Odd for a camp full of inmates, but not if you were using the women to run drugs and wanted to keep it a secret. He’d search the area later. Right now, there was only one thing, one person, on his mind.

Tawny.

His stomach tightened with excitement at the thought of being with her again. As he approached Bunkhouse A, Finnigan forced himself to imagine the most unsexy scenario to avoid a telltale bulge in his pants. Outside the door, he took several deep breaths before he pulled it open and stepped across the threshold. The women were in the middle of cleaning up the kitchen. They halted in their tracks when they spotted him. Somebody dropped a plate, which clattered against the sink dishes. He glanced over and...

Oh, God. Tawny.

Her hair cascaded down her back in red flames. Finnigan swallowed the hard lump of emotion rising in his throat and fought against the urge to sweep her into his arms.

It grew quiet. Everyone stared at him, including Moira, who obviously couldn’t disguise the mirth shining in her brown eyes.

“Uh…hi.”

Tawny burst into laughter. “We don’t bite. Then again, Yolanda might. She’s Team Edward all the way.”

Yolanda snapped her arm with a kitchen towel. “It’s a damn sight better than runnin’ with a pack of smelly dogs.”

“Wolves, Yolanda. Wolves.”

Jesus Christ. The way she said it made him hot and hungry for her.

Tawny ignored him as she and Yolanda teased each other and resumed washing the dishes. The others took their cue from them and returned to what they were doing before he interrupted them.

Moira slung an overnight bag onto her shoulder and addressed the women. “Titans, I’ll be back Monday morning unless we get called to an emergency. Enjoy the weekend. And please leave this poor guard alone.” She turned her attention to him. “Step outside with me for a minute?”

“Sure, Captain.” Finnigan followed her a good distance away from the bunkhouse. “Something going on?”

“Yeah. Right after Colfer was replaced with Macintosh, it started with Barbie. She’s become quiet and withdrawn, and she’s always tired as if she’s not getting enough sleep at night. She’s also really pale. Half the time, she looks sick. Now Dee is starting to exhibit the same symptoms.”

“They’re running drugs.”

“That’s what Tawny said. Both Barbie and Dee sleep in Bunkhouse B. She wants to switch bunks with Barbie.”

Finnigan frowned. “I’ll discuss it with her tonight after everyone falls asleep.”

“Okay.” Moira turned toward her car.

“Wait. God, I don’t know how to tell you this but straight up. Joy and Precious died from heroin overdoses.”

Moira swayed a little on her feet. “Oh, shit. No, no. My God. That’s horrible.”

“Keep it to yourself for now.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

When his sister left, Finnigan took up his post outside the bunkhouse. He could hear the women bustle and laugh and assumed they were settling in for an evening of fun and games. Two of them emerged from the bunkhouse and gave him a wide berth. He glimpsed their pale, frightened faces and assumed they were Dee and Barbie. If he didn’t get them to safety, they’d probably be dead in a few days like Joy and Precious.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Finnigan knew Tawny would come to him as soon as everyone fell asleep. To pass the time, and because he’d never been able to stand still, he strolled the perimeter, searching for packets of drugs that might have been dropped or tracks of any kind. They’d studied satellite images of the area that didn’t show any other buildings, but they could be cleverly hidden underground. He tramped through the dense woods, brushing aside rotting tree limbs and undergrowth and examining what lay beneath. In the end, he decided they wouldn’t risk having their operation so close to the fire camp where it might be discovered.

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