The Intelligence Unit Series
The Grifter Chapter 21

Frankie went back to her apartment full of hot cocoa and Christmas cheer. Between the sleep she'd lost with Shawn (hello, worth it) and the day she'd spent with him and Isla, buying a fairly lopsided tree that Shawn had insisted had "character", then decorating it with far too many very sparkly lights and very, very sparkly ornaments, she should be exhausted. But her smile had refused to budge all day, especially since Isla had told Shawn "these" when he'd asked her which ornaments she liked best, then also said "bye" to Frankie when she'd left to give them some time to themselves just after dinner.

There were still moments when Isla grew withdrawn and far too serious for a child who was barely three. Even Frankie's limited experience with her niece and nephews told her that giggles and chatter and the occasional tantrum were far more the norm than Isla's watchfulness. But she seemed to be coming out of her shell, slowly but surely, guided in no small part by Shawn's steadfast care. His happiness at Isla's growing comfort was both obvious and contagious, and even though he and Frankie had needed to emergency- text his friends Natalie and Jonah to ask how they handled the whole Santa thing, and how many marshmallows were really too many, he seemed to be getting more comfortable with Isla, too.

The case was going well. She and Shawn were having sheet-scorching s*x. Isla was adjusting, albeit slowly, and Frankie was enjoying spending time with her and Shawn.

So, right now, in this moment? Yeah, life was pretty freaking good.

Frankie's phone sounded off from the spot where she'd tossed it on her living room coffee table, hooking her back to the here and now. Her sister's face popped up on the screen in a FaceTime request, and Frankie grinned as she answered. "Hey, cucciola! How's my favorite baby sister?"

Jo's face appeared on the screen, one dark eyebrow cocked. "a), I am your only baby sister, and secondly...you had s*x."

Frankie barked out a laugh, her cheeks flushing with heat that probably wasn't helping her cause. "Jo!"

"What? Mikayla's with her father and I maaaaay have had a glass of wine, and also? I'm not wrong. I know that look! You've been taken for a ride on the bone train."

"Okay, just for the record, literally no one calls it that except for you," Frankie said, propping her phone in a holder on the coffee table so she could get comfortable on the couch. "And exactly how big was that glass of wine?"

"That's beside the point," Jo said with a grin. "So, who's the guy, because seriously, you haven't denied it yet, and we both know you're a terrible liar, and-"

"Oddio! Fine! Yes, I had s*x," Frankie said, and she might as well come out with this, because her sister wasn't going to let it drop until she did. "With, um. Shawn."

Jo's eyes flew wide. "You...what?"

"It's okay," Frankie reassured her, knowing that, despite Jo's outer shell of sarcasm, her first inclination would be to think of Frankie's past with Shawn and worry. "We've actually been getting along really well. Reconnecting." "Clearly," Jo said, and ah, there she was.

But Frankie had mettle of her own. "We've been working together on this case-which I still can't talk about-and I've been hanging out with him and his daughter. One thing kind of led to another..."

"Oh, yeah, no." Jo shook her head. "You're hooking up with your supernova-hot ex who wanted to move in with you once upon a time. I'm going to need way more than that, so, please. Share with the class."

Frankie wanted to sigh. But as she gave Jo an essentially sanitized summary of the events of the past few weeks, her smile grew too big for her to be annoyed at her sister's prodding.

Which, of course, Jo pounced on. "Well, no wonder you look all glowy and sleep deprived," she said, making Frankie laugh.

"I think there may have been a compliment in there, but funny, I can't be sure."

"Oh, relax. In a sleep versus s*x battle royale, I'm on Team S*x every time."

"That's because you're not having any s*x," Frankie pointed out.

Jo not-so-discretely gave her the finger. "Don't gloat. It's unbecoming. Anyway, I'm glad you're happy. To be honest, I'm not entirely surprised. I always thought you'd end up with Shawn."

Frankie's heart smacked against her sternum. "I'm not with him, with him. I mean, yes, we're sleeping together, and yes, I like being with him and Isla." The understatement jabbed at her, but her defenses held strong. "But we aren't, like, picking out china patterns or anything. Plus, I live in Atlanta, remember?"

"I do," Jo said slowly. "It's just..." "Just what?"

Jo sighed. "You've been through a lot, Frankie. More than anyone should, and you fought your way through it. You have a great career that you're equally great at, but...I don't know. You look really happy right now, in a way I haven't seen in a long time. It would be okay if you let yourself have that happiness, you know?"

Shock pinned Frankie in place on the couch. She thought about her day, waking up in Shawn's arms, how easy their conversation had been even though they'd been talking about their feelings and not the weather. The calm she felt when she was around him, the burst of joy at Isla finally speaking to both of them, even shyly. As they'd bought Christmas decorations and trimmed the tree in Shawn's apartment, it hadn't really occurred to her that she wouldn't spend Christmas with them-it was only a few weeks away, and with how slippery Beck could be, the case would probably still be ongoing by then.

But Christmas was a big deal, made bigger by the fact that it would be Isla's first with Shawn. Yeah, he'd said he didn't want an insta-family, and Frankie believed him. But he hadn't wanted to get serious eight years ago, right up until he'd very much wanted to get serious. Sure, being with him today had felt mind-meltingly good, but for Chrissake, she had to be realistic. She was an addict. Going the Norman Rockwell route was never going to be in the cards for her. Families meant the sort of commitment she could never make.

Taking a breath, she mustered up a smile for her sister. "Shawn and I agreed to take things one day at a time. That makes me happy. It's what I've got right now, so I'm going to enjoy it while I have it. Okay?" Jo wanted to argue. God, Frankie could see it on her face.

But she didn't. "Okay. Just do me a favor, would you? If that changes and you start feeling like you want more, would you please not fight it?"

Frankie hitched. She knew that nothing good ever came out of manipulating the truth-even her honesty policy had an honesty policy. But Jo cared about her, and her sister had enough to worry about. She didn't have to know that Frankie wouldn't fight it because she wasn't going to let it happen in the first place. She wasn't going to get serious about Shawn. She couldn't.

So she said, "Yes, Jo-Jo. I promise."

Frankie slidher earpiece into her ear and took a deep breath to calm the insistent thump-thump-thump of her pulse. The oxygen took the edge off, but the sight of Shawn beside her in the pickup truck, as solid and steady as the goodnight kisses he'd given her after she'd spent the evenings with him and Isla this week?

Yeah, that's what got her head in the game.

It had been four days since their meeting with Beck-not enough time to panic that he'd backed out, but just enough to make her and Shawn sweat. Which, considering the sort of manipulative bastard Beck was, had probably been his plan. But finally, Alfie had texted with a meeting time and place, and just like that, their day at the Intelligence office had turned into a night op. Beck had still managed not to give them so much as a shred of concrete proof that he was in the process of building a massive drug ring, using Alfie to text the details instead of doing it himself, and putting nothing in the message other than a place, a time, and a dollar amount that could be explained away with a perfectly legitimate cover story.

They'd need to play everything exactly right if they wanted to nail him. And, oh, Frankie wanted to nail him badly.

"Okay," Shawn said, scanning the dark street in front of them as he headed further into North Point. It was probably more habit than anything else, since Capelli and Isabella were in a surveillance vehicle a few blocks behind them and the rest of the unit had been on the ground doing recon for the past half an hour. "Let's roll through it one more time, just for shits and giggles."

"Yeah, I'm just here for the giggles," Frankie said, grinning as Isabella's laugh filtered over the line.

"As the mother of a three-month-old, I'll second that. Giggles are far more fun."

Capelli chimed in. "I'm fairly certain that, statistically, the odds of someone not opting for giggles if given a choice between the two are-"

"Alright, alright," Shawn interrupted, although his smile was impossible to miss, even in the dark of the truck's cab. "This is our first buy with Beck. Can we focus here, just a little bit, please?"

Frankie sobered, nodding. One last run-through wasn't going to do anything other than help. "You got it. Per Alfie's text, we're meeting Beck at Five-fifteen Westhampton Avenue, which is a vacant building up the street from Bang, where we will purchase an as-yet unspecified amount of prescription drugs with the intent to distribute them to our client list."

While Beck had been cagey about the exact weight, the amount of money he'd had Alfie tell them to bring was pretty staggering. It was possible, although not probable, that they'd be able to take him down tonight.

Frankie's heart thrummed faster at the thought. "If we're above the legal amount for major felony charges, we'll use the code word Toledo, at which point Sinclair, Hale, Hollister and Garza will take down me, Maxwell, Alfie, and Beck."

"Dibs on Maxwell," Hale called cheerfully over comms, and Shawn shook his head.

"Just don't bruise my ribs like last time, please?"

Frankie lifted a brow. "She bruised your ribs?"

"He resisted arrest," Hale argued, and Shawn shook his head.

"I was undercover. I had to sell it."

"And I had to treat you like I would any other big-a*s dude who resisted arrest. Anyway," Hale said brightly, "if we can't take Beck down tonight, Frankie and Maxwell will go through with the buy as part of the longer-term op. We'll run backup from the shadows and regroup to up the stakes for the next meet."

"Copy that," Frankie said. Adrenaline perked in her veins, picking up in both speed and intensity as Shawn drove past Bang, then rounded to the next block to park on the semi-deserted street.

"Not a lot of traffic for mid-week," he said, eyeing the view through the windshield from left to right, and she did the same from right to left. A half dozen other cars, all dark, were parked along the curb, nearly all the other businesses on the street either long closed or boarded up.

"Capelli and I are three blocks south of you, on Foster Street," Isabella said. "Cam check has you both good to go."

Frankie knew better than to fiddle with the pendant around her neck that also housed the miniscule and very high-tech camera that had probably cost more than she made in two months. Shawn's matching cam was in the second button on his Henley shirt, and yeah, these Intelligence cops really did get the coolest toys.

Sinclair's sandpaper voice was next up over comms. "Garza, what's your status?"

"Corner of Westhampton and Foster," came Garza's reply, and Frankie would bet her lunch money the guy had already blended into the shadows, watching. "All is quiet."

"Good to go from our position," Hollister said. He and Hale had strategically set themselves up across from the address Beck had given. "No eyes on the-wait." Frankie's heart kicked as Hollister's voice dropped to a low murmur. "Alfie's approaching solo. He's heading into the building."

"Copy that," Shawn said, looking at Frankie with a glimmer in his stare. "You want to do this?"

"Hell yes."

"Going dark on voice comms," Capelli said, silence settling in a second later. She and Shawn got out of the truck, falling into step beside each other as they headed for the location Beck had chosen. The December air was frigid, not made any better by the wind that whipped past them, and Frankie shivered despite her thick zip-up hoodie and bomber jacket. The street around them was quiet, and she scanned every inch of what she could see, noting the corner where Garza had tucked himself into the doorframe of a closed bodega, and the side street down which she knew Sinclair had parked, setting up watch from his car. Shawn's silent presence bolstered her, and by the time they got to the boarded-up front door, she was feeling one step shy of invincible. Shawn nodded at the pried-away boards and the broken lock on the door beyond. "After you."

Frankie's fingers brushed the Glock tucked away at her hip. Hiding a weapon beneath several bulky layers of clothing wasn't ideal, but if Beck saw that either she or Shawn were armed (and they both so were), chances were, he'd get touchy. Not that Beck was probably packing anything less than a frigging Bazooka, himself, but hey, now was not the time to piss him off.

Ducking through the doorway, Frankie gave herself a second to get used to her dimly lit surroundings. Unlike those at ground level, the second-story windows hadn't been boarded up, and she gave up a silent thank you at the decent amount of streetlight filtering past the grimy glass and into the two-story space. The place looked like it had been a restaurant in its former life, mostly empty but for a hostess stand, a few scarred and scattered tables, and a whole truckload of empty bottles, fast food wrappers, and a few discarded hypodermic needles thrown in for good measure.

"Good?" Shawn asked quietly, and she nodded.

"Absolutely."

Alfie stood over by one of the tables, his usual cheesy grin absent and his toe tapping a mile a minute, and okay, what the hell?

"Alfie? Is everything okay?" Frankie asked.

"We're still on for the deal, right?" Shawn threaded in, and Alfie bobbed his head.

"Yeah, yeah, of course." He hiccupped out a laugh. "Beck will be here in a minute. Fashionably late, you know."

Although it was far more subtle than his obvious jitters, Frankie caught the barest hint of an eye roll. Her warning flags waved in the wind, she took a second to give Alfie a closer look. Change in mood. Restless energy. Sheen of sweat on his brow despite the fact that the building was vacant and the night was damn near frigid. Skin pale enough for Frankie to easily see the pallor, even in the low light, and oh, God.

Alfie was in withdrawal.

Shawn opened his mouth, almost certainly to press Alfie with a well-deserved "what the f**k" at the one-eighty in Alfie's behavior, but she gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.

He caught it like a pop fly. "Whatever. I'm going to check messages. I've got a shitload of people waiting on this delivery, so he'd better not be too late."

Shawn walked to the other side of the open space, far enough to be out of immediate earshot but not so far that he couldn't see her and Alfie, or either entry point. Even though he couldn't hear anything Alfie might say to her, she was both mic'ed up and wearing her body cam. There would be plenty of corroboration if they ended up needing it down the line.

A pang worked through Frankie's chest as Alfie began tapping his fingers together incessantly, and she tilted her head at him, proceeding with care.

"You sure you're okay? You seem a little off. No offense," she added, tacking on a self-deprecating eye roll at herself. "Sorry. Pretty much the only time anyone says 'no offense' is when they're about to be an a*****e." Thankfully, Alfie bit with a small laugh. "You're not an a*****e. I just...I've been getting really high lately, you know? Like, so high, all the time."

A look of longing crossed his face, punching Frankie right in the gut. "Yeah. I totally know."

"It's cheesy as hell, but once a year, at Christmastime, I think maybe I'll clean myself up, you know? Like, get my shit together for real and be an upstanding member of society," Alfie said, his laugh pure irony.

Frankie's heart f*****g hurt. "You could," she suggested, far less enthusiastically than she wanted to, and Alfie forked over a haphazard shrug.

"Yeah, probably not, sweetheart. It's not like I've got the skills to hold down a real job. And no one wants to hire a guy like me, anyway. You know how it is. Getting out of North Point is like...well, shit. I might as well try to win the lottery." Frankie knew she couldn't get all after-school special on him without him noticing something was up, but still, she couldn't blow this off. Not if there was a chance it might work.

"I don't know," she said, one step shy of wistful. "I think about it a lot. What it would be like to get sober. Get my shit together for real."

"Yeah?" Alfie asked, brightening just enough for her to keep going.

"Sure. Like, if Shawn and I just had enough money-and, I mean, not a ton, right, but, like, enough to get by? We could sober up and get a little house with a yard. Have a kid. Just one, though, because my sister says it's really hard." She laughed so Alfie would, too, and bingo. "That would be cool, though, if we could do that. Maybe if we score really big on this job, we'll have enough, you know? And shit wouldn't be so bad that we have to get high all the time to feel better."

"Yeah," Alfie said, nodding for just one wistful minute before he started to laugh. "It's a nice dream, I guess. But by New Year's Eve, I'll be back to my normal self. I always am."

Sympathy flooded her. How many times had she been at that crossroads, wanting to get sober even as her addiction dared her to get high? She had to have been there a dozen times before she'd gone the right way-been forced to, really, but God, her physical therapist had saved her life with the push.

What if she could push Alfie in the right direction? Would it be enough to save him, too?

"Sorry I'm late," came Beck's voice from the entryway, and damn it, Frankie was going to have to table all thoughts of Alfie and sobriety and anything other than getting this deal good and done. Beck walked across the floor in a way that suggested he'd never been sorry for anything in his life, looking at all three of them dismissively as he settled himself with his back to the wall by the hostess stand.

Easy exit, no surprises. Cagey bastard. They needed the upper hand, fast. "I hope you're making it worth my while," Shawn said.

Beck's frown was slight, but enough to let Frankie know Shawn had hit a nerve. "Money, first."

Shawn reached into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out two envelopes stuffed with cash. "It's all there," he said, putting the money on a nearby table as if daring Beck to come take it.

"Not even you are dumb enough for it not to be," Beck jabbed back. Crossing the room, he took the money, replacing it with a small bag he unearthed from his jacket pocket.

Disappointment swamped her. Even from here, Frankie could tell it wasn't nearly enough weight to take him down, and it damn sure wasn't enough to warrant the cash Beck had demanded they bring. Shawn's scowl affirmed her suspicion. "What the f**k is this?"

"That's your first shipment," Beck said, as if Shawn were suddenly missing his brain. Shit, shit, shit, this wasn't going to go well.

"Where's the rest of it?" Shawn asked after he did a quick visual inventory, and Alfie moved close enough to look into the bag, his brows flying upward as he looked at Beck.

"Dude, come on. That's way light for what these two can move. I thought you wanted to get business rolling, here."

A flash of something utterly sinister moved through Beck's eyes, there and then gone. "It's what Ty and Cade are moving."

"Screw Ty and Cade," Shawn said, and okay, time to be good cop.

"I get that," Frankie said, working up a worried, woe-is-me expression. "But Shawn and I have buyers for double this. Maybe even triple. We can move a hell of a lot more than Ty and Cade, and we can do it right now." Beck examined her, his stare making the hair on the back of her neck stand on end even in the shadowy light. "Tell you what. You share your list, and I might start feeling a little more generous, too. Call it Christmas spirit." Shawn snapped, "No. That's not how this is going to go."

Beck laughed, and God, Frankie had thought his stare was creepy. "You're not in any position to tell me how this is going to go."

"Beck. Man, really." Alfie stepped toward the guy, nervous energy pouring off him in waves. "They're good for it. Can't we just do a deal, here? It's a big f*****g payday, you know?" Frankie's heart traveled up her windpipe. Beck shifted gears, narrowing his eyes at Alfie. "You want to call the shots, now? Is that what I'm hearing? You think you're smarter than me?"

"No," Alfie mumbled, ducking his head and shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "All I'm saying is the money would be nice, you know? Instead of all this dicking around."

"Dicking around," Beck echoed, his glance going back and forth between Alfie and Shawn, then landing on Frankie. "Okay, Alfie. If you're so sure this is the way to go, then fine. We'll set up something bigger. What did you say, Frankie? Your list can handle triple this?" "Yeah," she said without hesitation, because if she hitched for so much as a millisecond, Beck would probably back out of the whole damn thing. This was it. This was the deal that was going to break him.

She wasn't about to fumble it.

"We can do triple, easy," she said.

Beck nailed her with a stare that chilled her all the way through. "How about we go double or nothing, here, since Alfie's so sure you're good for it." Surprise popped through Frankie, and Shawn beat her to the words. "You want us to move that much?"

"Why not?" Beck lifted a shoulder in a careless shrug. "Like Alfie said, it's a big f*****g payday."

Something about this was just the slightest bit off. Beck strategized his breakfast, for Chrissake. Why would he have such a knee-jerk change of heart, now? Or was he just honestly ready for a payday that would be worth it, and Alfie had gotten through to him? Shawn calculated for a second, but as always, he kept his cool. "Fine by me. As far as I'm concerned, it's about goddamn time."

Beck jerked his chin at the bag on the table. "Give your people a taste with that. It's going to take me about a week to get a shipment that big together. I'll be in touch. Alfie, go home and go to bed, would you? You look like shit. I'll see you later."

He slipped past the door just as quietly as he'd arrived. Alfie muttered something about wanting to go home and crash, slinking out not even a minute after. Frankie exchanged a look with Shawn that brimmed over with all the WTF in both of their heads, but they kept quiet until they got down the street, back into the truck, and on the road.

"You're all clear," came Capelli's voice, and only then did Frankie let out an exhale of relief.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Hollister asked, and Shawn shook his head.

"I don't know, but it was definitely a little weird. What's going on with Alfie?"

Frankie gave him a quick summary of the conversation she and Alfie had shared, making him nod slowly. "Not what I expected, but it makes sense. I don't think he'd ever stand up to Beck unless he was feeling that shitty." "Withdrawal will do that to you," Frankie said, matter-of-fact, and Hale chimed in.

"It could explain why he's pressing for a big payday, too. Frankie planted one hell of a seed."

She hadn't done it to manipulate him into pushing Beck, but... "I guess it did work out in our favor," Frankie said.

Shawn looked at her and smiled. "It was perfect. You read him far better than I would have."

"I don't know about that," Frankie said, and Sinclair let out a rare chuckle.

"Take the compliment, Rossi. You two are a great team."

Frankie's smile was sweet but short lived. "Thank you, Sergeant. But don't you think there's something off about Beck's change of heart?"

"It is a little weird," Shawn agreed. "But we've got a whole week to figure out what the hell he's up to, and to get ready for it. One way or the other, the next time we see Beck, we're going to be slapping handcuffs on him."

The thought of it, how close they really were, lit Frankie up inside, and now her smile took over, sticking around for the long haul. In one week, they were going to arrest Beck. The charges would be enough to put him away for the next twenty-five years, minimum, maybe more, depending on what the DA's office could manage to make stick.

As long as they could get through the week, Beck would never hurt another desperate addict-or anyone else-ever again.