It's Not a Game: Love in Landings, #2

By Carol Kinnee

Love doesn't always play by the rules!

 

Homicide cop Ang Mason likes games. With games, you can bend the rules and float between the lines. Life is different. If you step outside the lines, there are consequences. If you make the wrong move, you don't get to start again.

 

When her nephew starts hanging out with a group of drug-dealing rich kids, Ang's investigation leads to a ruthless crime syndicate selling illegal arms and drugs. Warned to back off, she keeps digging, and earns a suspension that puts her in the syndicate's cross hairs.

 

Now on the run, Ang heads for Vancouver Island. There's no room in her life for romance, but sexy police detective Dan Ryerson makes taking a time out too enticing to resist. He knows what the crime boss Krenar is capable of and teams with Ang to defeat their deadly foe.

 

Games may not have fatal consequences, but in the real world, if you don't follow the rules, you can lose your heart or life.

Targeted by Krenar, Ang and Dan find themselves in a high stakes game of risk where every move counts. They're playing with fire and chances are they will get burned.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Carol Kinnee
• Release date: Oct 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9781999505080

Carol Kinnee

As a child, Carol Kinnee always told stories, not ones that got her into trouble, but drawn out sagas that passed the time doing dishes, or provided entertainment on long car rides. She believes that life is full of possibilities. The potential for what if? exists all around us. Who knows what great adventure may be just around the corner? Today Carol’s a free-lance writer living on the west coast of British Columbia with her husband and two cats. When she’s not tied to her laptop, she’s out exploring what British Columbia has to offer. Currently, she’s working on Book 2 in the Landings series. Read more about Carol Kinnee at: https:www.carolkinnee.com Facebook: Carol Kinnee, author

Book preview

It’s Not

a Game

ISBN 978-1-9995050-8-0

Copyright©2023 Carol Kinnee

All rights reserved. This book or any part thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of the brief quotations as a book review.

Cover Design: https://bookcoverzone.com

Table of Contents

Books

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Epilogue

About the author

Preview

Chapter 1

Books

Books by C.A. Kinnee

The Prophecy of Helligon

A Path of Fire

A Trail of Embers

Books by Carol Kinnee

Love in Landings Series

The Christmas Presence

https://books2read.com/u/mvKQ6J

It’s Not a Game

The Mrs. Claus Contract

Books by Carol Kinnee and Kim McDonald

Stripped

Dedication

This book is dedicated to love stories past, present, and those waiting in the stars.

It’s Not

a Game

––––––––

CAROL KINNEE

Chapter 1

Ang’s phone rang with enough force it bounced from the dashboard to the floor. The harsh buzzing after the long silence shocked her. She jerked in her seat, jumping high enough she banged her right knee on the steering wheel.

Desperate to kill the noise before it attracted unwanted attention, she reached down and blindly groped for the phone on the floor of the car. Her fingers closed on a half-eaten French fry and brushed aside a trampled cardboard sleeve from a long-gone coffee cup.

Damn, damn, damn, she muttered, sliding lower, stretching her gritty fingers further.

Before its violent wake up, the phone was resting against the dashboard, offering fast access to record the time. It buzzed again, jittering over the wet sandy floor mat.

Gotcha, she muttered, sitting up and willing her heart to slow down. O-kay . . . she whispered in a long exhale. Phone. Chill out. It’s nothing.

The sound shouldn’t have sent her into orbit. Was it a guilty conscience, or the thunk of the phone bouncing off her leg that rattled her? Either way, she shouldn’t be acting like someone had reached out and pinched her.

She glanced at the call display and answered.

Jake? What the—? I mean, hello?

Hello to you too. The voice on the other end sounded amused. Did I catch you at a bad time?

No. Why would you think that? Ang answered. I’m just doing some paperwork.

That means you’ve got a minute, Jake said.

What’s up? Ang muttered, sliding her phone to her other ear and pressing the release button on her seat belt.

She shouldn’t be this jumpy. There was no reason to go through the roof because of a noise. She made herself focus on Jake’s words.

What do you mean, you aren’t coming back? she demanded, sitting up.

She winced. Too loud. Muffling her voice, she sank lower, her eyes fixed on what was taking place on the other side of the window.

He started telling her about the beauty of Vancouver Island. Ang kept her head low, half-listening to the voice of her partner on the other end. Her focus was the far side of the road, on the gaggle of teens clustered around a beefy man in his late twenties. ’Roid monkey, she decided. He probably bench-pressed three hundred pounds and ate a carton of protein powder a day. She snapped another picture. Someone should tell him too many steroids cause male-pattern baldness. She shot another photo.

I mean—.

Ang heard a feminine mutter on the other end.

Her partner, Detective Jake Ryan, paused, whispered something and continued, I mean, I’m done with Toronto. I’m staying here. I’m getting married.

Ang barely heard him. At the edge of the huddle of teens, standing back as if wishing he could disappear, was a face she knew all too well, her nephew Jordan. No. Not Jordan. She had to be wrong. She focused on his face, zooming in on the curly blonde hair under the ratty brim of his beloved Toronto Maple Leaf’s ball cap. Ang swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat. Jordan.

Across the road, a car slid to a stop at the curb. It sat idling, window down, music blasting. One teen, a well-dressed boy around her nephew’s age, swaggered to it. Confident, he leaned in the open window and exchanged words with the passenger. Ang shot a series of photos recording the baggy passed in exchange for money. The teen stepped back.

Jake said something. She ignored it, concentrating on recording the action on the other side of the road. The kids looked like a soccer team getting last second instructions from their coach. They traded laughs, slapped hands and fanned out. Jordan kept to the side, watching, trying to figure out his place in the group. Ang had seen that look many times.

She zoomed out and spotted a man watching the teens. Refocusing, she snapped a quick picture.

Ha! Scumbag, she muttered.

What? Ang, I can barely hear you. Jake sounded confused.

Not you. Ang shifted her gaze. Are you who I think you are? she whispered. The man, tucked under the cover of a torn awning, looked familiar. Well, what have we here? she said, twisting the zoom to get a closer look at the hard face of the man leaning against the brick wall. The shot was so perfect, he might have posed for the camera.

Ang? What are you doing right now?

She pushed speaker on her phone and dropped it and the camera onto the seat beside her, started the engine, and pulled out onto the icy road. Reaching down, she groped for the camera, aimed at the huddle of lanky teens standing near the watching man and shot a rapid sequence of photos as she sped up.

Nothing. Just heading out to grab some groceries, she said innocently.

I call bullshit on that. You’re watching Kermit again, aren’t you?

Now Jake, why would I do something like that without you for backup? She laughed. Now, what were you saying? She drove a few blocks, pulled over to the side of the road, and toggled through the unexpected shots of Kermit. Bonus.

I said, Jake repeated, irritation plain in his voice. That I resigned today. I’m not going back to Toronto. I’m getting married.

What? Ang dropped the camera. Are you nuts? I told you to take a holiday, before you got suspended for crossing the line, not marry some random girl you just met.

Jake laughed. No, not random. My ex, soon to be current wife. Listen, Ang. Don’t be messing around following Kermit. He’s not harmless, no matter what you seem to think.

I can take care of myself.

She wasn’t going to waste her breath arguing with Jake. Besides, she wasn’t following Kermit. She didn’t know he was there until he popped up on the other side of the street. So why was he there? That’s what she needed to figure out. She wasn’t buying into the drug squad’s belief that he was setting up a street-level drug dealing ring. He would never lower himself to anything that mundane unless there was something he didn’t trust his flunkies to do. Or, she paused, considering the matter, there was something else going on.

I mean it, Ang. That guy has seriously heavy gang ties, not just there, but on the west coast as well. Walk away. Don’t do anything unless you have backup.

Ang rolled her eyes and changed the subject.

So, you’re remarrying your ex-wife. Didn’t you tell me she was a seriously psycho witch who sent her brother to slap you around?

Yeah . . . That was then. This is now. Noelle and I weren’t communicating well on a few points.

This ought to be good, Ang said. And just what points were those?

Jake took over the conversation, telling Ang what had happened while he was away. When he finished, she could fill in the blanks of what he left out. She sighed. Poor Jake. She’d warned him his bad attitude was going to bring karmic change.

So, what now? You want me to clear out your desk? That should be fun. Do I need bleach and rubber gloves?

Actually, Ang . . . I was wondering if you and Jordan wanted to come out and stand up with me.

Ang smiled. Why Jake Ryan, I would be honored to be your best person.

Jake snorted. Well, I wouldn’t put it that way, but Noelle and I would love it if you stood up with me.

Thanks, Jake. Ang felt a little misty-eyed, not a malady that she suffered often. In fact, she hadn’t felt this way since her brother dropped Jordan off for a weekend and left to find himself as a volunteer aid worker in Africa. It had been a while, ten years to be exact.

When’s the big day? she asked, mentally calculating costs and needed time off work.

January 24th, Jake answered.

But that’s a week from now, Ang protested.

I know, but I gave my notice tacking the effective date onto my holidays. Other than to sell my place, I’m not coming back. I already have a job in Victoria. He paused. I asked the captain if she’d give you time off. Go figure, she said you haven’t booked holidays this year. Too much work and no time off makes you take risks. Isn’t that the line you’ve been giving me for the past six months? Besides, Jordan could use a break. It will get him away from the kids he’s hanging with.

Ang grimaced. She should have known Jake would remember that.

What I actually told you was that for cops, there is only black and white. We can’t have grey areas and decide someone gets a pass just because we think they’ve had enough of a scare they won’t step over the line again.

She had also told him he was burning out. Was she starting to push that same line because of Jordan? Should she tell Jake about her nephew and his merry band of brats? No, this wasn’t Jake’s problem. It was hers. She would look after it just like she did everything else.

Ang, you there?

Oh sorry, I got distracted thinking about what to pack. She forced a laugh.

Jake didn’t return it, instead he returned to his earlier conversation. I meant what I said about Kermit. He has deep roots, not just there, but the west coast too. Another thing, he only crawls out of the swamp when he decides that a change in leadership is needed, or he has some new plan. I’ve been talking to the lead detective on the Landings force. He says Victoria is dealing with the same crap. It’s like trying to untangle a spider web. The threads stick to you. Leave it alone or kick it over to the gang squad. You’re homicide. Wait for Kermit to show up on a slab, then you can do your work.

Ang was silent for a minute. Yeah, good idea. I’ll do that. Anyway, gotta go. Jordan has a hockey game tonight, and I said I’d go. Bye Jake, and congratulations.

She ended the call and leaned back in her seat. In front of her, a long line of brake lights stretched to the traffic light. Had she just lied to Jake? No, of course not. She had just left out what she’d learned since he’d been gone. She’d fill him in later.

***

Jake shook his head and shoved his phone into his pocket

She’s up to something, he muttered.

What do you mean? Noelle asked, dropping into his lap.

Hmm, he muttered, nuzzling her neck and stealing a long kiss.

Jake, focus. What is she up to?

Jake sighed and sat up. Ang is really good at her job. She’s a natural detective. She examines every fact, is super patient, and spends hours sorting through the evidence until she figures out what’s important. This is different. This is Ang on a mission. It worries me because she believes good always triumphs over evil.

He shook his head.

Noelle settled closer, snuggling into the heat of Jake’s body. She couldn’t get enough of him. He’d been back in her life for two weeks, but it was as if the ten years apart had vanished. Sure, there were still moments when he made her crazy, but they were rare.

She gave him a nudge. What did she say? Will she come out for the wedding?

I think so, but she’s digging into things that put her at risk, and she’s doing it alone.

Like what?

Ang has custody of her nephew Jordan. He’s fifteen and a great kid—smart, funny—a good student, at least until the last couple of months. He’s been experimenting with drugs.

Oh, Noelle said softly, thinking about what that meant to a fifteen-year-old kid.

This Kermit guy. He’s tough and scary. An Albanian. Ex-military. He grew up on the streets of Tirana, claimed refugee status and came to Canada. He’s linked to illegal arms, drugs, human trafficking. The gang squad and the Canadian Security Intelligence Service have been looking into him, but CSIS hasn’t turned up much. Albania’s records on stuff like this aren’t the greatest.

What’s Ang doing about it?

Knowing Ang, she’s running a surveillance op on her own. If she is, she won’t see what’s coming up behind her until it’s too late. She thinks everyone plays fair, that everything’s black and white. Jake shook his head in disgust. Enough about Ang. She’s tough. She’ll be fine. Let’s focus on you.

He settled her more firmly onto his lap and forgot his ex-partner.

Chapter 2

Dan Ryerson stepped away from the coffee line in Starbucks and moved aside to wait for his order. He usually did McDonalds’ drive-thru for his afternoon coffee fix, but today he was going all in. He was having a full fat, extra hot, venti peppermint mocha with extra whip. Not only that, but he also ordered a chunk of lemon loaf. He was celebrating. He’d closed the Miller case and taken another step towards finding out where the illegal street guns were coming from. Not bad for a day’s work.

Dan? the barista called. "Extra whip, extra hot, venti peppermint mocha with extra chocolate sprinkles?"

Dan felt his face flush. So what? He liked sprinkles. They should ban sprinkle-shaming.

Thanks, he said, picking up his mocha and jamming a lid onto it.

Dodging the line of customers, he headed for his car and settled into the driver’s seat. The sun was doing its best to shine, but early January made the day crisp. He took a sip and thumbed through the emails on his phone. He tried to make a habit of checking it regularly. One missed day and you would find yourself buried under a pile of meeting advisories, policy changes, and scheduling shuffles. They were all things he wanted to stay clear of.

What’s this? He paused and scrolled back. A new text message had popped up. It was from Ang, Jake’s partner in Toronto. Dan had started a conversation with her back in December when Noelle witnessed a convenience store shooting and ended up the target of the shooter. He’d contacted her about Jake in order to check his credentials. Ang was funny, but very clear about her partner’s abilities.

Since then, they’d kept the conversation going. Just light stuff—the weather, snow, work—he liked her writing skills. He rolled his eyes. He’d asked Jake about her. She was middle-aged, cranky, and had four cats and a pit bull. Dan shook his head. Go figure. Oh well, she was still a funny writer. A highlight on a gloomy day.

He took another sip and read the text.

Congrats, I hear you’re poaching my partner from me. Nice one. I should have told you the truth about what a pain in the ass he is. Poor Noelle. Does she have any idea what she’s getting into? I guess I’ll have to find a dress.

A dress? From what Jake told him, Ang would be lucky to find a muumuu large enough to cover her ample curves. Dan had never thought about the trouble plus-sized girls had finding clothes. Jake said she struggled to keep up with the fitness standards set by the Toronto Police. Mind you, Landings’ force didn’t follow through on the standards once you had worked a few years. He kept reading:

A quick question for you. What do you know about a gang banger named Krenar? I’m trying to build a timeline linked to one of my cases, and he keeps popping up.

Krenar. All the joy went out of Dan’s mocha. He grimaced. Now there was a name that was bad news. Krenar was a stone-cold killer with no remorse. His only goal was to make it to the top of the gangster pile, and he was doing it, one dead body at a time.

Dan knew all about Krenar, more than he wanted to know.

He answered:

I know you should stay far away from him. He’s under watch by a lot of government groups and he’s ruthless as hell. Be very careful how you tread if you’re anywhere near him.

Ang must have been sitting on her phone because she answered immediately.

Will do. Thanks.

Satisfied he’d made the risks clear Dan asked about Ang’s cats and started his car. He still had a few leads to recheck on the Miller case. It would be better to follow them up during the day than after dark. The old shipyard he was going to look at was the perfect set for a horror movie. It was also the perfect place for an illegal arms warehouse.

He pulled out of the parking lot and turned onto the road that led to the end of the inlet. It was a twenty-minute drive, plenty of time to figure out the next step in the home renovations he had started on his house. Focusing on that would keep his mind off the case, and everything that had gone wrong with it.

Chapter 3

Ang closed her text message app, pursing her lips as she shoved her phone into her back pocket. Cats? What cats? Jake’s friend Dan sounded a bit quirky. Jake said he was a real animal lover, that he volunteered at a local chimpanzee rescue center. She shook her head. She had googled it. There were no chimp rescue centers on the island. Jake was messing with her. It wasn’t the first time, and it was likely not the last. She glanced at her watch.

Jordan? You ready? she bellowed from the bottom of the stairs and waited for a response.

Silence.

Jordan!

She knew he was home. After hanging up from Jake, she reversed direction and drove past the spot she last saw him. The kids were gone. The only sign of their visit the empty soft drink cups crushed on the edge of the sidewalk. When Ang arrived home, she found Jordan’s boots dumped in the middle of the entry. She leaned down and picked them up.

I’m not going.

He was standing at the top of the stairs, staring down. His eyes were red and puffy, wary. He met her gaze and waited for her reaction to his words.

Ang studied his face as her heart twisted in her chest. Oh Jordan. Why? What are you missing that’s pushing you towards drugs? Was it just pot, or had he ventured into more dangerous things, like methamphetamines or cocaine? He was so important to her, more valuable than anything else in her life. She’d had sole custody of him for ten years, been the one stable influence in his life for at least eleven. If Jen had lived, would things have been different?

Her brother David was always self-absorbed, but his wife, Jen, had changed him. Her death hit David hard. He wasn’t ready to be the sole parent to a rambunctious five-year-old, and he reacted in true David fashion by signing up for volunteer work in Somalia. Somalia—Ang shook her head—never mind the responsibilities he had at home.

He hadn’t shared his plan with her. Instead, he arranged the legal details and dropped them, and Jordan, off for the weekend. She’d found the thick packet of official documents at the bottom of Jordan’s Transformers backpack. By then, it was too late. David was somewhere over the Atlantic.

Now tall and gangly, Jordan was on the verge of growing up. His shaggy blonde hair was long and curly, and as usual, it was hanging in his eyes. The sullen look on his face was fast turning into a permanent scowl. To him, she was the enemy.

Why aren’t you going? she said, trying to modulate her voice, to stay calm.

Keep it chill, Ang, just like at work. She winced. She was using the tone she did when interrogating a suspect.

Jordan shrugged. I’m not into it. Those guys are just a bunch of losers. They think hockey is the most important thing in life.

Ang raised an eyebrow. Jordan once thought hockey was more important than food. How the hell had this happened?

Did you call the coach? she asked evenly.

Jordan shrugged.

Is that a no? she said, silently counting to ten.

It’s whatever you want it to be. Jordan’s blue eyes flashed with anger. Why are you ragging on me? It’s just a stupid game. Besides, it’s expensive. You should be happy that I quit. I’m making my own money now, he added triumphantly.

You found a job?

Yeah. You can cut off my allowance. I don’t need your financial help anymore. His words were slurred.

Ang took three steps up the stairs and sniffed suspiciously.

Jordan, have you been drinking? she demanded.

A muffled snicker erupted from behind his bedroom’s closed door.

Hey, he protested as she pushed past him and opened the door.

The stink of pot singed her nose. Two boys sat cross-legged on the floor by the bed, the remnants of a spectacular feast of Doritos and chicken wings spread over the carpet between them.

Ang checked the room, taking in the open window and slowly revolving ceiling fan. Nice touch, she thought sourly. The boys had kept the smell in the room and out of the rest of the townhouse. The tradeoff was the temperature was barely above freezing. That explained the winter jackets they were wearing.

Okay guys, the party’s over. Leave now, she said.

The bigger boy, the obvious leader, smirked, giving her a long, calculating look. On an older man, it would have left her wanting a shower. On him, it made her fingers itch to slap it off his face.

Hey babe, relax. Why don’t you join us? he said, offering her the fat joint he had just rolled and lit.

Ang leaned forward and plucked it from his fingers. Thanks, she said and shoved it into the open beer can on the floor at his feet. I’m a cop, jack ass. You have ten seconds to get your butt up and out of my house. Take your little buddy with you.

The big guy leaned back on one elbow and smiled.

I like my women feisty, he said.

Eww. Ang slid the heavy black hair tie from her right wrist and bundled her thick curly hair into a tight bun high on her head

You should leave it down, Kyle said, licking his lips. It doesn’t make you look so old.

Is that so? Ang responded politely, shifting her feet, subtly positioning her body, ready to move.

Was I not clear enough for you? Get out now, or I will arrest you for trespassing and possession.

Her heart beat faster as the adrenaline licked through her veins, preparing her for action. Behind her, Jordan hovered in the doorway. Was his muffled protest over her treatment of his friends or his friend’s treatment of her? She tuned him out and focused on the situation, rapidly running moves and counter moves through her head. On the outside, she looked calm, almost bored.

Don’t be that way, baby. I’ve got enough to share.

The gangly teen climbed slowly to his feet. His eyes bored into hers as the smirk on his face grew. There was no doubt in his mind that he could take charge of the situation and man-handle her to a submissive position.

Ang adopted a more powerful stance, dropping back onto her heels, ready to react. He interpreted the change in position as weakness.

He nodded. That’s better. See? We can be friends.

The kid outweighed her by thirty pounds and stood a foot taller. He slouched forward, reached, and grabbed her arm. Ang shifted, turning her body, shoving her shoulder up, using his momentum to flip him. He rolled, landed hard, and lay flat on his face. Ang ended the move by lodging her knee between his shoulders and pulling his arms back.

Jordan, call the cops.

Jordan gaped. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly. The other teen jumped to his feet.

What the—? Are you crazy? Kyle—! She’s nuts . . . He looked towards Jordan. Do something. She can’t do this!

Kyle groaned, struggled weakly and subsided to the ground with a whimper.

I think you owe me an apology, Ang said.

You’re hurting me. My arm, I think you dislocated it. Jordan, call the cops. She assaulted me.

Ang tightened her grip on his arm.

Sorry, sorry, he howled.

Auntie Ang, let him go, Jordan pleaded. He’s going. They’re leaving.

I’m going to call the cops. You wrecked my arm, Kyle moaned, His tears and snot covered the carpet.

Ang let him go and stepped back. Her mouth twisted in disgust.

Kyle stayed down, groaning and rocking. Ang nudged his leg with her booted foot.

Get up.

He climbed to his feet, slowly, his eyes shooting shards of hatred at her. I’m calling the cops, he repeated.

"Go ahead, you little weasel. You’re in