No service.
That was weird. She'd had service earlier that evening. She tried again, but got the same message.
Fine, she'd have to call him on the way.
She threw her stuff into her bags, taking Todd's camera and video equipment with her. She'd learned that his body would be shipped home to England, where his family resided. His mother and brother were grateful to hear of his heroism, and seemed as if they had expected this outcome one day. Todd, after all, hadn't usually been working in the best of places. War-torn countries, hostile neighborhoods. Bad luck lurking around every corner.
When she'd packed, in record time, she threw on the clothes that she'd kept out and ran a brush through her hair. She secured it at her nape and then picked up her bags and threw open the door.
"I’m ready," she announced. Without a word, the two men turned on their heels and marched down the corridor.
The halls were quiet at this time of night, and she wished she could run into someone to give Gabriel the message that she was being forced to leave. She was ushered into a car, and they drove off towards the airfield.
She tried to call Gabriel again, but her phone refused to connect. The words No Service glared at her from the top left corner of her phone. Why didn't she have service? She'd paid her bill, so that couldn't be it. Maybe one of the towers was out or something.
Tucking her phone into her bag, she looked out the window at Mount Vesuvius, remembering her time with Gabriel there. She'd broken down his defenses that day. She was sure there was some sort of future before them, and she could feel herself falling in love. She smiled. He'd understand. When she landed in D.C., she'd call him and tell him what had happened.
None of it made sense. Who had the power to get her kicked out of the country, and why? She had no idea.
They pulled onto the runway, where a jet was sitting with an open door and stairs pushed up to it. When they stopped, the two MPs got out of the car and opened the door for her. She'd tried to open it herself, but it appeared there was a child lock on the door.
The MP holding her door looked straight ahead, never making eye contact with her. He simply pointed towards the plane. She grabbed her satchel as the other MP brought around her suitcase and rolled it to the people waiting to load it onto the plane.
After she boarded the private aircraft, she watched as they flew over the water and back towards the United States. The journalist in her was unable to put away all the questions that plagued her. Who could make this happen? And what had she done to garner their attention?
When she landed in D.C., she pulled out her phone to call Gabriel. The call was sent to voicemail.
It wasn't until several days later, when she dialed Gabriel's number and was informed by the automated voice that his number was no longer in service, that she realized that Gabriel had no intention of ever talking to her again.
Chapter 2
Five years later
Gabriel scooped up his clothes as he tiptoed past the sleeping blonde. Shoving one leg at a time into his pants and slipping his arms into the holes of his unbuttoned shirt, he quietly pulled open the door of the hotel room into the silent hallway. It was just before dawn, and the hallways were empty.
For a moment, his mind went back to a time when he’d seen men creeping out of his mother's room, tiptoeing by his bed on the couch, careful not to wake him. But how could he sleep with the noises coming from her room?
He shuddered, pushing the thoughts from his mind.
Gabriel took the elevator down to the parking garage level and hurriedly walked towards his car, slipping into the driver's seat of the 1971 Plymouth Barracuda he'd named Carlotta. With a car like her, she had to have a name. He turned the ignition and smiled when the engine roared to life. He loved this car. Burning rubber out of the parking garage, he drove through the dark city. It would be a couple of hours before it came to life with politicians, government officials, and wealthy corporate executives.
The lights shone on the Lincoln Memorial as he rounded the corner and headed towards D-town and the three-story warehouse that housed Castle Investigations, as well as living quarters for all the operatives. Well, all but Lucas, since he'd moved on to suburbia with his new wife, Scarlett, and Scarlett’s younger sister, Emery. Emery was away at college now, so the newlyweds had the house to themselves.
He smiled as he thought of Scarlett. Hard to believe that just a few months ago, he'd thought he might have feelings for his best friend's girl. Now, he realized that those feelings were very similar to those he had for Isabel, the only woman he'd allowed to penetrate his heart since—he stopped the thought. He wasn't about to think about her now—the woman that shall not be named. The point was, Scarlett had broken down his defenses and wormed her way into his heart.
Or what Gabriel had left of a heart, anyway. He wasn't sure he even had a heart anymore, at least not one that he was willing to acknowledge or to allow someone in enough to love them in a non-platonic sort of way. He was good with the one-night stands that took care of his needs without involving the organ in his chest.
After hitting the button for the entrance gate to the warehouse, he pulled inside the freight elevator, taking it to the third floor. He parked his pride and joy in his usual spot and walked back to the elevator, taking it down to the second floor, where he knew someone would be up at this early hour.
Sure enough, Zachary Harper, hacker and all-around technical genius, sat at the computers, typing away. Gabriel wasn't sure what it was that he did all day, but Zach was seldom seen away from his bank of expensive equipment. Sullivan Castle, his boss and friend, sat at a desk on the other side, reading a file.
"Hey," Gabriel said, leaning against the door to the office. Sully looked up from his file, but Zach didn't budge. Sully nodded his hello, while Zach tossed a "Hey, dude" over his shoulder.
"How'd it go?" Sully asked.
"Ok. I didn't get much out of her tonight. She wasn't exactly talkative." He waggled his eyebrows, and Sully laughed.
"You told her to meet you off the clock for the romp in the sack, right? I'm not paying for your hookups, man."
"Of course I did. I don't pay for sex," Gabriel said, his anger evident in his voice. He and the other guys on the Castle team, except for Ethan, had been raised in a bad part of town, and mostly by single moms who’d done whatever it took to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. So none of the guys would ever pay for sex from someone desperate enough to sell her body. Especially not Gabriel.
"You're right. Sorry, I shouldn't have said that," Sully said.
Gabriel nodded his acceptance and added, "I have another meeting with a new girl tomorrow night. I'm hoping that since she's new, she'll be more interested in talking and less interested in groping me."
"Yeah, it's a real struggle being groped by a beautiful woman," Zach piped in, not taking his eyes from the many monitors plastered on the walls.
Gabriel didn't let on that it actually was a struggle being groped by strangers. It all went back to that time in his life. But he wasn't about to call attention to that tonight.
He chuckled. "Yeah, it's a hard job, but someone's gotta do it."
Sully gave him a knowing glance. "Keep us posted about what you find out. That girl has been missing now for three weeks. She could be long gone, but our sources say that whoever is running this operation keeps them around for a while to 'break them in.'"
Anger boiled up inside of Gabriel, and he clenched his fists to keep from punching a hole in the wall. "These men need to be caught and castrated," he said through gritted teeth.
"Wholeheartedly agree," Sully said, rising to walk past Gabriel and clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's take the son of a bitch down!"
Gabriel followed him out, heading upstairs, where the living quarters for the team were located. "I'm heading up to get some sleep. Didn't do too much of that during the night." He grinned like the cat that swallowed the canary. Sully shook his head, turning back t
oward his office, a file in his hand.
"Let's update the team at oh-nine-hundred hours," Sully said.
"Roger that," Gabriel replied and stepped onto the elevator, taking it to the top floor.
It was in his room, while lying on his bed and trying to calm his mind, that he allowed his mind to wander back to her. He wondered what had happened to her—where she had gone—and why she had left him. They always left him.
* * * *
Cate sat down in the zebra-striped chair across from Christy Knox, the manager of District Escort Service. She was there to discuss her recent employment with the agency. As far as Christy knew, Cate was Katelyn, a woman who'd finally decided on a career path at the ancient age of twenty-five, and who needed to go back to school in order to pursue it. Since college was expensive, Katelyn planned to be an escort to pay for her tuition. Cate, on the other hand, was just hoping she could still pass for twenty-five.
In reality, Cate Bradshaw had been trying to figure out where Tariq Ahmed Ben Ali was. In her pursuit of him, she'd discovered that since their fateful meeting five years ago, he had set his sights on trafficking American women. The guilt that she felt over this new information, as well as the guilt she still felt over Todd's death, drove her to do things she might have been too scared to do before. Hence, she now sat in the office of a "madam," ready to discuss her first clients.
Christy's office was an interesting blend of her professionalism and her personality. The walls were pale pink, almost white, with an accent wall that had been wallpapered with a black and white fleur-de-lis pattern. A black and crystal chandelier hung in the middle of the room over a mirrored desk, casting prisms of light across the framed pictures of old Hollywood actresses that graced the walls. On the shelves behind her desk sat hot pink candles on white candle holders, hot pink vases with fluffy white flowers, and a white lamp with a hot pink lampshade.
Although the details, in and of themselves, might seem garish and overwhelming, it all came together with a touch of sophistication and elegance.
Christy herself was just as eccentric, but Cate could tell that she did her best to subdue her flamboyancy. Today, she wore a tight, black and white herringbone pencil skirt that hit a couple of inches above her knees, paired with a slinky white camisole that dipped down in a low V between her very perky breasts. A red blazer that nipped in at the waist and red stiletto heels topped off the outfit, taking it from being just a little too sexy to semi-professional.
Cate, in her high-waisted, black cigarette pants, with a green silk blouse tucked in, felt frumpy compared to her new boss. Christy's confident presence, combined with her sexy office attire, was a force to be reckoned with. Since she dealt primarily with men, Cate imagined that this was part of her armor.
"So, Katelyn, are you ready to get to work?" Christy asked, eyeing her over the file she held in her hand. Cate assumed it was a file on her dates, but she wasn’t sure.
"I—I am," she stuttered. She had to get a hold of her nerves, or she was going to come across as a blubbering idiot. Not at all one of the professional, polished women that Christy prided herself on hiring.
"Relax," Christy said, folding her hands on top of the file and giving Cate a warm smile. "Everyone is nervous their first time. Once you get the hang of it, it will become second nature."
Cate inwardly blanched. She didn't want to "get the hang of it." She knew the policy the agency put out to the public:
Our escorts are modern, sophisticated, highly educated women who are the perfect companions for your business trip, charity function, or dinner party. We pride ourselves on confidentiality as well as discretion. District Escort Agency is not a brothel. Prostitution is illegal. You are paying for a companion, to spend a mutually enjoyable amount of time in her presence. Our ladies are not required to perform any sexual acts with you.
But the reality was that these men didn't pay exorbitant prices just to "talk with” pretty girls. They paid for the escort's time—and whatever they decided to do during that time was between two consenting adults. Cate knew that she was expected to sleep with these men, and she wasn't quite sure how she was going to get out of it.
She nodded towards the file in Christy's hands.
"Is that my first client?" she asked.
"It is. He'd actually like to meet you this afternoon, for coffee near the Capitol. There's a coffeehouse close by. The directions are in the file."
Cate took the file from her and glanced down at the name. Andrew Haney. Wasn't he—?
Christy smiled. "Yes, that's Andrew Haney, the Senator from Alabama. You know, the guy that runs on a platform of family values and Bible Belt ideologies." It appeared that Christy could read minds, and Cate needed to be careful of that in the future. She must not have her game face on. It was the stress and discomfort of what she was about to do. It had to be.
"We pride ourselves on discretion and confidentiality, Katelyn. No one outside of the agency can know that you are an escort and are dating Andrew Haney, if he chooses you."
"I understand," Cate replied, hoping she was exuding calm control, and not the crazy mess she felt like inside.
"Be sure to dress sexy but not trashy. Dress for the occasion. If he's taking you to coffee, you can wear dark jeans or other pants, but make sure they are fitted. Also, your blouse should show a little skin. Our clients want to get an idea of what they're paying for, understand?"
Cate choked back the nausea that threatened to make an appearance.
"I do."
"Good. You'll wear this in your hair to meet Andrew." She gave Cate a small red rose.
She pointed towards the second folder. Cate opened it and saw the name Gabe Smith listed there. "Your client for tomorrow night is very picky. He's been through six of my girls in the last two weeks. But I've learned he's fond of brunettes, so I'm hoping you'll do it for him."
Cate was disgusted that one guy had "gone through" six girls in two weeks.
"I'll do my best," she replied.
"You'll meet Gabe at Filomena's in Georgetown at six-thirty tomorrow evening. Just give the hostess his name, and she'll take you to his table. He always arrives early."
Cate felt the butterflies start in her stomach, and she placed her hand there to keep them from flying away. She just had to get through the next few weeks, and maybe she'd figure out whom Tariq was working with here in D.C.
"One more thing." Christy's words interrupted Cate's deep thoughts, and she jerked her head up to meet her boss’s gaze. "Gabe doesn't like to pay for the whole night. Several of my girls have clocked out after four hours, only to meet him at a hotel room later in the evening. They've all been reprimanded. If they do it again, they'll be fired. So, I'm counting on you to keep his attention and make him pay for the whole night. Got it?"
Yeah, no pressure or anything! Cate thought.
"So he pays for their time, but refuses to pay for the sex?" she asked instead.
"No one pays for sex here, Katelyn. That would be prostitution."
"Right, but the men expect—"
"Whatever happens during an appointment between two consenting adults is not my business. However, if he wants to spend an evening with one of my girls, he needs to pay for it. I run an escort service, not a dating service," Christy interrupted.
Cate nodded her agreement, and Christy stood, her subtle hint that Cate was dismissed.
"I'm glad we're in agreement, then. If you should get into any trouble, the emergency line is on top. Program it into your phone," she said, pointing to a Post-it note stuck on top of the folder.
Cate stood and turned towards the door.
"Katelyn?" Christy asked.
Cate paused and turned back to her.
"Yes?"
"We guarantee our client's satisfaction. Is that clear?"
"Crystal," Cate replied.
In other words, she was expected to keep the clients satisfied, and if that meant sex, she had to deliver. What in the world had she gotten herself into?
Chapter 3
Gabriel stumbled to the shared kitchen in the loft area of the team's living quarters. He'd only managed a couple hours of sleep after returning from his date the night before. He'd lain awake, visions of her running through his head.
After filling his large travel mug to the brim with the life-giving substance from the coffee pot, he took the elevator to the second floor. The team was already seated at the table, ready to go over the details of the case at hand.
Sully's wide smile broke across his hardened features. "Well, look what the cat dragged in. Lady and gentlemen, this is what happens when you spend the whole night shagging instead of sleeping."
"Screw you," Gabriel muttered and took his seat at the table. Isabel was sitting next to him, and she placed her hand on his shoulder.
"You ok?" she asked. Isabel, with her psychology background, always sensed when Gabriel was taking trips down memory lane. Sometimes those trips left bruises, and somehow she was able to see them.
"I'm good." She gave him a weak smile that clearly said she didn't believe him. But she never pushed. He squeezed her hand and turned back towards the rest of the team.
Sully began the meeting with an update of all the cases they were currently working. Three, to be exact. Two missing persons, and one that was personal.
"Any leads on where Bruno is hiding out?" Sully asked Zach.
"Not yet. I’ve only been able to determine that he's not in D.C. I'm following leads to New York City, Las Vegas, and Los Angeles. Seems like he has his fingers in a lot of pies."
"All right. Let us know when you find him. I don't like the rumors I'm hearing," Sully said.
"What rumors?" Isabel asked. They hadn't told her yet about what they’d been hearing from their contacts in the old neighborhood.
"Bruno's angry that someone from the Castle team took out his brother. He's threatened to take us out one by one. Since we have no idea where El Jefe is holed up, we can't figure out how true the rumors are. So far, it seems we're in the clear," Sully explained.
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