by Jordan Dane
“The cell belonged to Clive Barnwell,” she said. “I didn’t get his ID off the phone, meaning I didn’t have to hack into his service provider. That would be illegal and something I would never recommend.”
“Half the things you do are illegal.” Keiko raised an eyebrow.
“I like to think of it as half the things I do are…legal.”
“Set low standards and you’ll never be disappointed.” Keiko winked. “I get it. Words to live by.”
Nilah ignored Keiko with a smirk. Mercer knew the women spent downtime together. Nilah had told him she thought of Keiko as a complex computer with one helluva firewall. She said there was never a barrier for the right hacker.
“I dusted the cell for fingerprints and scored a hit on AFIS to get ID. Clive has been a very bad boy. I made a copy of his criminal record for all of you. Peruse at your leisure.”
Mercer flipped open the file she compiled from the Automated Fingerprint Identification System and glanced over other records he’d seen before when bad guys found criminal bosses with lucrative operations and pricey attorneys. Undercover, he’d observed Barnwell and his sidekick before, keeping bad company with other minor players, but he never had a name until now.
The man had started out with petty crimes as a teen until he stole a car and did time in Juvie. In the state’s care, he learned real skills and hooked up with a network of low lives until he did his time and graduated into a thug for hire. He’d been implicated in burglaries, several fraud cases, an illegal gambling accusation, and ran hookers for his crew, but he’d become Mr. Teflon when it came to prosecution. Charges were dropped after evidence got lost or witnesses came down with a sudden case of amnesia.
Guys like Clive Barnwell were time bombs waiting to go off. Mercer wanted to stop him and the high-powered organizations that hired brainless muscle like him.
“Show us what you found when you back tracked his cell towers.”
“My pleasure,” Nilah said. “Will someone douse the lights? Thanks.”
When the War Room went black, lit only by the dim glow of computer screen displays across the expanse, Nilah aimed a remote and hit a button. A holographic map projected onto a large panel. Laser points in red showed the cell towers that Barnwell’s phone had pinged.
The colorful mass of dots looked chaotic to the untrained eye, but Nilah knew how to sift through the noise. Mercer had seen her make sense of highly complex cyber security firewalls, but when she unraveled a knot of Christmas lights, that’s when he knew she had a true gift for deciphering insurmountable puzzles.
“Here we have a picture of his movement, en masse, over the last month,” she said. “It looks like a jumble, until I dug into the details and narrowed down the specific locations he frequented.”
Nilah explained how cell towers could only triangulate the physical location of a phone if Barnwell was on the move. That would limit his location to a general area, but Nilah had other ways to look at the data.
“For example, when Barnwell stopped into restaurants that had WiFi or he hit any identifiable mobile hotspots, I knew exactly where he was. The man is a creature of habit. As Mercer suggested, I can actually tell where he takes his morning dumps.”
Keiko winced and when Stetson snorted a laugh, Karl cocked his head.
“I stripped out the places I identified as unessential.” She shrugged. “A girl’s got to start somewhere.”
She pointed the remote to the wall panel and the holographic image changed. Half the chaotic network vanished.
“I cleared Clive’s typical day from the map. Let me tell you, he has a thing for a certain hooker, but hey, I’m not judging.” She raised both hands and grinned. “I only made a note of her name in your files, in case you need to locate him. You can set your clock by that old horn dog. He’s a straight up nooner.”
Nilah hit the button again and changed the map. Once the map became simpler, it piqued Mercer’s interest.
“What’s Barnwell doing in Cheyenne?” He sat upright in his chair. “I thought he operated in the Denver area.”
“Now that’s a good question.” Nilah grinned. “I couldn’t pinpoint specific locations, so I had to resort to property tax records and other tricks up my sleeve. It seems Clive Barnwell visited some interesting places and people while he was in Wyoming.”
Nilah handed him another file, before she shared it with the team. She wanted him to see it first.
“What are these? Satellite images?” he asked. “How did you get them?”
“I have my ways,” she said. “It’s probably best you don’t know, but those are thermal images that show body heat. I believe there are hostages at that location. Here’s the video where I downloaded the still shots. You’ll see what I mean.”
She punched the remote and eerie images of human shapes, wavering in colors that flared from green to red, moved in and out of a chamber where bodies were huddled. He could only guess what was happening, but the clustered people appeared to be hostages.
“If we can get close enough, it would be worth investigating, but that’s your call.” She handed files to the team.
“We need more intel, but this could be the break we’ve been looking for.” Mercer couldn’t take his eyes off the satellite footage. He couldn’t help but wonder if one of the infrared bodies was Zoey’s friend.
What he contemplated for his team was a domestic op that could finally bring down the large ring of traffickers he’d been hunting—without being encumbered by the law.
Most people were of the opinion that the word ‘vigilante’ had a distasteful ring to it. Vigilantes were perceived to be borderline criminals, walking a fine line between enforcing the law and breaking it. Mercer didn’t care about people who would rather respect the rights of criminals over the rights of the victims. He’d learned the hard way that justice wasn’t a given fact or a right unless he took matters into his own hands and controlled the outcome.
In a past life, he had been a successful CIA operative. At one point his job defined him, but not anymore—and not ever again. He’d discovered that ‘drawing outside the lines’ got better results. Rules were meant to be broken when they got in the way of true justice for innocent victims like Kaity Boyer.
“We’re getting close. I can feel it.” Mercer didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until his team turned toward him.
“Why do you think this is them?” Keiko asked. “This could be only another tentacle of the octopus.”
Mercer had been hunting a faceless network of cagey criminals. He’d heard only rumors of the existence of a covert organization of human traffickers—called the Hive. They existed online through a massive network of computers, flash drives, SIM cards, or anything electronic. Like shifting sand, they were completely adaptable and elusive.
Mercer had been on the street for weeks, with his ear to the ground in gang territory. Gangs were the lowest rung in the ladder. Every crew had a boss who had a boss. One by one, he and Karl tracked down the organization through links in Cyberspace.
Karl had a special skill.
“We won’t know for sure until we get Karl inside.”
His dog had been trained to detect the smell of computers and microchips. In the K-9 world of handlers and trainers, Karl was called a ‘porn dog.’ Mercer didn’t know such an animal existed until a high-profile case involved a dog with Karl’s skill set.
A TV personality, known for his endorsement of sub sandwiches, had eluded prosecution until a porn dog sniffed out his SIM card stash of child pornography. The tiny memory cards, used for storage in cell phones, had been easy to hide from two-legged law enforcement.
Who knew it would only take two more legs to break the case?
“We’ll need a team on this. Complete surveillance before we move in. We have to get this right. Our bigger objective is to cut the head off the snake, but if we find evidence of hostages, their lives come first.”
“You would risk our investigation for a handful of hosta
ges?” Keiko asked. “What we do, sometimes there is collateral damage and people die, but if we can kill the snake, shouldn’t that be our goal?”
He’d had this discussion with her before. There was logic in her argument to look at the bigger picture. It took a cool operative to think the way Keiko did, but not all missions fit her view of the world.
“I understand what you’re saying,” he said. “If lives weren’t on the line, I might agree with you about focusing on the larger objective, but I will never sacrifice an innocent life for the sake of an op. Never.”
Keiko nodded and didn’t argue.
While his team talked strategy as they looked over the satellite imagery and video footage, Mercer thought of Zoey and what she’d told him over dinner. How much would he tell her? She would ask about the cell phone, knowing he had ordered the device analyzed for GPS coordinates.
It was only a matter of time before she would resent being kept out of the loop over ‘need to know.’ Or she might get feisty mad when she finally realized that he intended to keep her safe at his home, whether she wanted the protection or not. She would feel like a prisoner and he couldn’t blame her. With Kaity missing and no leads on her disappearance, it tore Zoey to pieces.
She needed hope and he wanted to be the man to give it to her, but until his team did a full recon, he wouldn’t know what they had, if anything. He felt an obligation to the victims held by the trafficking ring—countless destroyed lives—and he had a duty to stop the atrocities from happening to anyone else. He couldn’t afford to make decisions based on one life. In that regard, he and Keiko would agree, but that didn’t stop him from worrying for Zoey.
‘Sometimes love isn’t enough.’
That’s what he’d told her. She must’ve hated hearing him say it.
He didn’t think she could take the disappointment if they hit another dead end without answers. Time could be a cruel and formidable enemy. The odds of finding Kaity alive worsened by the day. Mercer didn’t regret protecting Zoey, but he feared they were both careening toward a fate neither of them wanted to face.
Mercer prayed he’d be wrong.
***
After midnight
Wearing only a short kimono of black silk, Keiko crept down the dimly lit hall, heading for a room she knew well. When she got to his bedroom, she didn’t bother to knock. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her. The rumble of a shower came from the bathroom. Reflected in the mirror she saw his muscular tanned body under the hot stream of water. Soap suds from shampoo trailed down his back and disappeared into luscious mounds of flesh.
Keiko licked her lips and stepped through the door. The silk of the robe felt wicked against her naked skin and her arousal tightened her nipples. She imagined warm wet lips sucking on them, hard. Billows of shower steam flushed her skin with heat.
With his back turned, Stetson could be Mercer if she willed him to be so. A lump wedged in her throat whenever she thought of the only man who had denied her. Mercer had his reasons, but that didn’t mean his rejection stung any less.
She never felt good enough for a man like him.
Keiko dropped her silk robe to the bathroom floor and opened the shower door. Stetson turned in alarm and grabbed her neck. He squeezed until he realized who had invaded his shower and let go, but the sudden violence turned her on. When she gazed down his body, she noticed his impressive erection bobbing for her attention.
“Is that for me?”
When he smiled, Keiko dropped to her knees, closed her eyes, and thought of Mercer.
Chapter 11
Laramie Mountains
North of Cheyenne, Wyoming
2:00 a.m.
In a fitful sleep, Mercer tossed and turned, traversing a line between twilight sleep and unconsciousness. In a persistent and lucid dream, he drifted through a dark room, not knowing if he was truly awake, walking from one shadow to the next. He sensed a presence with him and his immediate thought went to her. Mercer pictured Zoey’s sweet face and she appeared to him and stood by his side. She wore the dress she had on at dinner. When he took her in his arms, he smelled her scented skin and felt the heat of her body.
“I need you,” she whispered. “Make love to me.”
The warmth of her breath touched the skin of his neck and his body reacted. A rush of blood flowed to his penis and he stiffened under his jeans. Mercer pulled her tighter to his chest and plunged his tongue into her mouth, tasting her tender lips. His hands grasped the firmness of her breasts and her nipples hardened into nubs under her dress. She moaned as she moved her body against him until he thought he would lose it.
Mercer picked her up and carried her to his bed.
When he threw back the white billowing bed sheets to lay her down, the clothes they both had worn disappeared. In a blink, Zoey sat on the edge of his bed, naked before him with her lips trembling as she stared at his hard cock. Mercer cupped her face in both hands and kissed her long and deep. His erection stiffened when he felt the coolness of her hand stroking him.
“I want you, Zoey.”
He didn’t know if he’d said the words aloud, but she spread her legs and pulled him down on top of her. Engorged, Mercer pushed into her and she groaned—the low, throaty sound of her pleasure. He thrust into her velvet wetness and swelled to fill her. Zoey writhed under him and took him deep inside her. When his tongue found hers, he devoured her mouth as he shoved in and out of her body. He wanted to pleasure her forever, but something prickled his skin like spiders racing across his bare back.
“Oh my, God,” Zoey gasped. “Who’s that?”
Her voice jolted him to his senses. Mercer shifted his gaze and stared down at Zoey. Her eyes were wide as she pointed to a dark corner of his bedroom with her body trembling.
“What’s wrong with you?” She glared at him, angry. “They’re here because of you.”
He didn’t understand.
“Who’s here?”
“Them?” She thrust an accusing finger across the room and he turned.
In undulating shadows, silhouettes moved in the dark. Faceless bodies eclipsed the moonlight shining through his windows. The eerie horde drifted closer to his bed, watching him. Mercer didn’t have to see their faces to know who they were. His nightmares never let him forget.
He awoke to the sound of him screaming, “No!”
His bed sheets were soaked and his lungs heaved for air. He’d had hellish dreams before, but with Zoey playing such a vivid part—as if she were one of his faceless regrets—it felt like a dark premonition.
***
Laramie Mountains
Next morning - Dawn
“See that she gets breakfast and make sure she stays put,” he said to Maddix McLeish as he stood in the garage. “Zoey has seen you before when you picked up the florist van. She should be okay.”
Mercer had Nilah Rolstad staying behind to coordinate their communications from the bunker command post. Zoey would have another woman around. After Mercer loaded food and water for Karl in the back of the SUV, he gave a hand signal for the dog to jump into the vehicle and secured the cargo hold. Mercer climbed into the passenger side of the Lincoln Navigator with Stetson behind the wheel, keeping the door open to talk to McLeish.
“What should I tell her if she asks for you or gives me trouble about staying put?” McLeish asked. “Women don’t cotton to being told what to do.”
“Say I’ll fill her in as soon as I return. Tell her I’m working a new lead.” He didn’t want to promise something he couldn’t deliver or lie to her. “Nilah is a familiar face if Zoey would feel more comfortable with another woman.”
“Who are you? And what have you done to Mercer?” Ciara Flowers laughed. “Since when have you become Mr. Sensitive?”
His logistics and weapons expert stood in the next garage stall, loading her gear into a Silver BMW X3.
“Be careful, Ciara. Our Mercer has a soft spot for that one.” Keiko grinned from behind the wheel of the B
MW SUV.
“She’s been through a lot,” he said. “I just want—”
“You’re digging a nice big hole with those two, Mercer.” Stetson said. “No matter what you say, you’re only giving them more ammunition, amigo.”
He ignored the ribbing from his team and turned his attention back to McLeish.
“Just do the best you can. Nilah will know how to get in touch with me.”
Stetson engaged the ignition and pulled out of the garage with Keiko and Ciara in the vehicle behind them. Mercer’s gaze shifted to the right-side turn mirror as his eyes searched for any sign of Zoey in his home.
The nightmare he had last night still had its grips on him. What if in his desire to protect Zoey, he had put her in greater danger? A flood of horrifying images punished him and his guilt rose like hot bile in his stomach. Mercer shut his eyes to stop the torture.
“Are you okay?” Stetson asked.
“Yeah, I will be.”
He lied.
***
Cheyenne, Wyoming
An hour later
Mercer lay on his belly in the dirt, staring through high-tech binoculars from a ridge. The cold ground chilled his skin through his BDUs and his injured arm throbbed in pain, but he ignored his discomfort and remained focused on his objective—the construction site below.
From Nilah’s advance recon, he learned that a new medical facility would be erected once the building was completed. She needed more time to dig through the labyrinth of corporations and blind trusts to determine who had money in the project—and who might know about any hostages. A state-of-the-art health complex made a good cover for the seedy operation of a human trafficking network, brazenly hidden in plain sight.
His team had deployed to their assigned locations. A major construction project sprawled beneath his position, bordered by a cyclone fence with trespassing signs posted. In the gray of morning, employees were starting to arrive. A temporary mobile office, with a light and shadows coming from a window, indicated someone moved inside.
