by Ivy Nelson
All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball somewhere and cry for a few days, but she had a job to do and there was no way in hell she was going to let the way he’d gutted her get in the way of that. Not after all the blood, sweat, and tears she had poured into this assignment. That didn’t stop her from wanting to give him a piece of her mind.
Not that you’ll believe me, but I was talking to Gina because I want her to do a feature on Carla’s story. I can’t do it because she’s my bosses’ daughter and it would do better as a television piece anyway so fuck you very much.
She typed the angry message into her phone but didn’t hit send. He didn’t deserve to hear from her so quickly. Letting her anger drive her, she marched back into Gary’s kitchen and picked up her pen. “Let’s write this fucking story boys. Do you have any Red Bull?” she said.
Gary and Ripley both looked at each other and shrugged, and Tom just scratched his head. Carla had gone to one of Gary’s guest rooms for a nap. Over the next four hours, Carrie got the full story. Corbit Upwood had been turned by a corrupt member of Colombian intelligence and had been aiding in the trafficking of women from both the U.S. and Colombia. At first, it was just in the form of using his connections to fast track visa’s for girls he claimed were assets to the CIA and needed protection. Once he was named director and got control of the CIA budget, most of which was part of the black budget with little oversight, he began funneling money into Diego’s operation so they could traffic even more women and drugs. While no one ever quite knows what motivates a person to betray their country, money likely played a huge role. It was obvious that Corbit Upwood was living well above his means.
“So why the recent attempts on his life?” Carrie asked.
“The current administration is favorable to Upwood. However, the next administration wouldn’t be. There’s only a year until the next election. Upwood wanted to retire. Diego wasn’t having it. When he started trying to blackmail him into continuing his aid, Upwood refused. I guess he grew a conscience in his old age?” Ripley shrugged.
“That’s when Diego started trying to take him out. When that didn’t work and the press started digging too closely into the bombing attempts, he decided to just try to frame him for murder. Savannah was one of his favorite girls. He was a sick fuck who had her on his payroll as a housekeeper but from the talk I heard from her, he was pretty depraved in the things he would make her do when Mrs. Upwood and the kids weren’t home.”
Carrie felt intense rage over the girl’s death again and she became even more determined to make sure this article took Corbit Upwood down.
A laptop sat in front of her as she went over each detail with Tom and Ripley, while Gary stayed largely out of the way. Her fingers flew across the keys as she typed up the article outlining everything. She then left spaces where arrest information would go once it happened. As long as everything fell into place, this story would be on the front page of the next edition of the paper. When the article was as complete as it could be, she passed the laptop to Tom.
“I’ll let you do the honors.”
They sent it via e-mail to the FBI, and the White house press secretary, while Gary and Ripley both made phone calls each armed with the same script. The post was running with the article in the next edition and it could be framed in such a way that the U.S. government was aiding in human trafficking, or it could highlight what the government is doing to clean this corruption up, starting with arresting Corbit Upwood and asking Colombia to waive diplomatic immunity for Diego Carrasco and allow his prosecution. Attached to the e-mail was the story and the documentation backing up the claims.
Within minutes of sending the e-mails and making the phone calls, phones began to buzz. Carrie watched Ripley’s face turn pale.
“Carrie, where did Peter say he was going?” he asked, his voice tight with apprehension.
“His apartment. What’s wrong?”
“Diego has him.”
***
Carrie’s world became a blur of activity. Gary leaped up at the news that they had taken Peter and immediately began making phone calls, but she didn’t hear what they were saying because she just felt numb. Someone, maybe Tom, led her to one of the living room couches and brought her a cup of coffee. It sat untouched on the end table as she waited for word about Peter.
Ripley sat on the couch next to her. “Hey, you OK? We’re gonna get him back.” Carrie heard the front door slam.
“What’s happening?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Gary and Reggie are going after him.”
Carrie looked around. “Why didn’t you go with him?”
Ripley shook his head. “Too dangerous for me right now. I can’t blow my cover with my other target. Besides, somebody needs to stay here with you.”
Carrie smiled wryly. “Yeah, I guess Tom isn’t much in the way of protection.”
“I heard that,” Tom said from his place in front of the laptop.
Ripley shook his head. “Nope. Somebody has to make sure you behave,” he said with a wink. A memory of Peter telling her Ripley would have beat her ass for putting herself in danger had he known she was his came rushing back to her. Ripley must be a Dom.
“I guess I shouldn’t stick my tongue out at you then,” she said.
Ripley just shook his head and laughed. “Can I tell you a story? I kind of overheard Peter being a jackass on his way out the door.”
“I don’t care about that right now,” Carrie said as she choked on a sob. “I just want him to be OK.”
Ripley put his arm around her. “He will be. He’s a tough cookie.”
“I guess if we have time to kill, I’ll listen to a story.”
“Peter’s dad was a police detective in the city.”
Carrie nodded. She knew that much.
“Several years ago, not long after Peter fell for Gina Whitman, his dad went undercover to try and take down a drug dealer. He went under with a partner who had a score to settle because these drug dealers had hooked his little brother on drugs or something like that. Things went terribly wrong and several police officers died in a raid. The raid turned out to be illegal because of some of the things the partner did to get the evidence that got them the warrant to execute it. The partner was one of the ones who died in the raid.”
Carrie scrunched her nose and forehead. “That all sounds really shitty but what does Gina Whitman have to do with this?”
Ripley patted her head and said, “patience, little one. I’m getting there.”
She smacked his arm away and said, “Only Peter gets away with calling me that.”
“Fair enough. Whitman had a short-lived show on one of the local channels. She had been following a string of misconduct stories in the police department. She set her sights on Peter’s dad because she had bad intel that told her he was the source of the misconduct that led to the illegal raid.”
Carrie closed her eyes because she was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say next.
“Peter tried to set her straight, but she wouldn’t listen. To make matters worse, she convinced Detective Mercer and his wife to do a sit-down interview. It was her status as their son’s girlfriend that persuaded them to say yes. I wasn’t in country, so I didn’t see the footage, but apparently she did a hatchet job on the footage and made both of them look like really shitty people.”
Carrie’s mouth dropped. That didn’t sound like Gina at all, vicious sometimes but to alter footage that way? That was incomprehensible. “Peter told me she nearly got his dad killed. How did she manage that?”
“Oh, that’s where the story gets really colorful. Gina was convinced that his dad was dirty, but after the initial interview happened, Peter went to a competing news agency and told them about her being his ex-girlfriend and that she had a conflict of interest thinking it would make her back off. It did in a way, but the other news channel called her and got all of her notes and ran with the story themselves. Only they were a lot more vicious about it an
d included him in a long list of officers who needed to be taken off the streets. A couple of nut jobs took that seriously and attacked him outside of his precinct.”
Carrie blew out a long breath. “Boy, I stepped on all kinds of his triggers tonight. Now I feel like an asshole,” she said.
Ripley shook his head. “Peter needs to heal from that and realize that not every member of the press is like Gina Whitman and not every news organization is predatory.”
Just then, Ripley’s phone buzzed, and he stood to answer it. Carrie held her breath, praying for good news about Peter.
He looked a little grim when he ended the call. “They found the location where Peter is being held, but they don’t have a safe way to rescue him just yet. Looks like it could be a long night.”
Carrie text Olivia and asked her to come and keep her company while she waited. A half hour later, she was on Gary’s doorstep.
“Come here, you,” she said, pulling her into a hug.
“I didn’t mean for you to leave work early,” Carrie whispered as she laid her head on her friend’s chest.
“Are you crazy? My good friend is hurting and needs me.”
They walked into the living room together. Olivia paused when she saw Ripley, who was staring at her.
“Hello, Olivia,” he said in a low tone.
“Ripley. I didn’t know you were still here.”
Carrie looked back and forth between the two. Did they know each other? Wouldn’t that be a small world?
Whatever passed between them was gone in a flash, and Olivia turned to Carrie and said, “How do I help you baby? Do you want to talk, watch TV, make out?”
Carrie grinned. “You’re ridiculous. Thank you. Just being here is helping.”
Somewhere around midnight, they got word that Upwood had been arrested and there had been a raid on The Doll House. Diego Carrasco was in the wind, but Colombia had agreed to waive diplomatic immunity when he was caught. They found seven of the twelve missing women inside the Doll House. Based on Ripley’s intel, similar raids were being conducted on multiple strip clubs around the country.
Tom left not long after that to go to the office and make sure the front-page story was ready to go. Carrie was feeling weepy and felt the need to be alone, so she excused herself to one of the guest bedrooms. Ripley promised to come get her if anything happened. Olivia was going to crash in one of the other guest rooms.
At around four in the morning, Carrie still couldn’t sleep so she wandered into the hallway, intent on going to the other guest room to find Olivia. The sounds of her pleasured cries stopped her in her tracks. Ripley’s gruff voice was muffled but Carrie could recognize the dominant bite to his tone. She felt bad for eavesdropping, but she couldn’t tear herself away. Finally, she made her way to the kitchen and found a bottle of water. A tear slid down her cheek as she thought of all the times Peter had admonished her about drinking more water. Just then there was a commotion in the hallway and Ripley came running as he zipped his pants.
“They got him. He’s at the hospital and they’re doing surgery.”
The bottle of water slipped from her hand. “Surgery? What happened?” she asked as she felt cold water soaking her feet. That’s when she noticed Olivia, clearly wearing one of Ripley’s t-shirts, standing behind him. She rushed into the kitchen and grabbed a dishtowel. “Go dry your feet and get ready to go, honey,” she said as she dried up the spilled water.
A half hour later, they were sitting in a hospital waiting room. There was no word on Peter yet. Reggie was also in surgery and Gary, who had escaped unharmed, was pacing.
“Family of Christopher Reginald?” A doctor called out when he entered the room.
Ripley and Gary both ran for him. “We’re his brothers,” they said in unison. Carrie shook her head. Reggie must be short for Reginald. What was it with the nicknames in this group?
The doctor removed his scrub cap and bowed his head.
“I’m so sorry, we weren’t able to save him.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Why the fuck does my head hurt so much?
Peter blinked rapidly as dim light filled his eyes. A faint beeping sounded as his memories came flooding back. A gun at the back of his head. The acrid scent of gunpowder and blood. He squeezed his eyes shut at the recollection.
Someone had been waiting for him in the backseat of his SUV when he left Gary’s house. He had been so angry at Carrie that he wasn’t paying close enough attention. They had forced him to drive and then locked him in an abandoned warehouse. How Gary and Reggie found him, he wasn’t sure, but they’d arrived right on time. Diego realized that his plan to hold Peter hostage to keep the story from coming out wasn’t working. They were going to execute him.
In the rescue’s pandemonium, Peter’s head had been knocked against a concrete wall and he took a bullet to the shoulder.
A nurse came in to check his vitals.
“Oh good, you’re awake. Your family will want to see you.”
Family. Are Mom and Dad here?
“Those are some intense brothers you have,” she said as she wrapped the blood pressure cuff around his upper arm.
Ripley and Gary must be waiting for him.
“One of them left this for you. Said they’d be back after breakfast.” The nurse leaned over to the bedside meal table and picked up a newspaper.
“I normally wouldn’t give this to you,” she said as she held it out for him to see. “But they seemed quite adamant that it was important.”
When she unwrapped the cuff, he picked up the paper and stared at the headline. The byline bore Carrie’s name and his heart constricted. He was terrified to read it. The nurse pushed pain meds into his IV and left.
The words swam on the page as he read the story outlining Upwood’s corruption and the effort take him down. As far as he could tell, all sources remained anonymous.
Peter reached for the remote and flipped the TV to CNN. A familiar face appeared on his television screen.
“That’s right Jim, at least eight girls were rescued from the Doll House Cabaret and authorities around the country are saying dozens more women have been rescued from other adult entertainment clubs. I had the privilege of sitting down with one of those rescued girls just this morning. Daughter of Washington Post editor Tom Neiland. I’ll be airing the full interview tonight on my show, but here’s just a sample of some of the things we talked about.”
The feed cut to a clip of Gina sitting down with Carla Neiland, but Peter tuned it out. He felt like a complete and total jackass. His eyes scanned the room searching for his personal belongings. A small plastic bag sat on the bedside table. What he wanted was inside. It was a struggle, but he managed to pull it toward him and take out his phone. He had no idea what to say, but he knew he had to say something. In the end, he sent two words.
I’m sorry.
As he hit send, he felt the pain medication take hold and he drifted off to sleep. He wasn’t sure how long he was out, but he had vague memories of people coming in and out as he slept. Now, he woke feeling a little clearer headed, but he felt warm and crowded in the bed. He reached for the bed rail to sit himself up and came into contact with soft hair. He turned his head and his heart stopped. Carrie was laying next to him. Her wrist caught his eye. What looked like the belt to a bathrobe was attached to it. His eyes followed the length of it and tears threatened to fall. The crazy woman had attached herself to his damn hospital bed.
He gently nudged her.
“Wake up, little one,” he murmured in her ear. When she turned to face him, there were tears in her eyes.
“Thank God you’re OK,” she said, her voice trembling.
Peter pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’m so sorry I was such a fucking asshole.”
Carrie shook her head. “Don’t be. Ripley told me what happened. I stepped into a minefield and didn’t realize it. You were a jerk, but I understand, and I still love you.”
He took his good arm a
way from her waist and reached for her wrist. “Let’s get this off of you, crazy girl.”
It took a bit of work, but he untied it with a single hand. “I’m surprised the nurse let you get away with that.”
Carrie giggled. “I think Gary and Ripley have intimidated the hell out of all the nurses on this floor. We could probably have sex and they wouldn’t stop us.”
Peter lifted an eyebrow. “You wanna?”
Carrie laughed and smacked his arm.
“How’s Reggie?” he asked as their laughter died down.
When Carrie’s face fell, Peter felt his stomach drop. No. Not Reggie.
“I’m so sorry, Peter. Reggie didn’t make it.”
Peter buried his face in her shirt and let his grief pour out and Carrie just let him. After a few minutes, he sat up a little more and she handed him some tissue for his eyes. Carrie filled him in on everything that went down. When she finished her story, the room fell silent.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I know you say it’s OK, but I need to know you forgive me.”
“I do. I forgive you. You mean too much to me Peter. We both have a lot of learning and growing to do, but I’m willing if you are.”
***
Carrie spent the next two days by Peter’s bedside. When the doctor finally released him, Gary drove both of them to Peter’s apartment. To her frustration, Peter refused to get back into bed when they got home, choosing instead to sit in his home office and make phone calls.
“I’ve been in bed for three days, woman. That is the last place I want to be unless you’re going to have sex with me.”
Carrie shook her head. “You’re injured. That’s not happening.”
Peter scowled. “You’re lucky I’m wearing this cast on my swinging arm or I would spank your ass.”
“You’re all talk, tough guy.” Carrie’s got a secret thrill out of sassing him just to see what he would do next.
“Get your ass over here,” Peter demanded.
