by S. M. West
He balls his hands into fists on the top of his desk and tension rolls off him like a tsunami.
“He’s popped up all over the world, most recently in Europe, and has been linked to human trafficking in many forms. Sex slavery is believed to be his number one trade.”
Judging from his tone, there isn’t any guesswork to be done. Sex slavery is his business. I swallow back the bile burning my throat. The more I learn about this man, the more incensed I am with my mother. Those women in that basement are slaves being sold for sex. Is she in business with this vile excuse for a human?
Outrage wildly clutches my heart. And Tommie… They must be stopped. As if following the same train of thought where my mother is concerned, Van continues.
“My contact at NYPD says Taya isn’t involved with Cavallo’s skin trade. They do business, gambling and there’s evidence of guns, but so far nothing to suggest anything else. But you saw her with Ash.” He dips his chin in my direction, stepping from behind his desk, and I nod.
“We know Naire had ties to Cavallo when Anna was kidnapped,” Tripp says.
That was four years ago and this is news to me. “What?”
Tommie twists her fingers in mine, squeezing. “Ash was here back then. We didn’t know at the time—we’ve gotten better at tracking him but even then, it’s not foolproof. Remember, Anna was found in a basement-like prison. There were women in cells and Ash had been there. From what Anna said, he seemed to be in charge. But by the time we made the connection that the man she was talking about was the same man I knew, he’d gone to ground.”
“But he never really left, now did he?’ Tripp’s voice is rough. “And from the looks of things, Taya may not be in bed with Cavallo but with Ash.”
“Why? I mean, if Ash is already doing business with Cavallo, why would he need my mother?”
As much as I hate to admit it, I can see why Taya would want to branch out. She’s always looking for ways to build her business and gain power. Unfortunately, human trafficking is a booming business. But why would a man like that want to deal with a lesser outfit? Someone other than a kingpin?
“Taya’s operation is smaller, less conspicuous, and from the little we have on Naire, the guy doesn’t like the spotlight. He wants power and money, but he doesn’t need to be at the forefront. Cavallo is big. Hard to miss,” Coop says. “And something tells me Cavallo would be in charge. No one else.”
“Good point. Maybe Naire and Cavallo split? Went their separate ways? Or maybe Naire has his fingers in both pots?” Tripp rubs his scruffy chin, contemplating his theories as he pushes from the wall. “She has a solid organization and infrastructure. A ready-made network for him to infiltrate. Playing both organizations would be risky, but he’d want at least one partner. Someone to take the heat, someone for law enforcement to go after should he need to escape. That’s his MO after all.”
“Yeah, he’d want a partner. He’s done it before. That’s how I found Tommie. Years ago, the target I went after, when I found Tommie, turned out to be his partner. At the time, I didn’t know Ash existed,” Van says. “It was Tommie who told us about him and then with more intel, we were able to get a handle on him. And even at that… he keeps slipping through our fingers.”
My mind swims with all this information. I tried to distance myself from Taya’s world and I wonder, had I not chosen to turn a blind eye, could I have stopped her from even looking at selling humans?
“This is a global problem where humans are being bought and sold for sex, forced labor or human organs. Nearly half are children and of those, almost eighty percent are women, working and living in vulnerable situations, which make them easy pickings, whereas others are often coerced or deceived.” Tommie’s tone is solemn.
It disgusts me to think there are more slaves in the world today than any other time in history. And Tommie. She was subjected to that.
“For Ash, Taya would be easier to control than Cavallo, who’s bigger, more powerful.” Ry now stands and walks to the window.
“So now what’s next?” I’m anxious to get started, to put an end to this.
“We merge the Taya case with Ash. I’ll find out more from NYPD, FBI and Interpol.” Van bends, typing on his keyboard. “And Tommie, you’re staying with me.”
“No.” At least three of us say it at the same time. Tripp continues, “Carys and the kids.”
“He’s right.” Ry peers over his shoulder. “Whoever she stays with will be in danger.”
“I’ll stay here,” Tommie says.
“What?” My tone is borderline pissed. “We’d agreed you’d stay with me.”
“No, we didn’t. I agreed to last night.” She lets go of my hand with a rueful smile. “I can’t stay with you long-term. You’ll be in danger. I’m already putting all of you in danger by working here, being your friend.”
She glances around the room, taking us all in, and our expressions say it all. None of us want to hear this; her safety is paramount. Coop and Ry start to speak over each other, telling her she’s talking nonsense, she’s family and danger comes with the territory.
“Guys, it’s already decided. We have rooms here, designed for this very reason. I’m staying here.” Just then her phone pings, glancing at it. “I have to take care of this.”
Waving her phone, she walks toward the door and then looks back at me. “Max, I’ll talk to you later.”
I don’t want her staying at HC, even if the place has top-notch security and she’s making sense. Once she shuts the door, the guys continue to talk about who’ll do what.
“Max, we need you to find out more about Ash from Taya.” Van turns to me. “But tread carefully. Don’t push too hard or do anything out of the ordinary. Now that we know what to look for, we need to start digging.”
“Yeah, and see if you can find out more about their plans. She said you need to be more available. Let’s see if it’s connected and if so, how.” Tripp places his hand on the doorknob with Coop right behind him. “Talk later.”
As they leave, Ry nears my side. “We have to tell Tate. Can you come tonight?”
“Yes. I’ve got rounds at the hospital. I’ll bring dinner and we’ll tell her together.” I check my phone, making sure I haven’t missed a call from the hospital or worse, my mother.
“Sounds good. Van, talk to you later.” Ry closes the door behind him and I’m left with Van.
He perches on the edge of his desk and his eyes flick to mine. “How you holding up with all this? With what Tommie told you?”
“I want to kill Ash Naire.” A knot of tension swells in my gut.
He nods solemnly. “I’ve been trying to catch that sick bastard for over a decade. This feels like our best shot. He’s here and in our backyard. He won’t get away this time.”
Tommie
Max pops his head into the surveillance room to say goodbye. He tries one more time to get me to stay with him.
“After the hospital, I’m going to Tate’s. You could hang out with Gunnar and I’ll tell the front desk not to let anyone up.”
I press his hand, appreciating the thought and not having the heart to tell him that Ash isn’t going to announce his arrival. I won’t know I’m in danger until it’s too late.
“You and I both know staying here is the safest place.”
Van has three floors dedicated to HC. We’re on the floor with offices and it looks like any other in this building. Another has storage, holding cells, and several rooms that could pass for any state-of-the-art hospital in the country, complete with operating rooms and recovery bays.
And the final floor has virtual reality training simulators, some tactical rooms and several bedrooms with their own bathrooms. Those are used for our overseas staff or when we need a safe place to keep someone for a day or two.
“Gun and I will have to stay here with you because I’m not going to sleep without seeing you with my own eyes.” His fierce green gaze is intense, protective even, and my insides heat.
> “It isn’t like we won’t see each other. I’ll visit but we’ll have to be careful. Ash is watching me and likely everyone else around me too.”
His large hands slide around my waist, propelling my body against his, and my insides tighten. This feels different between us. It isn’t simply a hug. We’re way past the friendship line and as loud as the warning bells are in my mind, I can’t seem to pull away.
“I won’t let anything happen to you. I care about you. A lot. And in case you’re thinking your past changes anything between us, it doesn’t,” he says, and it’s all the things I never knew I needed to hear.
Holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he leans in and a shiver ripples through me. His lips are soft against mine and I get lost in his kisses. His mouth relentlessly showers me with emotions that best friends shouldn’t have for one another.
The hollers and whistles of my crew, standing around us, finally snap me out of my daze. “Max, you devil,” one guy says while another teases, “Get a room.”
With his hand in mine, we leave the surveillance room toward the reception area. My cheeks burn and my mind is too scattered to form a coherent thought.
I’m too confused and wired with my arousal and deep feelings for Max. Emotions I haven’t dared let out into the light, and now he seems to feel the same way. This, in itself, is dangerous.
I have a lot to lose by giving into my feelings for my best friend. If a relationship with Max doesn’t work, and there are so many ways in which it couldn’t, some so much worse than others... I can’t bring myself to think about it. I can’t lose him.
And on top of all that, my past and future are coming at me, all at once.
“Sorry about that.” He stops just before the exit, turning me to face him. “I’m not sorry about kissing you. I want to kiss you again, but we need to talk first. Fuck, I want to talk now.” He pulls me to him, resting his forehead against mine. “But…”
“I know, you’ve got to go. Listen, after work, I’m heading home to grab some things. I’ll stay here tonight. How about breakfast tomorrow? I’ll come to your place?”
I lick my lips, the taste of him still on me, and his eyes dip to my mouth and darken.
“You’re killing me.” A smile tugs at his lips. “Can we make it early? I’ll come here?”
“Sure. I was thinking your place so I could see Gunnar too. But that’s fine, I’ll drop by later in the day.”
“I’ll bring breakfast burritos.” Just the thought of one of my favorite foods causes me to lick my lips and a big smile spreads across his face.
“From Charlie’s?”
“You bet.” His lips lightly press into mine. “Stay safe and I’ll text later.”
“You too. Bye.”
The remainder of the afternoon flies by and I’m consumed with thoughts of Max but also Ash and Taya. I can hardly believe how my world has collided with Max’s. It looks like his mother and Ash are working together.
In some ways, it seems destined that we will finally get them both now. And that thought brings me both hope and trepidation.
Once done for the day, I drop the little I have in one of the rooms at HC and then head to my apartment to get some clothes. On the way, I pop into a family-run coffee shop, just a stone’s throw from my home and I also use it as a drop location.
I’ve enlisted the help of some of my CIs to find more on Ash and I’m here to leave details of the job. I use QR codes, an optical label that looks like a matrix barcode. The information is readable by a smartphone.
The unisex washroom, or more specifically the underside of the trash can, is where I leave the barcode for pick up.
When leaving, I decide to grab a coffee despite how insanely long the line is tonight. Or maybe it’s the cashier who is insanely slow. I’ve never seen her before. She’s a petite, bubbly thing with cute giggles and megawatt smiles that could light the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.
She must be new and is definitely loving the job. Each customer gets the full welcome treatment and while I’m all for someone enjoying what they do, Chatty Cathy is causing a backup of customers out the door.
Fifteen excruciating minutes pass while I wait my turn. If the coffee wasn’t so good I’d forget about this. During the wait, I get a text.
Van: Where the hell are you?
I don’t even need to see him to tell he’s not too happy with me.
Me: On my way home to grab some clothes. I’m going back to HC. Relax.
Van: You should have told me. I would have come. I’m on my way.
Me: I’m fine. Seriously, chill. I’ll text you when I’m back at HC.
Van: Don’t do this again. You know better.
Sighing, I feel like shit for just leaving. After this morning’s meeting, and knowing the guys were on this, I started to feel better. Safer. But Van is right. As much as I don’t want to be a burden to my friends, Ash is a threat.
Coffee, home and then back to HC. The sooner I report to Van that I am safe and sound, the better. I don’t want him stressing about me.
“Next!” the blonde pixie says, beaming so brightly that I squint. “What’ll it be?”
“Black coffee, please.” I pull up my mobile wallet.
“I love your dress. Is that the Prada gabardine?” She cocks her head to the side, twirling the end of her ponytail.
“Yeah, thanks. Could you just get my coffee, please?” I don’t want to be rude, but I feel the sharp stab of every impatient glare from those behind me in line.
Unfortunately, she doesn’t take the hint and remains in front of me with no signs of getting my order or taking my money.
“It’s gorgeous on you. I love Diane von Furstenburg’s latest line of wrap dresses. Have you seen them? With your height and hair, oh my God, you’d be stunning.”
I quirk a brow, impressed. Normally, I’d give her props for knowing fashion, and yes, I have one of the DVF dresses she’s talking about, but I want to get going.
“I’m kind of in a hurry.” She shrinks a bit and I’m a bitch, so I throw her a bone. “If you like those, you should see the latest Versace ready-to-wear collection.”
Perking up, she tells me she’s studying fashion design and then fires three more fashion-related questions at me. I balance being friendly with my mounting frustration—I need to get back to HC before Van calls a search party. Eventually, she gets my coffee.
“Here you go.” She hands me a paper cup. “Have a great evening and when you have time, I’d love to chat some more.”
She beams at me, hopeful, and I return the smile. The comforting heat of the coffee seeps from the cup into the palm of my hand.
On the way to the door, someone bumps into my side, and it isn’t a little tap, more like a full-on tackle.
Knocked back, I fall into a small crowd waiting for their lattes and cappuccinos, and my java tumbles from my grip, spilling down my dress before landing on the tiled floor. Hot liquid hits my fingers and I hiss as the heat burns my flesh.
A large hand grabs hold of my arm and I whip to face the oaf. “Why don’t you look where you’re going?”
“I’m so sorry.” An older man with a protruding belly and rotund jowls flusters about in front of me, dabbing at my wet arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I snap, pulling away from him.
He stands remorseful, slicking back his longish white hair from his forehead. “I don’t know what happened. Let me buy you another coffee.”
“No.” Coffee was a bad idea.
“Please. What were you having? Black coffee? Milk and sugar?”
Regret swims in his green eyes behind the large spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. His cheeks redden as the seconds tick by without my response.
“Fine. Just a black coffee.” I step to the side, casting my eyes to where my dress is now soaked. At least it’s black so even if it stains, I should be able to wear this again.
Then it dawns on me. How’s he going to get me a quick c
up of coffee? It took me over twenty-five minutes to get the first one. I should just walk out but I’ll do the right thing and tell him to forget it.
Casting my gaze in the direction of the order counter, I blink, convinced I’m seeing things. The stranger already has another steaming cup of coffee and is headed my way. What the? How did he get it so fast?
The girl behind the counter sends me a sympathetic smile. She must have seen what happened and let him jump the line. I gift her a grateful one in return and make a mental note to thank her next time.
“My deepest apologies. Let me pay for your dry cleaning.” He points to my dress and I shake my head.
“That isn’t necessary. Thanks for the coffee.” Raising the warm cup at him in salute, I take a long-awaited sip.
Before he can say another word or something more bizarre or disastrous happens, I leave the coffee shop and hustle toward my place.
Outside my apartment, a text comes in from Max. He’s on his way to see Tate and I send words of encouragement because he’s anxious about his sister’s reaction to his news—that he has been working with his mother all these years.
I take another gulp of coffee and open my door. Relieved to finally be home, I slump against the wall of my one-room apartment and scan my surroundings, looking for any signs of entry. I’ve got a few boobytraps rigged throughout the place as well as a camera or two.
I pull up the app on my phone and check the security feed, fast-forwarding through the past twenty-four hours or so. Nothing. I sigh, happy that Ash hasn’t been here. Yet. I won’t fool myself into thinking he won’t come to my home. He will, but I won’t be here.
Finishing the last drop of my coffee, I toss the cup into the garbage bin and head over to my clothing racks to find something comfortable to wear before I pack.
But the room tilts and things start to spin. My vision blurs as the light in the room fades in and out. Everything is spinning and blackness eclipses everything.
Max
On my way to Tate’s to tell her about our mother, I text Tommie to check in. She’s just arrived at her place to pick up some clothes, and then she’s going back to HC.
