“Yes, sir,” Harv said, typing into his computer. “I’m on it.”
Cyrus put a headset on and tossed another set to Sidney. “Gear up,” he said.
While she slipped the device on her head, another vehicle pulled inside the fence, a black Corvette.
“That’s our man, McCall,” Cyrus said. “Must be nice going undercover and flashing all that money. Poor bastard.”
“I told you I’d do it,” Harv said.
“Maybe next time.”
“Count me in too,” said another voice in the headset.
“And me,” said another. It was a woman. They were all part of the team on the streets.
“All right, let’s maintain radio discipline,” Cyrus added, crossing his arms over his chest and looming over Harv’s shoulder. “This is McCall’s third time inside. Something has to go down at some point.”
Agent McCall pulled the Corvette around back and alongside the truck. He stepped out with his briefcase in hand and gave a quick nod.
Cyrus clapped his hands. “This is it!”
Sidney’s spine tingled. They’d been waiting for the signal for over a month and now it came. I wish I was down there. Agent McCall was good, but everyone needed back-up. High caliber traffickers were trigger happy. Agent McCall slipped out of sight, either into the building or into the truck.
The room fell quiet for a moment, then Cyrus broke the silence.
“Everyone breathe easy. This might take a while. Lacy and Carl, do either of you have an angle on McCall?”
“No.”
“Ditto.”
“Just remember,” Cyrus continued, “once they start rolling out, McCall will send another signal, so no one get jumpy until I say go. They’re probably checking for a wire now.”
The operation wasn’t the biggest, but it was important. The traffickers dealt in arms, munitions, and drugs. The men McCall dealt with weren’t high up the chain either, but their bosses were, and that was who the FBI wanted. Get names. Get voices, and have it all recorded by a small device built into the handle of a briefcase.
“How’s our signal?”
“Solid,” Harv said, leaning forward, “let’s hope it’s recording.”
“Hope’s for sissies,” Cyrus said, smiling over at Sidney.
Such a tool.
Five minutes turned into ten and then fifteen. Cyrus started to pace, saying from time to time, “Be patient everybody. The last few months are down to the final minutes.”
Sidney’s palms were sweating. This is taking too long. She checked her watch. 5:38 am.
“We’ve got movement,” said one of the outside agents.
The box truck was pulling out of the dock.
“Any eyes on McCall?”
“Negative.”
The box truck sped up the ramp. A spark of light on the monitors was mirrored by sharp pops of gunfire. McCall was holding his side, staggering up the ramp and blasting away in the dark.
Cyrus cried out, “Stop that truck! Execute!”
CHAPTER 3
Sidney bolted for the door.
“Hold it, Agent Shaw,” Cyrus said, grabbing her by the arm.
She twisted out of his grasp. “Are you insane?”
“No, I’m in charge. Now stay in here!”
With an inner growl, Sidney returned to her spot behind the monitors.
Three FBI SUVs sped through the gates, and two more blocked the entrance. The box truck weaved through the parking lot in chase until one of the SUVs slammed into the driver’s side. In seconds, agents in body armor and holding M-16 rifles had the truck surrounded. The drivers exited the box truck with their hands up. Instantly, the agents took them to the ground.
“Now that’s a clean takedown,” Cyrus said with a nod. “And I’m not even breathing heavy. Well done everyone. Someone get to McCall, pronto.”
Sidney’s nails dug into her palms. It was hard to watch something like this from afar and not get involved. On the screen, she watched FBI agents rushing to McCall’s side. Inside her headset she heard one say, “It’s bad, but he’s breathing.”
“All right, get him stabilized. An ambulance is on its way.” Cyrus slapped Harv on the shoulder. He had a worried look in his eye. “Good work. We’ll go check it out. Come on, Agent Shaw.”
Finally. She followed him out the door and down the stairs. By the look of things, Cyrus had taken control and bottled up what could have otherwise been a very ugly situation. Of course, that all depended on whether McCall survived or not. Clearly something had gone wrong. Let’s see how he handles it.
Rushing out of the stairwell and across the street, they cut between the cars blocking the gate.
“Ambulance coming,” Cyrus said, slapping one of the hoods. “Move these things!”
Jogging across the parking lot, they came on the scene. Two men lay on the ground, hands cuffed behind their backs. Each wore nice street clothes. One was tattooed and bald. The other was taller, long-haired, and lanky. Each had an edge about him.
Cyrus kneeled down, grabbed the taller one by his locks, and said, “My agent better not die.”
Somehow, the man shrugged. “The only good agent is a dead agent.”
Cyrus stuffed the man’s face in the cement and ground it in a little.
“Sir,” one of the other agents said, “Come take a look at this?”
The thugs stirred on the ground, watching Cyrus walk over. Sidney made her way behind him, stopping at the back of the box truck that was wide open. Inside were munition crates and round blue barrels. Seated along the wall and wide-eyed were children.
“Aw,” Cyrus said, rubbing the back of his head, “are you shitting me?” He shook his head and activated his Blue-tooth. “Call Child Services too.” An ambulance with flashing lights roared into the parking lot and sped by, stirring the wind. “How’s McCall?” No reply. “Carl. Lacy. What is the status on McCall?”
Carl’s voice was flat. “He didn’t make it, sir.”
“Dammit,” Cyrus whispered. Everyone’s chin dipped a little.
Sidney felt her heart sink. McCall was one of their best agents. Flashy. Confident. Well-liked. His loss was a wound. Like Dydeck’s.
“Heh heh heh,” said the bald thug lying in the parking lot. “What’s the matter, agent? Pretty Boy didn’t make it? Heh heh heh … that’s what you get for trying to fool us. But it looks like we fooled you.”
“Somebody shut him up,” Cyrus said, turning his back and rubbing his temples.
“I hear you agents have been dying like flies around here lately,” said the other dealer.
Sidney’s heart skipped. Something about the way the man said it jolted her. She fastened her eyes on the men and said to one of the agents, “Did you get them patted down?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I don’t think they did a very thorough job,” the bald one said. He winked. “How about you come on over and pat me down, sugar. I’m pretty sure they missed my crotch, and besides, my balls are itching. Heh heh.”
Sidney walked over, squatted down, and put her knee in his back. She grabbed his thumb and twisted it.
“Yeow!” the dealer cried out.
“Are they still itching?”
“Yes!” he spit out.
She cranked up the pressure.
“Argh!”
“How about now?”
“No,” he puffed. “No, dammit!”
Just as she released him, she noticed a mark inside the palm of his hand, a black sun dripping blood. A sliver of ice raced down her spine, making her toes tingle. It was the same mark she had seen at the hospital where she encountered the deaders and Adam Vaughn. This can’t be a coincidence.
“Sid,” Cyrus barked at her. “Get over here.”
She hated the sneering tone Cyrus used on her. It riled her up. She walked up to him and said, “Don’t ‘get’ me again.”
“Fine. Will you just take custody of the children and sort them out before Child Services arrives?
”
“Sure, you’re the boss.”
Inside the box truck, some of the agents had cracked open the crates: assault rifles, ammo, grenades, and bags of pills and powders. It was enough to start or incapacitate a small army. Sidney climbed into the truck and crawled among the children. Each was ragged, dirty—and hungry, by the looks of them. “I’m Agent Shaw, and I’m here to help you. Can you tell me your names?”
A small black boy with lighter skin, maybe eight years old, spoke up first. “My name is James.” He cocked his head and touched her cheek with a gentle hand. “Your hair is different.”
She pulled back and put her hand inside his. It was fragile and cold. “I’m not sure that I follow, James. What do you mean, different?”
“I think it was longer last time.”
Sidney’s memory flashed. James’s face was suddenly familiar. He was one of the children she and Smoke had rescued from Ray Cline’s joint back in October. Sonuvabitch, this can’t be happening! She scooped the boy up in her arms. “Cyrus, we have another problem.”
CHAPTER 4
Inside her cubicle, Sidney hammered at the keyboard. This doesn’t make any sense. She’d sent emails. Made inquiries. But the children she’d rescued months earlier had disappeared into the system. She snapped the pencil in her hand and tossed it in the trash. “Dammit.”
“You okay?” a woman said, walking up behind her. It was Sadie, a black co-worker, a little heavy, in a plum pantsuit. She had a warmth about her. “Because I don’t think your keyboard can take much more.”
Sidney spun around in her chair. “It’s that noticeable?”
Sadie set down her coffee mug that had a picture of two children on it. She rested her rear end on Sidney’s desk. “So what’s going on? It’s Cyrus, isn’t it? You and him are a thing again, aren’t you?”
“No,” Sidney said shaking her head. “Lord no.”
“Good. Because I don’t like him.”
“Does anybody?”
“True,” Sadie said, hoisting up her coffee cup. “So, fill me in.”
“Aw, just a dead end on those kids is all. Makes me wonder who’s protecting the children from Protective Services.”
“You don’t actually think they’re going to be very forthcoming about losing children, do you? After all, it is just another government agency.”
“One that loses children?”
“Well, maybe they didn’t. Maybe it was the foster home.”
“They can’t ever tell me anything about that.” Sidney shook her head and clenched her fists. “I could just punch somebody.”
“You know, Sid, you’ve been pretty frustrated lately. Are you seeing anybody?”
“What do you mean?”
“What do you mean, what do I mean? Are you getting any?”
No!
“Come on,” Sadie continued with a smile. “It’s just us girls talking.”
“I don’t have the time.”
“Hah, you’re single. You’ve got the time. Me and Reggie have two children: baseball, football, soccer, basketball,” Sadie huffed, “not to mention coaching, shopping, cleaning, and cooking. And we find the time. Heck, we make the time, else we’d kill each other.”
“That’s different. You’re married.”
“And you’re single.” Sadie leaned closer. “A long time single, and the longer you stay single, the longer you’re going to be single. Don’t get set in those ways, else you’re going to be an old maid forever.”
“No, I won’t.”
“That’s what my sister says, and guess what—still single. And every time she finds a good man, she picks him apart. She’s set in her ways.”
Great warm-up. I’m going to have to listen to this same crap from Mom over Christmas.
“You know,” Sadie said, peeking around, “there’s some new faces around here that I’d love to introduce you to.”
“I’ll never date another agent.”
“They aren’t all agents. Most of them are just nerds, college boys wanting to change the world. Look down this way.” Sadie motioned her over, peering around the cubicle. “That’s Greg. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Nice butt in those trousers.”
Sidney wheeled her chair and looked down the aisle. “I don’t see anybody.”
Sadie started laughing. “You looked. Ha ha. Sid, you need a man even worse than I thought you did.”
Sidney slapped Sadie’s leg. “You witch!”
“Don’t be disappointed. There is a Greg, as described. I’ll introduce you to him.”
Sid pushed back toward her desk. “No thanks. I need a matchmaker I can trust.”
“Aw, that’s cold. You know you can trust me.”
“And why’s that?”
“Cause I ain’t a man.”
“No, but you’re just as ornery. See you around, Sadie,” she said, turning around.
“Say, I didn’t come over here to rile you. I want to help.” Sadie looked over her shoulder. “I have a close cousin in Child Protective Services. Why don’t you give me something so I can snoop around?”
Sadie was an executive secretary who had as much authorization and access as most field agents. She’d proven to be very helpful on more than one occasion, not to mention that she did most of the supervisors’ and assistant directors’ work for them.
Sidney jotted down some names and contacts on a legal pad, tore it off, and handed it to her. “Thanks.”
Sadie snatched it out of her grip and said, “You’re welcome.”
Glad that’s out of my hair. The last thing I need is to be reminded that I don’t have a boyfriend or husband. There’ll be plenty of that talk tomorrow. Ugh. She enjoyed the holidays, but things would be a little tense dealing with her sister, Allison, who was still holed up at her parents’, along with Sidney’s niece, Megan. Sid had made one visit for Thanksgiving, and it had turned ugly. Allison didn’t hide her resentment of Sid.
Her desk phone rang. Ted Howard’s name popped up. She hadn’t met with him in weeks. She picked up the receiver. “Agent Shaw.”
“Sid, can you swing by?” Ted sounded a little tense.
“Sure, when?”
“Now would be ideal.”
“Okay, I’ll be right—” The line went dead, “There? Great.” Normally, Ted gave her a heads up on what he wanted to talk about. But not today. The tension in his voice left her uneasy. She picked up her bag and got up out of her seat. A nice-looking younger man was standing behind her in a white oxford shirt, burgundy checked tie, and khaki pants.
Morning glory. He’s fresh out of the frat house.
“Hi,” he said, rubbing the back of his blond head. “I’m Greg. Uh, Sadie says you need to see me. She says your computer needs a tune-up.”
Sidney laughed out loud.
“I’m missing something,” he said, swallowing. His eyes glanced down at her chest.
“Apparently not,” she said, disappointed. “And my computer’s just fine. Nice meeting you, Greg.” She walked by Sadie’s desk on the way to Ted’s office, one floor up from hers. “Nice try, Sadie. It only took him five seconds to glue his eyes on my boobs.” She kept going.
Sadie hollered after her, “You can’t fault a young man for looking when you have a body like that, you prude.”
Sid made her way to the elevator, laughing inside. Normally, her suit jacket concealed her ample curves. And it was a rare day when she wore a skirt. Waiting at the elevator, she noticed a few agents approaching. No time for chit chat. She took the steps and made her way to Ted’s floor, stopping at his secretary’s desk.
“Go on in, Sidney. He told me he was expecting you.”
“Should I knock?”
“No, go on in,” the secretary said, eyeing her up and down. “I like that outfit. Why don’t you dress like that more often?”
Sidney grabbed the door handle and started her way inside. “Because I work here.”
Inside, Ted was sitting at his desk with a stern expression on his face. Filli
ng one of the two chairs in front of him was a man with short dark hair in a grey suit. Both men stood up as she entered and closed the door behind her. The man in the grey suit turned and fastened his engaging eyes on hers. Her heart skipped under his heavy gaze.
Glorious morning!
CHAPTER 5
“Hello, Agent Shaw,” said Smoke. His presence seemed to fill up the office. “How have you been?” The tall man’s suit coat bulged in the arms.
“Never better,” Sidney said, taking the open seat in front of Ted’s desk. “Looks like prison life has been treating you well. Did you make that suit in there yourself?”
“It was either this or vanity license plates.”
“I see,” she said, turning her focus to Ted. “So you surprised me. Care to fill me in?”
“The Black Slate is back on the table,” Ted said, taking a black file folder from his drawer. “They appreciated the thoroughness of your report.”
Sidney reached for the folder, but Ted pulled it back. She said, “Who appreciated the thoroughness of my report?”
“You’ll know when they want you to know.”
“Come on, Ted. It’s been two months already, and now it’s suddenly back on the table.”
“Things take time. It could have been longer. But you two are back on it. At least, Mister Smoke has agreed to it.”
“So you two have visited?” She narrowed her eyes on Ted. She’d been left in the dark again.
“We talked,” Ted said, loosening his tie.
“In person or over the phone?”
“Sid, don’t start this.”
“First,” she said, poking her finger into his desk, “you send me in to recruit him. Then, I’m sent out to hunt werewolves with him only to have him slammed back in prison again, and not a single word about it until now. I don’t work like this, not with you. Not with anyone.”
Ted leaned forward, resting his big elbows on the table. “Don’t think you are the only one being put in an unusual predicament, Sid. You get your orders. You follow them. Or did you forget that?”
“This is why I’m a civilian,” Smoke interjected.
The Supernatural Bounty Hunter Files Collector's Set: Books 1-10: Urban Fantasy Shifter Series Page 16
