Collision Control

by C. A. Szarek

  The mar on his permanent record was nothing less than he deserved.

  The disappointment in Chief Martin’s eyes had about slayed him. The same had reflected in his father’s eyes when they’d seen each other for the first time after a full confession. That look from both men was way worse than the reality of an empty bank account. Also no less than Jared deserved.

  Cole was going to have to babysit him when he finally was allowed to come back to work. His partner had had to make promises to their boss. Lucas’ ass was on the line, too. But Jared wasn’t going to screw up—like that anyway—ever again.

  However, he was going to have to work to earn Chief and Cole’s trust again. A position Jared had never fathomed he’d ever be in.

  He and his partner had promised Carrigan they would help in any way they could with her case. She still had to catch Bennett.

  Both Jared’s parents had come to the hospital the morning after that horrible night. He’d called at Mel’s urging—after he’d made her go home to get some sleep. It’d been the right thing to do. They were a family, and he’d needed their support. Joe did, too.

  Jared surveyed the room before he could meet his dad’s hazel gaze, the question still bouncing around in his head.

  Mel squeezed their already entwined fingers as if she could read his mind, and he took strength from her grip—and her love.

  He took in the giant fake Christmas tree, smiling when he saw a homemade ornament with Jenna’s face plastered on it. Her toothless grin told him she’d been about six. The one he’d made that year was probably on the tree somewhere, too. His mom would hold onto those childhood items until they fell apart—and probably even longer.

  “That bad, huh, kid?” Jason shook his head when their eyes met.

  “He’ll be okay. Eventually. The doctors don’t know if there’ll be permanent damage or to what extent. One side of his body is stiff—but not paralyzed. He’ll have to do physical therapy when he’s on his feet. His mouth still works.” Jared smirked.

  “Oh yeah,” Mel said. “Joe expresses himself quite well. Extensive vocabulary.”

  Jason chuckled. “Ah, so he’s a patient like his little brother, then.”

  “I plead the fifth on that one.” Jared smiled, despite the serious conversation.

  Mel grinned.

  “Just ask his mother if you want some stories,” his dad said.

  “I think I will.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  Jason winked, even though there was no mistaking Jared’s sarcasm.

  Ranger trotted over from his bed by the fireplace as if he was just noticing them, his Bassett Hound bark-howl making Jared laugh. “There you are, old man.”

  The dog made a beeline for Mel, wagging his tail hard.

  “Oh, he’s precious,” she breathed, reaching down to pet him.

  Ranger groaned in pleasure, leaning into Mel.

  Jared and his dad both laughed again. “Well, he has good taste in women,” Jared said.

  She beamed, her cheeks going pink all over again.

  “So what’s next?” Dad asked.

  “With Joe?” Jared sighed when his father nodded. “Healing. Trial. Prison. Prosecutor says they’ll offer a plea since he’s cooperating, but he’s looking at five to ten. What’s worse is he’s got charges in multiple states, so it’s a ‘we’ll see’ more than anything else. It’s killing me, but it’s how it has to be.”

  Jason nodded and Mel sat up, slipping her arm around Jared. He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

  “He’ll be okay. He was always a strong kid,” his dad said.

  Emotion clogged Jared’s throat. He forced a nod.

  Jason reached to pat his forearm. “All right. Enough of this on Christmas. I wanted to ask before your mom comes back. She’s pretty torn up over the whole thing. Be warned, after dinner we’re making a family trip to the hospital to see Joe. He deserves family on Christmas, too. Even Jenna’s on board. Don’t give your mom a hard time about it, okay?”

  Mel’s blue eyes misted over. “Joe would like that,” she whispered.

  Again, Jared could only nod at both of them. His voice had packed bags and moved out.

  His mom’s tears over Joe when everything had come out—car theft then him getting shot—had just about killed him.

  Jared’s work suspension drama had just made it worse.

  The fact that both his parents were embracing his brother as if he’d never left was nothing less than Jared had expected, but his throat was clogged, his tongue thick in his mouth.

  Mel had accepted Joe, too. Had spent time speaking with him, getting to know him. It just made Jared love her more.

  Family for Joe. Finally.

  “Christmas is a time for family. Fun. Laughs. Love,” Mel said.

  Tension melted out of Jared’s shoulders, his back, when he looked into the eyes of the woman he loved.

  His dad, Ranger, and the room faded until there was only Mel.

  Her expression was soft, glowing with love.

  For him.

  I’m the luckiest guy in the world.

  “Damn straight.” Mel grinned.

  His dad laughed and Jared felt heat rise in his neck, scorch his cheeks.

  He’d spoken out loud?

  Jared didn’t care.

  Not when she was looking at him like that.

  He couldn’t even form the words to tease her for swearing. Jared cupped her face and kissed her.

  Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:

  Crossing Forces: Calculated Collision

  C.A. Szarek

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  Sweat broke out on her brow and Lee gripped her Glock tighter instead of wiping the moisture away. She bit back a curse.

  What’s taking so long?

  They should’ve already heard shouts of “Federal agents!”

  She hated being in the back. Being back-up.

  Lee and her partner, Clint Downs, were the lead agents of their unit, and usually headed raids.

  Not today.

  Their boss, Special Agent Olivia Barnes, wanted them—Lee in particular—to take a breather from going hard and fast.

  Nothing wrong with the passenger seat, right?

  Maybe if she kept telling herself that, it’d sink in.

  Hard and fast was all Lee knew. How she got the job done. But even her partner had reminded her there were twelve members of their human trafficking unit. They were all partners.

  Ugh. She’d rather hang a ‘Doesn’t play well with others’ sign around her neck.

  “You good?”

  Her partner’s gravelly voice made Lee tense. “Yup.” She didn’t look his way.

  “You seem shaky.”

  “I’m good.” Flexing her fingers on her gun’s grip, she inched forward. “Wanna get this done.”

  Downs didn’t have a chance to answer. The battering ram exploded the door in front of them and wood splinters went flying.

  Collective shouts of “Federal agents!” coupled with “FBI!” surrounded her and she rushed forward behind her teammates. In correct formation, head in the game.

  We’re doing this.

  Screams and whimpers greeted her ears. Her heart used to jump with the fears of the victims every time they did a raid, but not anymore. Instead it was steel, and her gut made of iron.

  Lee was used to seeing tears, and hearing them cry. What she’d never get used to were the bruises and skimpy clothing on kids that were less than half her age.

  Babies. They’re all babies.

  Most weren’t even sixteen, yet in a lot of cases they’d been bought, sold and forced to have sex with more pieces of scum than she could count. The lucky ones got owners that didn’t beat them, but a sex-slave was still a sex-slave.

  Bastards. They all needed to die.

  The relief on the girls’ faces when they first realized they were being rescued was always a reward. Reminded Lee she was a goo
d person—why she did the job. If only the sentiment lasted in her mind.

  A shot rang out and her instincts kicked in. She dropped to the dingy carpet and rolled to the nearest cover—a dark-colored couch.

  Someone returned fire just as her partner crouched beside her. “Shit,” Downs spat. “It’s going south, fast.”

  Lee smirked and raised her Glock. “Nah, we got this.” She popped up over the couch for a quick survey. A bullet whizzed overhead and her partner yanked her back down.

  “Don’t be reckless.”

  When he flashed his perma-scowl, she almost rolled her eyes. How many times had he said that?

  Welllllllll, for today it’s probably the first time.

  Orders to drop weapons went unheeded as more bangs made her ears ring. She risked another look over the couch. Other members of their unit had taken cover, but several were returning fire.

  One of the girls screamed again and Lee’s gaze darted that way. Three—no, four—teens were huddled in a corner, arms wrapped around each other, but they were out of the line of fire.

  Good.

  Today’s group of fine, upstanding human traffickers was made up of illegals from Mexico. Lee and Downs had been after these guys for months. The fact they’d hooked up with Tony Caselli’s outfit was dumb luck.

  The other object of today’s raid—Giovanni Nicci—was shooting a big .45. One of the assholes he was supposed to sell girls to lay in a pool of blood about five feet from him. Dead Mexican’s partner returned fire next to Nicci.

  If—no, when—the FBI gained control of the situation, their unit would score double. According to the morning’s intel, Nicci was supposed to be meeting up with Russians. They’d have to find out why there’d been a change in plans later. It had to mean something.

  Lee took a shot, hearing her partner curse next to her. She ignored him and pulled the trigger again.

  Nicci shouted something in Italian and grabbed his arm. She’d hit the bastard, but it wasn’t mortal. He backed up quickly, retreating down the hallway.

  “Least let me cover your ass,” Downs’ shout sounded behind her as Lee scooted around the couch to pursue Nicci.

  Gunfire in the front room came to a halt as members of their unit fell in behind Lee and her partner. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Evan Roberts wrench the second Mexican’s arms behind his back to cuff him after kicking the guy’s forty away. The short and stocky man started cursing in Spanish. He gestured and told the FBI agent to lick his balls.

  Lee smirked when Roberts answered the man’s insult with something appropriate in Spanish.

  Mexican Two snapped his mouth shut.

  Didn’t expect him to speak the language, huh, scum?

  She kept moving, sensing her partner’s large frame at her back. He inched forward and they made eye contact for a split second. Downs nodded toward the master suite of the apartment and Lee moved beside him to the right.

  Another one of the guys moved in to cover their asses and her partner kicked the door in. Nicci fired a shot even before the wood slammed into the wall. Lee didn’t hesitate. She pulled the trigger of her forty not once, but twice.

  The Italian thug grunted and winced. He dropped the gun as members of her unit swamped the room. “Fuck me. All-fucking-right!”

  “Hands up.” Lee smirked and gestured with her Glock. “C’mon, I don’t need an excuse to put another hole in you, Nicci.”

  “I got witnesses, bitch.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Shut it, Nicci,” Downs ordered.

  Her partner holstered his Glock and Lee kicked Nicci’s weapon away. With the help of Agent Bobby Smythe, Downs hauled the injured piece of scum to his feet.

  “Hey! I have rights.”

  Lee laughed and holstered her gun after the click and slide of her partner’s cuffs shouted Nicci was secure. “Yeah, rights. Like those little girls out there. You’re real concerned about rights.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Not in a million years.”

  “Partner, I got this. Why don’t you see about the girls?” Downs asked, one dark eyebrow arched.

  Lee narrowed her eyes, but nodded. Did he think she was going to attack the trafficker or something? “I’ll get the medics on the way for His Highness here.”

  Smythe snorted.

  She palmed her cell and turned on her heel, shaking her head. Lee made the call. Medics would be there in a few. She took one look at the four petrified teens huddled in the corner and swallowed back a curse. They should’ve let Nicci lie on the floor and bleed.

  Lee sucked in a calming breath and approached the real victims of the raid.

  * * * *

  “The girls are all Mexican. Two are fourteen, one fifteen and the other is sixteen. They won’t tell me their last names, but they’re not legal. They were supposed to be absorbed into Caselli’s organization.” Lee shook her head and met her partner’s crystal-blue gaze.

  “Child Services are already on the way,” Downs said.

  “Good. But that’s going to scare the shit out of them even more. They don’t speak English. Hope we get a bilingual caseworker, or I’ll have to ride down there with. Not on my list of fun things to do. Anyways, what did Nicci give you? Anything?”

  “Some chatter about one of Caselli’s big deal attorneys getting kicked to the curb, but nothing else.”

  “Didn’t we already know that? Angelo Fiato or some shit?”

  Clint nodded. “Right. But rumor is he’s hiding upstate now, and there’s a pretty heavy-duty purse on him.”

  “Can we confirm it?”

  “Roberts and Stewart are already on it.”

  “Good deal. Hope the guy’s good at hiding. When Caselli takes out a hit on you, it’s nothing to play with. Did he say anything about the Russians?”

  “Nope. Denied there was a meet scheduled.”

  “Damn. Either we got bad intel or he’s a liar. I’m leaning toward liar. Maybe we’ll get it out of him later.” Lee studied her partner’s expression when he didn’t remark.

  He sighed and ran his hand through his greying-brown crew cut. Clint Downs had about ten years on Lee’s thirty-six, but the ex-Marine wasn’t washed out. He was still as tall and muscled as the picture on his desk of him in fatigues from twenty years before. Broad-shouldered and handsome, he always wore a neatly trimmed mustache.

  They worked well together—for the most part. But reckless and Lee in the same sentence were his two favorite words. Didn’t matter what order.

  His silence shouted that he wanted—no, needed—to lay into her. It was a normal part of their after-raid debrief.

  “Go for it,” Lee said.

  His blue eyes flashed—she hadn’t missed her mark.

  “One day you’re gonna get killed. And it won’t be because you’re a shitty agent.”

  Lee opened her mouth, but he put his hand up.

  “You know what you’re doing. We both know that. But it’s really fucking amazing that after a year and a half, I do have to remind you I’m your partner.”

  She stared. Words dissolved. Her proper, rule-following partner had dropped the F-bomb? Lee blinked. “Look, I’m—”

  “Don’t tell me you’re sorry, Special Agent Selena Dawson. Show me. Quit shitting on me.”

  Jesus. Where the hell is this coming from?

  “Just remember that you’re my responsibility, as much as I am yours,” Clint said when Lee still didn’t speak. “You put yourself in danger so I have to do the same to go after you. And you might live alone, but I have a wife and two kids who are pretty fond of me coming home at the end of the damn day.”

  Yup. That about defined asshole and partner. Both suddenly synonymous with Lee Dawson. Succinct, even.

  “I’d ask you what happened when you went to Texas to go after Marchetti, but you’d just tell me to go to hell, so I’ll just tell you to get over it and stop being a loner. It’s been six months.”

  Damn straight. Six months, or six days, she wasn’t talkin
g to anyone about Nate Crane.

  “I don’t want to be forced to have a sit down with Barnes,” he said.

  Ice raced down her spine. It wasn’t a threat her partner had made—it was a promise. A man of only necessary words, Downs never said anything lightly.

  Normally she’d have cracked a joke, teased him, but as she looked into pale blue eyes that matched her frozen veins, Lee couldn’t utter a word.

  It’s starting. Dallas all over again.

  “I like working with you,” she managed.

  His shoulders relaxed, that big chest heaving as he sucked in air. “I believe you. But you need to get it together before you get yourself hurt. Or worse.”

  “Before I get you hurt, you mean.” Her throat was tight, painful as she forced her statement past her lips. Lee’s heart thundered, her temples throbbed.

  Clint’s eyes widened and his large hand clamped down on her forearm. She would have pulled away, but her vision wavered, her legs wobbled.

  “Dawson?”

  Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. She fought the darkness swamping her vision.

  “Holy shit, you’re hit!”

  Blackness swallowed her whole.

  Order your copy here

  About the Author

  C.A. is originally from Ohio, but got to Texas as soon as she could. She’s married and has a bachelor’s degree in criminal justice. She works with kids when she’s not writing.

  She’s always wanted to be a writer and is overjoyed to share her stories with the world.

  Email: ca@caszarek.com

  C.A. loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.

  Also by C.A. Szarek

  Crossing Forces: Collision Force

  Crossing Forces: Chance Collision

  Crossing Forces: Calculated Collision