Cold Secrets (Cold Justice Book 7)

by Toni Anderson

  As she was about to pull away, he cupped her face and took the kiss deeper, feeling the surprise, followed by the searing heat of her response. Her breathing hitched as her tongue met his. He fitted her more closely against him, his calloused fingers rough against the slippery satin of her blouse. Her arms wound around his neck and her hands sank into the hair at his nape. She was hot—body, face, mouth. His body begged him not to pull away, not to stop, but he did it anyway, and stared down into her pretty eyes.

  “What was that for?” he asked gruffly.

  “Curiosity.” Her lips were reddened from their kiss. Her honey skin held a flush of scarlet. “I wanted to see if you tasted as good as you looked.”

  His throat grew tight. “What’s the verdict?”

  She pulled away and walked over to where she’d dumped her laptop and coat. Picked them up.

  He made himself stand very still as she walked away. Made himself accept that the kiss had been enough.

  She opened the door and looked over her shoulder. “Better.”

  Then she closed the door, severing the connection. And he knew a kiss was never going to be enough.

  Chapter Six

  Ashley hadn’t expected Lucas to taste that good. She hadn’t expected molten heat to be lurking just beneath the surface of his very conservative suit and tie, either.

  The kiss had been a rare act of whimsy on her part, a way of satisfying her curiosity. A way of exorcising her interest in the man and putting out the flames that had started to burn between them. Reality never lived up to fantasy. Disappointment was comforting in its familiarity.

  But nothing about Lucas Randall’s kiss had been disappointing or comforting.

  Instead, it had ramped up her desire until she’d forgotten her good intentions. If there was one thing she appreciated, it was a man who knew how to give a woman pleasure, and that kiss had told her all she needed to know about just how good Lucas Randall would be in the bedroom.

  Thankfully one of them was sensible enough to stop things before they got out of hand. It was annoying he’d been the one to do it. But her sensual nature had got her into trouble on more than one occasion—another reason to hold people at arm’s length.

  She headed back to her room and snuck silently inside. Mallory was fast asleep. Ashley crept into the bathroom and booted up her computer. Her email dinged with an incoming message and she muted the volume. Her heart raced a little when she saw the email was from Lucas.

  Agent Chen, thanks for your assistance earlier. Any follow up questions regarding that last issue we discussed, feel free to take them up with me at your convenience. Agent Randall.

  She laughed, then caught sight of her face in the mirror. Dammit. She looked happy. Her smile fizzled. While he might be hot and handsome, Lucas Randall was exactly the sort of guy she needed to avoid. He was too nice. Too tenacious. Too principled. Alternatively she could just fuck his brains out and get it out of both their systems.

  No doubt about it, the guy turned her on. Her arousal was obvious in the way her hard nipples pressed against the thin material of her blouse, and was reflected in the huge pupils that stared back at her from the bathroom mirror.

  She ached.

  Ached to be touched.

  Ached to belong.

  She ran her hand over her breasts and matching pleasure thrummed hard between her legs. But she didn’t try to find her own release. Tonight, rather than freeing and liberating, the idea felt small and lonely.

  Tonight, lust wasn’t the problem.

  Loneliness was.

  She pulled her thoughts away from her selfish wants and needs. Lovers were temporary. Reputation was forever. She exited out of her email without replying to Lucas. She had one goal today, and it wasn’t to get laid. She wanted to know whether the Agata Maroulis case was connected to the Chinatown brothel.

  She checked her watch. Ten-thirty PM. Like most computer nerds she was a bit of a night owl, though she curbed her natural tendencies to be more effective at her job. Her lips twisted. It seemed she curbed a lot of natural tendencies.

  She opened a link to the surveillance footage from one of the cameras inside Terminal E of Logan International Airport on the day Agata arrived from Greece. Ashley found the appropriate time frame and watched the girl pick up her luggage in Arrivals, and then navigate Immigration. The woman hadn’t mentioned a job to the border guard. Agata’s desire for adventure and travel had overridden good sense. Ashley didn’t judge her. She’d done far worse during her journey to freedom.

  Agata walked out of Terminal E and took the MBTA bus #33. According to the files, the next time anyone reported seeing her was two years later on the day she’d walk into that downtown police station.

  The cops should have saved her. It burned that they hadn’t.

  Ashley should probably wait until tomorrow and put in a request to the transit authority for surveillance tapes—which she would do—but there was nothing to stop her getting a head start and taking a quick look herself.

  First, she used the light of her cell to return to the bedroom and find her roll-on luggage, which she carried back into the bathroom. She put on her pjs, brushed her teeth and removed what little was left of her makeup. Then, careful to be as quiet as possible, she took out a second laptop from the bottom of the case and booted it up.

  This was an unregistered machine that contained a lot of her hacking tools. The password was encrypted beyond military standards, virtually impossible to crack. It would be easier to torture the code out of her or plant a key logger to pick up everything she typed.

  She took the machine back into the bedroom and propped herself up in bed. Mallory’s breathing was deep and even.

  Getting into the MBTA server wasn’t hard at all. She exploited a known backdoor vulnerability in the operating system. Finding the right camera, not to mention the right time and date, took longer. It was midnight by the time she found the place where Agata got off the bus and entered the subway. Her heart ached a little for the Greek woman. Young and vibrant, by all accounts Agata had been bursting with the need for adventure. How it must have devastated her to be tricked into a life of prostitution. Raped and abused on a daily basis, strung out on drugs so other people could make money off her flesh, her pain, her humiliation.

  Anger churned like sulfuric acid in Ashley’s stomach. She could taste the horror of it, the fierce desire to fight, the pain of defeat, the death of hope.

  The fact the cops had let the girl down incensed her, but it was too late now. Agata had died desperate and alone on the streets of the country she’d wanted to explore. All Ashley could do was find those responsible and make them pay for what they’d done to her, so others escaped that same bleak existence.

  After carefully searching the footage, she found Agata again as she took the blue line and exited at Government Center. Ashley felt a burst of exhilaration when she spotted the Greek girl getting on the green line toward downtown. A wide yawn told her it was time to quit. She could barely keep her eyes open. She wrote a note to herself about the time and cameras she’d tracked so far.

  Using her official laptop, she fired off an email asking for access to the MBTA database. Any evidence needed to be accessed through legal channels in order to be admissible in court. She yawned again and logged off the other servers, making sure there weren’t any unexpected communications from their IT department about a breach in security. It looked good so she shut it down and buried the second laptop under her clothes in her case.

  She looked at the hotel room door and thought about all the things she could have been doing with Lucas Randall. Crawling under the duvet, she decided this was better. Denying herself a man like Lucas Randall was the sort of penance she did on a daily basis. Anyway, the Bureau was full of hot alpha males. Even as she thought it, she knew she was lying to herself—it was one of the ways she stayed sane.

  Honesty wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  * * *

  Lucas slept like a
dead man.

  From now on he should include beer, Jack Daniels and searing kisses from beautiful women as part of his nightly routine. He grinned. Fat chance.

  He left the hotel and resisted the urge to head a few blocks north to check on Becca. Easier to keep a secret if he didn’t draw attention to it.

  It was early, but there were plenty of people around during his fifteen-minute walk to the field office. Boston was a city in mourning but facing its troubles with its usual bullish pride. Those emotions were written clearly in the expressions of people he passed on the street.

  He grabbed a coffee and headed inside, waited in line to go through security.

  Upstairs the bullpen was quiet. Most of the task force was still searching the port. Those who weren’t were probably catching a few hours’ sleep. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a tall, raven-haired figure walking away from him down the hallway.

  Special Agent Ashley Chen.

  He should have picked up more coffees, but he didn’t want her to think he was reading anything into last night’s kiss. They’d both been tired, had a few drinks, and he’d been punch-drunk from exhaustion.

  And if those were the only reasons they’d locked lips, they’d have ended up naked in each other’s arms.

  In the conference room Mal and Agent Chen were both hunched over their laptops. Today Ashley wore a gray pantsuit with a crimson blouse. There were small silver hoops in her ears, and her hair shone like polished ebony. Everything about her appearance screamed dedicated federal employee and he half wondered if he’d imagined that she’d kissed him last night.

  “Hey.” Mallory looked up and smiled. “Any news from the port?”

  Lucas shook his head. Ashley didn’t glance up, but the stiffening of her shoulders told him she was plenty aware of him.

  He didn’t want this to be awkward. They’d only kissed. That’s why he’d sent the email last night, but maybe she had read more into it… He’d been trying to keep things light, but this attraction complicated things and he didn’t like complicated. He liked simple. He liked honest and no bullshit.

  “Agent Chen.” He addressed her directly, determined to knock the weirdness right out of the air. “I have those cell records we discussed last night from Mae Kwon’s phone company—”

  She held up her hand. “Not right now.”

  He jerked as if she’d bitten him. Yesterday she’d been dogged in her determination to help. Had she changed her mind because of a simple kiss?

  Not that the kiss had been even close to simple.

  She looked up. “I’m tracking the Greek girl’s arrival in Boston, and I think I’m getting somewhere.”

  Intrigued, he went over to look at Ashley’s laptop, pointed at the blonde figure on the screen. “That’s Agata Maroulis?”

  She nodded, intent on the images.

  He pulled up a chair and she jumped as their knees accidentally brushed. So much for the indifference she wore like one of her expensive suits.

  “I tracked her from the airport all the way to downtown. This should be her going into the parking lot.”

  She clicked a different camera and on screen the girl walked out of the station carrying a large backpack and wearing a sunny smile as she looked around. She had a runner’s physique and short, curly blonde hair. She wore tight jeans and a green-checkered short-sleeved blouse. She looked like freshness and innocence personified.

  Victims like Agata were the reason he’d joined the FBI—to stop people from exploiting others. To rescue those who were in trouble. Unfortunately it rarely ended like the fairy tales. People died. Bad guys got away with it. But not this time. This time they were going to find these men and make them face the consequences.

  When Agata’s body had first been identified the FBI had put out an appeal for information. No one had come forward. Not a single person admitted ever seeing her. Someone had known something, though. The people running this gig. The men who’d used her body. The johns had to have known these women weren’t willing participants. Lucas wanted to know who those deviants were. He wanted to know how they found out about the underground brothel. And he wanted them to pay for the misery they’d helped perpetuate.

  On screen Agata stood on the curbstone, bouncing on her tiptoes. A minivan pulled up.

  “Can you stop it there?” he asked Ashley.

  She did as he requested and he peered closer. “Run it forward slowly.” Lucas felt his pulse kick up as he recognized Mae Kwon getting out of the passenger side of the vehicle. She was wearing an ill-fitting navy business suit that could have passed for a hotel chain uniform. “That’s the madam from the Boston brothel.”

  “So we have a solid connection between the Agata Maroulis murder and the Chinatown brothel that was destroyed.” She nodded with satisfaction. “We’ll have more leads to follow.”

  “That’s good work.” It showed solid investigative skills despite her youthful appearance. He didn’t know what Alex’s issues were with Ashley, but she’d just proved she was damn good at her job.

  Mallory came over and looked over their shoulders. She was wearing her rock of an engagement ring, and the baby bump was enhanced by a form-fitting T-shirt under her suit jacket. She looked healthy and content and Lucas was happy for her. If anyone deserved a chance at a good life, it was Mallory Rooney and Alex Parker.

  On screen, Mae Kwon shook Agata’s hand and motioned for her to stow her luggage in the rear compartment of the van. Then she reached for Agata’s passport, indicating she wanted to check it against a clipboard she was wielding. She waved the victim into the vehicle with a smile.

  Agata seemed excited as she got in the van. Her lips were moving animatedly as if she was having a lively conversation. There was no suspicion yet that she’d been duped.

  Mae Kwon got in and the minivan pulled away from the curb. How long had it been before Agata had realized her dreams were ashes?

  He forced the thoughts away from the young woman. Agata was gone and he needed a clear mind to rescue others still caught up in the nightmare, and to capture those who’d been responsible for her death.

  “The methods adopted with Agata were more typical of the Russian Mafia than Asian gangs.” Mallory spoke up. “Asian gangs tend to transport illegal immigrants through seaports and hold the documents hostage until the aliens have paid off their debts with forced labor or prostitution. The victims are trapped because of their illegal status and isolated because of the language barriers and the fact they don’t know how the system works. Plus, family members back home are threatened with violence if their debts aren’t paid off. The job abroad ruse is normally a Russian or Eastern European trick.” She touched his shoulder. “Alex said they were getting things under control with this latest intrusion. He might have time to get us some names and addresses from the data you sent him this morning. These scumbags have been getting away with this for far too long.”

  He nodded and Mallory went back to work. Ashley was replaying the tape.

  “Any chance we can get an image of the driver or the plate on the minivan?” he asked.

  Ashley’s lips twisted. “Let me see if the station has any other cameras, but don’t hold your breath.” He met her gaze, and suddenly the memory of the kiss they’d shared flared between them. She might portray cool aloofness but her eyes betrayed her.

  And there wasn’t a damned thing either of them could do about it.

  He dialed Sloan on his cell. “Agent Chen found surveillance video of Agata Maroulis getting into a minivan with Mae Kwon on the day the girl arrived in the city. The cases are definitely connected.”

  Sloan swore. Her people should have found this already and she knew it. It hadn’t been a priority before the explosion, but it was a priority now.

  “Good work,” she told him. “See if Chen can dig up anything else from the Maroulis case that might give us a lead.”

  “Any sightings?” Lucas asked.

  “Not a goddamned thing. Keep me informed.
” Sloan hung up.

  Ashley’s fingers flew over the keyboard until she found another camera. The rear of the van came clearly into view but the plate was too muddy to read.

  “Let’s see if we can get a better angle of the front or the driver when they leave the lot,” she told him. But the van drove away without them getting a clear shot.

  “Damn.” Her lips compressed as if she was angry with herself. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” he said quietly.

  Her eyes were as inky as the night sky when they met his. “It’s just there’s so much information that’s been missed. And although they say once something’s online it’s online for good, that’s not true. Tracks can be wiped. Digital evidence is as ephemeral as a fingerprint if someone knows what they’re doing.” She stared at the screen and then leaned forward, and then began to rewind the footage.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “It’s a pick-up drop-off zone, right? It’s possible they drove past more than once.” She kept rewinding at high speed, then slowed. She pointed to the screen; there was the van again but approaching from the other direction. The driver had his window down, elbow on the ledge, face in profile.

  Then something drew the driver’s attention and, for a single moment, he looked straight toward the camera. Ashley froze the image and enlarged it on the screen. Then she pressed a key, and the sound of a nearby printer burst into action.

  “That’s what they call in the business the money shot.” Randall held up his hand, and she gave him a high-five. “He isn’t one of the three men I saw in the brothel.” His eyes narrowed because the fact they had another suspect suggested this was a well-organized, well established group who’d been operating in complete secrecy.

  He went over to the printer and picked up the piece of paper. “Now let’s see if we can ID this sonofabitch.”

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later, Lucas slipped quietly into Becca’s hospital room. He exchanged a nod with Agent Curtis who stood and stretched her arms high above her head. The news was on TV, showing the manhunt down at the port.