No One Heard Her Scream no-1

by Jordan Dane

  "Well, stick with it. Keep track of how long the bastard stays, but no matter what happens, stay with her. I know that's tough duty." He grinned. "I'll check in with you later." Brogan disconnected.

  Using the cop as bait made it easy to track Galvan's whereabouts, an added bonus. And stalking the sexy cop with the tight little body had side benefits, especially with a good set of binoculars. He hated handing over the assignment to someone else, but Cavanaugh had given him other duties, ones with their own advantages.

  Brogan drove into the subterranean level of the building and parked. After he stepped from the car, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and retrieved a flashlight from the backseat. With a slam of the car doors, he flicked on the light and let the beam guide him.

  The dank air smelled stale, and a chill lingered after the storm. With minimal electricity serving the building, the concrete vault closed in like a tomb. But the layout gave his men a fortified position to defend. Although from the outside it looked like the only way in, Brogan made sure he had an escape route, a recent addition before they moved in. Not even his men knew about it. He contracted it special. Like in all his other locales, he made sure both entrances were sealed and reinforced.

  His cleverness made him smile as he swaggered toward the noise, flashlight in hand.

  Only a few well-positioned lightbulbs and the faint sound of a radio marked where his men were in the underground maze of ramps. Without windows, their rathole remained steeped in shadows and never changed. Time meant nothing here.

  As he approached, Brogan raised his voice.

  "Shut that crap off. This is a no-rap zone. You know how much I hate that shit."

  One of his men cut off the radio and emerged from the darkness, with the rest of them not far behind. A single overhead bulb cast a pale light where his man McPhee stood.

  "Sorry, boss. It helps pass the time."

  "If that's all you can think of to pass the time down here, McPhee, you got some serious problems." Brogan joined the rest of his men in a good laugh. When he lost interest in poking fun at McPhee, Brogan picked through boxes of stale pizza sitting on a crate. He griped, "This place stinks. What's that smell?"

  "One of them got sick again. Pretty rank stuff." McPhee shrugged. He lowered his voice, "They're beginning to suspect something's up."

  Brogan glanced into the shadows, catching glimpses of young girls huddled together. He heard the rattle of chains. Some of them needed discipline, and had been chained as punishment. A patchwork of blankets covered the concrete floor. And the oldest girls defined their personal space, using wooden crates, old cardboard boxes, and other trash to create temporary walls. They staked out their territories like caged animals, their clothes stuffed into garbage bags around them.

  The girls had been moved from place to place, but their new home wasn't fit for pigs. They had no idea this would be the last time they had to worry about their "accommodations." Before the consolidation, the girls worked everything from porn flicks to frat parties. Some had been sold outright through foreign connections. And for a fee, any sex act would be digitally recorded and distributed all over the world. Business had been good, but all that changed. Thanks to the cop and Diego Galvan, Cavanaugh wanted out. And Brogan had been charged with tying up loose ends and terminating the business. He resented the interference, especially from the Mex.

  "Boss man wanted them all in one place." Brogan clenched his teeth, but eventually relaxed with a smirk. "Don't worry. This won't last long." After a quick head count of his men, he asked, "Where's Ellis?"

  One of the men pointed to the far corner and nudged his head in the direction. Under a dim light, Brogan caught the motion and heard the sounds of flesh slapping flesh. Ellis writhed in the dark, his hips grinding. He had one of the girls pinned beneath him. No wonder McPhee had the radio blaring.

  Before all this, there had been rules about roughing up the inventory. Now, all bets were off. Cavanaugh had washed his hands of everything, leaving the girls to the twisted appetites of the men. And Ellis was making up for lost time.

  Brogan hated the sudden crimp in cash flow, but with Cavanaugh never coming near the girls, that left him in complete control. The next-best thing. And he had taken full advantage of his new authority and the change in ground rules.

  "Check it out, McPhee. Ellis knows how to relieve the boredom. Take notes."

  "Good point. The man's a machine." McPhee chuckled and peered into the darkness. "What do you want me to do with the sick one?"

  "No time for that right now. First things first." Brogan licked his lips. "Bring me the new one. I got to sample the goods."

  Two of his men left the circle. From the dark, Brogan heard a high-pitched shriek and the crying of a young girl. Metal grated against metal. The sounds of her cage echoed in the vault. He felt the blood rush under his skin, making him hard.

  "No, please," she cried. Her sobs turned to whimpers.

  Like a pack of hyenas, his men fixed their eyes on the new girl taken from the U.T. Austin campus. No one had touched the Japanese exchange student since the abduction. Brogan would have the honor, the only rule remaining.

  Tears beaded in her eyes and streaked her pale cheeks. Small and petite with a pretty face marred by fear, she flailed against the grip of his men, a man on each arm. With one hand, Brogan grabbed her dark hair at the back of her neck and yanked her to his chest. With the other, he ran his fingers down her body. His men yowled like animals, encouraging him to make a show of it. He didn't disappoint them.

  When he was done, she grimaced with eyes wide. His men now watched in predatory silence. Most of her clothes had been stripped from her body. Exposed, the girl had no idea what would happen next. Brogan smelled her fear. In the stagnant air, the sweat of his exertion rolled down his back, but the fun was only just beginning.

  "Please . . . don't hurt me," she pleaded, her voice heavily accented. The girl clutched his chest.

  "Oh, come on now, darlin'. You ain't in Kansas anymore. Clickin' little red shoes together won't get you rescued," he laughed. Turning his voice into a whisper, his lips to her ear, he said. "But I'll let you in on a little secret. Now's your chance to convince me that keepin' you alive is a good thing. And you better be mighty willing, and persuasive as hell."

  The Riverwalk

  Downtown San Antonio

  Well, what do you know? The man knew his way around a kitchen without a road map.

  Becca enjoyed another bite of omelet and caught him staring at her. Those dark sensual eyes left her breathless, especially by flickering candlelight. Diego had insisted on the ambience, music and all. The only thing to improve the meal would be service in bed. Her imagination conjured up his dark muscular body under white bed linens, a feast for the eyes and no carbs.

  "A penny for your thoughts," he said, taking a sip of wine.

  She couldn't help but laugh. "No way. These thoughts are worth a lot more than a copper Lincoln, my friend. Maybe one day I'll clue you in."

  He returned her grin. "That might be worth the wait. . . and I'm a patient man."

  Becca had no doubt of that.

  In between the wine and subtle flirtations, they ate their meal, each knowing the social banter would come to an end. The real reason they were together loomed ahead. For all Diego's patience and restraint, Becca had no such poise. And she dared to let it show.

  "It's killing you, isn't it?" he asked. Before she replied, he offered, "Go on. Ask me anything."

  "Is Diego Galvan your real name?"

  He stared at her a long moment and eventually answered. "Yes. My mother's maiden name to be exact."

  "Why the big mystery about your past? Your history only goes back so far."

  "The masquerade was for Cavanaugh's benefit, in case he did a background check. I didn't want him to find out how I was connected to Joseph Rivera."

  "The mob guy linked to Global Enterprises? You work for him
, right?"

  "Not exactly." Diego stood and walked toward the window with wineglass in hand. "He's the closest thing I ever had to a father."

  Becca slouched back in her chair, dumfounded by an answer she hadn't expected. "I think you'd better explain."

  Diego looked over his shoulder, his handsome face solemn. He looked like a man wondering where to start. She waited without a word, letting him find his way.

  "Joe adopted me when my mother died of cancer. I was twelve. I never knew my real father and had no other family."

  Diego rejoined her at the table, sitting by her side. He stroked her hand with his fingertips, his downcast eyes mesmerized by the past.

  "Joe fell in love with my mother, Aurelia. They had plans to get married, but before it happened, she got real sick. Ovarian cancer." Diego squeezed her hand and took a deep breath before he went on. "He spent money, hoping for her remission. But in the end, the cancer won. I would have become a ward of the state without a relative to take me in. By then, Joe and I had become family. He raised me, gave me an education. I would do anything for him."

  "I'm so sorry to hear about your mother, Diego." Becca understood his grief. "I guess after she died, Joe introduced you to the family business."

  She couldn't keep the judgmental tone from her voice.

  "It wasn't like that." His eyes flared for an instant. He sat back in his chair and took his hand from her. "He did everything to keep me out of it. At least until Draper came along."

  "Draper? What did he do? How did he turn you into an informant if you weren't involved with Rivera's mob business?"

  "He trumped up racketeering charges on Joe, about the time Global Enterprises merged with Cavanaugh's travel company. Draper saw it as his opportunity to infiltrate an organization he suspected of human trafficking. Cavanaugh's. He threatened to send Joe to jail and throw away the key if I didn't cooperate."

  Becca remembered reading about the racketeering indictment in a newspaper article, part of her background check on Diego. She thought Rivera had beat the rap. At least that's how the paper reported it. Instead, it appeared the charges had been held over his head with all the subtlety of a guillotine.

  "He blackmailed you? Did he really have anything on Rivera?"

  "Not really. I don't think Draper took the time to set it all up. He fabricated his evidence and the testimony. You see, Joe is a careful man. He's not a model citizen, mind you. But it would have taken years to gather enough proof to compromise him. Apparently, Draper preferred the fast track."

  "Why you? You weren't part of Rivera's organization. Why did Draper pull you in?"

  "I didn't have any real family ties, and he knew how much I loved the old man. Draper had Rivera insist on my involvement with the Global Enterprises merger, to get me inside. Cavanaugh never objected. But even with the leg up from Joe, it took me a while to move freely within Cavanaugh's organization."

  He stroked his temple like he had a headache, but continued.

  "It was easy to cover up my history. We only had to blow enough smoke to destroy the link to my mother and the adoption. I didn't want Cavanaugh to find out. In his world, any vulnerability is a sign of weakness. I agreed to become an informant so Joe wouldn't have jail time hanging over his head. He deserved better."

  "The man's neck deep in a criminal organization, Diego. He's not exactly innocent."

  "Look, Rebecca. I never saw him that way. And I refuse to pass judgment on a man who gave my mother peace of mind when she needed it. You know how hard it was for a kid to watch his mother die a little each day? Powerless doesn't begin to describe it. I had nothing to give her, only worry."

  Becca felt his pain, saw it in his face and heard it in his voice. She reached for his hand with both of hers, his skin warm to her touch. In truth, she found it hard to keep her hands off him. She craved intimacy like an addiction.

  "But Joe changed all that. He vowed to take care of me. Not a small thing. When she knew I'd be okay, she accepted her death and made peace with it." Diego took a deep breath and went on. "Making empty promises to a dying woman would have been easy, but Joe lived up to his word, to her and to me. He loved my mother, and for that, I owe him my life."

  The importance of family. She understood how he felt all too well. In Diego's world, loyalty had its price. Draper's price. And Diego had been willing to pay it for a man who had shown compassion to his mother when she needed it most. Joseph Rivera could have walked out on his empty promise but chose not to—and Diego had returned the favor. He stood by a man he thought of as his father. As far as she was concerned, Diego Galvan was the only one who didn't have another agenda or something to gain in all this. Becca had nothing but respect for his selfless act of love ... of duty.

  In her mind, the FBI had taken advantage of the situation. Regardless of his motives, Draper parlayed the love between a father and son and gambled on a chance to stop a greater evil. Could his cause be considered noble? Did the end justify the means?

  A part of Becca understood Draper's motivation. Playing by conventional rules, law enforcement was often at a disadvantage in the criminal world, a world without boundaries and the confines of law. Only yesterday, she had done the very same thing to Diego, blackmail being the weapon she held to his head, her method of coercion. Would she have gone through with her threats if he resisted? Now, thanks to Diego's sense of fair play, she would never find out. But a harsh reality glared her in the face. In hindsight, Becca was no better than Draper.

  And that scared the hell out of her.

  "I thought you were some kind of muscle for the mob. An enforcer," she confessed. "What did you do for Rivera before all this started? You look like a guy who can handle himself. Don't tell me you were his CPA. The bean counter geek defense won't fly with me, Slick."

  He chuckled. "Not exactly. But I do have a financial background, believe it or not. I look for investment opportunities for Joe. I find ways for him to spend his money."

  "Money laundering?" she asked.

  "I only look for legitimate business ventures or properties for him to acquire or sell off. Beyond that, I have no idea how his finances are handled. I strictly optimize the hard assets of his net worth."

  "You must specialize in hostile takeovers then. Why else would you carry a concealed weapon?" she teased, sort of.

  "Now that, I can explain. It was Joe's idea. A man should be able to defend himself, he would always say. Considering his career choice, I saw the merit in his point of view." Diego grinned and shook his head. "Joe arranged for my training and made sure I was proficient with weapons. And roughhousing with some of his guys put eyes in the back of my head. Hell, for a while Joe and I trained together, until prosperity made a beeline for his belly."

  "Up 'til now, the drills were exercise, a way for me to focus my mind and body. I never thought—" He stopped himself and fixed his eyes on her. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

  He turned the tables. She cleared her throat and forced a smile. "I think I can handle that."

  "Trust is a gift, a two-way street. Do you trust me, Rebecca? If you do, I'd like to hear more about your sister."

  Becca swallowed, searching his eyes for a reprieve. None came. He waited for her to fill the silence. She had no idea where to start, so she cut to the heart of the matter, a testimony to her newfound trust in him.

  "When she was little, Dani looked up to me. Somewhere along the way, I lost that. I took her love for granted and shoved it aside like it never mattered. I was too busy." Becca stood and headed for the couch, wine bottle and glass in hand. With her prompting, Diego followed. "Now I wish I had my time with her back. She died, and I never got a second chance to make things right between us."

  "If you had that second chance, what would you do differently?"

  "I would have centered my world on what really mattered . . . my family. Momma and Dani would be top of my list." A tear rolled down her cheek. Staring into the shimmering gold of her wine, Becca didn't bother to
wipe the tear away. "I feel so lost without them. My mother is dead inside, paralyzed with grief, and I can't find a way back into her life. She doesn't need me ... or want me there. I feel so ashamed of my part in this. And now, I can't even find Dani's killer."

  "That's hard to do when you've been banned from the investigation. You shouldn't blame yourself." He leaned closer and reached for her hand, kissing her palm with tenderness. The compassion in his eyes touched her heart. "I believe in second chances, Rebecca. And the people we love? We hold them in our hearts. They make us who we are, become part of us."

  He grasped her hand and squeezed it, infusing her with his strength. Becca shut her eyes and took a deep breath, comforted by his words. For an instant, she felt the love of her baby sister, even pictured her smiling face. God, it feels good to be connected again.

  When she opened her eyes, she saw Diego in a new light. How could someone with deception in his heart speak like this? He had let her see inside him, given himself freely. And the foundation of his life had been family, something she envied. Diego made it look easy.

  "You are a strong woman, Rebecca. But how you bear the burdens in your life defines that strength. Never be ashamed of your vulnerability. It's as much a part of you as your courage."

  He wiped a tear from her face and smiled. "And what about this case you can't ignore? The body of a young girl found in the theater. I can see why it hits close to home, but do you think the murder is connected to Cavanaugh?"

  "The evidence suggests other suspects, but my instincts as a cop tell me otherwise. I can't ignore those feelings. Somehow, I think this case is linked to him. I just haven't found the connection yet."

  Becca told him about her case, thankful to be off the painful topic of her family. He paid attention to every detail and asked intelligent questions. It felt good to bounce her theories off someone else. It felt good to have a partner.

  "If Cavanaugh is involved in trafficking, he's got to have his stash of girls nearby. And I think Matt Brogan is up to his red neck in it." Anger raced across Diego's eyes at the mention of Brogan. "I haven't found any direct evidence, but I've been feeding possible locations to Draper as I find them."