Bend, Don't Break

by Skye Callahan

  She was a lot like Kat in that respect, but far less pushy and bitchy about it.

  She was more subtle. Conniving. But she was well-liked by visitors. Especially those looking for two women, since Trick and Babs were nearly inseparable. “Trick and Babs were something of an item.”

  Trent’s jaw went slack although I could tell he was trying to hide his reaction. “Item as in—”

  “Hard to tell in those circumstances, but I’d say yes. Babs has more of a submissive personality, but she can still be a handful.”

  “And the chances their current arrangement is non-sexual?”

  I snorted. “It’s suspicious, but is it related to any of the other girls?”

  “Haven’t uncovered anything.” Trent tucked the papers back into the file and returned it to his drawer. “The girl who was picked up last night had a number for the same escort service but denies that she took their offer. How about you get your clearance so you can help me figure it out?”

  “Working on it.”

  Chapter 8

  Becoming Kirk

  Getting medically cleared for work was much simpler than my psychological clearance.

  Four weeks.

  My four weeks was up, but we talked about my going back to work, dealing with the memories in a different setting, plans for reestablishing myself.

  What I looked forward to wasn’t dealing with the memories, it was an opportunity to heal while doing some good and bringing the rest of the case to a close.

  There wasn’t a peep about Rose—or Silver—during the entire conversation. Dr. Combs was probably waiting for me to broach the topic, but as time passed, it seemed like there was more in the way of ever seeing her again. Whoever was watching her—to be specific. And then there was my lingering uncertainty about whether or not it was a good idea for either of us regardless of the danger.

  Paperwork finally in hand, I prepared to return to the station, but I stopped along the way to check my messages.

  T: steer clear of station house—busted R’s spies.

  Well, that was one obstacle out of the way.

  I laid my head against the steering wheel, the pistons in my head pumping out more ideas than I could process.

  How long had it been since anything felt relatively normal?

  I’d been on the path to this moment most of my life.

  Trent and I had made our plans long before we graduated high schools—taking advantage of a local program that allowed us to take college classes in high school, we both had justice studies associates by the time we graduated. Then, we went straight in the police academy, flying just as smoothly through those courses. We worked our way up to detectives as fast as possible—our coursework and high marks made us nearly impossible to stop.

  As did our youth, energy, and commitment to getting the job done.

  We had social lives, but they weren’t the center of our life.

  Back then, it seemed like we had it all figured out. Moved in and up through the station house, while many of the older officers were retiring or moving to less physically demanding jobs.

  One night, we happened to pick up a case regarding a lead on a crime ring. Little did we know it was bigger than that.

  “You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” the suspect hissed as I hauled him to his feet. I handed him off to the officers as a phone rang. I traced the sound around the area where I’d tackled him, and found it under the table.

  Trent shrugged, so I took a chance and answered.

  “Kirk?” The voice on the other end was a calm, smooth baritone.

  “Yeah.” I kept my answer short in case he recognized the difference.

  “You haven’t run into a problem, have you?”

  “Nothing I can’t take care of.”

  The man on the line grunted. “Look, I’m sure you were good in your old ring, but we don’t deal with slip-ups or potential problems. Maybe we should find someone else.”

  He hadn’t pegged me as being someone else, yet, so I pressed again. “I’m the one you want.”

  I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, but the only way to find out was to keep him going.

  “Fine. We’ll meet up tomorrow—I’ll call with the time and location. You have until then to get the medical supplies we need.”

  Fuck.

  “You’ll receive the list tonight.”

  That was promising, but I wondered where he was sending it, but without further instructions, the line went dead.

  “Well?” Trent asked. He hadn’t moved or made a sound since I answered the phone.

  “Looking for medical supplies—said he’d send a list,” I explained.

  “Narcs?”

  I shrugged, “We could ask our new guest.”

  Back at the station, however, “Kirk” refused to tell us a damn thing, until I mentioned giving a call to his new boss and explaining that he’d been so kind to talk.

  “You have no idea—” he began again.

  “That’s what they all say. How about you give me one?” I reclined in my seat wearing a thick veneer of ease to cover the whirlwind in my brain while Trent hung back waiting for an opportune time to jump in. This could be a huge case—an enormous bust if we could get closer to the man on the other end of the phone call.

  “They’re bigger than one little police station. Connections you wouldn’t believe.”

  Trent scoffed. “Then, why do they need a crummy street criminal like you? What’ll happen if you screw up this delivery tomorrow? We could release you right after the scheduled drop. Or...,” he pointed one finger at the suspect. “Better yet, we’ll give you everything you need and set up nice and pretty at the drop.”

  His eyes widened and he tensed. He was definitely more scared of them than us—

  I slid a piece of paper across the table. “Give us the list or it’ll be big news that you got busted and screwed up.”

  “They’ve never seen me.”

  I smirked, but he snorted in response, sitting forward in his chair. “All you’re going to do is get us all killed.”

  “I’m sure they’ll have no problem finding you,” I said.

  “And if I give you what you want?”

  “You remain an anonymous criminal,” I said tapping the piece of the paper.

  “Phone has access to an email account.” He scribbled something down in the paper and slid it back to me—a crudely drawn hand flipping the bird.

  Trent opened the door and flagged in two officers. “Send him to lock up and tell them to hold him until we get word from his friend on the meeting. Then stick a tail on him and tell his anonymous friends where to find him.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Kirk started to stand, but I shoved him back into the chair. “It’s unethical or whatever.”

  Trent smiled. “Crashing your little ring is entirely ethical. We may as well get some enjoyment while doing it.”

  Kirk shifted his gaze to me.

  I shrugged. “All I want is a password. I doubt you got this far by being a complete idiot, but when I spoke to your friend earlier he did mention not tolerating screw ups, and you have already been caught. I doubt they made it to the status you claim they have by being forgiving. We’ll figure it out either way, but you have about sixty seconds to determine your own fate.”

  His eyes narrowed and nose flared. “Password EN1F37R6.”

  I pulled up the account and typed in the information. Miraculously, our not-so-smart thug had some sense. I squinted as I scrolled through the list.

  “Narcs?” Trent asked again.

  “Hardly.” I continued reading—Aspirin, bandages, rubber gloves, condoms.... “It looks like they’re building an enormous first-aid kit. Depo-Provera?”

  “Birth control?” Trent asked, looking over my shoulder. “What kind of operation is this?”

  Kirk smirked. “An undercover clinic devoted to fighting evil. What the hell do you think it is?”

  “Sex trafficking?” I growled, feeli
ng my blood heat, coiling my muscles to dangerous extremes.

  The scumbag crossed his arms and leaned back.

  I planted my fists against the table, getting into his face. “You look smug for the idiot who just got busted and ratted them out.”

  “Maybe so, but you’ll be the ones to end up dead. See, I, too revel in the little things.”

  Trent pulled me back. “Give us a name.”

  He raised his chin, then frowned and shook his head. “Doesn’t have one.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, turning on my heels to get out of the room.

  Trent met me in the hallway as the unis hauled off Kirk. “What’s the possibility there’s a sex trafficking scheme of this caliber operating here?”

  “We could find out.” I held up the phone and wiggled it. “He said they haven’t seen him—they don’t know what he looks like.”

  “He seemed to be goading you in that direction. He looked quite amused with the turn of conversation. What if these guys know more than we think?”

  “Then we bust whoever shows up and figure out a plan C before I get shot.”

  We went forward with the plan, and surprisingly even Captain Richards backed the idea, probably betting on a huge break before his retirement.

  The next evening, the message came in: 6:15 under 12th Street viaduct.

  “Shit,” I glanced at the clock. “We have less than twenty minutes.”

  We loaded everything into an old car that we’d requisitioned from a drug bust, and Trent mobilized officers to act as backup while I headed in alone.

  I parked under the viaduct and got out of the car. My gaze traveled around the area while I leaned against the trunk. With my sleeves were rolled up, the snake on my forearm was on full display—at least it helped me look the part.

  I crossed my ankles in front of me to look confident—nonplussed by the situation while I surveyed every movement around me.

  Fifteen minutes later, a large red pick-up appeared with two men in the cab.

  The man in the passenger seat rolled down the window. He had scraggly black hair and bright green eyes, while the driver had long blond hair pulled back in a ponytail and dark eyes like a weasel.

  “Load it up,” the passenger said.

  “I’m not a mule,” I scowled

  They both glared back at me.

  I stepped aside gesturing to the car. “Don’t you even want to check the merchandise—verify it’s all there? I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings later.”

  “If you don’t sound like a fucking college prick,” the passenger said, flipping the door open so it narrowly missed hitting me. “Not how Miles described you.”

  “First impressions and phone conversations can be misleading.”

  The hairs on my arms stood as a second pickup appeared, this one black, but slightly smaller. I hoped that Trent and his men were close but that they’d stay out of sight.

  Two trucks were overkill for the haul, but a tall, broad-shouldered man with rich dark skin stepped out of the second truck. He was dressed markedly better than the other two, so I assumed he was the leader of the operation.

  “Didn’t expect a party,” I said, opening the trunk. Maybe it was best to get things moving. “Your order.”

  “Gabe,” the new man said, “Check it out—discretely, then load it up.”

  The green-eyed man grunted and scowled at me as he passed to rip open the first box. He sifted through the contents before following suit on each of the following boxes while the rest of us quietly waited.

  My heart pounding a steady supply of anxiety through my stream. Gabe nodded then waved to the blond driver, who stepped around, taking the first box, and together they loaded up the truck.

  I stood by and waited for another order—I wasn’t doing anything unless told.

  “How’d you manage to get it all so fast?” Miles asked.

  I smirked, “Connections. I called in a few favors and finagled from there. I want more work.”

  He turned away. “I’ll call you if I need something.”

  “I’m better than a gopher,” I said quickly. “And I’m betting you know that since you came out here to see for yourself, Miles.” I hoped my assumption was right.

  Miles glared back at me with a mix of disbelief and derision, but it was nothing compared to Gabe’s soured expression. “Gabe, Alan—head back and check in.”

  “You’ve got—” Gabe began, but Miles silenced him with a flick of his wrist, without ever taking his eyes off of me. “I won’t remind you where you stand after last week, Gabe.”

  The tires of the red truck spun against the loose and cracking pavement as Alan gunned it out of the empty lot.

  “You are just a gopher—replaceable. I’m here to make sure you’re not a liability.”

  I didn’t stand down, even as he moved closer, slamming the car’s trunk closed.

  “If you’re not interested,” I shrugged, starting to turn.

  “Confident,” he said. “Stupid, but confident. Did you leave a trail?”

  I knew what he meant, but I opted for a smart assed comment to keep in character. “I can find my way home just fine.” I opened the driver’s door, catching his glare out of the corner of my eye. “It’s all clear. No one will be tracing it or following me. Can you offer me steady work or not?”

  I needed something more. I needed to know his role, something about the organization.

  “I’ll talk to my boss and maybe I’ll be in touch.”

  I waited in the car until everything was clear, then drove around town a few times—making sure I wasn’t being followed before meeting up with Trent at the station.

  A crowd filled one of the briefing rooms and Trent stepped outside to meet me before I could get close.

  “They’re waiting on you,” he said.

  I squinted, not recognizing most of the men in suits who flanked the long table.

  “Apparently this trafficking ring is big. FBI big.”

  My blood turned to ice as we walked into the room and not even the hot stuffy atmosphere could melt it. They took turns bombarding me with questions for the next hour—even though everything I knew could be summed up in about ten minutes. Their knowledge however went far beyond that. They brought in boxes full of information on locations in multiple countries linked to the one in our own backyard.

  “If you know this much, why not take them down?” I asked.

  One of the women in the group spoke up. “It’s bigger and deeper, we need more information.”

  “We want their leader,” the agent nearest me said. He’d identified himself as Agent Michaels and seemed to be in charge of the investigation. “He has a dozen or more similar organizations—ties around the world. We’ve been trying to get someone inside for a year—almost managed it a few months ago.”

  The phone in my pocket buzzed.

  Zini’s Bar 12:30am.

  I exhaled slowly—it looked like they had that someone on the inside. “He wants to meet again at a bar after midnight.”

  “A public place is good,” Trent said, but Agent Michaels eyed him before returning attention to me.

  “You’ll go,” Michaels said.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, standing. “This is my life I’m putting on the line. What happened to the last guy—the one who almost managed to get in?”

  The agent’s steely glare said all I needed to know, but he answered anyway. “He was found out. Killed.”

  I rubbed my hand over my dry lips feeling a wave of nausea come over me. This was bigger than anything I’d ever imagined getting into. Not an international organization. I’d done small undercover jobs—this was mind blowing.

  Captain Richards approached me. “I offered them our full cooperation, but you don’t have to go in if you don’t feel comfortable.”

  “They’ve seen me. If we change it up they’ll know, and the opportunity will be gone. But if I am going in, and risking my life, I want to know how deep I’ll be going.�
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  “We’re not sure how deep it goes, or the best way to get to the leader. We’ve brought in lower level associates before, but none of them will turn, and we’ve been hitting brick walls at every turn. If you go in, you’ll be flying off the radar.”

  “Off the radar? It’s a sex retreat.” I rubbed my eyes. Were they really asking me to do this?

  “We can have one of our counselors help you prepare if you decide to go in.”

  “If there’s enough time for that,” I said. Miles didn’t seem the type to leave time for anything.

  I was going in over my head. I was about to be sucked into the world of extortion and sex trafficking—more so than any cop would ever imagine. Sex, alcohol, drugs, violence. I’d have to seep into their world. Become the vile man of nightmares or die.

  But it wasn’t the fear of death that kept me going. If that was the case, I would have never gone in. It was the women. Girls ripped from their families, friends, and lives. With them as my reminder, I descended into the darkness, let it cover my soul, conceal my true intentions, and immerse me into my new role as Kirk.

  Chapter 9

  Fated Thorn

  Richards approved my return to work the day after I turned in my paperwork, and despite the exhaustion that set in early, I didn’t stop running the case once I started. I was supposed to stay behind the scenes, but by the end of my first week back, I’d realized that even long hours of paperwork and leaning over a desk was more than I had bargained for.

  Friday night, I crashed on the couch, barely wanting to lift my head after pulling a ten-hour shift. Trent and I thought we had a lead on the missing girls, but it ended up a bust.

  Jack was asleep on the couch next to me after a long day at the park with his dad. After which, I was left to babysit while Evan and Katie had a quiet dinner.

  It was the least I could do since they’d put up with me and my unpredictable moods.

  My phone rang and I moved carefully to answer it, not wanting to wake Jack. I slid off the couch and ducked into the kitchen. When Trent’s name flashed on the display, I figured he’d caught another lead.

  “What’s up?”

  “First off—she’s fine so don’t freak.”