Locke and Key (Titan Book 12)

by Cristin Harber

  “Sugar did?” Jared raised an eyebrow.

  “Well…” Parker rolled his eyes. “No. She crumbled hers up and threw it at me.”

  He nodded. That seemed right. “Back to Cassidy. She’s been embedded. Her résumé says investigative, but what the shit does that mean?”

  “The girl has gonads,” Parker said. “I’ve watched enough footage on her. Embedded in the Middle East a few times, chased drug cartels with the DEA. She has no fear.”

  “Is that a good thing?” Rocco asked.

  “She’s Titan.”

  Jared nodded. “Where are we with the Locke dynamic? He going to try to kill her out in the field?”

  “Fuck if I know,” Rocco said. “But where can we get an in that good? On a project that Delta’s going to want to go after, hardcore?”

  “Nowhere.” Statistically, a woman who looked like Cassidy had to be very rare, and judging by the value assigned to such a person as compared to the girls on the rest of the list, it was clear that she was a more valued commodity. “She’s a solid ticket into this operation,” Jared muttered. “But damn.”

  Uncertainty marred Parker’s forehead, and Jared tried to get a read on Rocco’s blank face, but nothing showed.

  “She won’t have a problem going. Hell, I’d say if she saw this list, she would come up with the idea before anybody else in the room.” Rocco rubbed a hand over his chin. “The question becomes—”

  “Locke,” Parker said.

  Rocco nodded, rolling his lips into his mouth, and this time his expression was easy to read. Uncertain. Uneasy. Unpredictable. “Again, what’s their dynamic?”

  “I’d say it’s… evolving,” Parker said.

  “He trusts her,” Rocco added. “That’s a step in the right direction. He’s invested in this project that they’re working on, and I don’t know if he feels as though he owes her assistance for being a complete jackass or if there’s more.”

  “Yeah, more worries me.” Jared crossed his arms.

  “I don’t think it should worry you. You’re thinking like an old man, Boss Man. Sorry to call you that.” Parker laughed. “But honestly, think back to your single days. There was a whole lot of fraternization. It happens. He’s a smart operator, and even if his head wasn’t in the game, he’s trained well enough to compartmentalize.”

  Maybe. Then again, Jared had been through hell with Sugar, and every time his woman went on a job, even though she was trained and knew she was the best, it still made him uneasy. That was one of the reasons why he would put Rocco as the first line of defense between making any strategic decisions and Sugar’s safety. Rocco wouldn’t think emotionally—he’d just bring her home safe like any other member of the team. Then again, the reporter and Locke? Who knew?

  “We were in Chicago a few weeks ago,” Parker said. “There was a girl on the job, and he kept it totally separate. I don’t know what happened there. Maybe they went out for coffee, maybe something more. But regardless, Locke clearly didn’t let it affect his work.”

  “Did he sell the Chicago girl to Russian pimps?” Jared grumbled.

  “You know what, guys?” Rocco interrupted. “Locke is solid. We’re focusing on the wrong thing.”

  “And what should we be focusing on?” Parker asked.

  “How we’re going to sell what used to be an internationally known reporter with dark-red hair and not get caught.”

  Parker and Rocco both looked as though they realized that they weren’t just dealing with any redhead, but one who’d been on TV, in front of congressional depositions and, most recently, in Russia. Not that the place wasn’t huge, but they had a lot of what-ifs to account for and needed to cover their asses.

  ***

  Cassidy got the immediate sense that something wasn’t normal when Titan’s boss stepped out of the room for a discussion. She also had a feeling it might have had to do with her.

  This group didn’t hold back judgment in their freewheeling conversation, and the only time any small amount of decorum was shown was in deference to her when Locke made introductions to anyone who hadn’t been on her rescue op as they walked in—after she had jumped through every hoop Titan Group had required. They’d done scans of her hands and eyes and had a video camera follow her from the moment she and Locke exited his truck in the garage and entered the labyrinth of hallways. Hoop after security hoop.

  Jared walked back into the conference room that they called “the war room,” flanked by Rocco—Locke’s boss—and the dark-haired guy. Rocco returned to his seat, and the dark-haired guy took a seat near Jared. A few of the people she had met flicked glances toward Cassidy. Most definitely, that hallway chat had been about her.

  “Cassidy.” Jared motioned to the man with dark hair. “This is Parker Black; he runs IT and intel.”

  Ah, that was the man who’d provided Locke with information. She liked this Parker Black.

  “Nice to meet you,” Parker replied.

  “Likewise.” She smiled courteously and took note of the manila folder that rested under his hands.

  “As we were talking about,” Jared said, “between Delta’s intel on the new sex-trafficking ring and this”—Jared waved a piece of paper—“we have a solid entry point.”

  Parker opened his folder and shuffled out a stack of papers that slowly began working their way around the table. Papers crinkled in the cold room. She watched each operative study the sheet until Locke handed her the stack. Cassidy took hers off the top and handed the pile to Jax.

  A Classified label was slapped at the top.

  TO: Jared Westin

  FROM: Parker Black

  RE: Mikhailov Expansion—Human Trafficking and Exploitation

  Cassidy’s stomach recoiled. What? She read further. This new Mikhailov arm was actively and aggressively shopping for new women to sell. They called it a product list. Blood pulsed in her temples, and—her stomach lurched as she took in some of the ages.

  Her head shot up, eyes sweeping the room, and she tried to remain calm. This was what people like this did. They saved little girls who were exploited. A fucking generic word for atrocities that would, could, maybe already had happened to them—crimes that happened to other little girls all around the world every day.

  And Alex was associated with this?

  Jared cleared his throat. “Looks like another pimple on the ass of the unthinkable is trying to sprout.”

  Her eyes blurred as she tried to read the shopping list again, and Cassidy discreetly pulled it together. She was there as a professional, and if she cried—or screamed or puked—then no one would let her help.

  Adequately calmed, she continued to read—and her eyes stalled.

  American. Dark-red hair. Blue-green eyes. Few to zero freckles. Dark-red hair.

  Holy crap—that was her. Cassidy’s chin shot up, and she surveyed the room to see if anyone else saw what she did. Adrenaline began to race in her blood at the thought of becoming more involved than she already was. She didn’t know the extent of her invitation, but she’d thought they strictly wanted to use her for info. I could do more…

  Her pulse jumped. Absolutely—volunteering was stupid-dangerous, and yeah, maybe she would finally admit to being an adrenaline junkie. But there was more to this: the idea of not just reporting, but helping. Nobody in the room could offer what she could, simply because of how she looked. One foot bounced under the table, and she put a hand on her knee to stop it.

  Jared’s gaze landed on her, and she knew they were on the same page. Then he shifted his stare. “Now that we’ve all perused that list, we know a couple of things.” He bounced slowly back and forth in his seat.

  Cassidy caught a glimpse of Locke. The man was a frozen statue. His grip was white-knuckled on the piece of paper, though otherwise, he seemed casually attentive. To maintain the deception, all he had to do was put down the shopping list and not throw the table against the wall.

  Between Locke and the painstaking slowness of Jared’s convers
ation, the anticipation was going to kill her.

  “Mikhailov’s moving faster than we thought. They’re working to feed their connections into a niche supply-and-demand market, possibly in some cases acting as a broker, maybe housing and holding women.” Jared tapped the paper in front of him. “A shopping list has hit the streets. They already have scouts and buyers. If the requests are this damn long, then there’s already a stable somewhere.”

  Her stomach bottomed out. A stable… of women. The lingo was sickening. She had heard it before and had to toughen to it if she wanted in. She couldn’t dive in if she was cowering, green in the face.

  “It validates what Delta has turned up on a new supplier,” a man said—Brock was his name. Locke had mentioned that he ran another team.

  Jared leaned back, rubbing his forehead. “Yeah. It does.”

  “Just been waiting for an opportunity to surface,” Brock continued. “The whispers, the shadows. You can follow them only so far.”

  Everyone either nodded in agreement or glimpsed at her. Except for Locke. He simply placed the paper down and waited without any discernible expression.

  “Right.” Jared tapped the paper. “We have confirmation. They are not only up and running, but they are going big. Delta’s going in?”

  “Fuck yeah.” Brock nodded, no hesitation.

  She wanted in! Where was this Delta team? How did this work?

  “Good.” Jared’s approval only exacerbated her need to join in.

  Hello! Cassidy wanted to scream.

  “Now…” Jared mumbled. “Couple of options regarding product placement. A couple of blondes and brunettes. Nic and Beth, you two could generically fit the bill.”

  What the fuck? Cassidy’s head would explode. She wasn’t the least bit generic. A perfect match.

  “How old’s this list?” Jax asked.

  “A few days,” Parker answered.

  “What’s so special about the blondes and brunettes? Low dollar, low value. Nothing but stable girls.” Jax shrugged and turned to Cassidy. “Here’s your bait.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Cassidy bet the statistical chance of Locke’s head exploding would’ve been less if she’d raised her hand. But no—he looked like he was plotting an untimely death for Jax for merely suggesting she step into an operation as a lure.

  “I could be bait,” she said.

  “Lots of things you could do,” Locke grumbled. “Doesn’t mean you should.”

  But Jared was nodding. “You fit a stone-cold description of an uncommon request.”

  “All right, then,” Cassidy said, her gut in her throat and every nerve skittering on adrenaline like she’d downed a gallon of energy drinks.

  “Hang on a second,” Locke interrupted. “If that’s all the screening we’re going to do, then it’s a hell no from me. What’s it entail—what is she going to do? What the fuck does ‘bait’ mean?”

  “What do you think it means?” Jax laughed.

  Cassidy glared at both men. “I can speak for myself, and I said okay.”

  Jax scoffed and smirked. “They’ll love her.”

  “Dude.” Locke snarled. “I will end you if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

  “Jeez already,” Cassidy mumbled.

  “Shut the hell up,” Jared boomed from the top of the table, and she jumped. There was something about how Jared could grouse and growl all at once without moving that made him scary. Yellers didn’t normally command respect. But somehow, when Jared raised his voice, the building listened. Both men on either side of her did. They decided to turn and behave, or at least chill.

  Jared’s black eyes darted from Locke to Jax and back. “Neither one of you will get anywhere near this job if you can’t pull your heads out of your asses—” Wheels turned as she could all but see the operation planned. “Actually… both of you will be by her side.”

  “Excuse me?” Locke asked, his voice bottoming out.

  “Parker”—Jared ignored Locke—“put the word out to the Mikhailovs that we have middlemen with product to move, and build out a history for our two entrepreneurs.”

  Locke threw himself back in his chair. “Christ, nobody in this room will let that happen.”

  “Back to Russia,” Jax said, rubbing his hands together. “Logging the frequent-flyer miles lately. Let’s stay long enough to enjoy the scenery this time.”

  Jared muttered about a thousand curse words rolled into one. “Brock, get your team ready. Soon as we figure where and how deep their network is, it’s yours to take down. Rocco, you work with Locke and Jax to plan the sale. Parker, build the history. Nic and Beth, work with Cassidy and get her prepped for this program.”

  Locke snorted. “Program.”

  Rocco shot Locke an angry stare. “Or you’re benched, and Jax is her body guy. Your call, asshole.”

  “Not a fucking chance,” Locke snapped back.

  “Then shut up and listen up. Understand?”

  Locke turned her way, and the possessiveness marking his brow almost worried her. “Yeah, she’s not going there without me.”

  “All right, then.” Jared cracked his knuckles. “Any questions?”

  “Wasn’t she a reporter?” Bishop asked. “What if someone recognizes her?”

  Jared rubbed his chin. “A couple of thoughts—”

  “No one will care,” Cassidy said. “I’m fallen. Won’t be missed. If they do recognize me, then bonus points to my new owners for getting a great deal on someone who used to be important.” It hurt to say that. “But they won’t. I’m forgotten, and it’s the hair and face they want. Not a lot of freckles. I’m filling the need of a fetish. No one cares about anything else.”

  Jared seemed to run her assessment over in his head and, with a quick look at Parker and Rocco, came back with a nod. “Agreed.” He pushed forward in his chair and stood up. “Let’s sell Cassidy and take down a new network.”

  A room full of grunts and claps and table slaps—except for Locke—echoed as they pumped themselves up. As everyone filed out of the room, Locke simply sat there, staring straight ahead, his lips in a thin white line. His hands rested on the table, and the muscles in his forearms twitched.

  “So help me God, Beauty,” his hoarse voice whispered. “If someone touches you?” His fists clenched, and he unfolded himself from the chair in a manner that was so calm it was eerie. “I won’t be able to handle it.”

  Pinpricks of panic spiraled down her spine. “Locke…”

  “If I had known this was where the meeting would go today?” He shook his head. “If only I had known… I already thought once today, ‘If only I was there,’ and now I brought you here so that I could give you to the Mikhailovs? My regret list is making me sick.”

  “It will be okay,” she promised.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “There are some things we have to do.”

  Locke closed his eyes. His chest expanded, and finally, he blew out a slow breath. “I know, and I think it makes me care about you in a different way—I can’t explain it. Just… damn it, Cass. This job, you and me—let’s fucking do this in a way that works for us. Okay?”

  She knotted her fingers together. “I don’t know what that means.”

  He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, Beauty. I think you do.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  With everything that Locke had said, coupled with the smallness of the new room she had moved to, the weight of the decision to be bait was starting to overwhelm Cassidy. But with Nicola and Beth on either side of her, she at least seemed to have somewhat of a life raft to hang onto in the chaotic ocean that she’d just thrown herself into.

  Nicola and Beth knew their shit. Period. End of story. For the last hour, they’d volleyed information about Eastern European sex-trafficking rings, more than Cassidy had ever thought she could know.

  Piled in front of them were folders so that Cassidy would not only understand the business, but know the players, p
ossible buyers, and what this wing of the intel community knew about property. She needed all the information just in case things went wrong and Titan-Delta had to leave her alone for longer than they anticipated. Apparently, different factions had varying levels of respect for their purchases.

  Cassidy’s summary could’ve been simple: they were all disgusting assholes. She hoped they would burn in hell and couldn’t wait to help stop what was happening.

  Nicola also seemed to know every language under the sun and was trying her best to pass some knowledge along. If Cassidy walked in knowing some of what her captors said, she had an unknown advantage. No amount of defense would be too much, and if she had time, Cassidy would learn Russian in a heartbeat. Impossible, but she’d sure try.

  The door flew open, and in walked big hair and bright lips, a woman who said a lot before she even opened her mouth.

  Then she did. “You’re the redhead causing Locke a mental breakdown?” Her dark eyebrows arched, and her sweeping, smoky eyes narrowed. “I can’t tell if I like you for making that guy work a little harder or hate you because Locke is such a fucking sweetheart.”

  Um… Sweetheart might be a bit much, but Cassidy agreed he had a sweet side to him. Definitely a sweet tongue. But that wasn’t for the public to know.

  “There’s a difference between a gentleman and a sweetheart, Sugar,” Nicola replied on Cassidy’s behalf, tossing a solid dose of side-eye.

  Beth shook her head, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, Locke’s a real saint.”

  Well, Cassidy wasn’t just going to sit there in silence. “He has a rolling list of people he wants to kill on my behalf. I would agree. Not a saint.”

  Sugar beamed at the revelation.

  Beth laughed. “Are you here to help or solely for the purpose of distraction?”

  After her initial hesitation, Cassidy had a good feeling about Sugar. Maybe it was the blood-red lipstick—which few people could rock that well—or the pile of black hair that would’ve looked haphazard if Cassidy had tried to imitate it. All in all, the whole look was kind of like a rock star. Complete with leather pants and—Cassidy tilted to the side just to confirm—pointy-toed boots that curved over her knees. Solid rock star package deal.