by Cassie Miles
When he shoved her into a small room filled with boxes and lit by a single overhead bulb, she whirled. Lunging forward, she pressed the gun against his belly. She heard the electricity and felt the vibration.
Mikey shuddered. His eyes bulged, and he went down on his hands and knees.
Before she could move in to zap him again, another man appeared from the shadows and grabbed her arms from behind. He knocked the gun from her hand.
She kept struggling, but couldn’t break free. When she tried to kick backward with her legs, he swept her feet out from under her, and she was on her knees with her arms twisted back painfully. She tried to inhale enough air to scream. Could she summon help? Who would come to her aid? Nobody in this club was going to cross Mikey Zhou.
He stood before her and leaned down. His long braid fell over his shoulder. Roughly, he yanked her chin upward so she had to look into his dark eyes. Even with the tattoos and the scar, she saw a resemblance to Liane in the firm set of the jaw.
“Emily,” he said. “Special Agent Levine said you would cause trouble.”
“Let me go,” she said. “I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again, I promise.”
“I will not harm you.”
He said something in Chinese to the man who was holding her arms, and he released her. She sat back on her heels. What was going to happen to her? And where is Sean?
If Mikey didn’t intend to hurt her, why did he grab her? She wasn’t out of danger, not by a long shot. “What do you want from me?”
“Wynter has an arrangement with snakeheads. It has been thus for many years. There is disruption. Why?”
“Do you want me to find out?”
Mikey rubbed at the spot where she’d zapped him. “The disruption must end.”
Slowly she got to her feet. Common sense told her that only a fool picked a fight with the snakeheads, but she didn’t want to lie. The whole reason she was in trouble could be traced to her lies when she’d used an alias and posed as a hooker.
If she told Mikey that she’d help him by finding out who was messing up the smooth-running business of human trafficking, that wouldn’t be the truth. She hated that the snakeheads were buying and stealing helpless people from Asia, and she also hated that Wynter Corp distributed the human cargo. Couldn’t Mikey see that? After what happened to him and Liane, couldn’t he understand?
She inhaled a deep breath, preparing to make her statement. These might be the last words she ever spoke. She wanted to choose them carefully.
The door whipped open, and Sean entered the room. As soon as she recognized him, he was at her side, holding her protectively.
“Are you all right?” he asked her. “Did he hurt you?”
Mikey laughed as he returned her stun gun. “Other way around.”
She looked up at Sean. “He wants me to help him. I can’t do that. I’m against human trafficking, and if it’s interrupted, I’m glad.”
“I want peace,” Mikey said. “I do not hurt my own people. Explain to her, Sean.”
“That might take a while.”
She didn’t understand what they were talking about, but it was obvious that they’d had prior contact. Did Sean know that Mikey was going to grab her and scare her out of her mind?
Mikey said, “You go now.”
Sean whisked her toward the exit door from the small room. When he opened it, she saw the foggy night blowing down an alley.
“Hold on,” she said, jamming her heels down. “I need to cash in my chips.”
“Not tonight.”
As if she’d ever return to this place? Reality hit her over the head, and she realized that she was lucky to be walking out this door with no major physical injuries.
She went along with Sean as he propelled her around the corner and down two streets to where he’d parked. A misty rain was falling, and she was wet by the time they got to the rental car. As soon as they were inside the car, he started the engine.
“We need to hurry,” he said.
“Why?”
“There’s another shipment coming in tonight.”
She snapped on her seat belt. She had to do whatever she could, anything that would help.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mikey the snakehead would not be getting any pats on the back from Sean. After Emily told him how Mikey had mishandled her, Sean was glad she’d zapped him with her stun gun.
“He wasn’t supposed to scare you,” he said.
“Well, he wasn’t Mr. Friendly. When he got close to me, I felt the knife in his hand.”
“His comb.” Mikey’s long braid didn’t just happen. He worked on that hair. “A metal comb.”
“How was I supposed to know?” she grumbled. “All he had to do was tell me you were waiting for me. And his friend grabbed me. He twisted my arm and forced me down on my knees.”
“After you zapped Mikey with a stun gun?”
“Okay, maybe I was aggressive.”
“You shot forty-five million volts through him.”
She huffed and frowned. “What did he mean about wanting peace?”
“I’ll explain.”
The fog parted as he drove toward the private marina where the Wynter yacht was moored. It was after midnight. The city wasn’t silent but had quieted. Misty rain shrouded the streets.
Though Mikey was a member of the notoriously cruel and violent snakeheads, Sean was inclined to believe him. In his experience, the guys who were the most dangerous were also the most honest, flip sides of the same coin. Besides, Mikey had nothing to gain from lying to Sean.
“Mikey says he’s not involved in the actual business of human trafficking. His hands aren’t clean, far from it. His job is to take care of snakehead business in San Francisco, buying and selling and extracting payments. His sister’s dearest friend, Patrone, helped him negotiate.”
“And that’s why he knows Levine,” she said.
“Right. Mikey’s not a snitch. He’s more like a local enforcer. He knows that if the snakeheads and Wynter keep losing money, there’s going to be a war.”
“And we’re supposed to stop it?” The tone of her voice underlined her disbelief. “I didn’t sign up for this job.”
It wasn’t fair to drag her any deeper into this quagmire. Until now, she’d been ready to go. Mikey must have scared her, made her realize that she was in actual danger. “You’re right.”
“Am I?”
“I can turn this car around, hop onto I-80, and we’ll be back in Colorado in two days. You’d be safer with your aunt. Better yet, TST Security has a couple of safe house arrangements.”
She sat quietly, considering his offer. With a quick swipe, she pulled off the knitted cap, fluffed her hair and tucked it behind her ears. She’d been through a lot in the past few days, and Sean wouldn’t blame her if she opted to turn her back on this insanity.
In a small voice, she said, “I started investigating Wynter Corp six months ago, and I’ve learned a lot. I want to see this through. I want justice for Patrone. And I want the bad guys punished.”
Damn, he was proud of her. She’d grown into a fine woman, a fine human being. He was glad she’d chosen to stay involved. If they dragged the FBI into the picture too soon, the investigation could turn messy. Liane might lose the kids and Mikey could be in trouble. If Sean handled the things, the case would be gift wrapped and tied up with a pretty red bow.
At the marina, he parked behind a chain-link fence, grabbed a pair of binoculars and went toward the gate. Security cameras were everywhere. “We can’t get much closer. Do you remember where Wynter’s yacht was moored?”
“I remember every detail of that night. My red dress and the shoes I could hardly walk in. I remember the other girls, several blondes, a couple of brunettes and so
me Asian. And I remember Paco the Pimp. He was incredibly helpful. Sure, he charged me a hefty bribe, but he was efficient and kind. Do you think we should talk to him?”
“Save Paco for another story,” he said. “Do you remember where you boarded the yacht?”
“Near the end of the pier.” When she squinted through the fog, he handed over the binoculars. She fiddled with the adjustments and then lowered the glasses. “I don’t see it.”
“I was hoping we could catch them before they took off,” he said, “but it was a long shot.”
“The cargo might be arriving via container ship. We’d have to go to the docks in Oakland to check it out.”
A chilly breeze swept across the bay and coiled the fog around them. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, welcoming the gentle pressure of her body as she leaned against him. She turned, her arm circled his torso and she looked up at him.
Her cheeks were ruddy from the cold. Her eyes sparkled. Before he could stop himself, he said, “I love you.”
Her lips parted to respond, but he didn’t want words. He kissed her thoroughly, savoring the heat from her mouth and the warmth of her body. She felt good in his embrace, even with several layers of clothes between them.
Saying “I love you” might have been one of the biggest mistakes in his life. He might have sent her reeling backward, frantically trying to get away from his cloying touch. But he wasn’t going to take back his statement. He loved her, and that was all there was to it. He’d never really stopped loving her from the first day he saw her.
When he ended the kiss, he didn’t give her a chance to speak. “We need to hustle.”
“Where are we going?”
“Medusa Rock.”
In the car, he immediately called his brother to get the coordinates for the place where Wynter off-loaded cargo. As usual, Dylan was awake. Sean was fairly sure that his genius brother never slept. They discussed a few other electronic devices before Sean ended the call and silence flooded into the car.
After a few miles, she pointed to the device fastened to the dashboard. “Is this the GPS location?”
“That’s right.”
“Medusa Rock,” she said. “Do you think there are a lot of snakes?”
“I don’t know. It’s a good distance up the coast.”
Again, silence.
With a burst of energy, she turned toward him. “We had ground rules, Sean. There’s no way you can tell me you love me, no way at all. We had our chance, we had a marriage. When it fell apart, my heart shattered into a million little pieces. I can’t go through that again.”
“I apologize,” he said. “I couldn’t stop myself.”
“I never thought I’d say this.” When she paused, he heard a hiccup that sounded as though she was crying. “You’re going to have to practice more self-control.”
“Never would have believed it.” He tried to put a good face on a bad move. “This time I’m the one who can’t keep himself in check. I couldn’t stop myself from blurting. What’s the deal? Am I turning into a chick?”
“Not possible.” She reached across the console and patted his upper thigh. “You’re too...big.”
* * *
WHEN HE TOLD her he loved her, she thought she’d explode. The longing she’d been holding inside threatened to erupt in a sky-high burst of lava. And then, to make it worse, he kissed her with one of those perfect, wonderful kisses.
They had both changed massively since the divorce, but she still wasn’t ready to risk her heart in another try with Sean. Maybe she’d never be ready. Maybe they were the sort of couple who was meant to meet up every ten years, have great sex and go on their merry way.
While he drove, she kept track of their route on the GPS map. Soon this would be over, and she’d be able to use her phone again. Right now she really wanted to know about the possibility of snakes at Medusa Rock. According to the map, this place was a speck about a hundred miles north along the Pacific Coast Highway from San Francisco.
At their current speed, which was faster than she liked, they’d be there in about an hour. There was almost zero traffic on this road. In daylight when the fog burned off, the view along this highway was spectacular.
“There’s a blanket in the backseat,” he said. “It might be good for you to get some sleep. If we catch Wynter’s men in the act, we’ll need to follow them. And probably will switch off driving.”
She didn’t need much convincing. The spike of adrenaline from her encounter with Mikey had faded, leaving her drained of energy. She snuggled under the blanket. An hour of sleep was better than none.
It seemed like she’d barely closed her eyes when the car jolted to a stop. She sat up in the seat, blinking madly. She grasped Sean’s arm. “Are we safe?”
“You’re always safe with me.” His voice was low and calm with just a touch of humor to let her know he was joking...kind of joking. “We’re here.”
“I see it.” Medusa Rock sat about a hundred yards offshore. Shaped like a skull, it had shrubs and trees across the top that might have resembled snaky hair. “Looks more like Chia pet to me.”
The heavy fog from San Francisco had faded to little more than a mist. The car was parked up on a hill overlooking a small marina where Wynter’s party boat was moored. Sean placed the high-power binoculars in her hand, and she held them to her eyes. The running lights on the yacht were off, but there was still enough light to see four men leaning over the railing at the bow and smoking.
“How long have we been here?” she asked.
“Just a few minutes.”
“They’re waiting for something.”
“If they take delivery from another boat,” he said, “there’s nothing more we can do. But if it’s a truck, we’ll follow.”
She sat up a bit straighter in the passenger seat and fine-tuned the binoculars. The resolution with these glasses was incredible. She could make out faces and features. “Guess who’s here.”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not big daddy James,” he said. “Frankie boy?”
“The next best thing.” She made a woofing noise. “It’s Barclay the Bulldog, the guy who wrecked my apartment.”
“It’s good to know he doesn’t specialize in ransacking.”
“The Bulldog is an all-purpose thug.” She chuckled as she continued to watch the yacht. “If they drive, we’ll be able to see where they make the drop-off.”
“We’ll coordinate with Levine,” he said. “It’s not really fair. We do all the work, and that jerk gets all the glory.”
“Not necessarily,” she said.
She passed the binoculars to him. A fifth man had joined the other four on deck. She’d recognized him right away from his nervous gestures. It was Special Agent Greg Levine.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Outraged, Sean stared down the hill at the fancy yacht with four thugs and a rat aboard. Levine was a double-crossing bastard who might precipitate a gang war that would tear San Francisco apart. Why hadn’t Sean seen the problem before? It should have been obvious to him when he heard that Levine was using both Morelli and Mikey. Quite a juggling act! Levine wasn’t a charmer and had nothing to offer. Neither of those men had a reason to work with him.
“Maybe,” Emily said, “this is a sting.”
Sean calmed enough to consider that scenario. On a scale of one to ten, he’d give it a three. Levine wasn’t clever enough to set up a sting like this. And Sean hadn’t noticed FBI backup in the area. Still, he conceded, “It’s possible.”
“But not likely,” she said.
“Not at all.”
They watched for another half hour. The night was beginning to thin as the time neared four o’clock, less than two hours before sunrise. Would Levine dare to drive into San Francisco during morning rush hour?
Either he was massively stupid or had balls the size of watermelons.
A midsize orange shipping truck with a green “Trail Blazer” logo rumbled down to the pier. The driver jumped out and trotted around to the back. As soon as he rolled up the rear door, the armed men on the boat herded a ragged group of people who had been belowdecks, waiting in the dark. Sean counted seventeen. Only two men; the rest were women and children. He was glad to see that they also loaded bottles of water and boxes he hoped were food.
“Now what?” she asked.
“We follow,” Sean said. “As soon as we figure out his plan, we’ll call for backup.”
“Why wait?”
“I don’t want to waste this opportunity.” He was thinking like a cop, not a bodyguard, which probably wasn’t a good thing. Undercover cops took risks, while bodyguards played it safe. He promised himself to back down before it got dangerous. “Their destination might lead to another illegal operation.”
“Like a sweatshop,” she said. “We might be able to track the distribution network for the sex workers.”
The orange truck pulled away from the pier with Levine behind the wheel and two armed men in the cab beside him. Staying a careful distance behind so they wouldn’t be noticed, Sean followed in the rental car.
The roads leading away from Medusa Rock were pretty much empty before dawn. As soon as possible, Sean turned off the headlights, figuring that their nondescript sedan would be almost invisible in the predawn light.
The orange truck wasn’t headed toward San Francisco. Levine was taking them east. Where the hell is he going?
With his assistance, Emily set up a conference call with his brother, who was—surprise, surprise—asleep. It was worth waking him up. If anybody could figure out how to track a moving vehicle, it was Dylan.
“Big orange truck?” His yawn resonated through the phone. “What do you want me to do with it?”
“We’re trying to track it,” Sean said. “When the sun comes up, in a couple of minutes, the driver of the truck might notice that we’re tailing him. I want to drop back...way back.”
