by Huie,Melissa
“I’m not sure where you got your information, Parker, but yes, we have reason to believe that the Cruz Cartel is working with Syndicate. We believe that the Syndicate is providing the Cartel with the drugs to funnel their weapon sales. The Syndicate has embraced the Cartel into their faction with open arms. So, in answer to your question, we are primarily focusing on the Cartel, but if we take them down at the top, we’ll be better off for it.
“Fuck.” We knew it was a possibility. Hell, in this game, anything was a possibility.
“Hence the reason we’re meeting up with the Joint Task Force, Triton’s Edge. We feel the situation will be better off, combining our efforts,” Rapoles replied dryly.
And a feather in your cap when we take them all down. I wasn’t a fool. The man only thought about himself. Lord knew, he’d do anything to get up into Assistant Director status.
“Does this mean that we’ll be receiving more resources?” I asked.
“You should try using the resources you have more efficiently, Parker. You have the best in the business at your fingertips. Use them well.”
The anger bubbled up inside of me, and it took everything in me to not shoot back with a nasty reply. But I played the good little agent and kept quiet. The SUV stopped in front of the Miami Field Office, and we headed inside, leaving our luggage with the administrative assistant, while we received our updates and made sure we were all on the same page with Triton’s Edge.
After ensuring everyone was up to speed, we were dismissed. I hailed a cab to the hotel that was arranged for me. As we drove by the old apartment building, memories flooded back. The time spent in the gym, the times we hung out at the bars. Late night swims in the pool. And the sex. The mind-blowing sex. After everything that happened over the weekend, I thought I could actually get used to having someone around full-time. Being in a relationship scared me; the trust factor alone was a huge issue. I had a tendency to let my heart go with the wrong people, to put my faith and trust in those who truly didn’t deserve it. But Noah was different. I could feel it in my bones.
The next morning, after fueling myself with multiple cups of coffee and a Danish from the hotel restaurant, Sims picked me up in the Suburban. We drove through the industrial park in the lower end of Miami to a nondescript warehouse on the edge of town. We’d used the space before, as a planning area for raids. It was where I spent most of my time over the last few years. The wide open space was sectioned off into staging areas, with the weapons locked up in the second floor office. Two agents with guns were waiting for us, and we pulled into the open bay.
“Do you realize what we’re getting into?” Sims asked quietly. Aside from a grunt greeting this morning, he hadn’t spoken the entire car ride.
“We’re going after the biggest badasses there are in the world. What more do we need to know?” I joked.
Sims scowled at my deflection, and I quickly got serious. “Yeah, I realize that we’re in a whole other league now. But hell, this is what we’ve been waiting for. We got this, Sims. We’re finally getting the resources we need to take the Cartel down, and in the process, potentially dismantling the biggest international organized crime group there is. The damage that we can inflict on the Syndicate and their subordinates is huge. And whatever we do will have a trickle-down effect, from everything to the cartels and gangs, to the teenagers selling crack on the sidewalks. This is a good thing,” I replied in an even tone. We’d worked with other government agencies before, but the stakes were never this high.
Sims and I walked to the center of the room, where a group of metal chairs sat in a semicircle. Five big, burly men were waiting for us, each looking deadlier than the other. Dressed in cargo pants and T-shirts stretched across their shoulders, you could tell that they took their jobs as seriously as they did their fitness level. I wouldn’t want to meet these guys in a dark alley. Introductions were made and we sat down, just as Rapoles and an older man walked toward the front.
“My name is Commander James Lewes, Triton Edge’s Alpha. We’ve been following the Syndicate now for the last four years. My men know the Syndicate inside and out, and we have been tracking their movements. They’ll be able to answer any questions you may have. Alpha team is on a mission, but the Bravo team will be the ones assisting you with Cruz.” His steely gaze held us in. His ‘no bullshit’ attitude lacked the whiny, wimpy-assness that often came with being a government crony. I found that refreshing, and instantly liked the commander.
“Thank you, Commander. Let’s bring everyone up to speed, shall we?” Rapoles took over from there, and we went over everything. And by everything, I meant everything. From the birth of Christian Cruz and his family lineage, to the involvement of Shane Turner, and Christian’s son Tomas, otherwise known as the FBI plant, Tommy Greene.
“How did the Cartel come to the attention of the Syndicate?” I inquired. We had been at it for the last two hours, and my stomach grumbled.
“We figure it was several things. Christian Cruz had his fingers in everything the underworld has to offer, but when shit went down last year, starting from the situation in Maryland, that brought the Cartel up to a whole new level. But they really caught attention when Tomas was revealed as the plant. Having the son of a cartel planted within the FBI is a huge coup. It takes balls, and the Syndicate noticed.”
Rapoles bristled at the mention of his incompetence, and I fought back the claim of victory. In your face, Rapoles. This is all on you.
“Were they even players before this incident?” I queried, popping open a soda that they graciously provided.
“Oh yeah, of course. Make no mistake about it. The Syndicate was going to use the Cartel at some point, but their value skyrocketed when they had an FBI agent in their midst. They had an in. An edge, if you will, that no one else had. That makes them invaluable assets,” a man in glasses replied. Tall and lean, with his muscle definition showing through his shirt, the man leaned against the desk, taking in what we had written on the whiteboard moments earlier. Good looking, with dark hair and eyes, he almost reminded me of Noah.
“I’m Zeke, by the way.” He reached out and I shook his hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Kate, and this is Rick, my partner.”
“Glad you guys are here. I’ve been waiting to kick some cartel ass.”
“Were you part of the crew that assisted with the takedown of Tommy last year?
Zeke grinned, his beautiful, straight teeth gleaming. “Hell yeah. Although, flying the birds aren’t really my thing.”
I nodded. I wasn’t fond of flying the birds, either.
“Wells!” His name was called from across the room, and he quickly stood straighter.
“We’ll catch up soon.” And with that, he jogged over to where a bank of computers had been set up.
“What do you think so far?” Rick asked, his voice low.
I stacked the files in order and looked over at the crew talking amongst themselves. “So far so good, I guess. We just need to work out the details, but things seem to be in motion. If anything, we’ll get the resources we need. As long as shit doesn’t hit the fan, we should be golden.”
“I think so, too.” He motioned over to the other side of the warehouse. “Wells has something to show us.” Sims led the way over to the computer bank. Zeke had several screens up at once, with various pictures and video.
“Who is this?” I asked, leaning over his shoulder and pointing at a tall, bad man in a suit.
“That is Stas Alexeyev, weapons and drug runner for the Syndicate. His address is a vacant parking lot in the crappiest part of Miami.”
“Are his prints the ones we found on the women’s phones?” I inquired, nodding to Rick.
“His prints, as well as another partial set. We’re working through Interpol now to determine if we’ve missed anyone,” Zeke nodded.
“We have our link to the Cartel,” Rick said grimly. Very rarely did emotion come through the normally stoic man’s face, but damned if I didn�
��t see a hint of victory in his eyes.
“That’s not all you have.” Zeke pressed a few keys and a new picture popped up. “These are his brothers. Moriz is on the right, Anton is on the left. They are the weapon purchasers. No weapons deal goes through the Syndicate without their approval.” The grainy image was taken by stealth, as they were on the move. The three brothers were next to a boat, looking like they were ready to board. All three were big, bulky, and bald.
“Where was this taken?”
“Yesterday, at Port of Everglades. Time stamp is five-thirty in the evening,” Zeke replied.
“What was the time of death?” I asked Rick, but as usual, he was one step ahead of me. He had the coroner’s report on his phone.
“Time of death was estimated to be circa five pm. Their bodies were discovered at seventeen thirty.”
“Puts them at the scene. Do we know where they are now?” I asked the master behind the monitor.
“His ship manifest states that he’s supposed to be docking in the Grand Caymans, but we haven’t seen the yacht he was on.” Zeke paused. “We can pinpoint the coordinates with the GPS system on his boat, try to find it that way. But I can almost guarantee that they’ve already disconnected it.” Zeke’s gaze remained firmly on the screen in front of him.
“Do we have an in with the U.S. Coast Guard?” I mentally went through my rolodex, searching through all the contacts I’d made so far.
“We have one better,” Zeke answered, his voice low. His bespectacled brown eyes searched the area around us, making sure we weren’t going to be overheard. “We have a contact within the Syndicate. We’re just waiting for the call.”
“Is this source reliable?” I questioned quietly.
“Extremely. They should be making contact within the next two hours.” He nodded to the disposable phone sitting next to him. “They’ll call me on that. “
“Sounds good. Keep us in the loop.” I straightened up. “In the meantime, we’ll head out to the Port, see if there’s anything we missed.”
We made our way out of the warehouse, to where they had several cars waiting for us, and made our way up I-95, to Hollywood, Florida. The crime scene team were still in place, so I hoped they had more clues for us. Forty minutes later, we arrived, just as the afternoon sun had made it hotter than hell. We walked over to the active scene, flashing our credentials, and going beyond the crime scene tape.
“Wanna tell me why the hell the Feds are up in my case?” an angry Hispanic man bellowed, and walked over. Tall, and built like a tank, the man appeared to be in charge.
“Agents Parker and Sims, Baltimore Field Office.” I showed him my badge, but the detective wasn’t having it.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass who the hell you are. You’re not taking this over. Your buddies already took over the last few cases of mine. I mean, seriously, what the fuck does the FBI want with a bunch of dead hookers?” he demanded. The spittle flew out of his mouth, and his eyes flared with anger. I shot a questioning look to Rick, before turning back.
“And who might you be?” Rick asked, his chin jutting out.
“Mike Perez, Special Victim’s Unit. We run cases with the Feds all the time, so imagine my surprise when I get this hotheaded, punk ass bitch, calling claim to the many cases that affect this area. I get that the Port is a special interest area, but you people are pissing me the fuck off.”
“Detective, have there been other instances of dead prostitutes in these parts?” I asked pointedly.
Mike rubbed his face in aggravation. “Does one nut not sit next to the other in the same sac? Seriously? I had one of your guys out three nights ago, taking over a case of two dead women. They literally arrived five minutes after we did, and called an audible.”
Rick’s face turned to stone. “Detective, have you not been brought up to speed on what’s been going on in your district?” It was protocol to bring the local police, or at least their special crimes unit, into what was going on. They wouldn’t get all the information, but on the same point, it was always good to give people a heads-up. My gut filled with lead, and I had a feeling I knew where this was going.
“What the hell do you think?” Mike scoffed. Well, that answered that.
“Who was the agent that took over that night?” I questioned.
“Special Agent Jessica Knowles. Her and this arrogant prick. They harassed my techs, and wouldn’t let us onto the scene until they were done.”
My gut was right. I shot a look at Rick, and glanced around at the team working busily around us, collecting any trace of evidence they could find. Jessica Knowles was one of the few that had unfettered access to Tommy Greene while he was still with the Bureau. After the investigation into his team, her name was bounced around as a possible plant. The evidence against her was scarce, but my instinct was that she was a part of it. She was cleared of any wrongful acts, and allowed to resume full duties on the Cartel case. I should have been surprised that she got through all the bullshit, but I wasn’t. Evidence or not, I didn’t trust the woman. With her sniffing around, I could only bet that Tommy was right behind her.
I scrolled through the images on my phone and pulled up an image of Tommy.
“Was this the agent that was with her?” I asked, showing Mike the picture.
“Yeah, that’s him. They just fucked my crime scene over like a whore at church.”
Shit. “Call it in,” I muttered to Sims. An APB needed to be put out on Agent Knowles. This cemented my case against her. With Mike’s testimony, the chick was as good as in jail. Sims moved off to the side, out of earshot from the rest of us.
“You see either of these two again, you need to call me directly. Is that clear?” I ordered, piercing my gaze into his deep brown eyes.
“What’s going on here, Agent?” Mike asked, his brows raised.
“This Agent is no longer with the FBI, Detective. In fact, this guy is wanted for treason, aiding and abetting a drug cartel, abduction, trafficking, and a whole laundry list of charges.” I scrolled through my contacts in my phone, searching for my liaison with the Miami PD. “This your boss?” I showed him the name on my phone, and he grunted his affirmation. “I’m going to send him all the details, but we’re going to get you in contact with someone on my team. They’ll be able to stay in contact after we roll out of here. The MO of this case is similar to others, and to tell you the truth, Mike, this has all the markings of the Cruz Cartel. So, I’m going to need your help. I’m not going to be like the others, and try to take over your cases. Truly I’m not. But I do need you to work with me on this. This Cartel is responsible for killing a lot of people up in Maryland. This is personal for me. I really need your help,” I said in a low voice. I normally didn’t plead for help, but something told me that Detective Perez wouldn’t let me down.
“I got you.” I breathed out a sigh of a relief when he didn’t ask any more questions. The dude was legit. I could tell he had a decent head on his shoulders, and he knew what was going on. We ran through the evidence that they’d collected, along with possible timelines, body counts, and scenes where other victims were found. Thirty minutes later, Rick came running over.
“Rapoles wants a report within the next hour. We have to roll,” Rick announced, putting away his phone. His eyes surveyed the scene in front of us. “What’s the verdict?”
“We’re going to need someone to stay down here and run point with Mike. I’m not trusting locals right now, no more than I’m trusting the field office here,” I replied in a low voice.
“Think there’s another inside track?” he muttered, folding his arms across his chest.
“More than likely.” I sent off a quick text to Lucy, asking her to run down the latest on Jessica Knowles.
“Let’s move. I’ll send a couple of our analysts out here to keep the locals on track.” We made our way over to Mike and his team, and reinforced our appreciation. Mike knew the stakes. You could tell from his eyes that he knew things were about to get m
essy, and I needed to be able to trust someone.
We sped back to the warehouse to give Rapoles the latest update. My gut instinct was right on the money. There hadn’t been any FBI files or cases opened in regards to Mike’s stolen cases. The missing dead women put a stain on Rapoles’ joint venture with the Special Forces team; fury didn’t even begin to describe his demeanor when we arrived back at the warehouse. A warrant was issued for Knowles’ arrest, in connection with the murders of those women, and the evidence that Mike’s team had gathered from the crime scene was sent back to the labs at Quantico for processing. As we searched through the evidence, the trail back to the Cartel grew colder. We spent days combing through evidence and following up on leads, only to end up with ghost trails and more dead ends. To say that we were frustrated would have been an understatement. Tempers flared, and patience was at an all-time low.
We’d been in Miami for over two weeks, with no end in sight. We hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the Cartel’s dealings since the death of the four women. We finally released their bodies to their next of kin, all from the same area in Michigan. The toxicology screens came back positive for heroin, oxycodone, and high amounts of cocaine. According to their parents, the women weren’t known for their drug use or partying ways. They came to Miami for a bachelorette party two weeks ago, hoping to live it up with their friends for the weekend. But they never even made it to the hotel. From what we gathered from the security footage, a cab was called from the airport, and then they vanished. After that, there was no sign of them. Based on the amount of drugs in their systems, and the bruises on their bodies, we could only guess the worst case scenario.
“I’m sticking behind,” Rick said grimly, as he finished up his report. We had done all we could in Miami for the time being, and we were redirected to head back to Baltimore. He shared my distrust over the local office, and I was glad he was staying behind. I needed someone who knew what the hell they were doing, someone I could count on.
“Sounds like a plan. Keep me updated.” I packed up my files and placed them in my messenger bag. A snort of laughter came from behind me, and I rolled my eyes. I knew who the pigheaded asshole was. He had been eye fucking me over the past few days, and it was seriously getting on my last nerve.
