by Marlow Kelly
Michael walked into the room. He wasn’t inclined to back down or apologize. “Sinclair was right about the Sun Down Hotel. It’s making way too much money for its size and location. And it also belongs to Lucy Portman.”
Sophia stood. “You’re Michael Papin, aren’t you?”
Michael nodded and placed his computer on Finn’s desk.
Finn said nothing. He could’ve shut this down and told Michael to wait outside, but he didn’t. Remarkably, Kennedy hadn’t said anything either. They seemed to be working way outside the rules on this one.
Ms. Reed took two steps toward Michael and said, “Ethan said your mom and sister are at the Sun Down Hotel. He said you plan to exchange yourself for them, but it’s a trap. They aren’t going to release your family. They’re to be auctioned.”
Michael paled and blinked rapidly. Then his nostrils flared, and his expression grew hard, unflinching. “I will kill every last fucking one of them.”
Ramirez leapt across the room and caught his arm. “She’s just the messenger, back off. We’ll help you, but you cannot make hasty or stupid decisions.”
Michael stared at Ramirez’s hand and then his face. “Who are you?”
Finn could tell Michael had hesitated and stopped himself from letting lose a string of curse words.
“I’m Detective Ramirez, and this is my fiancée, Sophia Reed.”
Michael ignored Ramirez and addressed Finn. “What’s going on?”
Kennedy stood. “According to Ms. Reed, Ethan Moore is keeping your family safe until you can rescue them.”
Ms. Reed nodded. “They’re on the sixth floor, room six-one-five.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The L-shaped coffee shop was more up-market than Sinclair remembered. As a teen, she’d slept in the doorway on cold winter nights. Any place out of the wind was good, and The Dumb Luck had a deep entrance that allowed the four of them to fit comfortably.
Of course, it wasn’t called the Dumb Luck Café back then but the Alley Cat Bistro. The owner, who was also a chef, had been a jerk who had threatened them with a meat cleaver whenever he caught them trying to stay warm.
She didn’t order coffee, preferring to wait for Jake. She eyed the blueberry and white chocolate scones. Her plan to spend her days off from work baking with her neighbors and giving surplus to the homeless seemed like another life; so much had happened in three days.
Jake limped into the coffee shop. He was an older man who always looked a little raggedy. Everything about him seemed tired, even his gray moustache. His regular uniform was a shabby suit and trench coat, which appeared to have been purchased when she was still in diapers. He insisted on wearing a shirt and tie, even though Child Seekers had a relaxed dress code. Maybe his clothing choices were a throwback to his time as a cop. Not that it mattered. As long as he was one of the good guys, she didn’t care how he looked.
She stood to join him, but he waved her back. “You stay there. It’s packed in here. I don’t want to lose the table.”
She peered out the window. Rain was moving in. That was bound to aggravate his bad knee. She stayed where she was, watching him order their drinks and then hobble to a side counter to add cream to his coffee, which was odd because he normally took it black. Maybe he was getting soft in his old age.
Finally, he sat at the table and placed a rich smooth mocha in front of her. As much as she loved chocolate, she wasn’t a fan of Mocha coffee, but she took a sip, not wanting to be difficult. As a twenty-year veteran of the LA police department, he probably didn’t care to know the difference between a plain latte and an ultra-sweet drink.
“Is your knee bothering you?” she asked just to be polite.
“Yeah, I need a replacement, but my medical won’t cover it.”
Sinclair took another sip and tried not to grimace. “Do you have any information for me?”
“No.”
“Are you saying the Sun Down Hotel is clean?”
His expression was blank. “No, I’m saying this is none of your business.”
She glanced at his coffee. It was black. What had he been doing at the creamer station?
“There are two missing women. Finding them is what we do.”
“It’s what you do.”
“Who are you?” She could tell by his sneer and his hate-filled gaze that she was seeing a knew side to him.
“Working with you this last year has been the most exhausting of my life. You are such a tireless bitch. Why can’t you just stop? For God’s sake, do a half-assed job just once in your sad little life. What has saving the world got you? You live in a crummy studio apartment. You wear clothes until they get holes. You never take a vacation. When was the last time you got laid, for fuck’s sake?”
He carried on talking, but she blocked him out. Her heart raced so hard her chest hurt. She stuck her hand in her pocket, looking for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She hadn’t carried one since this all began. She tried to stand, but her muscles were too weak to hold her, and she collapsed back into the chair.
“You…you…” Her mouth refused to work.
“I’ve been setting up this deal for a while. My buyer will pay millions to watch a gladiator like you. Sometimes they fight to the death. It’s time for me to retire.” He grabbed her arms and pulled her out of her seat. She tried to punch him, but her body wouldn’t respond to her commands.
Jake was the leak, the one the Ukrainian prostitute had warned her about. She tried to think about all the implications, but her brain felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool.
He put an arm around her waist and half-carried half-dragged her out of the coffee shop. “It’s okay. She’s just feeling unwell. I’m taking her to the hospital,” he announced to the concerned patrons.
She was being stolen in broad daylight, and no one was going to stop him. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.
Everything became a kaleidoscope of disjointed images. The backseat of Jake’s car, a parking lot, a hotel room, crashing into a bathroom, and then nothing.
Chapter Thirty
Michael paced to the window and watched as Sophia Reed headed toward the police station, accompanied by Detective Ramirez. He felt as though a vice had tightened around his chest. All he had left was the faint hope that Moore was telling the truth and was protecting his mother and sister. But how likely was that? He recalled Ethan Moore arriving at Tim’s house with a blood-covered knife. What was it people said about first impressions? He didn’t know, and he didn’t fucking care. If Moore really had them tucked away safe somewhere, why hadn’t he just released them?
There was a knock at the door.
“Come,” Kennedy called and then smiled at Finn.
There was an undercurrent between them that he couldn’t define. He wasn’t sure if they were close because they were colleagues, friends, or if it was something more.
The door opened, and Milo hobbled in.
Michael rushed to his side. “I thought you were supposed to stay in hospital for a few days.”
“I couldn’t.” The pain in his gaze was a reflection of Michael’s torment.
He helped his stepfather to the couch. The older man looked better than he had yesterday but that wasn’t saying much. The three-inch gash that ran along Milo’s forehead had been stitched together. Somehow that made the wound look worse, or maybe it was the swelling around the laceration.
He gave a raspy, wet cough and then winced and clutched his side. His lungs had probably been damaged by the smoke, which was another reminder he had endured and survived a house fire. “Get me up to speed.”
“We know where they’re being held. I had planned to exchange myself for them.” The two FBI agents in the room might have preferred he not share the information, but he was way past asking permission.
“But?” Milo’s gaze connected with his.
“What do you mean but?”
“Son, there’s always a freaking but. Tell me everything.”
He gave another chesty cough.
“We’ve been told they don’t plan to keep to their part of the bargain. They will kill me and auction Mom and Ava off as slaves.”
Milo flinched and growled, “Where are they?”
“The Sun Down Hotel. It’s on the east side of the city.”
Finn cleared his throat. “I’ve contacted the Granite City-Elkhead County Police department. I’ve asked them to get their SWAT team ready, and I’m calling in the FBI HRT team from Salt Lake City.
Michael scrubbed his hands over his eyes and then said, “Sinclair’s input would be invaluable right now. Saving people from human trafficking is what she does. Has anyone seen her? She said she was taking a shower.” He wished he’d paid more attention to the time. She seemed to have been gone a while, but he couldn’t remember when she’d left.
Both agents shook their heads.
“Didn’t she come in here to grab a T-shirt and some toiletries?” He frowned. She couldn’t have gone far. There was no way she would leave, not with everything that had happened.
Agent Morris narrowed her eyes. “How long ago was this?”
He shrugged. He didn’t know. He’d been so engrossed in what he was doing he hadn’t noticed. Shit. What was wrong with him that he’d tuned out the woman he loved?
He walked to the door. “I’ll check the showers.”
“No, I’ll go.” Special Agent Kennedy blocked him from leaving.
He frowned at her.
“They’re women’s showers, and you need to stay here in case they call.” Special Agent Morris walked to the door.
“They’re not going to call, and even if they do, it’s a set up,” he reasoned.
She stopped with her hand on the handle. “Yes, but they don’t know that we know that.”
Finn stared at her with an incredulous look on his face. “Did you really just use the they-don’t-know-that-we-know sentence?”
Kennedy waved a hand, dismissing Finn’s comment. “We need to play for time. When—”
“You mean if. Maybe Moore is setting us up, and this is their way of drawing me out into the open.” Even as he said the words, Michael knew it didn’t matter if it was a trap. If there was even a remote chance he could get his mom and sister back, he would take it.
“At this stage, we can’t be certain of anything. They may call. Ethan might be planning a trap. The Sun Down Hotel is our best lead, and even that could be a lie. We don’t know, and therefore we need to be prepared for everything,” Finn explained.
They were right. They couldn’t be certain of anything. All Michael had to go on was his gut, and it was telling him that Sinclair had zeroed in on the Sun Down Hotel because something about it seemed suspicious, and he trusted her instincts even if he questioned his own. “What will you do?”
Agent Morris opened the door. “We’re trying to confirm their location, and we’re going to let the Granite City-Elkhead County Police Department be at any exchange they set up. Just in case. That’s all I can share with you. I’ll see what’s keeping Sinclair.”
The minute the door closed behind her, Finn punched some numbers on his office phone.
Milo waved a hand, beckoning Michael to the sofa. “Tell me you have a plan B.”
Michael rubbed his neck. All the what-ifs and variables were jumbled in his head. He grabbed his computer and brought it back to the couch. He loaded his TOR software and, with a few clicks, he was on the dark web.
In his experience, sellers on the black-market displayed their inventory beforehand. If Ethan was telling the truth, and his mom and Ava were to be auctioned, there would be a record of it somewhere. With a few more taps, their photos loaded. Underneath the image, in bold letters, it read: Bidding starts in two hours.
“Shit.” He placed the computer on the cushion between them so Milo could see it.
His stepdad gasped as his body jerked and his hand flew to his mouth.
Michael glanced at Finn who was still on the phone. He adjusted his position, so his back was to his friend. “Milo, tell me the truth. Are you well enough to fly?”
“If I have to control the damn helicopter with my teeth, I’ll get it off the ground. What do you have in mind?”
He grabbed a piece of paper from the desk and scribbled David Quinn’s number on it. “He’s ex-Special Forces. He’ll help us get what we need.”
Milo took the paper and stuffed it in his pocket.
At the same time, Kennedy barreled through the door. “Sinclair left the building.”
Michael stood. “She what?”
“When I didn’t find her in the showers, I spoke to security. She left. They said she was on foot, heading west but…” She shrugged. “They don’t know where she went once she was out of sight.”
Michael put a hand to his head, wanting to block out the news. Perhaps he was worrying for nothing. Perhaps she was just following her own lines of enquiry or she’d skipped out on him. No, she would never do that.
“Can you think of anywhere she would go?” Finn moved to the front of his desk.
Michael shook his head, trying to remember everything she had said. “Even before Sophia Reed delivered Ethan’s message, Sinclair was convinced that something was up with the Sun Down Hotel. I guess, in her line of work, they’re trained to look for that sort of thing. I figured…” At that moment, the screen on his laptop, which was still sitting on the couch, refreshed.
A headline with the words New Inventory: Gladiator appeared, followed by a video of a tall, unconscious woman being dragged into a hotel room. It was black and white, but he could clearly see the bruises on her face and the jeans and shirt she’d been wearing.
The muscles in his legs turned to jelly. “No, no, God no. They have Sinclair.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Michael doubted either of the FBI agents would notice if he walked out. Both Special Agent Morris and Finn were on the phone. The time was counting down on his screen, and he had no idea if they could get there in time to save them.
What would the Syndicate do to Sinclair, a woman who had fought against human trafficking for most of her adult life? He couldn’t rely on Ethan protecting any of them once they were auctioned. He almost laughed at that idiotic thought. He couldn’t trust Ethan at all. This could be a trap, but given that the clock was, literally, ticking, he had no choice but to act on the intelligence the assassin had provided.
Had Sinclair had a lead and told him where she was going, and he’d ignored her? That was a distinct possibility. He’d been so focused on himself and his own feelings he’d shut her out. Growing up, she’d endured one hardship after another, which had forced her to become strong and independent.
He’d asked her to let him in, which was a giant leap for her. Relationships required a certain amount of vulnerability. At eighteen, he’d betrayed her when they were supposed to be friends…more than friends. No wonder she didn’t want to get involved with him when he had, once again, proved himself untrustworthy. And now he had thrown away any chance they had to be together and put her in danger.
He inhaled, pushing back against his overwhelming guilt. Sinclair would never allow him to wallow. She would fight to her last breath, and so would he.
The phone on Special Agent Kennedy’s desk rang. She grabbed the receiver. “Hello.” After listening for a moment, she waved at him. “It’s them.”
Finn ended his call with the push of a button and punched in another number, probably calling his headquarters in Salt Lake City so they could record and trace the call.
Michael clutched the handset, took a deep breath, and said, “Hello.”
“Be at the fountain in Granite City Square in one hour,” a computer-generated voice demanded.
“I’m not going anywhere until you prove my mom, Ava, and Sinclair are alive.” No matter what action he chose to take, he needed proof of life.
“I’ve sent videos to Special Agent Callaghan’s work phone.”
Michael nodded to Fin
n, who was tapping the screen. His friend’s eyes widened before he stood and strode across the room, holding his smartphone up.
A film played of his mom and Ava sitting on a bed in a dingy hotel room.
Finn swiped. Another recording came into view. This was the same one he’d seen on the dark web of Sinclair being dragged into the hotel. Which he knew didn’t depict her current status. He was about to tell the caller that but stopped. If he revealed he’d already seen the playback on the dark web, the Syndicate would realize he also knew about the auction. Instead of challenging, he said, “What guarantee do I have that you’ll let them go?”
“Why would we want them?” Even though the voice was genderless and mechanical, he sensed the glee in their tone.
“Did you say one hour?” He was playing for time now, hoping the FBI techs could track the call.
The voice laughed and then said, “Stalling won’t work. They can’t trace me. It’s the same with the email address. You can use your last hour talking to me if you want.”
He slammed the phone down.
Fuck. Now he had a choice to make. Did he take a chance and trust the voice, or should he believe Ethan, the psycho with the knife?
It all came back to the Sun Down Hotel. Michael took a deep breath in an effort to center himself. He believed Moore was telling the truth, but only because Sinclair had been convinced there was something suspicious about the Sun Down Hotel, and he had faith in her.
He needed to act if he was to save them. Once he didn’t show at the meeting point, the Syndicate would know he was up to something.
Finn and Special Agent Morris were busy on the other side of the office, whispering to each other, probably figuring out a plan.
He grabbed Milo and hoisted him to his feet. “You need to leave now. There’s a phone at security you can use to make your call. Meet me at Granite City Helicopters. I’ll only be a few minutes behind you.”
His stepdad looked pale and tense, which was probably a combination of worry and pain, but he nodded and hobbled out.
