Risk

by Jaime Johnesee

Yup, it definitely deserved better.

  “Bite your tongue. Maybe we can get some pigs in a blanket to go.”

  “Hey, Cholesterol Boy, perhaps you should get the oatmeal and fruit plate.”

  “Stuff it, Bagheera.”

  “Oh, ho! A Junglebook reference, how original.”

  “I could call you Salem if you prefer.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, my knowledge of anthropomorphic black cats is sort of limited by the fact I never bothered to notice them before. Oh, wait, I’ve got one more, Thackery Binx.”

  He was really proud of himself.

  I had to grin. “You are a geek.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s not a compliment in your case, Q.”

  I set my coffee on the desk and readjusted my holster. It was rubbing against the underwire in my bra and digging in uncomfortably.

  “Too bad, because I am taking it as one.”

  “Incorrigible, that’s what you are.” I moved my arm around to make sure it was better and then I picked my coffee back up.

  “Aw, thanks. How about we grab something at Heavenly Donuts?”

  “Sounds like a plan, I love that place.”

  Yes! Now they had the pastries both I and my coffee deserved.

  “Okay, I’ll start calling the witnesses and arranging it.”

  “Thanks, Q.”

  A short time later he came and found me as I was going through a bank account that I’d noticed was tied to AWFA. I was trying to track the numbered accounts and it was a bitch of a job.

  “I got one of them to agree to meet us. I wasn’t able to get a hold of the other. Let’s roll.” Quinn put his phone away, then grabbed his keys and jacket.

  “What about Alex?”

  “Right. I forgot we have to wait for him. Sorry, Sam.”

  “It’s okay. I’m not really used to it yet, either.”

  “Used to what?” Alex asked as he walked in.

  He didn’t yet have an official desk and was sort of stuck at an awkwardly placed table at the end of mine and Quinn’s work stations. We normally used it for paperwork and manuals. Those were now stacked up at one edge of the woefully small table.

  I had to resist a grin every time I saw him folded up at that tiny table. The absurdity alone was worth it. Like seeing King Kong shoved in an elevator.

  Putting his briefcase and jacket on the chair, Alex turned to face us.

  “So, what aren’t you used to yet?”

  “Waiting for you.”

  “Are you saying I’m late?” Alex said in mock offense.

  “Yes! Three demerits!” I joked. “Grab your gear.”

  “Thank you, sir, may I have another? Where are we going?”

  “Witnesses. We’re stopping at Heavenly; one is meeting us there.” I guess Quinn wasn’t going to bother asking. He was putting his foot down, hard.

  He must be craving sugar something fierce.

  “Excellent! I was hungry for a beignet this morning.” Alex grabbed his jacket, but left his briefcase on his chair.

  We went down to the garage to sign out a car and were told there wasn’t one available. It was brake and oil change day and everything available had already been signed out or reserved. We decided to take my Challenger. Q and I had rebuilt her together, a little sister/brother bonding time, with most of it spent pounding out dents and stripping rust.

  I put on a classic rock station, as it’s the only thing the three of us agree on musically, and we talked about the witness we were meeting. We pulled up to the store and filed in to get our donuts. Alex had decided he wanted a cup of coffee, too, because he had forgotten we have excellent joe back at the office and he didn’t grab any before he left.

  Poor bastard.

  I picked the lemon Bismark—a mouthwatering yeast donut filled with tangy lemon filling—and Quinn went with a regular chocolate glazed topped with Reece’s Cups because, as he said, why not eat chocolate for breakfast when you’re trying to watch your cholesterol?

  Alex got his beignets and a large cup of coffee. He actually grabbed three dozen beignets and donuts so we could take them back to the rest of the crew. Thoughtful things like that were one of the reasons I liked Alex so much.

  “Who are we going to talk to?” Alex asked.

  I stared at him, completely entranced, as he ate his beignet without getting powdered sugar all over himself. I’ve never seen anyone come away so clean after eating one of the fluffy fried pastries. Personally, I tended to come away looking like Tony Montana, post roll in a pile of coke.

  “I’ve got two unrelated witnesses who called in complaints on the same night for the same incident. Both report watching three women and one man get forced into a black Ford Econoline. One witness said that one of the ladies being abducted had a tail and the man looked like he had dog ears.”

  “You think they saw shifters being abducted?” Quinn had the beginnings of a chocolate beard.

  “I do.” I took a bite of my warm delicious donut and the day seemed just a little brighter as the yeasty dough melted on my tongue along with a layer of sugar.

  Joy. Pure unbridled joy.

  “So, what’s our plan?” Alex asked as he dabbed his napkin at a miniscule spot of powdered sugar on his tie.

  “I figure we wait here for the witness to talk, then we go knock on the door of the one we haven’t gotten a hold of and ask her some questions, kid gloves style. If these girls are scared and we don’t handle them right, they might rabbit.”

  I tried not to think about tasty, tasty rabbits, and, instead, diverted my jaguar’s attention to the warm and yeasty donut. She wasn’t thrilled with the lemon and pushed for some bunny, instead. It ain’t easy having this creature living inside my mind. I suppose it must be similar to being possessed. Though I had to give her some props; the idea of a meat pie with rabbit did sound delicious.

  “We should try calling the second witness again. If we can get her to meet us here it’ll save us some time. We can offer her some free donuts.”

  “Bullshit, Quinn, you just want an excuse for another donut. Kelly will kill me.”

  “Hear me out, Sam. I promise this has nothing to do with me eating donuts, well, not completely, anyway.”

  “Fine, fire away.” I narrowed my eyes and awaited the bullshit that I was sure would inevitably become Q insisting he needed another donut.

  “Show me a working girl that would turn down a dozen donuts and a free cup of coffee for a quick conversation that could save a lot of lives.” Quinn polished off his chocolate mess and, in turn, licked each of his fingers.

  “One who is asleep, diabetic, or has a fear of cops. Good donut?” I grinned.

  “Perfection, thanks, and fair points.” He licked chocolate off his thumb to show me he wasn’t ashamed.

  Truthfully, I didn’t blame him. That donut had looked delicious. I chuckled while Alex dialed the witness we weren’t able to reach earlier to ask her to meet us here. It went to voicemail. Al left a message asking for her help and offering the donuts and coffee.

  If it led to shutting down AWFA, I was ready to fork out a billion pastries. In the last few years they had grown and taken over things much the same way kudzu did. It seemed like they preferred to recruit people just as they were finding out about the super world living right alongside them.

  AWFA lied, a lot. They gave false information and scared people who didn’t know any better into believing vamps and shifters were nothing more than monsters. What scared me the most—and what I liked least—was how entangled they were with law enforcement.

  There were policemen and firefighters, EMS paramedics, and judges. Hell, even the mayor’s former aid had been a staunch Americans for a Were-Free America supporter. He was eventually fired for discrimination, but against women, not shifters. He refused to hire a female candidate that had far better qualifications than the man the aide had actually hired.

  The one witness arrived. Quinn stood and waved her over.
She walked up hesitantly. “Agents?” She had long red hair that hung to her tiny waist. She batted her big baby blues at Quinn.

  Even if her smile hadn’t looked like it belonged on a fourteenth century English pig farmer’s daughter with a meth problem, she wouldn’t have had a chance. Q loved his wife.

  “Yes. Please, have a seat, and let Agent Baltazar know what you want. He’ll order it while you speak with Agent O’Reilly and myself.”

  She asked Alex for a dozen—half beignets, half red velvet cake donuts—and a large coffee with two creams and extra sugar. He stood, smiled, and got in line without complaining.

  He is such a great guy. With a great ass. The witness, Reece, focus on the witness.

  “So, what exactly did you see the night you called the police?” Quinn asked her.

  “Well, I watched as these fellas approached this group of street urchins, mostly girls and one guy. They were a bunch of big ol’ mean-ass looking men with guns. They forced the group into a big black van and got the hell up out of there. I called the cops and then did the same. Ginger ain’t no fool, baby.” The woman smiled at me.

  It had once been a beautiful one. Much like the rest of her chances in life, I’d say meth had ruined it and left her with teeth that were busted and rotting out. I could tell she was currently hopped up on something because her right eyebrow was twitching and she looked around every five minutes as if expecting someone to pop up from behind and grab her. If that wasn’t clue enough to her drug usage, there were the multiple fresh scabs around her mouth.

  To say she stuck out in her surroundings was an understatement. It was like trying to hide an elephant on a flat stretch of desert. Even if she had seen everything she claimed to, Ginger would never see the witness stand because no jury would buy her as anything close to credible. If we wanted to end this case, we were going to have to find a whole lot more than her word.

  “Does it help that I got a picture of the license plate?” Ginger asked.

  “Yes, yes it does.” Quinn leaned closer to the woman. “Can you show me?”

  She pulled out her cell and scrolled through to the picture she wanted and handed the phone to Quinn. He looked at the picture, moved his mouth as he memorized the number and then he excused himself to put a BOLO out on the van.

  I was fairly certain we’d find the vehicle abandoned and learn that the plate was stolen. One thing I’ve learned about AWFA is they’re damned good at covering their tracks. I wanted to believe we’d find all the shifters that had been kidnapped and sold into the slave trade, but I knew the reality was far more bleak. Many of the ones who had been sold would never be recovered, not even in death.

  All I could promise was that I would do my best to make sure that AWFA wasn’t going to terrorize innocent shifters ever again. I was going to bring them down.

  Alex came back with the donuts and coffee and set them on the table in front of Ginger.

  “Thank you. Am I done here?” She looked around as if scared and searching for a way out. It reminded me of a bunny and my stomach growled.

  To cover the noise, I blurted, “What do you know about the group Americans for a Were-Free America?” I noticed her stiffen when I said the name.

  Fear played along the lines of her face and she quickly snapped, “Nothing. Never heard of ’em.”

  “Bullshit, Ginger. Tell me what you know. We can help you out.” I hardly ever get to play good cop.

  “Bitch, they will gut me before I even spill one word. I’ll help with the human side of the trafficking case, but I’m not putting my nose into that shifter shit. I’m done talking to you.”

  “Hey, we aren’t asking you to do anything more than you’re willing to,” Alex piped in. “Are we, Agent Reece?”

  “I’m not looking to get anyone killed. I just need enough to help stop the asshole who has been selling people like they’re nothing. Nobody is worthless. You know that.” I looked her dead in her eyes and let her see me.

  “That’s some bullshit you cops say when you want something. I ain’t stupid, fed. You want any more from me, I need a whole new life.”

  “Ginger, no offense, but I highly doubt you’re going to be in possession of any information that warrants a whole new life and the expenses that come along with.”

  “Don’t you know that err’body talk smack in the sack? I know more than y’all think I do.”

  “Like what?” I scoffed.

  Scoffing is an art form. A good scoff can’t be pulled off by just anyone at just any time.

  “Like how you all at the FBI have an antiwere infestation. Y’all may want to see about mole removal.” She crossed her arms in front of her freckle-spattered chest and smiled at me smugly.

  I felt bad for her teeth.

  “Like we’re supposed to buy that.” I kept my fake smile in place but my heart was racing.

  Freaking moles in the FBI besides Sheila Stork and her cohort? Fuck.

  Ginger opened the box of donuts and grabbed a beignet. She set it on a napkin and began pulling it apart—eating it in tiny bites in between words. “True story. Y’all got some double agents or some shit.”

  “And you came upon this information how exactly?” Alex smiled sweetly at her.

  “Well, I was getting eaten out by this dude and his phone rang. Motherfucker stopped to answer. Normally I don’t mind, I’m paid by the hour for my—” She stopped talking.

  “We aren’t interested in a little hooking, Ginger; we have bigger fish on the line.”

  “Fine. Anyway, I was close to finishing, and that’s rare in my line of work, honey. So, when he stopped, I listened. He answered the phone with the name Danvers. He was explaining that he had everything wrapped up tight. Said someone in your office was cooperating with him to bury the missing shifter reports.”

  “Damn.” It seemed appropriate to say.

  Quinn reentered the donutery (donutisserie?) as I stood to call Gerry. I asked Alex to explain what was going on to Q, and headed outside to call our boss. As I walked out the front door, I felt guilty. Like maybe I should’ve sensed something earlier that more was off about Danvers. I felt a bit like a rube.

  It stung.

  I swallowed my injured pride and dialed Gerry’s number.

  Chapter 4

  “WOW, SO DANVERS is our mole?” My boss seemed surprised.

  “Yeah. Apparently he’s also been helping sell shifters into slavery. Full on slimy sort of fella.” I felt sick.

  Cops go bad all the time, but human trafficking was just about the worst crime imaginable, and knowing that an officer of the law was responsible for that level of suffering was enough to turn my stomach seven ways to Sunday, whatever the hell that meant.

  “I’ll have his boss bring him in. He’ll probably ask for a union rep, but see if you can’t make him spill first.” Gerry sounded angry.

  “Between Quinn, Alex, and myself, we’ll get the truth out of him.”

  “You better hope so, Reece, because this is becoming a gigantic clusterfuck nobody needed. Seems Danvers has made a good impression on some high ranking people. I got a call asking why you guys went to visit him. The big dogs upstairs are uncomfortable with us nosing around so close to home. I reminded them they tasked us to take out these AWFA nutbars. It’s backed them off, for now, but we need more evidence.”

  “Nutbars, is that the technical term? We’ll do what we can.”

  “Do it faster, will ya?”

  “Gerry, I’m moving as fast as I can. Believe me, being the shifter face of the FBI hunting down these speciesest pricks has put quite the target on me. I’ve been getting a lot more fan mail lately.” It had increased exponentially after Grisly was shot to death on my lawn.

  Sometimes I wish I’d shot that sick bastard myself. Oh, and by fan mail, I hope you know I mean a lot of horribly worded suggestions for me to do things to myself and other objects. Not to mention there had been the occasional chicken livers, sheep, cow, or pig hearts, and all manner of offal that
had been sent along with some of the threats.

  In fact, after the last letter, I will never again be able to eat a bear claw without thinking of my gynecologist.

  “Yeah, well, you and Alex will have to play boyfriend and girlfriend a little while longer.” Gerry chuckled.

  “I would like to get back to real life soon, please. I have to buy a new house. The condo I’m renting is nice, but I need room to run and stretch my claws.” I hated not being able to just shift and run when I wanted. So did my jaguar. So did Alex. I was grumpy when I couldn’t run.

  “Unfortunately, we aren’t done until we have dug up and cut off all of AWFA’s roots in our field office.”

  “I know. I wish we could hurry it up. I hate living like this. I want my home back.”

  “Sorry, Sam. I know this has been rough on you. I know you loved your old place, but I have to agree that being nearly killed there and set up for murder makes for a good reason to move. You’ll get just the right house when it’s time. I have no doubt.”

  “Thanks, Ger. I have Bob scouting some places for me. He is remarkably good with real estate.”

  “I had no idea zombies were good with real estate that wasn’t part of a cemetery.”

  “You’d be amazed; he’s got a gift. Okay, I’m heading back in with Q and Al. See you soon.”

  “Be careful.”

  “Will do.” I hung up the phone, slipped it in my pocket, and walked back to the donut shop.

  I noticed a man eating a bear claw and made a mental note to call my gyno and make an appointment for my annual exam.

  “Hey, Al?” I pulled him away from the table and Ginger leaned a little closer to Quinn as we walked away.

  “What’s up?”

  “Nothing, I just wanted to see if she’d spill anything to Q that maybe she was afraid to tell all of us.” I grinned.

  “You mean you were getting revenge on him telling Kelly about the bacon wraps.”

  “So I told her he had a wrap for lunch and failed to mention it was cheeseburger wrapped in bacon buns. Poor guy deserves a cheat day now and again. Besides, there was no carbs, and he had salmon three out of five days for lunch last week; that deserves a treat!” I grinned broader.