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“This isn’t funny, dickhead!” whispered East. “I need her to go home and be safe. I need her to be behind the gates of Belle Fleur.”
“And what?” asked Brooke.
“Fuck, they really are thin,” smiled Eazee. His brother frowned at him.
“Shut up.”
“And what do I do, East? Put on an apron and bake cookies for you while I wait for you to come home. Again.” She walked out of the bathroom, all eyes staring at their familiar, fresh-faced friend.
“Ouch,” muttered Matt.
“I’ve waited more than ten years for you to step up and take what you want, and you didn’t! You didn’t because you were so worried about your job and what might happen. You never once asked about my job. You, all of you, assumed I was sitting behind a desk rubbing people’s backs as they sobbed about their dilemma.
“Well, I wasn’t! I was doing real, detailed, difficult, cut-throat fucking operative work. That’s right, I said fucking! I helped women and children who were escaping from abject poverty, prostitution, and drugs. Me. I fed that information to the feds, Homeland, DEA, and anyone else, and do you know what happened? Not a damn thing. I’m still seeing women and children come across the border, stepping right back into the life they left.”
“Uh, baby, maybe we keep it down. We already know how thin the walls are,” said East. She stared at him, her face getting redder and redder.
“I think she’s going to blow,” said Cowboy. Brooke let out a long, exasperated breath.
“Do you guys have any idea how fucking annoying you are? You assume that we’ll all just take cushy jobs back home. Be a chef, be a teacher, maybe a nurse or a doctor. A lawyer is good. But a cop? An operative? A soldier, sailor, or marine? No fucking way. Well, guess what? I watched the women around me. I spoke to Sara, Piper, Lucia, Hazel, and dozens of others.
“Badass fucking women! They did it, and I’m doing it. Now, I do plan to work for VG when I retire from the DEA. When I retire on my terms, in my time. Not when you decide it might be best for me.”
They all stared at her, wisely not saying a word. East paced back and forth for a moment, his hands shoving that hair back again. His brother handed him an elastic, and he swiped it from him, pulling the hair into a man-bun.
“You’re right,” he said, stopping to stare at her. Brooke furrowed her brows, waiting for the ‘but.’ “You’re right. I’m treating you differently than I would my brothers or any other man. Hell, probably different than any other woman. But.”
“Here it comes,” she frowned.
“But it’s because I love you, Brooke. I’ve loved you almost my entire life. I want a life with you. Kids, a dog or two, a home. I don’t know how that happens if you’re still in the DEA. You wanna be an operative for VG, great. Let’s do it together. I’m just trying to figure it all out. I woke up this morning thinking I was after a trafficker, and I’m going to bed thinking I just need to get the woman I love home.”
There was utter silence in the room. Eazee grinned at his brother, wanting to congratulate him for the powerful speech. They’d known for years that he was in love with Brooke but didn’t want to push him on it. No one, probably not even her parents, would suspect that she was an active agent with the DEA.
“That’s fair,” she said quietly.
She slowly walked toward him, standing in front of him. Her head reached just below his chest, her long hair pulled back from her face with a scrunchie the guys had brought for her. She was wearing a tight pair of jeans and t-shirt, her feet bare.
“Fair?”
“Yes, fair. I’m a reasonable woman. Can we make a deal? We get Sutton, and I’ll resign from the DEA. We go back, become operatives at VG, together. Then, we talk about marriage and starting a family.”
East smiled at her, lifting her in his arms.
“Sweetest fucking deal ever.”
CHAPTER SIX
“So, he’s holding women in his backyard?” frowned Cowboy.
“Not exactly holding. The women in the tunnel in the backyard are there willingly. They make the most money for him and for themselves. It’s basically a brothel. He’s put plumbing down there, air conditioning and heat, hell, there’s even a private kitchen. If anyone shows up unexpectedly, the trap door locks, we’re shuffled further into the tunnel, and lawnmowers are placed on top of the trap door.”
“Where are the kids? The women he kidnapped and sold?” asked Eazee.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out, but he isn’t willing to divulge that to one of his whores,” she frowned.
“You’re not one of his whores,” growled East.
“Take it easy. I know, but that’s the way he thinks of me. I have to play the game. Play stupid and willing to do anything. He pays the girls a little bit of money, which is how I’ve been able to have time to myself now and then. I’ll ask to go to the store or the mall, something like that.”
