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I grit my teeth as I pump my release, knowing damn well this is wrong. Sophia is the last person I should think about while jacking off.
I need to go into the village and find someone to fuck. To clear my mind. But I can’t risk it. Someone might see me. It wouldn’t fit with our cover.
Of course, maybe Sophia’s hunch is correct. Maybe they are swingers. But what would that mean? I’d be with Gemma while Sophia was with Rafael? Would she do that for a nothing case? It’s clear in training sex is not a requirement of the job. It’s not expected. But there’s an unstated understanding that sometimes it works. Hell, there are infamous instances of men and women being trained in other government’s intelligence operations to seduce and use all means necessary.
It’s just sex. And I wouldn’t have a problem with it, but as I flip the lever to end the shower, I envision Sophia crawling on Rafael’s lap. My muscles tense and my jaw tightens. No. Absolutely not. Getting a phone number, maybe securing a Colombian source, it’s not worth that.
I swipe a large section of mirror with a towel and study my beard, judging if it needs a trim. What the hell am I doing? Since when do I do anything but brush and floss at night?
The lights outside the bathroom are off. I drop my towel, slip on a pair of flannel pajama pants, and head to the kitchen. I want more bourbon, but search for water. My muscles are too damn sore and tight to get loaded up on alcohol.
A movement on the sofa sends me into a crouch. My eyesight adjusts in the darkened room. A woman sits on the sofa, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, face down. Dark hair veils her legs.
I flip on the kitchen light. Sophia’s pale skin nearly glows beneath a crimson halo.
“What’s wrong?”
She sniffs, and I search her face. Sophia’s been through a lot, but in those seven years of watching over her, I only observed tears once. Splotches marred her perfect complexion back then. Here, there’s no redness. No, if anything, her color is ashen, blanched.
In two seconds, I’m before her, kneeling on the floor, searching for injury. She’s in a silky cream tank top with thin straps and matching long silk pants. Conservative yet alluring.
“Sophia?”
Those blue eyes lift, lost in a blank, unreadable expression. My gut twists. Something is wrong. Very wrong.
My mind skims over the operation details. There’s nothing that could’ve gone awry in the twenty minutes I spent in the shower. Is her family—
“The parole board met today. They released Wayne Killington from prison on good behavior. My dad just found out.”
Oh. That explains it. I rise and sit back on the sofa. Wayne Killington orchestrated her abduction. If memory serves, he got fifteen years. Being released now would mean he served about two-thirds of that time. But, given his connections and the state of overcrowded prisons, it’s not surprising he got an early release.
“What’s the point of doing all of this?” She speaks over her knees, as if she’s asking the room. “I mean, they caught a gun smuggler. He smuggled guns into other countries for years.” She blinks and her brow wrinkles. “Maybe decades. We don’t really know. He fed guns to the cartels. We couldn’t prove it, but I expect his clients included the mafia, the Middle East, anyone with assets. Why work to end the gun trade, the drug trade, any illegal trade, if the bad guys are only going to serve partial sentences?”
“His life is ruined. His marriage dissolved.”
“His marriage was a joke to begin with.” Wayne Killington had been her mother’s lover. I don’t know the details, never wanted to know them. But I understand what she means.
I let out a deep exhale. The man did pay. “He’s going to be lonely. He might have to sell his house. Getting a job is going to be—”
“Don’t.” Those blue eyes narrow into hostile storm clouds. “It’s not going to be difficult. Did you miss the part about him having connections? Sure, he won’t get his old job back. But the gun industry is small. Someone will hire him. If he needs to work. He’s still got all that money he earned. Probably some we don’t know about in offshore accounts.” Her chin returns to her knee and the hostility blows past as quickly as it appeared. Curled around herself on the sofa, she’s soft and small. Fragile. “I just can’t believe they think ten years is sufficient for all he did.”
“If it makes you feel better, from what I understand, the Morales cartel is a fraction of what it used to be.” Killington hired members of the Morales cartel to carry out her abduction. They were more or less freelancing the job, but the connection exposed a larger gun and drug smuggling endeavor between the Morales cartel and Sullivan arms, and Killington played an instrumental role. She’s right. He didn’t get prosecuted for any of that.
“They’ve suffered from in-fighting and competition. Victor Morales going down damaged their network.” She says it matter-of-factly.
“You’ve been monitoring them?”
“It’s what I did in the bureau. An analyst studying organized crime in Latin and South America. Studied criminal organizations around the world. The bureau isn’t only law enforcement these days. It’s also an intelligence agency. Being aware is a big part of protecting US citizens. Of all the organizations I studied, most are spurred by greed, some by survival. Drugs, guns, diamonds, humans… It’s all interconnected. I thought I could make a difference but…”
I’d love to tell her she is making a difference. But, when you’re fighting in the trenches, it’s impossible to grasp who’s winning the war. I just spent years in Mexico, nursing informants, and what do I have to show for it? Charges brought against a high-ranking diplomat. And passed over for a promotion.
Sophia curls onto her side, and her head rests on the sofa’s armrest as if it’s a pillow. With her legs pulled up to her chest, her position stirs a memory. So many years ago, when she found out Killington had been granted bail before his hearing, she’d curled up into the fetal position on her bed. I glimpsed her broken form when walking through the house doing rounds. I vowed I’d never let that bastard near her. Worked around the clock with a full staff until he was prosecuted. Then kept working, keeping Sophia and her family safe for years after.
There were quite a few men involved in her abduction. More involved in illegal gun smuggling with her father’s company. But for her, while all those other men were breaking the law, Killington is personal. I shift onto the sofa and tuck her hair behind her ear so I can see her face. “Do you still think about it? The abduction?”
I’ve known men who years later can’t forget what happened during battle. Trauma. People carry it differently. Killington abducted her, and that alone, holding her hostage, is traumatic. I’ve never been clear on what happened to her during the week or so he had her. The DA didn’t pursue rape charges, but that means nothing. A girl as young as Sophia might not have wanted to endure a rape trial. Her dad’s protective. He might have refused to put her through that.
“Yes. And no.” She releases a pained, defeated sigh. “I remember fragments. They had me pumped so high my memory is…unreliable.” My fingers skim her silky calf. I want to comfort her, but this isn’t my area of expertise. Jack and Ava, her dad and stepmom, are far better equipped than me, and they struggled for years to help her.
