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“Your husband.” He straightened up a little at the idea that he might be marriage material. Was it too soon to waggle his brows playfully? They weren’t there yet. He was lucky she hadn’t bailed on him completely.
“That’s fine.” She shrugged and rolled her eyes. “There are tons of loveless marriages. We can play it that way.”
Mick couldn’t hold back the chuckle. “Right. You go in tomorrow for an interview, onboarding should be pretty quick since Carmen has built a rock-solid identity that will have no problem making it through the background check. Then you get in there and see what you can dig up. Our goal is to make a solid case to turn over to the police.”
“You see this information on the safe houses?” Charlize started pacing around nervously, the bumble bee burst of worry he recognized all too well. “It isn’t as if we can hand over a decent tip and hope the cops do something about it. This company covers its tracks and the women won’t talk. If we don’t shut it down completely, the safe houses could turn into houses of horror. They’ll be desperate to silence other witnesses. Hide evidence. This is widespread, far-reaching. An investigation by the police will be slow. What we hand them needs to be something they act on in a sweep.”
“I know.” He cleared his throat, wondering if he should stand and try to calm her. No matter how tough she’d tried to be about what happened on their last mission, he knew better. History had a chance of repeating itself. They’d worked that case for weeks and when it came time to finally do what needed to be done, the execution was sloppy. They didn’t have the backup they needed because they hadn’t done enough to get the local police on board with what had been going on in that house. This could be the same if they didn’t get it right. Maybe even worse.
Cops were limited in what they could do without evidence or at least probable cause. In their last case officers knocked on the door, asked a few questions of the man living in the house, and believed him. In reality, Mick and Charlize hadn’t built enough of a case. It was on them. And the guilt was clearly gnawing at both of them now.
“We’ll make sure it’s rock-solid,” Mick promised. “You’ll have a lot of access from the inside. Nothing happens before we know where every woman is being kept and how her children are. I’ll be working an angle too.”
“You will?” Charlize furrowed her brows. “Gaining trust is not going to be easy, especially when these women have so much on the line. They see you coming, and they’ll get all freaked out.”
“Are you suggesting I don’t have a warm and fuzzy vibe or a trusting face?” He batted his eyes comically.
"You usually look like you just fell off a special forces truck and are ready to bash some heads in. That might not be the energy they need to feel ready to open up.”
“Well good thing I’m taking the drug-dealer angle instead. I’ll be connecting on the distribution level. These women are being sent everywhere. Universities. Clubs. Street corners. What and how much they sell determines what their life will be like the next day. How much access they’ll have to their children. I might be able to make some connections there. Carmen made sure we’re well stocked with cash. I could be a buyer who makes their life easier and gets them talking. It isn’t clear yet how closely they’re monitored or by whom.”
“They’ll definitely have a handler.” Charlize stopped buzzing around long enough to crumple her face in thought. “Not that the women are flight risks, they’re not going to put their child’s welfare on the line. But still, someone will be watching them. Making sure they’re doing what they are supposed to. Collecting the money. Just be careful you don’t blow your cover. What kind of husband would you be if you were hanging around clubs buying drugs from young women?”
“One in a loveless marriage,” he smiled wryly. “I think it could play perfectly.”
Charlize nibbled her lip. “If we blow this there could be hundreds of children in danger.”
“They’re already in danger and no one is coming to help them. If we pull this off, they’ll finally have a shot at a real life.”
CHAPTER 4
CHARLIZE
This outfit was not her preferred attire. The pencil skirt and tight silk blouse under a designer blazer made her feel trapped and stiff. Even back in her days as a detective her suits were more forgiving than this Venus fly trap of an outfit trying to strangle the life out of her whole body. Punctuated with stiletto heels and a bun that felt too tight, she wondered how people did this every day. It was torture.
There was a theory she’d heard once that had stuck with her. Most of the clothes men found sexy also put women at a disadvantage for fleeing. The heels would slow her down; the skirt would trip her up. She laughed the idea off. Maybe that was true, sexy equated to the inability to get away, but in her case, she’d turn that red high heel into a weapon. Let someone try.
“Mrs. Glendale, it’s such a pleasure to meet you.” The man standing at his office door had an unflattering triangle build and coal black eyes she had a hard time looking into. But she forced a smile and tipped her head to the side diminutively. His meaty hand reached out for hers and she pretended to be equally pleased to meet him.
“Mr. Floover, thank you so much for interviewing me today. I’m really excited to discuss the position with you.” She pretended not to see when his eyes raked over her. She hadn’t expected to meet a man like this in an organization touting their dedication to changing the lives of women in need. But she should have known better, they were everywhere.
He ushered her into his office and quickly shut the door behind them. It sent a chill up her spine to be alone with him, and for a moment, she pictured plunging the point of her high heels into his eye. That made her feel a bit better.
“So, you’ve come highly recommended to us for the grant writing position. We’ve been searching far and wide for the right candidate. Your name kept coming up.”
“Oh that’s flattering,” she cooed, settling in to the large chair across from his desk and crossing her legs, letting her skirt ride up a bit. She was pretty sure the job was hers, but she wasn’t taking any chances. A cover could be blown anytime if someone was skeptical enough and looking carefully at the facts. It was important to make sure Mr. Floover had something else to look at.
“I’m sure you’re used to being flattered. A woman like you must get plenty of compliments for all sorts of things.” His lips curved into a devilish smile.
“You’re so sweet. I’m really excited to hear more about the position. Grant writing is my passion. I know that’s so nerdy but I really do love connecting nonprofits with important funding that can help keep the wheels greased for the work they do.”
“Right,” Mr. Floover said, straightening up a bit. “Grant writing is a tricky business, isn’t it? Lots of red tape. Very strict.”
“It is,” she agreed somberly. “That’s where I come in. I really hate the way these systems are designed. A company like Angels of a New Day is vital to society. There shouldn’t be so many barriers to funding that is just sitting there waiting to be claimed by a wonderful nonprofit. I would love to be able to help you all with that.”
“That’s great to hear. I think it’s important to note we’re not without flaws.” He cleared his throat. “We really did start out as very grassroots. There was a lack of rigor. Maybe some mistakes were made.” He waved his hand quickly. “Obviously, all in the name of helping people. We really didn’t know what we didn’t know. We would require someone who could see the context to some of the challenges we’ve faced while we’ve been building and still help us put our best foot forward for the grant writing process. What I mean is—”
“I’m completely clear on what you mean,” she replied with a disarming smile. “I’m assuming the people recommending me to you understand the position you are in and know that I’m very familiar with how to make the system work for your organization. That money goes unused and redistributed if it’s not awarded during the grant process. I know how to make sure it’s awarded to deserving people, not perfect people. I know grant writers tend to be very rigid. But I pride myself on my flexibility.” She winked awkwardly and let a little piece of her soul die at the perverted way he’d taken her words. Creep.
