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“Good. We roll out in ten. Go ahead and send your message to your captain.”
Nodding, I wait for him to leave me alone and take one final look in the mirror. What I didn’t tell Blake is how right all of this feels. Being part of this unit. Deep diving into the pasts of the suspects and learning the small things that, if it comes to it, will be huge in establishing my role. I won’t say it’s a high but it definitely gets my heart pumping in a good way.
I pull my phone from its charger on the dresser and pull up my contacts. This isn’t the same phone I’ve had for years. It’s a new pre-paid phone with only a few numbers programmed. One is Uncle Cal. Except in this phone he’s listed as “Janie-Redhead.”
It’s not common for UCs to have ongoing communication with their families but for this assignment he isn’t my uncle. He’s my captain and we agreed I would send him a text the night I went completely under. Since his number I saved as a woman I would have hooked up with or at least plan to hook up with, I send words I never ever want to send to the man again.
Gage: Hey baby. Want to meet up tonight?
There’s no response right away so I grab my cash and slip it into my pocket and fasten the leather band on my wrist. The chime of a response causes me to pause. God willing, Janie-Redhead doesn’t say anything to cause me to puke.
Janie-Redhead: Hit me up when you’re ready. I’m ready now.
Gross. I can’t stomach a response and move toward the living room where the rest of the team sits. Vargas stands and lifts his pant leg, slipping a knife into the leather strap while the tell-tale click of a magazine pulls my attention to Blake. We all know our weapons will be checked as soon as we arrive and likely taken but it wouldn’t make sense for us to roll in unarmed.
We file out of the house with Blake splitting off to his bike while the rest of us pile in the blacked-out SUV. The drive to our destination is relatively quiet, only the occasional clearing of a throat or sound of shifting on the leather seats. My eyes are fixed out the window, but I see nothing but streaks of lights as my mind wanders briefly.
I can’t afford to allow much more than a short thought outside of the task at hand. I think of my family. How nobody but Uncle Cal knows where I’m going. I wonder how these men handle lengthy assignments away from their real lives. From family and friends. Is it the freedom to be someone else? The ability to leave expectations behind and focus on one goal.
“You okay there, kid?”
I nod at Spellman, who reciprocates the action. Vargas slows to a stop at a red light before turning down a darkened street. The lights don’t burn much brighter than the moon, which only heightens my senses.
Vacant buildings with graffiti across every surface.
A red sedan and dark blue coupe parked on the street.
Dumpsters with the tops open.
Vargas stops behind Blake, who has killed his engine and is talking into an intercom. Two men stand on the other side, their silhouettes barely visible, the glow of their cigarettes the confirmation they exist. Tension is high in the SUV and our surroundings are ominous. If it wasn’t for the line of bikes and other vehicles, I’d worry this is a setup. Vargas cracks the window and we hear the thumping of music in the distance.
The iron gates open and Blake fires up his bike again, leading us to the main building. My heart beats quickly and by the silence around me, I imagine everyone else is feeling the pressure surrounding us.
“Eyes and ears open, gentleman. We’re here for a good time but don’t let your guard down.”
With his parting words, Spellman slides out of the back seat, the rest of us following him. Game time.
• • •
My hand grips the waist of the young woman trying to spin her body to face me while the other hand lifts the warm bottle of beer to my lips. I’ve been nursing this bottle for over an hour and tolerating the petite blonde’s efforts to give me a lap dance. Vargas is to my left with two women draped all over one another with him nestled between them. He’s made a few comments that had me lifting my brows. I don’t know him well but I don’t think calling women “bitches” is part of his regular vocabulary.
Thankfully the women vying for our attention are actually women and not underage jailbait who should have parents wondering where they are. I’ve had to remind myself I’m not here as the straight-laced cop who wants to haul these men in for doing God knows what to these young girls. Half of them are wasted and the other half are clearly on something.
I’m like a naïve rookie for thinking the only thing illegal happening here would be drugs and some unregistered weapons. Instead, we have what is no doubt some form of human trafficking. Unfortunately, criminals have graduated from dealing drugs to females. It isn’t only young girls they manage to pull off the streets, it’s women and girls of all ages. My thoughts jump to Aubrey and how when I get home we’re going to have a lengthy conversation about safety.
Scanning the room, I watch as Blake shakes hands with an older man, his silver hair secured in a ponytail. Unlike a lot of the guys in worn jeans and T-shirts, this guy is dressed more conservatively in dark-wash jeans and a black button-up shirt. The bright overhead lights catch on his platinum watch. Money and power waft off this guy like the cheap perfume from the girl swirling her hips on my lap.
Blake nods with acknowledgment at whatever the man is saying before he throws his head back in a boisterous laugh. As quickly as he was smiling with the man, his expression changes and a crease forms between his brows. His stance widens as his arms cross over his chest. I tap the hips of the girl and motion for her move before grabbing Vargas’s attention. He catches my eye and follows my chin nod in Blake’s direction. No longer is it only Blake and the silver-haired man talking, now three more men have joined them. Vargas rises and I follow suit.
“Grab us some beers,” he instructs as he moves across the room with purpose.
Doing as told, I grab four beers and pop the caps and join the conversation. Spellman sees our movements and, while he doesn’t join us, he does shift his position so he’s in a clear path our direction.
My presence is acknowledged and I distribute the beers to the two men who are clearly discussing something serious as well as Vargas. “Looked like you all could use a cold one.”
“Looks like you’ve added to your crew, Blake. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m not too keen on having strangers in my house.”
I’m not sure if the men can hear my heart thumping in my chest as I have my first interaction with the obvious leader of this enterprise. Blake may not be looking at me directly, but I feel his eyes on me before he responds.
