Eva Rae Thomas Mystery Box Set

by Willow Rose

  The two women left, and Christopher slowly undressed Helen. He placed her on a yoga mat in the middle of the room, lit all the candles surrounding her, then climbed on top of her.

  Chapter 34

  Lori Moore stared at her wrist and turned it in the sparse light. Then she felt it. The smooth skin felt nice under her fingertips, she thought with a deep sigh. She was thrilled she had pulled out in time, before she too was branded like her best friend was, like all who became part of the inner circle were — branded for life.

  Always reminded of what they had agreed.

  Lori sipped her glass of Chardonnay while looking at the lights in Biscayne Bay. Out there, the cargo ships waited to be docked in the port, while cruise ships left for or came back from the Bahamas or the Virgin Islands.

  She had left the office early, right after the visit from Kelly Stone and her strange companion. Their visit had stirred something up in her that she didn’t care for, and she treated herself to the rest of the day off, something she never did. But today, she needed it.

  Lori sipped her wine and felt the warm breeze on her face. The light in the pool lit up the entire back yard while the dark windows from her mansion looking back at her reminded her how alone she was.

  Living in an eighteen-thousand-square-foot home could be quite lonely when it was just one person.

  Lori had never wanted children and a family. It had been pretty clear to her when she became an adult. She wanted a career. She wanted to make something of herself. Growing up poor, she had never thought she would actually live on the ocean one day, in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the state. She never thought she would live in a house like this or that people would talk to her with awe and respect the way they did every day. But that was her life now, and boy, was she proud of it. If only her mom wasn’t always high on drugs, she would invite her to see it, to see for herself what her daughter had accomplished, even though she always told her she would never amount to anything in life, that she was so ugly she should consider herself lucky if she made it as a whore.

  Those had been her words when Lori was a teenager, and they had lingered with her ever since, making her determined to prove her wrong.

  And this was where it had brought her — a huge mansion, Chardonnay in hand, and more than a three hundred employees beneath her.

  But was it enough? Did it satisfy her?

  When Lori had entered NYX, she had thought that the classes would help her deal with this sense of emptiness that was growing inside of her. She had believed this was what she needed to fill that void that she had thought would go away when she reached her goals in life.

  And for a little while, the teachings of Christopher Daniels had done just that. But then he had asked to have sex with her when she saw him in his office. Lori had refused. She hadn’t told this part to Kelly Stone and her friend since it was too private to share. But the fact was, Lori had run out of his house, and even though several men had tried to stop her, she had managed to make it out, running away and never returning.

  Now that she had left NYX, she had also lost everyone she knew. She had become a social outcast since most women in her social circles were members, and a lot of them inner circle members. All her network collapsed at once, and now she was more alone than ever, especially after she started writing her blog about what had happened, excluding the sex part since it was too embarrassing, at least for now.

  But the fact was, she couldn’t have sex with this man. Not because she refused to; no, she could probably have closed her eyes and gone through with it just because of the benefits and status it would give her later on… becoming part of the inner circle. But the thing was that Lori had once been Lorenz. She looked like a woman, yes, and she felt like one. But there was still one thing left that technically made her a man. She hadn’t been able to go through with the full transition and become a full-blown woman, removing the one last part that made her a man at birth.

  That was why she could never go all the way with Christopher Daniels or any other man for that matter. Not even if she wanted to.

  And she hated him for putting her in that position. She hated that he was the reason she had lost her entire social network, her only friends, because of it. Now she was all alone again, as she had been for most of her life.

  Lori sighed and rose to her feet. She swung the glass and almost empty bottle in her hands, then staggered barefoot toward the sliding doors, barely keeping her balance.

  As she entered the house and closed the sliding doors behind her, she turned around and stared straight into a set of eyes.

  “What the heck are you doing here?” she asked, forcing herself to focus and stand still, but couldn’t help swaying from side to side.

  “What do you want?”

  Chapter 35

  Sydney was asleep when I left. I wrote her a note, then snuck out, shoes and purse in my hand, feeling like I was cheating on her or doing something criminal. I just didn’t want her to know where I was going. She would only try and convince me not to go, to call the police instead, or she would end up coming with me.

  I couldn’t risk that happening. I needed to do this alone, without the police, without Sydney. Why? Because it was the only way I could get to the Iron Fist. Chances were slim that he would actually be there himself, but someone else might, someone that might lead me to him. This meeting was my only lead to him and Olivia.

  I couldn’t risk losing that. I had to find him. I had to track him down so I could get my daughter back home.

  I rushed out through a back entrance, trying not to be seen by the front desk of the hotel. We had made sure it was Sydney who spoke to them every time we came back or left — to make sure they didn’t recognize me. I was disguised pretty well with dyed dark hair and fake colored contacts and glasses, but still. We couldn’t risk anyone calling the cops.

  So, I snuck out the back entrance and found the Mustang in the parking lot behind the hotel. I drove it out into the street and hit the accelerator, finding the roads leading to the port.

  Port Miami was located on Dodge Island; a slim island squeezed in between Miami Beach and Miami downtown on the mainland. It was both a cargo port and a cruise ship port.

  The meet was at the cargo port, between the container ships. I found it easily and parked the car. I then ran toward the container terminal, which was a huge glass building. I rushed past it, running down the port, passing a big whale of a cargo ship that was lying there, empty, having just been unloaded, while hundreds of containers were on the dock next to it.

  “SS Attra, that’s her,” I mumbled and looked at the name on my phone from the chat.

  Holding the grip of my gun with one hand, I looked around until I spotted a guy standing by the corner of a container, obviously being the lookout. He was the type to be heavily armed, so I hid between a row of containers, pressing my back up against them.

  I could hear voices, people talking. I snuck around the other way and came out on the other side of the containers, then ran across an open space until I could hide behind another container. As I peeked around a corner, I spotted them. A group of people was gathered there. They were chitchatting with one another, one even laughing like it was a typical greeting between old friends.

  For a second, I thought I might have been wrong, but as I snuck closer, I spotted the girls. They were sitting in the opening of a container, an entire row of them. They were huddled together, trying to hide from the men surrounding them. They weren’t even crying. It was obvious they didn’t dare to, or they were too drugged even to try.

  Seven young girls, some of them a lot younger than Olivia, about to be sold like slaves into prostitution or hard physical labor.

  It was gruesome.

  Somewhere, seven mothers are missing their children. Seven mothers are crying themselves to sleep at night.

  “Not on my watch,” I mumbled, just as a car drove up and someone stepped out.

  Chapter 36

  It
was hard to see from where I was standing, so I snuck closer. As I did, someone spotted me, and soon all hell broke loose.

  The armed guards yelled and ran toward me. I lifted my gun, but as they turned the corner, they started to shoot, not asking questions. I fired back, then ran around the corner at the other end. I heard screaming coming from the open area. Shots were fired after me, and I turned around the corner, then fired, hitting first the guy to the right, then the one to the left. Both went down. I then ran forward as fast as I could, stormed into the area where I had seen the girls, just in time to watch them trying to get them into the truck that had arrived just a few seconds ago.

  “STOP!” I yelled.

  More shots were fired while people scattered. I fired back, hitting another guy, just as he tried to shoot me. They gave up on getting the girls in the truck and shut the door, then took off instead. I stopped and fired a round at the truck. The bullets ricocheted off of it, but it kept moving.

  “Oh, no, you don’t!” I said, then looked in between the containers. I took off running, knowing if I went fast, I would be able to cut them off on their way since they’d have to take a detour around the containers.

  I panted agitatedly as I reached the end of the row of containers, then turned left, and now stood right in front of the truck.

  “STOP!” I yelled and pointed my gun at them.

  The truck accelerated violently and, as it did, I fired two shots straight through the windshield, hitting the driver. The truck turned sideways, then ran straight into a crane pole.

  I stared at the crashed truck, my gun still pointed at it, shaking between my hands, but nothing happened. A few seconds later, the door to the passenger seat opened, and someone jumped out on the other side of the truck. The person took off running. I fired a shot and yelled for him to stop, but he didn’t. He was way faster than me and soon gone.

  I stared after him, then cursed while wondering if he had been the Iron Fist.

  I returned to the truck and opened the driver’s door. The driver was hunched over the wheel. I had shot him in the shoulder. His forehead was bleeding from the impact when hitting the crane.

  I grabbed his head and pulled him back to see his face. Then I let his limp body plunge back down while cursing again. As I let go of him, I spotted something else. A guy was in the back. He had hurt his head when the car slammed into the pole, and he was dead. But he didn’t look like any of the others. This guy was well dressed in a nice suit, a very expensive one. His shoes were of the same caliber. This was no ordinary man.

  The Iron Fist?

  Unlikely. He wouldn’t come to something like this on his own. Someone working for him? More probable.

  I stepped inside the truck, then pulled him back to see his face properly. As I did, I saw his wrist as it poked out from beneath the shirt.

  A wrist with something branded into the skin. A symbol I knew a little too well.

  “NYX,” I said, gasping lightly. I fumbled with my phone, then took a picture of it before letting him go. I searched through my phone, then sent all the pictures to a secret email address I had recently created, one that no one knew of except myself.

  I got out of the truck with the phone clutched to my ear. I walked back toward the open area and saw the girls. They were huddled up inside of the container again, having gone back to what I assumed had been their home for quite some time, while they were transported across the ocean.

  Then, I called the cops.

  “I’d like to report a shooting. At the port. You’ll find several dead men and some young girls that were supposed to be sold as slaves inside of a container.”

  I gave them the exact address, then threw the phone in the trash before disappearing, hurrying to my car. I took off into the night while hearing the sound of sirens blaring behind me.

  Chapter 37

  Esther Hermane pressed in the code to the door. Her fingers were shaking, and she had to take in a deep breath in order to calm herself. She tapped in the wrong code, then shook her head.

  “Where is your head today, Esther?”

  She tried again, and the gate opened. She walked inside, holding her purse close to her body. Inside of it was her phone, and she had to make sure that she could hear it if it rang. She would have to keep it close all day while cooking and cleaning.

  Coming from Haiti ten years ago, getting used to things here in America, and especially Miami had taken her a long time. But life was better here. It had been better for her son James to grow up here than back home. After ten years, Esther had thought they were safe here now. She had worked hard over the years to provide a good life for him, but the night before, he had been taken in by border agents.

  He had been visiting his aunt in Naples as he had done so many times before, going by bus, as usual, when agents had entered the bus right as they reached Miami.

  They had asked for his ID, then asked if he was illegal, and he had said yes. He was eighteen years old and had never been able to tell a lie. They had told him they’d take him with them, and then he’d be deported within the next two weeks. He had gotten the right to call his mother, and he had done so, then told her the entire story. Esther had contacted an old friend, who had gotten them an immigration lawyer who worked with cases like these, and today, James was supposed to appear in court.

  It was still early in the morning, and the court appointment wasn’t till eleven, so she had time, but Esther was already anxious. She had been up all night worrying, wondering if James was all right in that place they had taken him to and whether they had treated him properly.

  Was he being fed?

  Just thinking about it made her stomach churn, and Esther tried to shake it. She walked up to the front door and pressed in the next code, thinking about the day she had in front of her. Usually, she cooked breakfast for Mrs. Moore before Mrs. Moore left for work, and Esther had the house for herself the rest of the day, cleaning and making sure everything was perfect for when Mrs. Moore came home, which was usually pretty late. Esther would make a meal for her and place it in the fridge, covered in wrapping, so all Mrs. Moore needed was to put it in the microwave whenever she made it back.

  It was a good job, Esther had always thought. She liked Mrs. Moore, even though she found her to be a strange creature. Not really man or woman, in her opinion. The fact that someone could simply decide they were of another gender amazed her, but then again, so many things had surprised her in America. It wasn’t the place she had expected it to be or dreamed of when she was younger. And living in constant fear of being found by the border agents wasn’t living at all. Esther couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand being constantly worried about her son and their future. She didn’t understand why this was happening now, after all these years. She had been a hard worker; she had taken the jobs no one else wanted. She had stayed out of trouble, and so had her son. And James was doing great in school. All they were guilty of was trying to earn their way to better, safer lives. She wasn’t harming anyone. Neither was James.

  Esther shook her head and pushed the big door open and entered the house. The first thing she saw was the broken bottle of white wine that had scattered across the tiles and the wine had run across the floor and seeped into part of the expensive Persian carpet. Esther’s heart sank when realizing that Mrs. Moore had been drunk again and cleaning up after her would probably take most of the day.

  “Stupid American woman-man, wasting away in this big mansion big enough for my entire village to live in,” she hissed, then went with determined steps for the closet with the cleaning supplies. As she put her hand on the handle, she spotted the blood on the white tiles.

  Now, while growing up in Haiti, Esther had seen some gruesome things. She had seen people lying murdered in the streets and even witnessed her own father being shot. But what she saw in the kitchen on this day was nothing in comparison.

  It made her long to go back for the first time in ten years.

  Chapter 38

  It
was late in the morning, and Matt had just gotten his second coffee when Carter approached him.

  Matt had hoped that the day would be quiet for once. Just him responding to possible sightings of Eva Rae. Ever since detective Carter had been on TV, the calls had been coming in non-stop. But so far, none had proved to be true.

  Matt was still focused on the area around the food mart, and he had planned to visit a few of the hotels surrounding it later in the day when Carter was too busy to ask questions. He had been focusing merely on small motels and crappy places, but then realized that if Eva Rae was with her sister, then maybe they were, in fact, hiding in plain sight, frequenting the more exclusive hotels, since Kelly Stone — or Sydney — would be paying. Matt had thought about getting a trace on her bank account, but he would have to do it behind Carter’s back, and that made it harder. It was also more difficult because she was a celebrity. There would be questions asked, and he wasn’t sure a judge would allow it when Matt couldn’t prove that she was actually with Eva Rae. She could be traveling or staying here for work. A call to her agent hadn’t cleared things up since he had no idea whether Kelly was in Miami or not. He also said that Kelly Stone often took off without saying where she went, not even to him. She did this when she wanted to go on a vacation, or just have time off for herself. Then she would go off the grid until she was ready to resurface again and let the world know she was back. It was all to avoid paparazzi on her vacations. The fewer people who knew where she went, the better the chances were for her actually to get some vacation time.

  Matt couldn’t blame her. He had always thought it had to be awful to live a life as a celebrity and never be able to go anywhere without having the paparazzi chasing you or people gathering to get your autograph or a silly selfie with you.