The Single Lady Spy Series Boxset

by Tara Brown

Keys jingled and the stairs creaked as they walked up them. Coop and I waited until the door at the top of the stairs closed and then we split up. I climbed the steps after them as he went straight for the office, tugging on the baseball cap he had in his back pocket.

  I dragged the two overly long hairpins from my bun, but my hair didn't fall. The hair tie kept it up. When I got to the top step, I listened but nothing moved behind the door. Turning the knob I exhaled and prepared myself.

  “The girls are loyal, Evie. I tried to get them to talk and they won’t. They love her. They think it’s the men who are stupid and that Sierra has saved them. They think a bit of sex is nothing, and they believe they say who and when,” Luce whispered from where she was across the road, hiding under an awning.

  “Sounds a bit like Pretty Woman to me,” I muttered and scanned the hallway, creeping down to the first door. I pressed my ear against it, hearing nothing at all.

  The next door was the same so I opened it, stunned at what I saw. A skin-and-bones girl with pale coloring and dark circles under her eyes lay on the bed. She was dressed scantily in a tank top and underwear. The band around her arm with the needle in it explained the silence and control. I closed the door and whispered again, “Heroin. They’re high as fuck.”

  “They probably don't give up much of a fight,” Jack added.

  He wasn't joking. There was nothing to joke about here.

  Still silent, I crept to the next door and listened. A man grunted and laughed, speaking Arabic. He wasn't alone. A girl laughed too. She sounded young; it was a giggle. Holding myself back wasn't easy. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to make him suffer. But she would scream. She wasn't like the other sex slaves. She wanted to be there. This was better than her other life. I knew the story.

  Forcing myself away, I turned and walked to the next door, pausing when I heard crying. I cracked the door, not making a single sound by balancing the door on its hinges as I opened it. A young girl, maybe sixteen, sat on a bed with her legs pulled in as she shook. She had sores and looked ragged. Her thin arms were marred by the evidence of severe drug use.

  I stepped into the room and closed the door, lifting a finger to my lips. “I am here to help you.”

  “What?” She sniffled and swallowed hard, mistrusting me the moment she saw me. She shook her head. “No one can help me now.” Her thick Scottish accent made me realize this was bigger than we might have given it credit. It wasn't just English street rats.

  “Who are you?” I asked, trying to show her I meant her no harm.

  “Who the fuck are ya?” Her cloudy blue eyes narrowed as she snarled at me, not being quiet enough.

  “I am fucking Interpol, you ungrateful little bitch. Now you better shut the fuck up and help me out, or you will fry along with these dirty fucks when this shit goes down. We are raiding. Who are you?” I had to be stronger than her. She didn't respect kindness. It was a foreign concept.

  “Lindsey.” She sniffled, no longer Lindsey the terrible. Instead, she was Lindsey the timid. She trembled and cried again.

  “Is Sierra the only boss here?”

  “No.” She divulged, “Her dad, Michael, is the boss of everything.”

  “Is he English?”

  “Russian.”

  “Mob,” Jack murmured into my ear. “No wonder the police fucked it up.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  Her eyes darted around the room. “I don't know.” She scratched at her thin arm and shrugged. “What day is it?” She laughed at me.

  “Never mind.” I sighed. “Where are the men?”

  “Oh, don't ya worry.” She stopped sniffling with that question. “They’ll be here right quick. They come at night. We don't get our next dose until we’re done.” She scratched again.

  I pointed behind me with my thumb. “I just saw a girl with a needle in her arm.”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “She probably did one of them wanks who come here before they go home after work to their families.” Her eyes lowered, losing what little life was in them. “Them are the worst. They have daughters.”

  “So Sierra tells you everything will be good here and then she hooks you on drugs?”

  That brought some life back as she smiled. “Sierra saved me. I was on drugs way before I got here. My neighbor in Glasgow gave it to me to suck—”

  “I get it. She finds the weak kids and the runaways?”

  She shrugged. “I guess. It’s a bed, ain’t it? And I was gonna get fucked out there or fucked in here—at least here I have food, and I don't have to sleep in the rain. Plus there’s rules here. No stabbing or slapping around.”

  “Jesus,” Luce whispered in my ear.

  “Stay in this room, no matter what you hear. Do not come out. I don't want you getting shot in the cross fire.”

  She scowled. “Where tha fuck will I go then, if ya ruin it here?”

  “Somewhere safe, I promise you. There is a bed and an ocean view and some kindly women who will make sure you find your way again.”

  Her eyes glazed over again. “Ya gonna shoot it up then?”

  “No.” I smiled back. The ice water fully ran through my veins. I walked back out of her room, hoping I didn't have to kill her. Because that was where we were. Girls loyal to their slavers would have to die if they weren’t quiet. I didn't have my tranq gun. I had sharp knives, reflexes, and training. And even worse, I had Coop.

  “Interpol has dispatched Scotland Yard. We have a seven-minute ETA, if that,” Jack spoke softly.

  “Well then”—I looked back and forth—“make it rain.”

  The sprinklers went off a moment later, soaking me and the hallway as the fire alarm rang. The door behind me didn't open. She truly did listen to me.

  All the other doors opened though. Men with trousers midway up their thighs ran from rooms, pulling their pants up and shouting. Girls scrambled.

  But I didn't move. I watched them flee, letting them get out. Luce would grab girls and Coop would grab men, and I would wait.

  That was the rotten plan we had.

  Finally, Sierra came stalking from a room. The new girl behind her started to run, covering her hair with her hands and heading for an exit. Sierra gaped at me. “Who tha fuck are ya?” She was no longer sweet and ladylike. She was the gangster she had been all along.

  “A mom,” I answered.

  “A mum?” She smiled wide. “Any bitch can be a mum.” She held her hands out. “Congrats, ya spat a kid out yer twat.”

  A slow smile crossed my lips. “I didn't actually. My twat is intact.”

  She laughed. “Which one of these sluts is yers?”

  “All of them.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed. “Ya ain’t taking my girls.”

  “No. You’re right about that. I’m not taking them. Scotland Yard is, and even then, some of them will end up somewhere completely different from here.”

  She pulled a gun from the back of her pants. “Fuck you!” She fired, but I spun, throwing one of the chopstick-style hairpins. She dropped the gun as the pin landed in her hand. She screamed, not accustomed to pain.

  As she grabbed at it to pull it out, I broke into a sprint, taking her to the floor, punching once. My hands shook with my rage that had built to a ridiculous level, but they were not finishing what I had started. I spun her onto her back, pulling the zip tie from my pocket and fastening her hands behind her. I dragged the hairpin from her palm slowly, jerking it a little. “Where’s your dad?”

  “Fuck you!” She sobbed.

  I stabbed the hairpin back into the exact spot of the wound. She screamed.

  “Where’s your dad?”

  “Fu-fu-fuck you!” She heaved as I jerked the pin to the right, like it was a stick shift.

  “HE’S IN RUSSIA!” She lost control. I dragged it out again, holding it to her throat. “Where?”

  “Stalingrad.” Her jaw trembled.

  I jumped up, grabbed her gun, and dragged her with me down the hall. “Whe
re are the videos you make?”

  Her eyes darted to the right.

  “The videos, Sierra. Or I will jam that fucking hairpin in your eye.”

  “I don't make videos, you crazy bitch.”

  Slamming her into the wall I pulled out the hairpin and lodged it, straight and hard into the eye. She screamed and I pulled it out, leaning back as blood shot from her face. “Where?”

  “IN THE FUCKING KEBAB STORE NEXT DOOR!”

  Hearing the screaming downstairs as Scotland Yard showed up, I dropped her to the floor. She squeezed the damaged eye shut, bleeding and drooling everywhere.

  “Good luck luring kids with one eye.” I strode out, opening the door to the room I had asked remain shut. “Hurry up.”

  The Scottish girl sat on the bed, shaking her head. “Who the fuck are ya?”

  “I told you. Now get up.”

  She hurried and scrambled to my side, peeking out the doorway to where Sierra sat slumped on the floor, covered in blood. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, yer fucking crazy.”

  “You have no idea.” I grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. When I got downstairs it was pandemonium. Agents drew their weapons on me, but Coop shook his head, lifting a hand. “She’s one of us.” He used an English accent.

  “The madam is on the second floor. The kebab shop next door has all the videos.”

  The agent in front of me nodded, swallowing hard and seeming confused. “Yeah, we hit their shop already. Got that information the moment we arrived here. How long have you guys been on this one?”

  I glimpsed at Coop. “It’s classified. But all the evidence is here for you. No Blackpool police involvement this time.” I winked.

  The agent blushed, looking down.

  “Interpol is watching this and so is MI6. So if there is a single crumb swept under the carpet this time, heads will roll,” Coop threatened.

  The man pressed his lips together. “I don't think that's a problem we’ll have.”

  He reached for the girl next to me but I pulled her back. “This one comes with us.”

  He seemed ready to argue, as did Coop, but I stood firm.

  The girl acted worried, but I had told her something and I was keeping my word.

  25

  Winning

  The helicopter was waiting when I arrived at the airport in Blackpool. Even in the dark of night, I could tell he was annoyed. I had to be grateful he was even there without having to be asked. He didn't walk to me or take my hand. He didn't introduce himself to Lindsey. He sat in his seat and waited for us to board.

  The five of us strolled across the helicopter tarmac and boarded. Lindsey trembled and itched. She would need drugs to get off the drugs. I didn't know if the nuns would allow for that, but she needed a hand up.

  As we flew along the dark coastline and across the country, she eventually relaxed and began to stare out the window.

  Servario glared at Coop who gladly returned the look with more intensity, thanks to his steely blue eyes.

  My eyes didn't want to leave Lindsey. I had a picture in my mind of what she might have been. She was pretty and bold.

  “Where’s your mom?” I asked eventually, making sure the conversation was kept between the two of us and shrouded by the noise of the helicopter.

  “Back home in Glasgow. Works two jobs.”

  My insides tugged when I realized the poor woman was probably crazed with worry. “Life’s expensive, Lindsey. Where’s your dad?”

  “I don't know.” She offered it, but I could tell she didn't want to. “Him I haven’t seen in years.”

  “Is there a way I can reach her and tell her you’re okay?”

  Her brow knit. “Yeah.” I held up my phone and she entered the contact for me under the name Ruth.

  We didn't speak of it again. I didn't need to. I had what I wanted to know, what I needed.

  When the helicopter landed again with the nuns and the beautiful coastline, Servario climbed out into the early sunrise. He walked ahead, not speaking to me.

  Lindsey looked worried. “A Catholic church?”

  “No. It’s a place for kids who have seen the worst the world has to offer. They will help you and keep you safe.”

  She turned, maybe starting to panic because of her need for a fix.

  I lifted my hands and gripped her thin arms. “They will help you through this. They will help you be and find more in the world. I promise.”

  Tears filled her eyes but she nodded. She turned away from me without a hug. Were you meant to hug the person who saved your life, or did I expect it because I was a mom and it seemed like the right thing?

  She walked on her fragile legs to the older woman with the gentle smile.

  As they had the last time, they welcomed her warmly.

  Servario started back toward the helicopter. His eyes didn't even graze my face. He was pissed, obviously. He had been in the shadows, and maybe I had played a little harder than I should’ve at smitten with Coop.

  When I got back inside, I texted my kids. It was too early for them to be up and texting me, but I needed to send them something. I needed to feel that connection of love and motherly emotion.

  “Drop us off in Germany if it’s all the same to you, Servario.” Coop sighed and rubbed his eyes.

  “Take me to Scotland.”

  “What am I, your fucking pack mule?” His dark brows lowered over his eyes, darkening them too. We all ignored the question, hoping he would stop pouting.

  Luce lost the battle to stay awake, her head slowly falling to the window. Jack grabbed it and pulled it onto his shoulder. He closed his eyes and leaned against her too.

  Maybe we’d need a couple of days of R&R before we could start something else. No one liked sex slavery.

  Coop leaned forward, gripping my knees. “The boss man contacted Jack, told him he was pleased we had found some time to do our actual jobs.”

  I laughed. “Of course he did.”

  “We did a good thing there.”

  Servario rolled his eyes. “You stopped one brothel. They have hundreds. Michele Saransk is the man I have been tracking for ages. He is the main trafficker for all of Europe. He has mob ties and friends in all the right places.”

  “Michele Saransk? How do I know that name?” I knew it from somewhere.

  “You’re thinking of Michele Strophsky probably, the Russian double agent,” Coop answered.

  “Maybe. But he’s dead.” I knew that because I had killed him. “Are all Russian mobsters named Michele?”

  “Focus.” Servario’s eyes darted to me. “Beating Saransk’s daughter up is the one thing you did that he might take notice of. You might be on the radar now.”

  “Sierra?”

  “Marina Saransk is her real name. She isn’t his favorite daughter or anything dreadful. She’s just one of the groomers he uses, and she runs his Northern UK brothels. Blackpool, Ireland, Scotland, and York. Her sister, Nina, runs London and the South of England. They groom or abduct, whatever the job requires. Each city in Europe has a branch of the tree but Michele is the base. He’s the roots and the stump.”

  “He’s on the list of people searching for the Burrow,” Coop added.

  “Of course he is. He’s also on Interpol’s most wanted and he’s on about twenty hit lists. No one sees him. No one speaks to him.”

  “He’s in Stalingrad.”

  “Volgograd. No one says Stalingrad anymore.” Servario continued, “He’s there, protected by an army. His brother was in the KGB with the president of Russia. They were brothers in arms and now they are just brothers. Michele finds a lot of safe hideaways in Saint Petersburg and Moscow, but he prefers to be in Volgograd. He is one of the people making a fortune off the industrial sectors there. He owns factories and other legitimate businesses. Oil money.”

  “How do we kill him?”

  Servario laughed. “Not this week, Evie. Jesus. Save your energies. Taking down the Burrow is going to be one hard task.” He turned to
Coop. “What did you do to make her so blood thirsty?”

  Coop lifted his hands. “Wasn't me.”

  “I have always been blood thirsty.” I sighed and watched out the window as the sun rose higher.

  When we landed at an airport in France near the border of Germany in a town called Haguenau, Jack, Luce, and Coop got out. Jack and Luce went to the car waiting for them, but Coop hesitated. “You want me to come?”

  “No. This is something only a mother can do.”

  His eyes darted to Servario’s but he didn't fight me on it. “Hurry back.” He headed to the car we didn't order but knew was for us. It was the beauty of being with Servario, everything was always smooth.

  The pilot ordered a fill for fuel, and as we sat there and watched them drive away, Servario leaned back, finally getting it off his chest, “You still love him.”

  I lifted my gaze, sighing. “I hate it but I do. I love you more.”

  “But he fits so much nicer.”

  “With the kids and the family life, yes.” It was brutal honesty, but he was smarter than me. There was no point in trying to deny anything.

  “When you close your eyes, what do you see for the future?”

  I leaned back, desperate for some sleep and less drama. “A quiet life—”

  “You will never choose to be with me, Evie.”

  I cracked an eyelid. “Don't cut me off.” I closed my eye again and continued, “I see a quiet life, run sort of the way my mom did it. I never knew a single thing was going on. She protected me from it all, but she didn't give up who she was. She didn't give up the things she loved. I have thirteen years left where my kids need me, and technically only five left with Mitch. They will turn eighteen and go to college and become adults. They will do the things I did. I stopped needing my mom in my life constantly when I was eighteen. I liked having her there in case, but I never used her much. My kids are my life, right now. But realistically they won’t be my life forever.”

  “So what you’re saying is you want me to wait a decade or so, without touching myself or letting anyone else touch me?”

  I laughed and sat up. “Oh Gustavo, you couldn’t possibly be abstinent for a decade.”