Rise of the Titan

by Pressley James

  Her smile dimmed somewhat.

  Well, not all the way perfect.

  She frowned.

  While the den was operating seamlessly, its lion wasn’t being too cooperative. Sadly, instead of emitting a roar, the lion was releasing barely audible mews.

  All morning, Braden had only responded to her in a short clipped tone. When they’d stopped at a small diner earlier for breakfast, she’d attempted to initiate real conversation. But, he’d dissuaded her efforts outright. So, they’d eaten in sullen silence instead. Even now, rather than being upstairs while she settled in, he’d ventured to his office to work on a Sunday of all days.

  Of course, that was his pointed way of avoiding her, she realized with disappointment, grunting slightly while lugging the cumbersome suitcase into the bedroom. As she placed it on the floor beside the bed, she glanced around.

  The cleaning team had been in.

  So, now, even the bedroom was tidy and clean.

  To a perfect T, it was spotless and exuded a warm cinnamon scent. A fire had even been set, she noted, glancing at the electric heater built into the wall. The faux flames within it gave a beautiful illusion of being lit, and they seemed to leap behind the glass screen. On a cold wintry morning such as this, the warmth was duly needed.

  The room held a black velour sofa.

  Three, no four, plush pillows rested on it.

  Facing it, there was an oblong glass table.

  On it, the magazines were spread out like an accordion fan.

  An exquisitely designed chaise lounge sat off to itself.

  A solo space intended for pure reflecting…

  While the rest of the house wasn’t, the bedroom was carpeted.

  And it was oh, so gloriously thick, she mulled, sinking her bare toes deeper into it.

  It was like she’d been transported into a wonderland.

  Her spirits sank more.

  Perhaps, after all, they really didn’t stand a chance.

  Not only was there a humongous gulf between them, but they both existed in different worlds. He was all class, and she was just plain normal, she mulled, glancing down at her jeans and plain black blouse.

  Worse, he believed that she loved and wanted his father.

  “And that’s the biggest downer of all,” she sighed heavily, growing further depressed, and began yanking clothes out of the suitcase. Then, she was stung with anger at herself. “I don’t stand a chance in hell of winning you back. I’m a fool for believing that I could in the first place.”

  Minutes later, she’d finished unpacking.

  Bored, restless, she trailed to the window.

  From the high level, the view was astoundingly breathtaking.

  All around the city was in sight.

  Skyscraping buildings, towered bells, and such, they ruled and dominated the blue skyline. Up here, the rest of the world was just shut out, and there was a deep peacefulness that just resonated.

  And it made sense, she thought, tearing up.

  He was such a private man.

  But, at one point, he had let her in.

  She blinked fast at the burning tears.

  And she’d stepped on him…

  “How can I keep doing this?” she whispered, distraught. “I feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare where I’ll never wake up. Over and over, I’m losing you in the daylight and darkness.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Dear God, please make it stop somehow.”

  Perhaps there was a way…

  Trailing across the room, she made her way to the bed. Stooping down close to the night table, she grabbed her handbag from its bottom shelf and quickly located her cell phone. She passed a cautious glance towards the open bedroom door and then dialed.

  To her relief, Rowell answered on the second ring. “Rowell here.”

  “It’s me,” she spoke quietly.

  “When I saw your name on the ID, I kind of figured that,” he smarted and then asked. “What’s up?”

  “How did the information pan out on Vitali? Was it legit?”

  “The rumors held up. The son-of-a-bitch is running a sex-trafficking ring and fronting it as a massage parlor.”

  “Is there nothing that he won’t do?” she asked with disgust.

  “Vitali is completely irredeemable; there’s no hope of him escaping a burning hell. We may as well help hurl him into the fiery pits.”

  “There will be nothing more satisfying.”

  “Also, we have a solid lead on whose leading the kidnapping stings---two small time thugs named Barbers and Wilson. They’re participating in a rehabilitation program and work for Pitts and Grove Cleaners, a parking lot cleaning business, and the company offers other janitorial services.” Rowell coughed noisily on the other end of the phone. After giving a nasally sniffle, he talked again. “We’re running a sting tonight. With all hope, the son-of-a-bitches will take the bait. Then, maybe, we can finally identify the location of where they’re placing these girls. We can do everyone a forever and get these poor girls back to safety.”

  “The death penalty would be too good for Vitali and his lot. I’ve never heard of a group more abhorrent,” she murmured in quiet disgust and released a frustrated breath. “I pray to the heavens that this case is over with soon. Nothing sickens me more than being around that man.”

  “How you holding up?” The concern played in the agent’s voice. “Is everything alright with you?”

  “Some days are better than others,” she shrugged and was the only one privy to the gesture. “Don’t worry, I’m fine. It’s just that I’m anxious for these bastards to pay their dues.” Pausing, she sent a cautious glance towards the door. “There’s something else that I have to tell you.”

  “Give me the deets.”

  She paused for a millisecond.

  “Something happened last night and it was heavy. Let’s just say that I was caught up in the thick of it.”

  “What happened?” Rowell probed, and his voice was filled with eagerness.

  “I was taken hostage last night.”

  “What the fuck, Spencer?” the agent blasted in a loud voice. “Are you okay?”

  “No worries, okay? I’m fine---”

  “Why are you just now contacting me with this? You know the protocol.”

  “Damn it, Rowell, I’m not in the mood for a lecture right now,” she snapped and glowered at the empty space. “Just hear me out, okay?”

  “Alright,” the agent sighed. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I was at Sinful Shades visiting a friend,” she recounted with much clarity than hours ago. “After awhile, I was basically alone in the makeup room. Next thing I know, someone snuck up on me from behind and chloroformed me.”

  “Sounds like some heavy shit. Go on.”

  “When I came to, I was with Br---” she paused uncomfortably. “Titan.”

  “So, I was right about the sick bastard. He’s playing a part in this---”

  “He saved my life,” she broke in, rising to his defense quickly. “If it weren’t for him, I’d be dead right now. He forced Velasquez to back down. Not only did he save me, but he also saved those at the club. Can you imagine the bloodshed if Titan hadn’t intervened?”

  With reluctance, Rowell agreed. “You have a valid point---”

  “It’s more than valid,” she interrupted. “Many people could have died.”

  She slowed her breath.

  But, she couldn’t sound too passionate or else Rowell would discover the truth---that she loved Braden. When that happened, she’d certainly be removed from the case. That couldn’t happen! If she was, she’d have no chance of maintaining Braden’s innocence and non-involvement. Nor would she be able to make Vitali pay for his crimes against Gage. Protecting the special people in her life was all that mattered.

  So, no, she decided, straightening her shoulders.

  She wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Pascal Velasquez’s seeking vengeance against Vitali,” she continued. “By now, it
’s no secret to anyone that Vitali’s responsible for his cousin’s death and the missing drug shipment. Velasquez is hardly pleased that his efforts were thwarted. We both know how things will go from this point on. Velasquez will retaliate.”

  “Of course, he will. Assholes like Velasquez don’t take things lying down. Too, though it’s unfortunate that you’re now in extreme danger, it gives us more to work with. Most definitely, we’ll be following up on this. The son-of-a-bitch has just given us more ammunition.”

  “Will my testimony stick or hold merit?”

  “Don’t see why it wouldn’t. While I don’t like the fact that Titan is a witness,” Rowell muttered in disgust. “What other option do we have but to take his word?”

  “Well, since it’s the truth,” she replied in a heated tone. “It’s your only choice.”

  “There you go with another timely defense for Vitali’s spawn.” His frustrated breath came out fast. “We’re never going to agree about Jameson, so we’ll just drop it.”

  “Agreed.” She lessened her heated tone somewhat. “But, even you can’t deny the fact that you have nothing on him.”

  “Sadly, you’re right. I guess that means he’s slicker than his old man.”

  “Or maybe, he’s just innocent in all of this.”

  “Again, we’re going to drop this.”

  She shrugged again. “Fine with me.”

  “Since the heat with Velasquez is up, you need to lay low for a little while, at least until we can get a handle on him. While I don’t like the fact that you’re cohabitating with Vitali, at least his compound is air-tight. You’ll be safe there.”

  Her face went hot.

  She was leaving just one little thing out.

  Yet, there wasn’t any point in Rowell knowing every tiny detail, was it, she mulled with niggling guilt. Like the fact that she wasn’t at the compound, but with Braden instead. But, her fellow agent would never understand! At least, that was her rationalization right now. When everything is finally over, Rowell would see how wrong he’d been about Braden!

  “O---of course, I’ll be safe,” she gulped hard, face growing warm. “For once, being entrapped by Vitali is a good thing.” She released a pent-up breath. “Again, no worries, Rowell, over these next few weeks, I’ll lay low.” The hot tingling in her face worsened. “So, that means our points of contact will be minimum.”

  “Damn it, Spencer. If there is an emergency, you better---”

  “I’ll contact you. I promise.”

  ***

  Tensing, Braden stared at the man across the desk. “You have my information?”

  “Show me the $250 grand, and I’ll spill.” Smiling, showing an array of gold teeth, Bingsby Smokes leaned back in the chair and eyed him across the way. “While I trust you, mate, a little cautionary measure is necessary in my line of work. You know how it is.”

  He nearly crushed the pen in his hand.

  The Australian hustler was definitely an anomaly.

  In appearance and attitude, mind you.

  Naturally, his Gothic appearance drew attention off hand.

  A sliver of white spliced through his jet black hair, and it was gelled enough to literally spark a grease fire. In each side of his nostril, a diamond was studded while a small gold hoop earring curled beneath it. At the top of his nape, his tattooed skin was visible, and probably the intricate designs decorated the rest of him. The black lipstick stained his thin lips and was in stark contrast with his deathly pale white skin. A thick coating of black eyeliner made the man’s blue eyes more vivid. As guessed, the man was dressed entirely in black.

  Despite his appearance, though, the conman slash part-time hacker was a mastermind. With ease, he blended into the dark underworld and had connections all throughout it.

  These last several months, he’d come to rely on the man heavily. Without his aid, he wouldn’t have the dirt on Vitali or the rest of the Wolf Pack, not to mention various others. So, nothing came without a price, he mulled darkly, bending down to extract the briefcase laden with hard green cash. After placing it on his desk, he flipped the latch.

  Rearing forward, Bingsby inspected it for several long seconds and then gave a brisk nod. Smiling widely, the hacker settled in the chair again. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Titan; better yet, you’re a man of principle. I like that. Nowadays, it’s hard to find many that understand a time-old code: a man’s word is his bondage.”

  “What about your word?” he asked stiffly, growing tense again. “The money’s right there. Tell me what I need to know about Vitali’s underground operation.”

  “They’re housing the girls at 17th Crenshaw. I’d say it’s about twenty of them, ranging from ages 15 to 20. The place is a like a palace, but nothing but pure nastiness and pure filth breathes within those walls.”

  “Is there anyway to get a listing of the clientele?”

  “Yes. It’s all in the database.” The man’s blue eyes seemed off-center as he looked past him, and then back to him again. “You’d be surprised by who falls on the clientele list.”

  “I have no doubt that I would be. Regardless of who they are, they need to pay for what they’ve done.” He frowned hard. “Who are the point men?”

  “Two small time cons: Barbers and Wilson. Barbers was in for manslaughter but got off because of a technicality. Wilson, of course, has an extensive record---aggravated assault, robbery, and a crashing list of misdemeanors. He spent 5 years in the state pen and somehow made probation. They’re currently participating in a rehabilitation program, surprise-surprise. But, they’re abusing it. What a waste of good taxpayers’ money---these two haven’t learned shit. So, what do we have---two assholes that have figured out how to work the system.”

  “Apparently, rehabilitation isn’t what they’re interested in,” he frowned in agreement. “So, now, their latest criminal activity is kidnapping young girls and sending them to an ugly hell.”

  “Around midnight or so, they usually scour shopping malls or retail stores, the prime time when young women are finishing a shift or what like.” Bingsby gave an abrupt laugh. “So much for security cameras---it’s obvious that these dicks aren’t paying attention to live footage.” Again, the man’s eyes seemed unfocused. While so, it wasn’t unusual. When he was deep in thought, he tended to look that way. “As you guessed, the ‘massage parlor’ is the drop off point, and then they’re escorted to 17th Crenshaw.”

  “Vitali---how deep is he in this?”

  “At least twice a week, your old man shows up, mainly to ensure that things are running right. But, there are some occasions when he partakes in activities.”

  The sick fuck, he mulled quietly, and barely kept the puke down in his bile.

  Vitali never harbored a conscience.

  This current sordid activity of his only solidified it.

  “Solid proof---I need it,” he quipped tightly. “What’s your asking price?”

  “$500,000. Your little return package will include information from their data system, pictures, and…” Bingsby grinned oddly. “…any extras will cost additional.”

  “The asking price is not a problem.” He stared the man straight in the eye. “I want to spring the girls out.”

  “Whoa, dude,” the henchman cautioned, raising a hand. “You might be reaching there. That feat may be close to impossible.”

  “But, don’t you make the impossible, possible, Bingsby Smokes? At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” He slid a fast glance over the Goth. “No job is too big or small for you, right?”

  “Of course, it’s not,” the man hedged. “But, double-crossing Vitali isn’t a wise thing to do. Hell, I’ve heard stories of his torture. Not only that, but the feds have been sniffing about---”

  “Bust that joint wide open and an additional $500,000 of cold hard cash will be yours. Stay one step ahead of the feds. While I admire their tenacity, they’re too interested in playing things by the book. When you’re dealing with a man l
ike my father, there’s no playing by the rules. You have to break every single damn one of them.” He cocked his head to the side. “Besides, we won’t be that selfish. Somehow, we’ll leave enough evidence behind for them to sniff in.”

  “It will be risky. In the underworld, they know the crowd that I run with. So, being inconspicuous is hardly a viable idea. They’ll know that I’m involved---”

  “Don’t worry about getting a team together. I’ll take care of that.” Tenting his fingers together, he eyed the hacker closely. “Your job is just to get my men in there. They’ll take care of the rest.”

  “What are you, a fuckin’ modern day Hood?” The hacker showed a golden toothy grin again, and pure respect played on his face. “Looking at you, you wouldn’t think that you could rock such vigilante shit. But, you’re awesome dude.” Then, he nodded slowly. “I’m in. When?”

  “Within the next 48 hours.” Steeling himself, he stood up behind the desk. “I want my evidence and those women freed.”

  Bingsby gave a lazy smile. “I’m your man.”

  ***

  The hours passed quickly.

  She spent them alone.

  Night arrived with it usual quietness.

  Maybe this living together thing wasn’t going to be so great after all, she sighed, staring out at the dark night. He’d practically been housed in his office the entire day, and she hadn’t dared breached upon his privacy.

  Whatever business deal he was working on, it had to be a doozy.

  She couldn’t suppress the hurt.

  But, before, hadn’t he carved out some time for her?

  They were operating under different circumstances now, though, she reminded herself, and curled under the blanket. Those very circumstances were difficult or nearly impossible for them to wheedle through.

  “What was I thinking?” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling. “That you and I would just fall back into a world of pretend like we did before? Maybe that’s what my foolish heart is hoping.” Sighing, she closed her eyes. “Dear God, am I wrong for loving him?”

  Sleep found her after that question.

  It was long moments later when she stirred.