Mallory's Hunt

by Jory Strong

  "Dane and I haven't eaten yet. We'll swing into a drive-through on the way."

  "Sounds good. I've got to grab my gun. I'll meet you at the Jeep."

  Caleb left, adrenaline kicking in. He'd never had things fall together so easily while undercover. It'd feel like fate, except he didn't believe in it.

  They hit the Taco Bell, finished eating.

  "Here's the rundown," she said. "Jimmy Ray Gano. White. Blue eyes. Approximately forty-five. Left earlobe is split, most likely from having an earring torn out during a fight. Expect resistance."

  Caleb smiled in anticipation. "I can deal with resistance."

  Her nostrils flared. Her eyes shimmered like molten pools of tar, the danger and the excitement a rush for her too.

  Heat speared through his chest. He forced himself to look away, tried to cool down with a long swallow of Coke.

  She said, "Gano is a career criminal, bailed out on a burglary charge. Girlfriend put up the money. Probably maxed out her credit cards or took a payday loan to do it. Stupid, and desperate enough that she'd rather have any man in her bed than no man."

  Caleb choked, sending some of the Coke out through his nose. "That's a little harsh."

  "I've got paid informants watching three other apartments. This guy gets around and doesn't practice birth control. That, or the women he's with think getting pregnant will make him a permanent fixture. He's not visiting a girlfriend's sister to spend time with the kids she's babysitting, at least one of them his. He's stopping by to bang her."

  "We're taking him down with kids around?" he asked, an edge in his voice. He'd go with the flow, he didn't have a choice, but he didn't have to like it.

  She shot him a hard look. "Kids were sent to a neighbor's. But don't discount the woman, Terri."

  He returned the hard look, trying to deal with what having the kids matter to Mallory did to him. "I'm not an idiot. I have some experience with this kind of thing."

  The last slipped out.

  She pounced.

  "What kind of experience?"

  He went with his read that he needed to keep things close to the truth. "Overseas. In the military. I did what I had to do and then I got out. End of story."

  No trespassing.

  She honored it, turning the conversation to how she wanted to handle the apprehension, with the two of them going in and Dane as backup, watching from the Jeep.

  "He's got Schutzhund training?" It'd make sense even if it didn't explain why watching her interact with the dog made him uneasy.

  Mallory laughed. "He can handle the job."

  And then some, she thought.

  She parked in front of a dirty yellow-brick building smashed up against more just like it. None of the apartments had a yard or another way in or out.

  Matthew slid from the Jeep.

  Dane commandeered the vacated seat.

  She touched Dane's shoulder. "Remember what's at stake. We can't afford to lose Hunter's business."

  Her informant crabbed forward, leaving the shade of an apartment entranceway and giving the Jeep a wide berth. He stopped as far away from it as he could and still hold a conversation.

  He was jittery with the need for drug money, his teeth rotted from meth and his skin covered in sores. "The kids?" she asked.

  "Still upstairs." He pointed to the neighbor directly above their target apartment.

  Mallory tugged a couple of flex-cuffs from the belt and gave them to Matthew. "Ready?"

  He stuffed the loop part of the cuffs into a back pocket, leaving the ends sticking out like rooster tails. "Ready."

  At the front door, she pressed her palm against the bell and kept it there, creating the continuous, angry-buzz sound of wasps around a mud hive.

  Stomping preceded the door being wrenched open by Terri, braless and wearing a man's t-shirt.

  "Cops!" she yelled, jalapeno anger mixed with the smell of sex.

  Terri tried to block. They pushed into the apartment.

  She grabbed for Mallory.

  Mallory countered, catching a thick, fleshy wrist, twisting and forcing Terri to the ground.

  Matthew kept going, his vote of confidence like praise to a Hound.

  Terri tried to bite.

  Mallory growled and evaded.

  Terri kicked upward, her wrist coming free, the t-shirt riding to her waist and exposing flabby legs and pubic hair that had spread to upper thighs.

  Mallory grabbed a leg, used it to flip Terri onto her stomach then followed it by dropping, putting her knee in the center of Terri's back.

  Terri flayed her arms in an effort to evade capture.

  Mallory snagged one, and then the other, wrenching both backward.

  The sound of flesh hitting flesh came from a room at the end of the hallway.

  She cuffed Terri.

  There was a loud crash. Kitchen table? Chair?

  Gano cussed in a steady, unoriginal stream.

  "Got him?" Mallory yelled, hand on the restraints in case she had to pull another couple of them and hog-tie Terri.

  "Got him."

  There was more scuffling.

  A grunt. More cursing then Matthew yelling, "Coming out."

  Mallory jerked the t-shirt over Terri's pale ass but it rode up when she renewed her struggles, squirming and bucking as if she'd be able to save Jimmy Ray Gano if she could get Mallory off her.

  "Keep it up and we'll haul you in with him," Mallory lied. "How you going to explain that to your sister when she comes home from work and finds out you were entertaining her man?"

  Terri bucked harder. Squirmed harder, sweating with the effort.

  Matthew wrestled Jimmy Ray Gano past them and out of the apartment.

  Terri stopped fighting and lay still.

  "You going to let me up?" Bitch. It was in her tone but she had sense enough not to say it.

  Mallory grabbed the Taser and held it inches from Terri's face. "You see this?"

  "What do you think?" Bitch.

  "I think if you move from right here before I get out of this apartment, I'm going to drop you with it. So your choice."

  Keeping the weapon aimed mid-back, Mallory pulled the cuff-cutter off the belt. Her nostrils flared, taking in the patchouli smell of hate that overpowered jalapeno and adrenaline. Fifty-fifty chance she'll make me stun her.

  Mallory clipped the cuffs, collecting the debris rather than leave evidence behind. She stood, backed the few steps to the open doorway.

  Dane was there now. Protective as always, and probably the reason for Terri's self-restraint.

  Stepping outside, Mallory closed the door.

  The self-restraint ended. "Bitch. Fucking cop bitch!"

  Dane growled, eyes going to the front window and muscles bunching.

  Mallory touched his shoulder. "Breaking you out of the dog pound would be a real pain in the ass considering who's got that skill set."

  Matthew leaned against the Jeep. He already had Jimmy Ray Gano secured to the ring in back.

  "Nice work," she said at reaching the Rubicon.

  Dane jumped in next to their bond skip.

  Matthew shut the door then stepped forward, swamping her with his scent and need, turning the pounding excitement of a successful takedown into the inescapable demands of physical attraction.

  Heat surged between them. Her gaze dropped to the erection at the front of his pants and she licked her lips.

  There was no future in this, no time for this, but she didn't want to resist. For just a few minutes, she didn't want to care about anything else, for just a few minutes she wanted to lose herself in sensation.

  In a distant part of Caleb's brain, the voice of sanity shouted, Don't!

  His body overrode it, arms going around Mallory and pulling her tightly against him. It was like being engulfed in flames. He burned and this time there was no denying the sultry call of wet, parted lips.

  He met her halfway, felt a savage victory in managing the millisecond of control. His lips took
hers, his tongue sweeping into her mouth.

  She tasted as good as she looked, as good as she smelled—no, not as good—better. Incredible. Intoxicating.

  She met his parries, battled tongue to tongue as her pelvis ground against his, filling his head with white noise and scorching lust until it wasn't enough just to hold her.

  A tug freed the shirt she wore, pulling it from her jeans. His hands replaced the material against her skin.

  He stroked upward to her bra then down along sleek sides, the feel of her bare skin against his palms making him crave more. Jesus he wanted her. Enough that he couldn't deny himself now and knew he wouldn't be able to rationalize this afterward.

  He deepened the kiss, absorbed her body heat through his skin and let himself pretend neither of them was who they were. That Mallory could be the imagined woman he'd come back to the States to meet, and that he wasn't the man sent to bring her to justice.

  She kissed him as if caught in the same desire. Speared her fingers through his hair and held him to her mouth as if only he could appease the hunger burning inside her.

  They needed to take this somewhere private. He needed to—

  Her paid informant shuffled forward to get his cash, making enough noise to end the fantasy but not before that fantasy had settled into Caleb deeply enough to feel its loss, to feel guilt and regret, and a soul-claiming longing for this assignment to have a different ending.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 13

  Oleg alerted on the Jeep that parked in front of the building he watched. A woman sat behind the steering wheel with a man sitting next to her.

  What kind of man let a woman think she was in control?

  He grunted as the answer came to him. One who wanted pussy.

  Pathetic. Weak.

  It made no difference to him whether a woman was willing or not, they learned to be if they hoped to avoid his fists.

  Americans, too many believed the sugar-coated lie of equality.

  A dog jumped out of the vehicle on the driver's side, under the woman's command and not the man's.

  He would take great pleasure in killing the animal if it became necessary. He had many memories of the dogs used by soldiers and prison guards. His arms and legs were marked by scars where he'd been bitten, often for no other reason than to provide entertainment.

  He watched as man and woman and dog approached the office. Disgust filled him at seeing it was the woman who unlocked the door before they went inside.

  Their arrival did not provide an answer as to what to do about them, or about the stolen DVDs.

  Wait. When it doubt, wait.

  He let his thoughts drift to which of the whores kept at the warehouse he'd continue breaking.

  Caleb stepped into the office, grateful that getting Gano turned in had allowed the heat between Mallory and him to cool. It wasn't gone. A look and it'd flare, a touch and it would roar to the surface.

  He couldn't afford that. He couldn't allow a repeat of what had happened after Gano's takedown.

  He should have split from her, gotten his head together, but this was where he needed to be. He was close to getting on the inside. He couldn't let anything prevent it.

  The dog made himself comfortable on the couch.

  Caleb stuck with Mallory.

  Her office looked exactly like the picture of it on the flash drive. There were no filing cabinets, just a few chairs and a desk with a computer and multifunction printer.

  She dropped into her chair, flipped through the folders on her desk and pulled the one marked Gano, then got a check from the drawer and filled it out.

  "Those other skips?" he asked, motioning toward the folders.

  "Yes." She handed him the check.

  He folded and tucked it into his pocket, aware of the tight reluctance centered in his chest. It was now or never. There wasn't going to be a better time.

  "You need help on any of them? I've got skills beyond providing muscle."

  "What skills?"

  He leaned against her desk. "Locks. Getting around security systems." Not the kind of information he'd volunteer if he wasn't willing to break the law.

  Her nostrils flared, an unmistakable tell.

  He glanced at the two pictures and the folders, eyes coming back to hers. "Give me a trial run. Pay me what you think I'm worth."

  She licked her lips and his body tightened.

  Don't go there.

  Her hand moved, fingertips landing on the picture of a woman and her two kids, flexing so the photograph slid back and forth, back and forth, making a soft sound against the wood.

  Come on, Mallory. Come on. Let me in.

  Her attention went to the office doorway.

  His followed and he jerked at seeing the dog there, showing its teeth, its focus on Mallory.

  It growled, a deep rumble that filled the room and ratcheted up Caleb's heartbeat.

  He shifted away from the desk, unwilling to leave himself defenseless or bet his life on Mallory's having complete control over Dane, not given the bite on her arm.

  "Sorcha," she said, so low Caleb barely caught it. Throwing him until he saw the similarity in appearance of the two girls in the picture and Mallory's sister.

  His skin pebbled because the dog shouldn't understand what it meant. Adrenaline fed into his system. This was it. Everything inside him said they were looking for their next victim.

  She said her sister's name again.

  The dog's jaws snapped shut with a loud clack.

  Dane's focus shifted to him and another surge of adrenaline pumped into Caleb.

  "Fair warning, Mallory. I'll drop him with the nine if he comes at me."

  "You hear that, Dane?"

  The dog glared at her.

  "There's no other choice," she said.

  Dane bared his teeth then retreated to the couch.

  Jesus. Operation Hellhound. Whoever named it got it right.

  Spiders crawled over every inch of Caleb's skin. He went back to leaning against the desk, hoping casual would slow his heartbeat and quiet the reptile part of his brain currently screaming, Get the hell out of here. Get the hell away from them.

  A flick of her fingers and the photograph slid to him. "I could use your help. Trial basis."

  Yes!

  "That works for me."

  "We're looking for this woman and her kids."

  A deep, hot anger replaced all other emotion as Mallory filled him in on the details of Iosif Gruzinsky's missing family. He hadn't killed and watched fellow Americans die in deserts and jungles so the scum of the Earth could buy and sell children and women here at home.

  "I'm in. I'm in all the way. I despise human traffickers and pedophiles."

  She woke the computer. The desktop background was a picture of her brother and sister working a kittens-and-yarn puzzle at the table in her apartment. The only icon was a file folder showing center-screen.

  A click and the folder opened, obliterating the heartwarming for the grim. Pictures scrolled across the screen, right to left, row after row, face after face, all women.

  "These are from Hayden. He pulled them off the porn videos. He didn't call so Viktoriya and her daughters aren't on them."

  A message ballooned at the end. Bought and homemade mostly fetish stuff. Only the women's faces are identifiable on the homemade. The men on the produced porn are probably all actors. Doubt they're involved in the trafficking, but will look deeper. H.

  "That leaves the Brides' office as our best shot at finding something," Caleb said.

  "Yes."

  "I'll have to do recon." He'd also make contact with Zack, tell him he was in and see if the Bureau had any useful information.

  "I doubt they get a lot of walk-in traffic," Mallory said.

  "I'll be a guy tired of hook-ups and looking for serious and permanent, but worried Brides From Russia is a scam."

  And Jesus, even he could hear the truth about wanting a forever woman in his life.

 
Mallory's eyes met his. Dark like tar pits. Both of them suddenly back in those moments after they'd taken Gano down.

  His gut twisted at imagining her locked up. She wasn't like the others, couldn't be.

  Lie.

  But he was finding it easier and easier to believe.

  She looked away first.

  Yeah, fight it, Mallory. Fight it for both of us.

  She manipulated the pictures, shrinking them so as many of them as possible could be put on a page while keeping the faces distinctive.

  The printer spat them out.

  Caleb picked up the first sheet. "Some of them might have been hauled in on prostitution charges. Find their police records, find the name of who's suspected of running them."

  "Hayden's probably already started working that angle."

  "Information is his strength?"

  "Yes."

  "Who'll go in when we hit the Brides' office?"

  "You, me, Mikhail."

  Jesus. The junkie who barked like a dog and threw himself against doors and windows.

  "He's the guy you brought into the Brass Ring?"

  "Yes."

  "He didn't look good."

  "He'll be okay when it's time."

  "He speaks Russian?"

  "And reads it. Hayden's got translation programs but we don't know what we're going to find in the office."

  "Makes sense." Even if it didn't calm the crawl of spiders.

  Caleb went back to studying the pictures. The eyes gave it away. Beaten down or vacant or scared, the majority of the women on those DVDs weren't making porn by choice.

  His anger burned hotter. Men who preyed on women, using dreams of a better life to lure them in and turn them into victims should be—

  Incarcerated.

  Imprisoned. That was the law of this land, this country he'd gone to war for, at home undercover, overseas in the Army.

  For an instant he was in the Sandbox, fingers digging into an enemy combatant's wound. His mind compartmentalized, blocking out screams and agony because of a desperate need for information. His conscience separated from soul by intellect, by a greater cause.

  Mallory's touch jerked him from his thoughts.

  He'd done what he had to do to make the world a better place and America a safer one.