by Mimi Barbour
In her early teens, the dreamer years where optimism and impracticality ruled, he’d made a huge impact. Life had been good when they’d lived with Sam. He’d adored her mother and treated her like a lady, same with her daughters. That lesson had become ingrained in Maya. She knew she couldn’t settle for less and still hadn’t found a guy with Sam’s special gifts.
Sheila and Kerrie, Maya’s two sisters, hadn’t been as affected by Sam’s charms. When he’d been around they’d been older, at the budding stage—that border between teenage silliness and an I’m a woman now mentality.
They were both man crazy. Power over the male species meant wiggling their gorgeous tushes and submitting their lush bodies for the attentions they seemed to crave. Not a problem whatsoever, as long as it got them what they wanted: a good time and a man to rule their world.
Not so for Maya. Never!
During the years they’d lived with him, Sam had accepted a gig in New Orleans with his band at Preservation Hall, and had brought the family to a small, quaint house he owned near the Mississippi. They’d had a wonderful year before leaving to go back to Los Angelas.
Throughout those months, her love for the city had solidified. They’d spent every hour he’d had free touring the places where he’d hung out as a boy, touristy spots like Bourbon Street and the famous French Quarter. They’d even fished on the bayou and taken multiple riverboat cruises. On those wonderful days, he’d cemented her love for the local food and music. Sneaking her into the Hall to hear him play his jazz had delighted her, and it had cultivated an undying love for those incredible sounds.
One day in particular haunted her often. He’d taken her on yet another riverboat cruise and they’d sat outside in the shaded deck area talking as usual.
“Don’t be so hard on your sisters. They can’t help being the people they are. No one taught them any different.”
“Like you’re teaching me?” Maya had reached for his hand and after he’d gently wrapped his long artist’s fingers around her smaller ones, she’d hung on.
“You could say that. But, sugar-baby, you’re a sponge. I never knew anyone who wanted so bad to learn everything she could.”
“Because I’m not like them, I don’t get how they think. All they care about is boyfriends, clothes, and hairdos. What does that matter? What about the poor and homeless? What about the crime rate and the lack of federal help here in New Orleans? What about—”
“Maya, not everyone arrives in this crazy ol’ world with a civil conscience. Most don’t. Maybe they’ll learn to care as they grow older. But you’re one of those rare people who were born giving a damn. You never want to lose that, sweetheart. It’s what makes you stand out from the sleepers, makes you special. You know what I mean?”
“Like the way you feel when you’re playing your music?”
“That’s right. I’m one with God when my clarinet is singing sweetly and I’m entertaining the folks. No better feeling in the world than doing what you were meant to do.”
“Sam, what do you think I was meant to do?”
“Shoot, child. From the way you’re always trying to look after your family, I’d say you need to be in law enforcement.”
Maya had giggled while he’d roared. The private joke was shared between them and had given her one of her favorite memories of their times together. They’d laughed because lately her sisters had started using the phrase, “What are you, a cop?” so often that even her mother had spit it at her. All she’d done was question them about their antics and habit of disappearing without notice.
Visiting the past, Maya was so deep in her thoughts that she wasn’t aware of the approaching officers until one spoke.
“Ma’am, is this sleeping beauty here the perp?”
Coming back to the present with a start, Maya nodded at the two uniforms who were standing in front of the table where old Hank, groggy and garbling, was beginning to regain consciousness. “That’s right! And don’t hurry processing him. The asshole needs to hang with us for as long as possible, give his poor mistreated family a chance to bolt.”
Not quite understanding, but unwilling to argue with authority, the younger of the two cops took his time handcuffing the criminal, letting him fall as often as he wanted on the way to the police vehicle. Meanwhile, his partner sat comfortably with Maya, ordered a cup of coffee and wrote out the particulars for the arrest.
“Lots of tourists today, Maya. Looks like we’ll be in for a busy season.”
“Bill, as long as they come to see the sights, I’m fine with it. The lawbreakers here on business are something different altogether. Have you heard any word on the street about the Mosleys selling a new product?”
An older cop, knowledgeable and hard-working, Bill was all ears. His stern gaze held hers. “What kind of a product?”
“New girls. Lots of them. Mostly Filipino. All underage, and all selling for big bucks.”
“I thought we’d cleared out that kind of business long ago. Don’t tell me they’re at it again?”
“Looks like that particular gang intends to make a splash, earn some big money and feed the animals who can afford to pay for their innocent prey.”
“Bloody shit never stops, does it?” Bill slapped the table and then used it to help him gain his feet, his knees cracking more than once. “I’ll keep my ears open and get back to you if I hear anything.” Sluggishly, as if he carried the weight of the world on his back, he shook his head and sauntered to the waiting patrol car.
In the meantime, Maya scanned the area, hoping against hope that the clone of her missing partner would return. Strangely, she’d believed the stranger who’d sat across from her today. There was a warm aura around him that glowed like the sun with orange streaks. Her instinct to trust had shocked her. After all, that had been one of the problems she’d had with Max.
She’d always known he was number one in his world. But as much as her partner drove her insane, she did care about him. Plus, she needed those files that Max had gone after the last time she’d seen him. The files that held proof that a cargo of underage girls had arrived in their city and, at the moment, were being forced into prostitution.
The last message Max had texted was that he had a good lead, was on it and would have the information they needed to move in. She’d never heard from him or seen him since.
Now what worried Maya was that if there was one shipment, most likely by now there’d be more.
Chapter 7
“Stop crying, Kanya. No one has heard your sorrow except those of us who are locked in here with you. Nobody will come. We are doomed.”
“Yes, please have mercy and stop those incessant tears. They haven’t helped us, and neither has the screaming for help. You’re just driving the rest of us crazy.”
Kanya whipped around to the complainers, her temper flaring. “Can’t you understand? I don’t want to be here. Father and Mother will be frantic, my grandmother is old and my disappearance will kill her. How can I live with that on my conscience?”
In the dim lighting, Malee, the oldest girl of the group, crawled to Kanya and took her hands. “Please my friend, don’t blame yourself. This is not your fault. We’ve all been kidnapped against our will.”
Solada, the youngest at thirteen and the prettiest of the girls, spoke up for the first time in twenty-four hours. “Malee, what will happen to us? We know we’re on board a ship and it’s been sailing for two days—”
“No, no, Solada. We were drugged. Who knows how many days they kept us here before we regained consciousness? We could have been traveling for a week or more—” Tears were still noticeable in Kanya’s voice.
Malee cut in, not wanting to alarm the fifteen girls who were sprawled around the floor on bare mattresses. She was the undisputed leader, not only because she was the oldest at sixteen, but also because she was sensible and strong and her caring attitude made the girls feel protected. Because of this, they allowed her to distribute the food and water and, most imp
ortantly, whenever one of them lost control, the hugs. That had frequently happened in the beginning. But not so much now.
Most of the shattered, weary girls just wanted to get out of their stinking, dark, container-prison and face whatever was waiting for them at the end of their horrific journey.
Except they had no idea what to expect, but Malee did. She’d heard the rumors about other missing girls in her village. How they’d been forced into prostitution. Or made to do hard labor for families who kept them prisoner. Her brothers had warned her not to be alone on the streets.
If only she’d listened…
Chapter 8
Because of his disappearing stunt, Nik knew he’d be in trouble with Maya the next time he saw her, but he had some hard thinking to do. And he couldn’t do it when her green eyes were scrutinizing him, demanding the truth. He’d never known anyone else who had the ability to drill a message in with their eyes, but those emerald sparklers held such power; they messaged, don’t even think of bullshitting–just don’t.
Not a born liar, telling fibs didn’t come easy for Nik. Hell, he’d never had to lie before; that skill wasn’t in his makeup. His old man hadn’t cared enough about what he did, so lying to him hadn’t been in the cards. And once he’d left the Bastard behind, he’d been his own man. Even during his SFT—special forces training—and all through his deployments overseas, he’d been straight-up, a man who stood by his word, a strong believer in a certain type of conduct.
After living with a phony scumbag for the first part of his life, his fear that those genes would appear in him had kept him rigid in his personal rules of behavior. Which could be why his men had so much respect for Lieutenant Commander Baudin, that they followed him anywhere—some to their death. And it was also the reason Nik had state-sided himself. He couldn’t trust his reactions any longer. They were skewed now, abused by the PSTD that plagued him mercilessly.
Acting the part of someone else—an estranged brother he never knew—would be a huge feat for him. Except that he’d made a promise and he knew he’d procrastinated long enough. Becoming comfortable with all the lies that would entail was leaving him anxious and unsettled, but the time had come.
The deal Max had talked him into wasn’t going to go away. He knew it. They’d agreed he’d get a lot more information from inside the FBI field office than on the street. And the only way to do that would be as Special Agent Maximilian. Making up his mind, he figured he’d visit Nellie the next day—he still couldn’t get used to thinking of her as his mom—to find out more about his brother’s history.
As he passed O’Reilly’s, a fun bar, he decided he’d better grab some dinner rather going to bed hungry. Feeling comfortable in the air-conditioned bar, he found an empty spot in a booth and ordered a Guinness.
He checked his surroundings and enjoyed examining the old wooden bar, an array of glasses and liquor bottles highlighted by the huge mirrored wall and the hundreds of unusual mugs hanging from the ceiling. Cool yet quaint–a real tourist draw.
The heat had become brutal over the last few weeks and Nik enjoyed the coolness inside. Just as he received his big platter of Irish stew, a commotion from the street caught his attention. A short dude had pranced—no other word for it—past a group of drunks and they’d stopped him. Riled up with liquor and bad behavior, they started pushing him around, playing with him like he was a ball they could throw from one person to the next, only to be roughly shoved once again.
Hell, even if the victim wanted to defend himself, the twisted idiots were making it impossible with their relentless rowdiness. Not liking this crap, Nik began to head out the door, to get involved and put an end to the nonsense. By now, the revelers were having so much fun that they’d accelerated their rough playfulness to assault. Losing whatever common sense they possessed, their teasing had turned vicious and fists and feet were their weapons now.
Within a few minutes, Nik had taken control. Hard shoves to scatter the majority, a powerful backhand to the idiot who didn’t want to end his fun, and a threat of calling the cops ended the confrontation. By this time, the poor sucker, who never knew what had hit him, lay in a pool of blood, cuts on the back of his head making most of the mess.
Nik picked him up and hauled his ass into the restroom at the bar, letting the waiter know not to touch his plate. “No problem, sir. I can warm it up for you when you’re ready. Be glad to. And a fresh glass of beer will be waiting for you. Man… I never saw anyone move that fast.” The white-shirted, apron-clad fellow shook his head and rushed over to the bar where the rest of the customers were recounting the happenings they’d witnessed through the bar window.
Nik supported the shorter guy, his own six-feet-three-inches towering over the now recovering victim. “Hey, quit trying to hit me. I’m the one who stopped the others. Come on now, settle down.” Wrapping his arms around the smaller man soon stopped the nonsense. “Calm down. You’re safe now. They’re gone.”
“Where am I?”
“In the restroom of O’Reilly’s. It was the closest place.”
“Sure, n’ I know what you’ve got on your mind and the answer is…hell no!”
Chapter 9
In a flash, Nik dropped his arms and let the other guy fall to the floor. “Are you fucking kidding me? Man, I just saved your life.”
“Which doesn’t give you the right to think I’ll repay you with my body.” Scurrying on his knees in retreat, the bleeder finally hauled himself up using a sink as leverage.
“Your body? Repay… Repay? What the hell are you talking about? I don’t want anything from you—certainly not your skinny a—! Jesus, some people are nuts!”
Nik backed off, his hands out in front as if warding off a scary image. He grunted and delivered a few more mumbled curses before he stormed from the room, heading back to his table where the steaming platter and admiring glances awaited.
Shaking his head, he was astounded that he hadn’t lost it altogether in the bathroom with that freak. Imagine! The little twerp thinking he was after payback. Unbelievable! Crazy people…
“I’m sorry, man. I get all kinds of—”
Interrupting the apology from the long-faced idiot, Nik growled, “Get away from me.”
“Hey, I wanted to thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now fuck off.”
“Well, you don’t have to be like that about it. It was an honest mistake.”
Nik glared at his follower and, for the first time, noticed the dude’s outfit: skin-tight jeans—the one style of today that he couldn’t stand—topped with a short-sleeved silky white shirt buttoned half way to show off a tattooed chest that was surprisingly muscular.The younger man’s blond hair was too well kept to be natural, especially after the ruckus he’d just endured, and Nik thought he could smell the faint odor of a hair product, like the kind he’d noticed on some women.
The waiter approached, holding out a wet, white towel and a purse-like shoulder bag and handed them to Nik’s pest. “I think this is yours, sir. I remembered seeing you carrying it before those wackos attacked you.”
“Thanks, man. How sweet! I totally forgot about it.”
“No wonder. Those animals were vicious. I’m glad I noticed it.”
“Me too.”
The waiter passed over the white cloth. “And this will come in handy to clean off the blood.”
Taking the rag, the nuisance swiped it over the back of his head, down his chest and over the arm where dried blood still appeared. “I’m just so upset at having to deal with, first, being violently attacked, and then making a huge error in judgment and accusing this hero of a—”
“Look, could you hold this love fest anywhere else but here. I’m trying to eat in peace and you two are putting me off my food.”
“No problem, sir. How about I bring this poor fellow a bowl of stew, on the house, of course, and he can thank you properly?” With a suggestive wink at Nik’s nemesis, the waiter rushed to the kitchen.
�
�Hey, come back here!” Nik yelled in the direction of the departing employee and swore when he didn’t get any attention. Next he turned his fixed stare onto the annoyance, who was making free with the other side of Nik’s booth. “Go away.” Nik’s tone brooked no rebuttal. And his accompanying glare would have sent every one of his men fleeing in all directions.
However, it had no effect on the intruder. “If you don’t mind, I’ll just stay here with you in case those horrible brutes are waiting outside to finish me off. I don’t know why some people feel that pounding the bejesus out of a poor fellow minding his own business seems acceptable. You were the only person who stepped forward to help me.”
“Hell, I’m sorry I bothered. Look how you repaid me, accusing me of… Bah! I’m outta here.” Nik shot to his feet and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Dropping a couple of twenties on the table, he headed for the door.
Before he could make his escape, the annoyance whipped in front of him and held up the money. “Your dinner is on me. Please. I’d like to show my appreciation.”
“No.” Nik did an about-turn and headed up the street in the opposite direction, thinking to lose his shadow. Not so easy when the other person acted like a large dab of crazy glue. “For chrissake, leave me alone, will you? Go home.”
“I can’t.”
Fed up, Nik turned on the smaller man and shoved him against the wall. His eyes shooting lasers into the widened brown eyes of the other, he gritted his teeth, took a huge breath and asked the question he knew he shouldn’t. “Why the hell not?”
“They kicked me out. Kept all my stuff. I managed to take my bag with me, but they’ve stolen everything else.”
Nik’s chin dropped to his chest. He inhaled a huge breath to calm his raging temper. Finally, he spoke—slowly, enunciating each word carefully. “Then go to the police.”
“I can’t.”
That did it! Feeling like he was talking to a babbling idiot, Nik lost it and yelled. “Why the fuck not?”