Table of Contents
CONTENTS
Copyright
Back Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Justice
About Piper
2018 Piper Davenport
Copyright © 2018 by Trixie Publishing, Inc.
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Witness is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CONTENTS
Copyright
Back Blurb
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Justice
About Piper
When FBI agent, Brock Williams, is assigned to a case centered around a mob-run drug operation in Oregon, he’s unprepared to find a beautiful young woman, assaulted and bloody, protecting two young children in an abandoned meth house.
Bailey Harper thought she was heading to a graduation party, only to find herself kidnapped, beaten, and left for dead. When a handsome and charismatic FBI agent comes to her rescue and offers his protection, she finds herself falling hard and fast for him.
When a deeply guarded, dark secret is revealed, will the truth drive them apart or will it strengthen the bonds of their newly found love?
For the man who inspires me daily!
I love you, baby.
Brock
I SAT WITH my partner, Dallas Stone, in the conference room of my FBI field office in Portland, Oregon. The third part of our team, Jaxon Quinn, arrived a few minutes later and sat beside Dallas.
“What do we know?” Jaxon asked.
“Nothing yet,” I responded.
“Thanks for coming in,” Matt Quinn, assistant director, and Jaxon’s brother, said as he walked into the room and grabbed the remote, clicking an image onto the screen. “Here you have Vasily Bekhterev, cousin to Boris Bekhterev.”
Boris was head of the Russian mob sect that covered the Pacific Northwest, but there’d been chatter that Boris was going to be passing responsibilities off to Vasily.
“Our source says he will be at the Pink Fox in Gresham at ten tonight.”
“We can’t just arrest the guy for being at a strip club, Matt,” Jaxon pointed out.
“We’re not going to arrest him,” Matt countered. “Vasily bought in on the poker game in the back. Alana will be workin’ the room, and she’ll get you into the game, Jax. The rest of you will be backup. Jax is the only agent these guys haven’t seen, so he takes lead. Tonight, is information gathering only. I want to know how many guards he travels with, who else is at that table, and what his relationship is to them. Find out whatever you can without revealing yourself. That’s it. Stay safe.”
Matt walked out, and I rose to my feet. “Jax, they’ll search you when you go in, so no weapons, and we’ll have no way to maintain contact. You and Alana will be on your own for the entirety of the game. If there’s any trouble, Alana will have to get to us. Jax, you’ve got the Mercedes, we’ll follow.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jaxon said. The field office had a couple of unique and expensive cars at our disposal and tonight Jaxon would be using the Mercedes SL-Class Roadster.
“Suit up and meet at the cars in ten,” I said.
The men nodded and headed to the weapons room.
* * *
Two days later, I rushed into a dilapidated house in downtown Gresham and glanced at Dallas, pointing to the left. Dallas nodded and moved soundlessly the opposite direction from me, gun aimed in front of him, close to his body, his Kevlar vest his only protection from gunfire. Jaxon and two other SWAT agents had already preceded us and disappeared into one of the rooms at the back of the house.
More agents waited outside and would move in, but not until the signal was given, and with kids possibly in the mix, I didn’t want to take any chances. I forced aside my disgust at the vandalized walls and floors, discarded needles, and rotting food strewn around the rooms. How anyone could live like this, I had no idea.
Several 9-1-1 calls had come in complaining of screaming and gun shots, and the address given was this known meth house. It had been confiscated two years ago in a drug bust, and squatters had taken advantage of the abandoned building.
Normally, local police would have dealt with it, but when the call came in that neighbors had seen kids being pulled inside, the FBI was dispatched.
“Clear,” I called, once I was sure no one was in the room.
“Got three!” Dallas called. “Call a bus.”
“Dispatch, we need a bus to 23 South First. SWAT move in,” I said into my radio, and then headed to the back of the house. Pushing the door open further, I scowled. A young woman, bloodied and bruised, sat on a filthy mattress in the corner, her arms wrapped protectively around a boy of about ten and a girl, maybe six.
“Don’t come any closer,” she snapped as Dallas approached. She held the kids tighter, even though her purpled arm hung at an awkward angle.
Dallas stalled and glanced at me for direction.
I smiled at her. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
The woman stood, hand slapping against the wall as she seemed to lose her balance. “I said, don’t come any closer.”
“Can you tell me your name?” I asked, waving Dallas back.
I saw her waiver and then caught her as she passed out. Lifting her gently in my arms, we moved quickly. Dallas lifted the girl, Jaxon grabbed the boy, who tried to fight but was no match for the large man.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, buddy,” Jaxon promised. “What’s your name?”
“Jay,” he whispered.
“Hi, Jay. I’m Jax. Do you like cars?”
Jay nodded, although he still looked leery of Jaxon.
The little girl cried quietly, but looped her arms around Dallas’s neck and laid her head on his shoulder. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Cammie.”
“That’s such a pretty name.” Dallas stroked her hair. “I’m Dallas and that’s Brock. Is that your mom?”
Cammie shook her head. “No. She’s my friend. She was helping us.” Cammie started to sob. “She…was…making the men…stay away. They hurt her.”
“Okay, baby. Shhh,” Dallas crooned, holding her close. “What’s your
friend’s name?”
“Bailey,” she whispered.
I stared down at Bailey. She’d been beaten severely, one eye already closed and the other rapidly swelling to resemble the first. I thought her hair might be blonde, but with all the dirt and blood, I couldn’t be sure. A sense of protectiveness washed over me as I held her close and followed my partner back out the front door.
The ambulance pulled up within minutes, and I laid Bailey on the gurney inside. “Her name’s Bailey,” I said. “That’s all we know at this point.”
“Thanks, Brock,” Helen Miller, my friend and the paramedic in charge, said. “We’ll take it from here.”
I started to leave, but paused, reluctant to leave the young woman. She’d been so strong and had clearly taken quite a beating to protect two kids who weren’t even her own. Why? I wanted to know more and make sure she was okay. But there was no time for that, so I forced myself to step away, giving Dallas and Jaxon room to hand over the kids. I turned and headed back into the house now that it had been cleared.
Back in the bedroom, I flipped over the mattress, searched the closet, and found nothing.
“Here’s Bailey’s purse,” Dallas said, as he joined me. “It’s got a license, school ID, phone with missing SIM card, and a couple of credit cards. There’s a medical insurance card, too. That’s it.” He handed me the black leather purse and I located her wallet.
I opened it and slid the ID from the window slot. “Bailey Harper,” I read out loud.
She was in fact blonde, twenty-one, a student at Washington State University, and lived in Vancouver. How she ended up in Gresham would have to be ascertained later.
Bailey’s license photo was model worthy. I ran a finger gently over the picture, admiring her beauty.
“Brock.”
I glanced up to find Dallas smirking at me.
“Sorry, what?” I said.
“Jaxon’s heading back to headquarters. Do you want me with you, or him?”
“Me,” I said. “We need to head to the hospital and ask Bailey a few questions. We also need to find out who those kids are.”
Dallas nodded and left the room. I followed, confident the criminal investigators would collect the right evidence and maybe get more answers.
Bailey
PAIN. A SEA of it. No, more like a thousand seas of it. I swallowed and heard myself whimper. It felt like razor blades sliced at my throat with each gulp.
Within seconds, I heard a click, and then the pain eased. Sighing, I tried to force my eyes open, only managing to see out of one of them.
“Welcome back,” a kind voice said, and I followed the sound. I blinked until the blur cleared into a young woman with long, auburn hair and hazel eyes, who smiled at me as she held my wrist. “I just gave you a dose of Morphine, but if you’re still in any pain, let me know and I’ll see if we can’t get you something stronger.”
“Where…” I swallowed again, biting back a groan. I noticed a bandage on my right arm and another tightly wound around my middle that kept my breaths shallow and strained.
“Shhh, don’t try to speak just yet. I’ll get you some water. I’m Macey Gilbert. I’ll be your nurse for the next twelve hours. You’ve got a couple cracked ribs, so even breathing will be difficult for a little while. Doc wrapped you pretty tight for the moment.”
I nodded.
Macey grabbed a cup with a straw and adjusted my bed to a seated position. The change increased the pressure on my ribs, but I tried to breathe through it. Macey guided the straw to my mouth and I took a sip and then another. Instant relief.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, hon,” Macey said, and set the water down. “Still in pain?”
I nodded. “A bit, yes.”
“Okay. I’ll be right back.”
I relaxed again.
“Miss Harper?”
I opened my eyes and looked into the face of one of the hottest men I’d ever seen. Dark blond hair, sea green eyes, and a mouth that looked like it could kiss. Full lower lip, thinner top lip and even, white teeth that gleamed when he smiled.
“I’m Dr. Stone. I’m going to examine you, and then the FBI has a few questions if you feel up to answering them.”
I nodded. Macey returned and helped me drink more water. I couldn’t remember when water had ever tasted so good before. The ice soothed my throat and made me feel like I could speak again.
“What’s your pain level?” Dr. Stone asked. “On a scale from one to ten.”
“About a six.”
“What about before the pain meds?”
“Forty-two,” I said.
Dr. Stone smiled again. “Mase, I think Miss Harper can have pudding or Jell-O if she’s hungry. Broth is okay too. Let’s get her some Dilaudid. The morphine’s not as effective as I’d like to see.”
“Yes, sir,” Macey said.
“Do you feel up to speaking with Agent Williams?” he asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Absolutely.”
I sighed. “Might as well get it over with.”
Dr. Stone turned and left the room and Macey stepped to my side again. “What culinary masterpiece can I bring you? We have orange, cherry, and lime Jell-O, or for the food connoisseur, tapioca, vanilla, or chocolate pudding.”
I giggled, groaning as a sharp pain shot through my side.
“Sorry, hon. Watch those ribs.”
I licked my lips. “Let’s go with tapioca.”
Macey grinned. “A woman after my own heart. I’ll be back when you’re done with Brock.”
Macey left, and two men walked in. I recognized them as two of the agents who had busted into the room where I was being held. One was tall with dark hair and a day’s stubble over his chin. He had the bluest eyes I’d ever seen, and he was gorgeous. The other man, a little shorter, dark hair with a tinge of red and longer than the first man’s, was also good-looking, but definitely not my type.
“I’m Brock Williams and this is Dallas Stone,” the dark-haired man said.
“Stone…are you related to Dr. Stone?” I asked.
Dallas nodded. “He’s my brother.”
“Where are Cammie and Jay?” I asked.
“They’re being looked after by child protective services,” Brock said.
“I want to see them.”
“What’s your relationship to them?” Dallas asked.
“None of your business.”
Brock nodded to his partner who exited the room, pulling the door closed. He approached the bed and gave me a gentle smile. “Miss Harper, can you tell me why you were in a meth house in Gresham with two children who have been missing for two weeks from their home in Connecticut?”
I gasped. “Two weeks?”
Brock nodded, pulling a chair to the side of the bed.
I blinked back tears. Their parents must be worried sick. “I don’t really remember how I got to the house. I was at a party with my friend and…” I swallowed. I didn’t want to say what I saw out loud. Maybe if I didn’t verbalize it, I could forget it.
“Miss Harper…Bailey,” he said. “I know this must be difficult, but it’s important.”
“I can’t.”
“Ma’am, I really need to know what you saw.”
“They will kill them. And then me.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you, Bailey. I promise.”
I shook my head, the action causing pain to rip through my skull and I couldn’t stop a whimper.
“Bailey, you’re safe. Jay and Cammie are safe. No one can get to you.”
“Not them.”
“I’m sorry?”
“There are more children. They have them chained up with my friend.”
“Who?” Brock pressed.
“I can’t.” Panic welled up inside me, stealing my breath. A machine started beeping, and then Macey and Dr. Stone appeared, pushing Brock away as they covered my nose and mouth with a mask and injected something into my IV. Then nothing.
* * *
Brock
“Fuck!” I snapped, and then shook my head. “Sorry, Mase.”
Macey chuckled. “Like I haven’t heard that before.”
“What did you say to her?” Dr. Stone asked.
Alec Stone, Dallas’s brother, was one of the best ER docs in the area, and one of the first people my crew and I sought out when we needed medical services or advice. He’d been a medic in the Army before settling in Gresham, Oregon.
“I just asked her a few questions, Alec.” I ran my hands through my hair. “She’s scared of something, but she won’t tell me what.”
Alec checked Bailey’s pulse, and then faced me again, crossing his arms. “She’s gonna be out for a while. Why don’t you come back in a couple of hours?”
I considered the mountain of paperwork I should be working on, and then shook my head. “I promised I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Think I’m gonna stick around to see if someone tries.”
Alec narrowed his eyes. “No talking to her unless I’m here. Got it?”
I stared at him.
“Got it, Brock?” Alec pressed.
“Yeah, man. Got it.”
Alec nodded and left the room. Macey followed, and I fired off a text to my team before folding myself into the chair by Bailey’s bed to wait.
Settling an ankle over my knee, I watched Bailey as she slept. The house I’d pulled her from was somehow connected to a drug cartel that may or may not include both Russian and Colombian mob bosses. I couldn’t imagine how the two could coexist without killing each other, but the info I’d received was solid, so I planned to follow it as far as it took me.
The kids were another story. Their parents had been notified and were on their way from Greenwich, which further confused me. How did two kids from a wealthy family in Connecticut end up in Gresham, Oregon? In a meth house, no less, and being protected by a college student who seemed more likely to be involved in the pageant world than the drug world?
I dropped my head back and stared at the ceiling. A groan brought my focus back to the bed. So much for being out for “a while.” I debated whether or not to call Alec back, but I needed answers and Bailey was the only one who could give them to me. I rose to my feet and stepped over to the bed.
Witness Page 1