Girls With Guns

by Ali Vali

  “It was a miracle she could talk to you at all, considering she was only two at the time.”

  Abigail poked her with her foot and scowled at her. She was sure Abigail didn’t mean it in an intimate way, but Finley felt a twinge of desire. “You know how much I love you talking in riddles. What are you trying to tell me?”

  “The Eatons were all born in 2001, at least that’s where their paper trail begins, and that can mean one of two things. Either they’re in witness protection or they really hated their original surname. They didn’t exist before then, so we need some more information to find out why, and Nicola probably shared it with you.”

  Abigail poked her again. “If you haven’t been paying attention, Nicola didn’t tell me shit about anything. At no time did she mention having a different name.”

  She grabbed Abigail’s foot and pointed her index finger at her. “No, but she would’ve maybe talked about her heritage. Remember when Sadie said her grandmother wanted to tell her the truth about their family because Nan would’ve wanted her to know?”

  “The only conversation we had about her name was when I asked her about it. She said it was her great-grandmother’s name on her mother’s side. I think she said she was Russian, but she didn’t say from where exactly.”

  “That’s a good start, and I’m sure it’s no coincidence that we believed the case I was working on was related to the Russian mob. They’re so closed-mouthed about their business we haven’t gotten anywhere.” She wished for a few minutes with the FBI computers.

  “What exactly were you working on?” Abigail asked.

  “After a few tips about women who were being brought into the country illegally for the sex trade, we found a few clues that they might be true. You actually almost got caught in the middle of the best lead I’d gotten when that limo bus was shot up.” She swiveled a little and started another search. “One of our guys was able to get into one of their parties.” She made air quotes around the word party. “He passed one of the women a phone, and we communicated a couple of times by text. She was one of the women on that bus.”

  “Sex slavery is for real?” Abigail seemed horrified, judging by her expression. “How many people died on that bus?”

  “Nine, but in the end they’re most likely the lucky ones. Their deaths were violent, but they went fast. The others are stuck in a hellhole somewhere and don’t have the right to say no to how many johns they have to service or to what they want.” She pressed her hands into fists and tried to clear her mind. “I wanted the people responsible to pay, but all I found was a whole lot of nothing.”

  “Then it sounds like the first thing to find is this club.” Abigail held up the ledger sheet. “If Nicola or her family have anything to do with what you just told me, I want them nowhere near my children for the rest of their lives. If it’s true, Nicola has only one thing to be grateful for—that she’s already dead.”

  “Can I be honest about one more thing without you thinking I’m full of shit?” Sometimes the only way to navigate the darkness was with an experienced guide.

  “If you think I’d say no to that you’re crazy, and I’d never believe that of you. Unlike the people in my past, you actually answer questions and come clean about yourself. You can tell me anything.” Finley did, and Abigail gazed at her like she wanted to bolt.

  “It’s part of who I am, and you deserved to know.”

  *

  The next day Finley left and prayed Abigail and the kids would be there when she came back. Her next move was necessary if Abigail decided to run without her. From the spot she’d picked she had a great vantage point of the area, and she wasn’t surprised to find what she guessed was another rental car. The car in front of Abigail’s house most likely belonged to Avis, and a corporation she’d never heard of out of New York had rented it.

  When the UPS guy arrived, the man watching took extra notice but went back to his phone call when the delivery man got out of his vehicle with a box. This was what she’d been after, a typical transaction that wouldn’t raise any alarms, and the man who signed for it looked familiar. She saw the signature in real time, and it was the right guy. She waited five minutes before he went back inside to see what’d happen.

  Her phone rang a minute later, and she smiled when she heard the shower running. She’d asked him to do that to make sure he called from the bathroom, since she doubted it was bugged if someone had gone through the trouble. “Mr. Langois?” she asked and listened to him breathe on the other end. “Sir?”

  “Who is this?” Bob Langois asked, and she guessed this was where Abigail had inherited her question-asking technique.

  “A friend,” she said and spoke to him about what she wanted him to do and why. “Would you be okay with that?”

  “You know where? You know what I’m talking about?” he asked, and she winced at the misery in his voice.

  “Yes, sir, but we need to keep things safe, so try not to ad-lib.” She worried a bit when the watcher got out of his car. “Seriously, follow all my steps.”

  She made another call and waited. Then she called Bob back after she saw the two vehicles and told him to move. When the watcher tried to follow Bob and his wife Rita, he was boxed in, and no amount of horn-blowing made a difference. The Langois couple got away and drove to the spot she’d asked, and she could still hear the commotion when she waved them into her car. Even if these guys put a tracker on the car, she’d evened the playing field.

  “If you’re out to get us, we sure made it easy for you,” Rita said as she slid into the backseat. “Please tell me you know where my daughter and grandchildren are.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but we need to get going before we lose our opportunity.” She drove off like she was leaving a leisurely breakfast, so no one would take notice. The drive home was meandering, to be absolutely sure, and she sat back and enjoyed the family reunion when they arrived.

  *

  Boris St. John sat outside the Langois house, angry at the assignment and angrier at having to kiss Linda Bender’s ass. Why Yury thought the pencil pusher knew anything about finding and killing anyone was a total mystery. If anything, the bitch would use this as an excuse to fuck him over for all the sins against her she thought he’d committed.

  The easiest way out of whatever Yury was after was to grab these two assholes and dangle them for bait. If he wanted the bitch who’d witnessed the shooting in New York, and these people were her parents, they’d be good incentive to bring the slut in from whatever hole she’d crawled into. He glanced down at his phone and hit the roof with his fist when he saw Linda’s name.

  “What now?”

  “Call me if they leave.”

  Linda wasn’t one for long conversations. “Why do you want to know? I can follow someone without you telling me how to do it.”

  “I’ve got someone lined up to go in if they do, and you just need to call when they’re coming back so my guy can get out.”

  “You sure it wouldn’t be easier to go in and take these idiots?” He watched the delivery guy go to the door and the older man take the package. It was nothing, so he didn’t mention it to her. “Why drag it out?”

  “If you need to have this talk again, call Yury and have it. Until he tells me to do it differently, let me know when they leave.”

  He punched the roof again when she hung up but quickly paid attention when the couple practically ran out of the house and started the car. Finally an end to all this fucking sitting, and following them would be easy because they appeared frantic. The two black SUVs surprised him, and when he blew his horn to get them out of his way, the driver must’ve gotten pissed since he didn’t move and rolled the window down to flip him off.

  When the road was clear the couple’s car was nowhere in sight, and after twenty minutes of looking he found it, but they were gone. He prayed for the first time in years that this meant they were in one of the shops, but after glancing in each window he knew he’d lost them. If it was for good, he wa
s screwed. Yury wouldn’t accept another fuck-up.

  He sat in his car and called Linda and explained what had happened. “Someone must’ve picked them up. Do you want me to sit on the car in case they come back?” he asked like a whipped dog.

  “Boris, I can’t tell you the next step to take, but they’re gone. Before anything else, go back to the house and recover the box that was delivered this morning. Call me when you’re there.”

  If he closed his eyes he could almost feel the noose tightening around his neck. “Are you setting me up?” he asked, not expecting her to tell him the truth. He sure as hell wouldn’t if their positions were reversed.

  “You have my word I’ll wait to speak to Yury after I talk to you again. If you want to tell him your side after that, feel free, but you don’t have to contact me again.”

  He laughed because she sounded sincere. “He’d kill you if you admit that to him.”

  “Would you cry for me?” Linda asked and laughed.

  He had no problem imagining her among all those books—a history no one but her most likely ever looked at.

  “I’ll call you, and no matter what, Yury will never hear anything from me.”

  He drove back and called Linda to tell her about the pile of ash that contained only small pieces of the box that’d been delivered.

  “That’s all that’s left? The label isn’t readable?” she asked.

  “The label’s gone, along with whatever was in it. The old fucker left a note,” he said when he glanced to the counter. “It’s addressed to David and Valerie Eaton. Who the hell’s that?”

  “What does it say?” Linda sounded almost gleeful.

  “‘I know the truth. Think before you act again since your masks and all that insulation won’t save you from the consequences of your poor decisions. You won’t have anywhere to hide and will have no secrets left,’” he read, scanning the note again. “‘I know the truth’ is in all caps.”

  “Boris, keep the note and have fun on vacation. While you’re enjoying yourself, turn your phone on only on Mondays at five in the morning, New York time. If either of us has anything to talk about, that’ll be the time to do it.”

  He stared at the phone, wondering if she was drunk. “Why are you doing this for me? You know what’ll happen if Yury finds out.”

  “Perhaps the time has come when we both can use a good friend. It’s the only way to survive the long, dark night.”

  “Thank you then, friend. I’ll call you Monday.”

  *

  “I’m sorry for how I acted,” Abigail said as she sat on the edge of the desk. The house was finally quiet after a long day of tears and laughter.

  Finley simply gazed at her from her makeshift bed on the study’s couch. Abigail’s parents were in the guest room surrounded by the kids on the floor. “You don’t have to apologize—it’s the way most people react. It doesn’t change my responsibility to you and your family.”

  “You’ve been really good about that, so just accept my apology and we’ll move on. If you don’t, I’ll feel like an asshole.” Abigail sat on the couch, as if she needed to be close to her. “You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

  She hesitated like she was thinking about it, and Abigail laughed. “No one’s all good or all bad. If you’re lucky, you find someone who’s a mix of both but tips the good more heavily on that scale. That’s what I’ve tried to do.”

  “So you accept my apology?”

  “There’s no need, but sure, if it makes you feel better.” She was enjoying the way Abigail smiled at her when Victoria came in holding Liam’s hand, and when they reached her they held their arms out so she’d pick them up. She’d come to enjoy the nightly visits, liking the open affection Abigail’s brood didn’t mind lavishing on her. “You guys want to keep the bed warm for me until I get back?”

  “You coming back, right?” Victoria asked, rubbing her eyes.

  “I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” She sat up and let them use her pillow while she put on her shoes for her appointment. “Be good for your mama.”

  Abigail followed her downstairs and watched as she strapped her weapon on before putting on a light jacket. “My parents are here now, so do you want me to come with you?”

  “If you want, next time I’ll be happy to have you come, but new people have a way of making people clam up, and tonight I need chatty. With any luck I’ll find out exactly where the Hell Fire Club is and we can move on to the next clue.” She pocketed her keys and wallet but really had a desire to stay home. Abigail seemed to want her around.

  “Remember your promise to my kids that you’ll be back, and thank you for that. Usually they’re not clingy with anyone but me and my parents.” Abigail stood close to her with a peculiar expression, and she could only guess one thing. It was as if Abigail wasn’t wired to make the first move but really wanted to.

  “All three of them are adorable in their own unique way, while being complete handfuls for the very same reason,” she said as she placed her hand on Abigail’s shoulder. “You’ve done a great job there, and I’m secretly enjoying their attention.” She went slowly to give Abigail the chance to move away, but she only sighed when she kissed her forehead, then her cheek. “All this is in no way by the book, but until I know you all will be safe, we only have each other.”

  “It’s not a bad spot to be in, from my perspective,” Abigail said as she kissed her chin.

  Chapter Eleven

  Finley drove to the docks that ran from the French Quarter all the way uptown and found a secluded parking spot close to the warehouse district. She stopped at a garbage can along the way and retrieved the envelope someone had taped to the top. The meeting she wanted to have had to be private, and this was the only way, considering who she was going to see. A bug under a very powerful microscope was the way she thought of who she was seeing.

  Two keys were in the envelope; one unlocked the new shotgun house across the street, and the other unlocked the door at the back of a closet almost dead center in the place. “Hey,” she said to the big man waiting on the other side. “Thought I’d get lost.”

  “I’m here to protect you from the giant rats in here,” Lou Romano said and laughed as he hugged her.

  “Lead on, then, because those things freak me out.”

  They made small talk as they walked through the long, damp tunnel until they emerged in Emma’s, a club named after Emma Casey. None of the FBI surveillance people were allowed in the club’s offices, and that was where Cain Casey waited, along with Remi Jatibon. Both women were tall and powerful, and headed very successful crime families in the city.

  “Hello, Cousin,” Cain said when she stood and embraced her with affection.

  “Hello, Cousin,” she said as Cain slapped her on the back. Finley’s mother Siobhan was Dalton Casey’s youngest sister, so she’d grown up with Cain and her family, not seeing them quite the same way Abigail had when she’d told her about this branch of her family. “How’s the family?”

  “Great—ready for the new addition we’re working on. When you’ve got time I’ll sneak you into the house for a visit.”

  She’d wanted a career in law enforcement catching the sexual deviants of the world, so she’d cleaned up her family tree to get into Quantico, but also so no bureaucrat would pit her against her family. She was happy investigating what she did, since she’d never find Cain or Remi in any of her traps.

  “I’d love that, but I really need your help with something, and I don’t have a lot of time.” She explained what had happened and about Abigail and her family.

  “Are you talking about Nicola Eaton?” Cain asked.

  “Yes. She died a while back in a plane crash with her brother Frederick.”

  Remi laughed and nodded. “It was convenient timing since we heard the feds were starting to look hard at their businesses. Their accidents slowed the investigation to a crawl, but their action is still in play.”

  “Have either of you eve
r heard of the Hell Fire Club?”

  “It’s in one of the high-rises downtown, but their membership is private and well-guarded. No one can ever truly keep their mouth shut about a place like that, though, so it’s basically the Baskin-Robbins of sex. You pay the fee, and they have every flavor of sex you want to try,” Cain said as she tapped her fingers in a random pattern on the conference table. “Nicola was in charge of the everyday business, but the stake wasn’t hers. We’ve stayed clear since that’s not our gig, but we keep the same kind of eye on it as anything that might be a problem down the line. If you can bring them down, I’d love you even more than I do already.”

  “Who owns the action?” she said, smiling at Cain.

  “Russian mob, and that too isn’t a great thing for our family or Remi’s, since they’re like termites. They operate in the dark, and before you know it they crumble the foundation of what’s yours. Nicola was laying the groundwork here, and her brother was making the moves in Miami.” Cain stood as she spoke and poured everyone a drink.

  “What about New York?” She was cursing herself for not coming sooner and having Cain hand her a shitload of clues on a silver platter. “Who’s in charge there?”

  “That I don’t know, but look for someone not flashy. Someone financed the kind of skin they’ve got in the game here, so New York would be a good start,” Cain said.

  The lower-end workers like the ones killed on the limo bus made both Cain and Remi give her looks of disgust when she explained what they’d found, but perhaps that was in place here too. “The high end’s lucrative, but shit like that paves the way, I guess,” Cain said.

  “Can you put the word out and see if you find someone operating like that?”

  “For you, anything,” Remi said, hugging her before she left. “And if you need a hand exterminating trash like that, Mano and I will gladly help,” Remi said of her twin brother.