Breaking Point

by Allison Brennan

  “No, we’re not.” Jack held up the matchbook that Sean had retrieved from the house. “I have a plan.”

  * * *

  “Sorry I’m late, boys.”

  Supervisory Special Agent Gianna Murphy wore jeans, two guns in a shoulder holster over a light grey T-shirt, and a loose fitting jacket. Her long dark hair was braided tightly down her back, and sharp high cheekbones and a strong jaw hinted at Native American ancestry.

  She’d set up a meeting at a bar. JT was skeptical, but she said, “The owner is retired Army and a buddy of mine. There won’t be any trouble.”

  She slid into the seat next to JT. They were in a corner booth where all of them could see the front door, and Kane had eyes on the back door.

  JT introduced himself and Kane. “Donnelly vouches for you,” JT said. “RCK doesn’t have a contact here, and we have a situation. I don’t know who we can trust.”

  “Brad is a good man. Was my husband’s best friend. Brad said Kane Rogan here risked his life to save him, so that makes you both family, as far as I’m concerned. Whatever you tell me is off the record, I got it. If I can’t help, I’ll tell you so.”

  The bartender walked over with a bottle of something JT didn’t recognize—a local brewery, perhaps.

  “Two more?” he asked JT and Kane.

  Kane nodded. JT hadn’t even finished his first beer, but it had grown warm.

  “Did Brad explain what we do?”

  “Private security. Hostage rescue. That sort of thing. Both ex-military.”

  “There’s a civilian working undercover in a sex trafficking organization and she’s gone dark.”

  “Civilian?”

  “Former cop. Works for a private organization that locates underage prostitutes and extracts them from the business.”

  “Hmm.”

  Interest or suspicion? JT couldn’t tell. He continued. “She contacted her partner and we learned that she was in El Paso—could still be here—but they bailed from the house they’d holed up in since Monday. However, we know something big is going down, possibly tonight. We think a turf battle, but we don’t have confirmation.” Kane was staring at JT. “What?” JT said.

  Kane didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. It was his look—and JT knew what he had to do.

  “Full disclosure,” JT said. “The undercover is my sister. I need to find her—she is good at this, damn good at undercover work, but she’s been in for so long—let’s just say I’m worried. She asked to be pulled from the assignment, then rescinded the request—but we’re skeptical. At a minimum, we need to make contact and ensure that she’s safe.”

  Gianna nodded. “What do you need?”

  “Information.”

  “Ask.”

  “Martin Hirsch is the suspect in question. He’s been running prostitution rings in southern California and Arizona for a long time, and is in the midst of an expansion east, either creating or taking over the pipeline along the I-10 corridor. We believe he’s the number two guy or has a partner, but we don’t have an identity on the other man—just goes by the initial ‘Z.’ We don’t have the hierarchy nailed down. What we do know is that the expansion started last year, possibly because of the shake-up in Texas. The DEA took out a major drug transportation ring, followed by the FBI knocking out a key source of sex slaves into the U.S. from Mexico. There’ve been some turf wars, but no one has emerged as a leader.”

  “I’m aware of the operations, mostly through Brad’s task force. They definitely left a void. But in our regional meeting, Brad said he had a handle on the situation, as much as we can.”

  “I’m sure he does, but sex trafficking—though it uses similar networks for transportation as the drug business—is still a different business that the DEA isn’t equipped to handle.”

  “Agreed.”

  “My sister went undercover because her firm was hired to find a girl who was sold to Hirsch.” JT had begun to doubt Simon’s story—who had hired him? JT suspected Simon was bankrolling the entire operation. “She’s successfully extracted several underage girls who were forced into prostitution, but hasn’t found Hope Anderson. In Phoenix, a cop who helped was killed, by Hirsch or one of his men, but Bella is still entrenched.”

  “Where are they holed up?”

  “They were at a spread north of here, abandoned ranch.”

  “Lots of space up there,” Gianna said. “If they’ve gone, what do you need from me?”

  “Names. People in the business. I know you’re DEA, but Donnelly said you keep your finger on the pulse of every crime and criminal in El Paso.”

  She nodded. “True.” She pulled out a notepad and started writing as she spoke. “The drug trade deals more with forced labor than sex slaves, but same principle. With the big guns being taken out last year, there’ve been a whole bunch of small time dealers trying to expand their businesses. Which is ultimately a good thing—don’t get me wrong—but some of these lowlifes are violent, some are just stupid. Weeding through the idiots takes time and resources, and after the shake-up in the DEA, I have half an office of new agents. I stand by every single one of them, they’re solid, but most are either rookies or new to the territory.” She tore off a sheet of paper and handed it to JT. “Those are the three big players in town. They’re into everything. The first two will traffic people. The third probably not, but sometimes you don’t know. The third guy is focused on distribution. I wrote down a list of their known hangouts, but the first address is going to be the most likely place you’ll find any of them.”

  “This is good—thank you.”

  “Now, I gotta ask you—what’s your plan?”

  “Observe at this point. I’m only going to extract Bella if she’s in immediate danger, but I need to know she’s alive.” His voice cracked. He didn’t realize how emotional he was about his sister. He handed the list to Kane.

  Gianna nodded. “If you need backup, call me. I wrote my cell number down. I’ll bring reinforcements. I ask for one thing in return.” She noticed their faces and laughed. “Don’t look so worried. I simply want your intel. You learn anything that can help me nail any of these bastards, pass it along. Even if it’s not drug related—we have a new police chief and he’s a hard-ass, but damn, I love his can-do attitude. We’ve worked real well together. Not all his cops are solid, however, so we have some problems. Nothing we can’t handle.”

  “That we can do.”

  She looked like she was going to leave, then she said, “If you are able to rescue any of those girls, call me. I’ll take care of them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll make a few discreet calls, let you know if I hear anything about sex trafficking, new players, a turf war. I have your number.”

  “Thanks for your help.”

  “Obliged,” she said, tipped an invisible hat and walked out.

  Kane said, “That went well. Look here.” He pointed to one of the names on the list. Milo Feliciano. “He works at a trucking company.”

  “Now we know where to start.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Lucy was glad Nate didn’t talk much on the drive to Austin. She didn’t want to explain her bad mood, and she was still fuming over Jason Lopez. She supposed she should be angrier with Rachel, but Jason was her colleague, her partner, and he hadn’t stood up for her.

  And she was sad. Working with Ryan and Nate had been symbiotic. She and Kenzie had become friends, or so she thought. The friendship was thin, she realized, after Kenzie blamed her for the attack on fellow agent Barry Crawford. And she’d thought that her partnership with Barry had been solid after a rocky beginning—then she learned that he didn’t trust her. Not her skills—but her. He’d told her former supervisor that, essentially, she took unnecessary risks and would burn out quickly.

  Had Rachel seen that letter from Barry? Lucy didn’t know. Noah had—and he’d implied that he’d taken care of it. But by that did he mean he’d destroyed it? Buried it? Sealed it? Had Barry talked
to Rachel one-on-one? Lucy had wanted to talk to him after everything, make sure that he was okay, but he’d shut everyone out and moved to Austin to be closer to his family. The guilt she felt over what happened—even though she’d had many sleepless nights thinking about all the other ways she could have done things, none of which would have turned out any different—was still there. Smaller, more manageable, but still present.

  “We have time,” Nate said. “Let’s check out Ryan’s new place.”

  “I don’t want to drop in unannounced,” Lucy said.

  Nate snorted. “He told me to come over anytime. Trust me.”

  Ryan had a small house in an older neighborhood of Austin with tree-lined streets and wide sidewalks. It was a charming, quiet community that reminded Lucy of large groups of kids trick-or-treating or playing soccer in the middle of the street. Ryan was in the middle of a major renovation project—half the house was painted and roof tiles were stacked on a partly finished roof.

  “He got it on the cheap because it was falling apart,” Nate confided.

  “Have you been here before?”

  “Once, when he was looking at buying it. He moved in three weeks ago.”

  “It’s very cute.”

  “Cute. For a cop. Yeah, you tell him that.”

  Nate rang the bell. It was a classic chime. There was a crash, several expletives, then the door opened. Ryan stood there in paint-splattered fatigues and a white T-shirt. “Hey! Come in!” He seemed genuinely happy to see them. “Beer?”

  “Can’t,” Nate said.

  “Work?”

  “Of sorts.”

  Ryan helped himself to a beer, and tossed water bottles toward Nate and Lucy. “I’m glad you came by. I’m going to have a barbecue when I get the backyard fixed up, but the roof was a huge expense and it had to be done first. It’s the only thing I’m not doing myself.”

  “I love this place,” Lucy said.

  “I’ll give you the quick tour—just watch your step.”

  The house was two bedrooms, two baths with a sunroom that had been turned into a man cave for Ryan and his two young sons. Video games, movies, large screen television. The backyard was surprisingly large—narrow and deep—with a peanut-shaped pool, crumbling patio, and lots of shade trees. “The pool is actually in good shape,” Ryan said. “But I’m going to put in a deck. I can do the deck myself, but I can’t pour concrete, so in the end it’ll be cheaper.”

  “When you’re ready for the hard labor, call me up,” Nate said. “I’ll drag the Rogan brothers with me, you’ll get this done in a weekend.”

  “I’m holding you to that.”

  They chatted about Ryan’s kids and the fact that his ex-wife had been cool about the move, the Austin office and what Ryan was working on, and Sean and Lucy’s wedding. Lucy enjoyed catching up, though her heart wasn’t in it. She missed working with Ryan. They had had a comfortable partnership.

  “Still in the doghouse, Lucy?”

  Ryan had only left the San Antonio office last month. He knew how frustrated she’d been working at the desk.

  “No sign of getting out anytime soon.”

  Nate looked surprised. “You finished that god-awful project. Didn’t you and Lopez uncover something odd in one of the case files?”

  “Yep, and Rachel won’t give me the case. I’m still riding a desk.”

  “It’s tough now, but stick it out,” Ryan said. “Keep your head down. You can transfer at the end of the year if it doesn’t get better.”

  “I’ve thought of it,” Lucy admitted, “but Sean and I really love San Antonio. We don’t want to leave. We love our house, Kane isn’t far, we have friends. I don’t want to start over. It’s my battle, I’ll figure it out.”

  “Do you guys need help with this ‘sort of’ work thing?” Ryan asked. “I’m getting ready to call it a night. There’s only so much wrestling I can do with the damn plumbing. I’m thinking I might have to hire someone for that, too. This place is becoming a money pit.”

  “I know how much you paid for it,” Nate said. “You got a steal.”

  “I’m not complaining.”

  “Much,” Nate said with a cough.

  “Seriously, I wouldn’t mind getting out for a few hours.”

  “It’s something for RCK,” Lucy said. “I don’t want to get you stuck in the middle.”

  “We got it,” Nate said. “But thanks for the offer.”

  “You need anything, call.”

  They said good-bye and left. “So that’s why you were sitting there fuming the entire drive up,” Nate said. “You could have told me.”

  “I guess I just enjoyed feeling sorry for myself.” She took a deep breath. No more. She had to deal with Rachel, with Jason, and stop the worry and self-reprisal. “I want things to go back to the way they were, and they can’t. I’ll be fine.”

  She would be, too. She had Sean, she had friends, she had a solid record—the bullshit coming from her current supervisor notwithstanding.

  “I think it’s fucked. I didn’t like her asking questions of everyone, but nothing made me suspicious that she had it out for you. I really think you just pissed her off because you didn’t tell her why you went to San Diego and she had to hear about it from someone else. Everything else is just window dressing. Excuses. But this RCK operation could bite you in the ass.”

  “I’m already prepared for it,” Lucy said. “You know, I understand her position. She feels like she has no control over me and she needs to put her foot down hard now.”

  “It’s more than that—it’s because of who you are—who your friends are, your family. There aren’t many of us who have the assistant director of the FBI on speed dial. My guess is she’s searching for your breaking point.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “How far can she push you before you run to Rick Stockton and complain.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “No—but others would.”

  Nate might be right.

  * * *

  Mona Hill was late.

  Nate was outside in Sean’s Mustang. Lucy always found it humorous that Nate liked to drive Sean’s sports car over his own decked-out 4 × 4, but she didn’t mind—she didn’t particularly like driving, though she had learned to enjoy the Mustang.

  She sat in the far corner of a local diner where she could watch both the front door and the kitchen. She didn’t want to be caught off guard, and she was already nervous about this meeting.

  Why? Because Sean had kept his association with a known prostitute hidden from her? Because he’d made a deal with Mona? Blackmailed her?

  Lucy wasn’t upset with Sean, but maybe a bit disappointed. That had been a dark time for her. For both of them. She certainly hadn’t been herself, and she could see why Sean hadn’t thought that she could handle the truth. Or maybe he just didn’t want to burden her with it. She didn’t like all these secrets coming back to bite them both in the ass. Even now, Sean’s association with Mona Hill—and Lucy meeting with her tonight—could jeopardize everything they’d worked so hard to achieve.

  Yet.

  Mona might have valuable information about the sex trade in Texas, and if they could find Bella—save her—then it would all be worth it.

  And that was the crux of every decision Lucy made that had gotten her on the hot plate with her boss. She’d made difficult choices for the sole purpose of saving an innocent. And she would do it all again. She was so tired of second-guessing herself, of worrying whether she’d be fired, or reprimanded, or whether her decisions were right. So many times she’d had to make a decision in seconds. To shoot or not shoot, to negotiate or play hardball. To cross the border or not cross the border.

  But she could stand by each and every one. Recognizing that made dealing with Mona, working to locate Bella Caruso, riding out her job at a desk all year if she had to, easier. Resolved, she felt an invisible weight lift from her shoulders.

  This was where she was meant to b
e; this was what she was meant to do.

  Five minutes later when she was thinking of leaving, Nate sent her a text message.

  She’s here. One guy, one girl standing outside. Both carrying. Watch yourself.

  Mona stepped into the diner, looked around, and saw Lucy. The woman had changed. She dressed like a sexy businesswoman in a short, straight skirt, fitted jacket, and lacy camisole. She didn’t overdo her makeup, and her hair had been done in professional braids, then wrapped around her elegant head. She looked both hardened and smart, but no one would immediately think prostitute if they saw her.

  Mona sat down. “Your husband has some balls.”

  “Point?”

  “He didn’t give me much of a choice.”

  “What did he tell you I wanted?”

  “First, if I decide to tell you anything, my name stays out of it. I’ve built a solid business and I’m not going to be jammed by the fucking police or anyone else. Second, this is it. I can’t risk it. As far as the world is concerned, Mona Hill is dead. Odette is alive and well and I want her to stay that way.”

  “If you give me something actionable, I won’t need anything else. And I have no desire to jam you up unless you screw with me.”

  Mona laughed humorlessly. “Screw with you? That’s rich. Do you know what your husband did to me?”

  “Let you off easy.”

  “Destroyed my entire business.”

  Lucy stared at her pointedly. “You look like you’re doing all right.”

  “Because I was forced to rebuild.”

  “Maybe he did you a favor. I wouldn’t have.”

  Mona grinned and leaned forward. “Trouble in paradise?”

  “What do you have?”

  “You didn’t know, did you?”

  Lucy knew exactly what Mona meant, but she didn’t bite. “I don’t have time to play games, Mona.”

  “Odette. That’s my name.”

  Lucy stared at her.

  Mona said, “Here’s what I know about the sex business in San Antonio since I left—it’s fucked up. You didn’t like me, that’s fine, I could give a shit. I never hit my girls. I took fifty percent, but they had a free apartment—a roof over their heads in a decent neighborhood. Better than most of them grew up with. I never forced them to work every night unless they wanted to. My girls were mostly clean, they worked the streets because that’s what they did, not because I forced them. I leave, and there’s a void. When I rebuilt my business, I tried to get my girls to join me, but most of them were grabbed by pimps who don’t give a fuck about giving them money and housing. There’s two vying for control—Eli Kinder, a guerrilla pimp who mostly has girls walking the downtown circuit. You can throw him in jail and I would pop a cork. Jugger—I don’t know him by any other name—would be most likely to run underage girls. Eli is violent, he’s not going to take shit from anyone. Jugger’s a businessman, someone gives him an offer, he’ll take it. There’s a few girls who went out on their own, but they keep a low profile, do mostly an Internet business, Craigslist, shit like that. More power to them. But Eli and Jugger are the two biggest pimps running the streets.”