by Loki Renard
“She’s a handful,” I tell the agent relieving me. “Don’t take any shit from her, and if she tries to leave, or gives you any trouble at all, I want you to call me.”
“No problem,” Agent Lee says, her pretty face set in determination.
I called one little troublemaker to watch another. Seemed to make sense. I can tell Sonya is nervous. Not because of Jasmine. Because of me. I’m giving this disgraced rookie a chance to prove herself here. Jasmine isn’t going to be easy to keep under wraps. She’s willful and disobedient and I know when she wakes up she’s going to be in the mood to rebel.
Hopefully Sonya can keep a decent eye on Jasmine, anticipate some of the trouble before it comes. Like knows like, after all. A female agent is better for Jasmine, especially with the way she likes to play the seductive little vixen. She could take a man apart in a matter of hours - and maybe the idea of her playing that game with another man makes me angry to the point of distraction.
“I won’t let you down, sir,” she says as I head toward the door. There’s an eagerness in her tone I have to avoid smiling at. She’s working so damn hard to atone for her sins. I’m starting to think I made the right call bringing her back.
“Mhm. Keep your eyes and ears open.”
“Will do, sir.”
With that, I leave. I’m going into the office. I have people to brief. I have an operation to plan. We’re so close to bringing the French Connection down now I can taste it. Jasmine is on the verge of flipping.
I don’t want to go, but I have to keep the pressure on. I have to get as many people into the field as possible, beating the bushes. I have to tip the scales to the point it seems inevitable that her scumbag father and brother are going to prison. Make the rats think their ship is sinking, then watch them scurry.
Before getting into my car, I scan the street. I half wish I’d kept Jasmine in my home. If I had, I’d have known who is out of place here. As it is, I look for tell-tale signs of dubious behavior, anyone who isn’t utterly absorbed in themselves, their phones, their cars. These days, not many people pay attention to others. Nothing jumps out at me, so I get into my car and leave, glancing behind me to see if I’ve been followed. We have people stationed on the street who would take care of that, but keeping my wits about me is second nature now. I don’t leave my personal safety to other people.
I’m about five minutes into the drive when my phone rings. I’m expecting it to be Sonya, reporting some kind of problem with Jasmine, so I answer quickly, the bluetooth putting the call through my car’s speakers.
“Agent Rico?”
Not Sonya. This is a male voice. One with an accent.
“Speaking.”
“This is Jaques Francoise. Jasmine’s father.”
The look I give the speaker could kill, but I keep my composure as I start to pull over.
“No. Don’t stop, Agent Rico. Keep driving. Make the next left.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises as I realize I am being watched. Someone is observing me. Someone behind me? The car behind me is being driven by a little old lady. Can’t be her. Maybe someone further back. Maybe, if they’re really good, someone in front.
I carry on straight.
The voice on the line tuts at me. “You don’t listen well, Agent Rico. You don’t follow orders well either.”
There’s something about this man’s accented tone that makes my blood boil. It’s the arrogance, dripping from every syllable. I’ve never made contact with Jaques Francoise before. Making his acquaintance is no pleasure.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“But you will.”
“And why would I do that?” I can’t keep the derision out of my voice.
“Because I have something you love.”
“I really doubt that.”
There’s a soft chuckle.
“Ricky. I’m sorry!” A shrill cry emits from the background.
It’s Jasmine’s voice. It can’t be, but it is. How the hell is this possible? I literally just left her sleeping in bed. There is no way this is happening. It can’t be. And yet, I feel that horrible sensation which always begins to dawn when I realize something truly bad is happening.
“You don’t have her. I do.”
“No,” that smug voice continues. “I have her. You left the house, Agent Rico. You left one small woman to guard my daughter. I’d almost think you were setting a trap if you weren’t so incredibly incompetent in general.”
Sonya. Holy hell. He has Sonya too.
“If you’ve hurt Agent Lee…”
“Of course I’ve hurt her,” he laughs. “But she’s alive, for the moment.”
They must have gone in the back door the same time I walked out the front. That means they were waiting. That means they knew I was there. That means our place is compromised. I feel cold anger settling in the pit of my stomach. Someone has betrayed us. I was careful. I followed protocol.
But you didn’t, a little voice in my head chimes in. You had sex with her. You got distracted.
My hands tighten on the wheel as I put serious steel into my voice. “Mr. Francoise, you’re going to release Agent Lee, and your daughter. You’re going to comply with my investigation….”
“Fuck!”
An anguished scream cuts through my steely demands. My blood runs cold.
“Sorry about that. My daughter is paying the price for her betrayal,” he says calmly. “Do go on, Agent Rico. This really is fascinating.”
“Don’t you dare hurt her…”
“I’ve already hurt them both,” he grits out, the facade of civilization fading. “And I will hurt them a great deal more unless you do as I say. Do I have your attention, Agent?”
I am all out of options. I know this man won’t hesitate to hurt Jasmine. And I know Sonya is in the kind of danger Colt never wanted her to be in again.
“Yes,” I growl.
“Good. Now circle back and take that turn I told you to take. And don’t disobey another order of mine. Every time you do, one of these pretty girls is going to pay the price.”
“She’s your daughter,” I say, attempting to appeal to the good in him. Unfortunately for all concerned, it just isn’t there.
“Daughters are disposable,” Jaques says. “This one has always been far too much trouble. Too much like her mother. I should have sold her when I had the chance.”
He is utterly evil. The kind of evil which is almost impossible to comprehend for an average person. This man doesn’t feel sorrow, or happiness. He feels anger and the thrill of power, and very little else. There will not be any negotiating with him.
I have to get a message to Colt and the others.
Texting and driving is illegal, but desperate times call for further breaking of the rules. One eye on the road, the other on my phone, I tap a message out to Colt and hit send.
“You’re quiet, Agent Rico.”
“Just speaking when spoken to, sir.”
He chuckles. He likes that. Likes to have his ego stroked.
“You’re going to be very useful to me, Agent Rico. Take the next right.”
I follow his directions all the way to a shady area of the city which sits derelict, a place for homeless people, junkies and criminals. I make sure my gun is loaded and in my hip holster before I get out of the car. This is dangerous. I stand a very good chance of finishing the day dead.
There are men waiting for me inside an old warehouse. Five of them all standing around a parked and blacked out van. Jaques says it contains Agent Lee, but I’m not so sure about that. This seems far too simple. It may be that this is a test, to see how far he can push me, to see what I’ll do in the name of love. If it is a test, it’s a good one, because I don’t know any more than he does.
I approach slowly, warily, my hand relaxed by my side, but ready to go for my gun. Jaques isn’t here, of course. He’s sent his henchmen to do the dirty work for him.
“Rico?” One of the tough guys c
alls my name.
“That’s me.”
“Shit,” one of the others laughs. “Jaques really got himself a pet agent.”
I’m nobody’s pet, but I know better than to rise to this kind of teasing. They want me to lose my temper. They want to humiliate me. This is a power game to them, a sick and twisted one that can only end in death.
“I believe you are holding an agent of mine. Agent Lee.”
“Yeah. We got her. You gotta do something for us first.”
“And what is that?”
The leader of the pack of idiots smirks and sticks out his foot which is clad in a dirty old yellow Timberland. “Lick my boot.”
My expression doesn’t change. I’m not going to react to these juvenile games. “How about you give me Agent Lee now, and I don’t put in a special request for your prison file to be tagged for solitary.”
“I’m not going to jail.”
Oh yes he is. Jaques Francoise might be able to manipulate his goons into doing his bidding swiftly and efficiently, but he has nothing on the FBI. I might look as though I’m alone, but I’m not.
The presence of Colt’s unit is announced by a little red dot right in the center of the criminal’s forehead. He can’t see it, but the others can. They panic, start flailing around to see where the light comes from. It’s deeply amusing to watch them all shit themselves, these staunch gangster types squealing like little girls.
“Get down!” Colt shouts the warning.
Fwomp!
A flashbang grenade makes it impossible to see or hear a thing as the immediate area is filled with smoke. Colt’s unit is small, but devastatingly effective.
In less than a minute, Jaques’ men are down and cuffed. The agents pop the lock on the van and Colt dashes in to pull Sonya out. She’s there. Thank god she’s there. And she’s still breathing. Doesn’t mean she’s in good shape. She is such a delicate little thing usually. Right now she’s bleeding from the nose, there’s a cut on her forehead, and I can see a bruise is starting to come up under her left eye. God knows what the condition the rest of her is in.
The look on Colt’s face makes me sick with guilt. He’s absolutely devastated. She clings to him so damn tight, like she’s afraid the bad guys will come back for her if she lets go.
I put a hand on his shoulder as he takes her to the ambulance. “I’m sorry, Colt.”
He looks right through me, then carries on walking. Words don’t mean anything now. I got his girl hurt. There’s no coming back from that. He might never forgive me, and rightfully so.
I have never felt so powerless in all my life. This is my fault. I should have put Jasmine’s ass in jail. I should have resisted her seduction, ignored my own desire. This is why the rules are in place. Because when you break them, people get hurt.
My phone rings. I answer.
“Yeah?”
“Quite the sting, Agent Rico,” Jaques laughs down the line. “It’s a pity you decided to disobey me. We could have had a nice, profitable partnership. I hope you enjoyed your night with Jasmine. It’s the last night she’ll ever have.”
I hear another scream, and the phone cuts out.
If this was a movie, I’d scream her name to the rafters. As it is, all I can do is stare at my phone mutely. He’s going to kill her - and I don’t know if I can stop him in time.
Chapter Ten
Jasmine
Predators thrive on fear. They feast on terror like savage beasts, smelling the blood of their victims and hoping for a taste of alarm. A plea for mercy. Tears. Shaking voices, trembling limbs, cold sweat. The key to not feeding a predator’s insatiable craving is to not give them what they want.
So when my father’s glare meets mine, he gets nothing. I don’t blink. I don’t tremble. I don’t speak. I’ll give him none of my fear to feed on. I learned at a very young age not to cry. Not to beg. Refusing to give him what he wants gives me power. I have no doubt he still enjoys hurting me, but the pleasure is lessened.
When my brother first took me, he exacted my punishment for my betrayal with his fists. I fought him back this time. He bears scratch marks on his cheeks and a bloodied nose. I take grim pleasure in knowing the fury the marks I bear will incite in Rico.
But I know my family. It was only a taste of what will come. I screamed with everything I had at first, an attempt to rattle my brother, who’s far more likely to give in to my pleas for mercy than my father. I can control my every reaction, and screaming is no exception. But as soon as I realized my father was near and my screams relayed to Rico, I silenced myself. I don’t really want Rico to be scared for me. I can handle myself.
I expected an attempt at finding me out when I was with Rico, but even I was surprised by how rapidly my family found me and Sonya. No sooner had Rico’s tail lights faded in the distance when we found ourselves surrounded. It sickens me to know Rico and I were watched, our lovemaking likely on surveillance for all to see, but what I fear above all is harm coming to Rico.
I can handle harm coming to me. Hell, I’ve come to expect it. But the thought of them doing any real damage to Rico…
“Will he come for you?” I don’t know if I’ve ever seen my father so furious. When he’s angry he becomes quieter, his voice barely audible.
I hope not.
Though I long for him to rescue me, I don’t want Rico hurt. The brief time I had with him, sitting on his lap and letting him hold me, are memories I’ll hold onto forever.
“Or perhaps he doesn’t really care for you,” my father says, a mere whisper. One of his eyes twitches, betraying the fury that rages in him like molten lava, threatening to erupt. “Like your mother.”
I’m standing in front of him, held by my brother. My arms are behind my back, painfully tight. When he speaks of my mother, my brother’s grip on me loosens a little. I note this. He’s weakened at the memory. Hell, so am I. For a split second, I stop observing and cataloging the details of my surroundings so I can plan my escape. For one brief moment, the memory of my mother’s stark beauty distracts me.
He hurt her, too. She cowered beneath him. Is what he says true, though? Did she not care for us?
To my surprise, it’s my brother that speaks up. “That’s bullshit,” Leon says.
My father blinks, his nostrils flare, his lips thinning so impossibly he looks nearly mouthless. “Of course it is,” he spits out, lapsing into rapid-fire French that’s barely intelligible. “Elle était une putain de salope.”
Leon loosens his grip further at the sound of the derisive words. He may be loyal to my father, but he loved our mother, and that will be what saves me. One rapid spin and a knee to the groin and I’m free. But first, I need to make sure Leon’s fully weakened.
“She never cheated on you,” I say, meeting my father’s glare squarely. “You know she didn’t. How dare you call her a slut? She did everything for you. And you held her practically hostage.” I take in a deep breath and try to throw him off his game. If I talk enough about my mother, he’ll lose his mind. I might be injured in the process, but he won’t kill me, and if I can manage to shake Leon, my chances of escape are higher.
It’s a wild card, but I play it with confidence. “In fact, I doubt she even left of her own accord. You likely made her. You did, didn’t you?”
To my shock, his eyes widen and his mouth parts before he shuts it.
“How dare you?” he whispers, but I continue on as if he hasn’t said a thing.
I lean forward as far as I can to deliver my blow. “Women only leave the ones they hate. And we weren’t the ones she hated.”
Somehow, inexplicably, I’ve struck a nerve with him. His face pales, and I’m not sure at first if it’s fury or fear that makes him whiten. Maybe both. Then his lips curl upward in a snarl. “You always were too smart for your own fucking good. I should’ve sent you away with her. You are more trouble than you’re worth.” His words are laced in a heavy French accent, peppered in muttered curse words. The beautiful language is
mutilated with his hatred. “You were a pale, sickly little thing when you were born. I had no use for a daughter, but your mother suckled you at her useless breasts and sang to you when I wanted nothing to do with you.” He means every word. I hate him. I fucking hate him. But it’d be a lie to say his words don’t sting. They burn like salt on an open wound, blisteringly painful. His razor eyes slice right through me.
“My only use for you was when you grew to be tolerably beautiful. Enough for me to use for my own gain.” His gaze swings to Leon. “I wanted a son. A big strapping man who would defend the honor of our family and help us prosper.”
Leon’s grip loosens.
“Let’s not lose sight of what you wanted to say,” I say conversationally. “Perhaps you’d like to elaborate on what you said about our mother. Your death is imminent, you know.” I’ll kill him the first chance I get. “I hear confession is good for the soul.”
He masks the fear that flickers in his eyes with a derisive snort of laughter, but he knows he’s faltered. His children were his best assets and if he loses us, he’s got nothing left but lackeys for hire.
Leon speaks up again. “You sent her away.” His voice wavers with anger, but it’s controlled. If there’s anything the Francoise family has learned to master, it’s control. “Tell me more?” His grip on me loosens to the point where it’s now just for show. I blink in surprise. He’s only got the barest of grips on my wrists. Pulling away now would be as easy as tearing tissue paper. But what happens if I do? I flex my wrists so slightly, my father won’t be able to detect movement, but I know even if Leon wants me to do this, there will be men in the hall.
Rico will find me. My heart twists in my chest when I think about how he must feel, but a part of me wonders if he really does. Does he truly care about my wellbeing? Will he really come for me? If he truly did care about me, why did he leave me with the agent to begin with?
No one has ever loved me. I was a fool to think Rico was any different.
My father and brother spar verbally, and I’ve missed their words because like a stupid, hapless female, I wondered if the man I fucked not an hour ago truly cares about me. Or was I just another toy who couldn’t handle the likes of a man like him?