Isiah gave a rueful laugh. “We lived on pins and needles for a few months, wondering if he was going to come back. But then my mom was served with divorce papers—he’d met someone else and wanted to get married. I’d never seen her sign anything so fast.” He smiled at the memory of his mother’s joy and the celebration that followed that night. Isiah had been working at a local dive shop and had saved a little money. It was the first time he’d ever treated his mom and sister to dinner.
“After that, it was like the world opened up to us. Oh, it was hard. My mom worked in the kitchen of one of the big resorts and didn’t make a lot. My sister was only ten, and I had just graduated. But we made it. I had my US citizenship through my dad and so I enlisted, figuring that if I lived on the Navy’s dime, then everything I made, I could send home. Eventually, my mom was able to open a bakery—something she’d dreamed of as a girl. We also managed to get my sister through college.”
“Resilience,” Alexis said, running a hand down his arm until her fingers rested on his.
“Definitely.”
“And now?”
“Now, my mom still runs her bakery, but it’s attached to a small bed and breakfast she runs. My sister is a marketing exec at one of the luxury resorts on the island and is married to a good man who owns a boat charter company. They just had their first baby, a little girl, last year.” Smiling, he pulled out his phone to show Alexis a picture.
“This is Amelia Grace.” He held up the device that had a picture of his chubby-cheeked niece sitting on the beach in a sun hat and little red bathing suit all covered in sand. She was grinning, and two teeth peeked through.
“She’s adorable,” Alexis said, the genuine warmth in her voice filling his soul. “Do you get to see her often?”
He opened his mouth to answer, but his words were cut off when his phone rang and his private landline number showed up on the screen. There was only one person it could be.
He glanced at Alexis. Her brows were furrowed and she now wore a tiny frown.
“Huck?” he answered. He could hear the faint sounds of his friend moving around in the background, then suddenly Huck stilled and exhaled.
“You need to get home. Your spy has gone missing.”
Chapter Sixteen
“What exactly do you mean by ‘missing’?” Isiah asked as he and Alexis walked into his apartment over The Shack. All thoughts of where the night could have led were now just distant memories.
“There aren’t a lot of ways to misconstrue that,” Huck said, pacing the width of the room.
“Actually, with a seasoned spy, there are,” Alexis countered. “Why don’t you tell us exactly what happened.”
Huck paused, glanced at her, then at Isiah. “Don’t look to me for direction,” Isiah said. “I’m just a bartender now. Alexis is the federal agent.”
Huck blinked, then gave a little shake of his head and turned toward her. “Sorry, Alexis. Kind of habit to look to Boongy, Isiah,” he clarified. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
Alexis arched an eyebrow and looked not quite sure she believed him, but gestured for Huck to continue.
“She was sitting there, on Boongy’s computer.” He pointed toward the small desk on the far side of the room. “I don’t know what she was doing, but then suddenly she freaked out, grabbed her bag, and left.”
Isiah moved toward the computer as he absorbed the fact that it now felt weird to hear his nickname. “Boongy” and “Clarke” were the only names he’d answered to for years—formative years—but he was rarely called “Clarke” anymore and he hadn’t heard “Boongy” since the last time Huck had visited, three years ago.
“Define ‘freaked out’,” Alexis said.
“What do you mean? She freaked out,” Huck answered, then resumed his pacing.
“Again, I have a hard time picturing Serena freaking out, so I’d like to know exactly what you saw,” she said.
Huck threw his hands up. “She cocked her head to the side, said ‘huh,’ then grabbed her bag and left.”
“And that’s ‘freaking out’?” Alexis clarified.
“Huck’s prone to hyperbole,” Isiah said as he eyed the computer. Serena hadn’t shut it off, but there was nothing on the monitor other than the home screen. “It’s how he got his nickname. After Huck Finn who was entertaining as hell but not one to stick to the unvarnished truth.”
“You’re wrong this time, Boongy. As Alexis keeps pointing out, Serena is a seasoned operative of what, twenty years? I think the fact that she showed any emotion at all qualifies for freaking out.”
Isiah looked at Alexis as he reached for the mouse. He wanted to open the browser and see if he could discover what Serena had been looking at, but not without her say-so. Alexis stood in the middle of the room, a thoughtful expression on her face.
“There is some truth to that. But it’s also possible she could have discovered her favorite band was playing in town and taken off. Her reaction could have been a genuine reaction of surprise or concern or it could have been a normal human reaction to something interesting. She may be an operative, but she is human, too,” Alexis pointed out.
“True,” Huck conceded. “But if it were just a human reaction, then why bolt without saying anything to me?”
“Why don’t we try to figure out what she was looking at before she left and then we can determine if it has any meaning,” Isiah interjected, pulling up his browser.
He pulled out a chair and sat as Alexis joined him. Looking over his shoulder, she asked, “Do you think you can find it or do you think we need to call Eric and Yael?”
“Give me ten minutes and if we can’t find anything obvious, we can call Yael and Eric. We may want to call Shah, too, at that point.”
Alexis let out a disgruntled growl. “I’m seriously questioning the wisdom of entering into a quid pro quo agreement with Serena if she’s going to rush off on her own at the drop of a hat.”
“I don’t doubt her instinct will always be to manage the situation on her own.” Isiah pulled up the browser history as he spoke. “But the other thing I don’t doubt is Shah’s judgment. She wouldn’t have made the deal if she didn’t think Serena wouldn’t come through.”
Alexis pointed to a Web address that popped up on the browser history. “Oh shit, that’s it,” she said, dropping the prior topic as the website populated. “We need to call Shah.”
He glanced down to see nothing more than a report from a famous infotainment television show. Alexis stepped away to make the call while he skimmed the article that had popped up. Some famous actor had arrived on the island the day before and was planning to stay for a week. The article recalled in detail the parties he’d thrown while on the island in the past, but there wasn’t much more than that.
“We need to go,” Alexis said, rejoining him at the desk.
“Okay, but go where?”
“Peter Gregson is a douche of the nth degree.” Alexis pointed to the picture of the actor on the screen. “Believe me, I know. He’s around my age and my parents made sure to pretty much know everything about all the kids I might encounter after, well you know.” Her gaze skittered to Huck who was watching them.
“Gregson’s dad was a sexist misogynist and his son doesn’t fall far from the tree,” she continued. “My guess is he’s having a party tonight and Serena thinks there might be trafficked women there. Maybe even connected to the ring we encountered in Honduras since we’re relatively close.”
“Okay,” he said, because that did make sense. “But where are we going?” he repeated.
Alexis paused and appeared to study him and Huck before she spoke. “Where’s your closet? We need to find you both something to wear. We’re going to a party.”
“That’s the room you want to gain entry to,” a voice from behind Isiah said. Since he didn’t want to be at Peter Gregson’s party at all, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to be in the private room the guy was referring to.
Isiah scanned the
crowd. Huck had bailed on joining them as a guest and opted to stay outside and act as their driver. And Alexis, the one person he knew at the party, was across the room talking to someone he’d wager was a model, if her height and waif-like figure were anything to go by. With little else to look at, his attention traveled back to the door the guy behind him had mentioned.
No, he didn’t want entry into that room. Unfortunately, that room was probably exactly where he needed to go. It was the only door he could see that didn’t open up to the outdoors and if Peter Gregson was trafficking women into his parties, he’d sure as shit be keeping them behind closed doors.
“Actually, once they get to that room, they’re so drugged up, it’s not that interesting. If you want something to catch your eye, the real action is in the basement, under the garage,” the man continued.
Despite knowing Alexis and he were there to investigate the possibility of trafficking, he swiveled around to tell the guy to fuck off. And froze.
Slowly, Isiah extended his hand. “We’ve met before but I don’t recall your name.”. Standing in front of him was The Gentleman. The only resemblance to Serena was in the eyes. The rest of her—well him—had undergone a chameleon-like change. When she’d first shown up in his office, he’d seen hints of her masculine-like features. Now, with whatever she’d done, there was no way anyone would mistake her for, well, a her.
“Sam, Sam Barron.”
“That’s right.” Isiah shook his hand. “If I were interested in what’s going on in the basement, how would I obtain an invite?”
“Sam.” Alexis sidled up beside Isiah then brushed a kiss on Sam/Serena’s cheek. How she’d learned his name, Isiah hadn’t a clue. “I do hope you don’t plan to go back on the promise you made to me. I don’t handle disappointment very well.”
“I’d never disappoint a lady,” Sam/Serena said, picking up Alexis’s hand and bringing it to her lips.
“Yes, I’d heard that about you,” Alexis replied with a hint of a sly grin. Sam’s eyes glinted, but he didn’t smile. “Now, what’s this I hear you telling my man?” As Alexis spoke, she slipped her arm through Isiah’s and leaned into him. “You’re not suggesting he have a little fun without me, are you?”
Isiah was glad he wasn’t required for this conversation. The combination sex kitten/undercover agent Alexis had morphed into was disconcerting and while he’d done his fair share of improvisation, usually it included explosives and grenade launchers, not champagne and verbal subterfuge.
“Alexis, darling, you know I’d never suggest such a thing. Loyalty is something precious, isn’t it? All I was telling him was that for those who do venture into that room, they are getting secondhand goods. The real fun is taking place in the basement. Under the garage. Not that he’d be interested.”
If Alexis hadn’t been pressed into his side, he never would have noticed the slight stiffening of her body. Sam/Serena’s language was all part of the act, but he, too, found himself struggling not to react to the use of the phrase “secondhand goods” being applied to anyone, let alone women who had likely been brought to the party against their will to be little more than sex slaves.
“The basement? That’s an interesting choice. But then again, it has access to the boathouse and boat launch, doesn’t it? So easy-in, easy-out, I suppose,” Alexis said. The last words were meant to sound flippant to anyone listening, but Isiah knew two things. First, she’d all but choked on those words—her fingers had dug into his arm as she’d spoken them and he’d caught a subtle, but unmistakable hitch in her voice. And second, both of them wore earpieces. Alexis’s team could hear her, but so could members of the Tildas Island police force and SWAT team that had joined forces with them for the raid that would take place as soon as they located the women Gregson had brought in. Which, with Alexis’s information, could mean at any moment.
“Well, as interesting as this is, Isiah, babe, I think it’s time for us to go? I rarely come to these kinds of things and now I remember why. There’s so much more fun to be had away from the crowds. Wouldn’t you agree, Sam?” As Alexis spoke, she slipped her hand into Isiah’s and leaned forward to brush another kiss across Sam’s cheek. Her lips moved as she lingered for a moment, but between the low timbre of her voice and the music, he had no idea what she said.
A few minutes later, they were outside the massive mansion Gregson had rented for the week, and were climbing into the backseat of Yael’s Range Rover with Huck behind the wheel. But they didn’t go very far.
A mile down the road, they pulled onto a dirt road that led to a public beach—it was closed for the night, but Shah and the local SWAT had commandeered it for their purposes as it sat less than a quarter-mile—as the crow flies—from the Gregson place.
Without much modesty, both he and Alexis changed in the back seat of the car into more practical tactical gear. It was awkward and cramped, but he’d been in worse places before and judging by the way Alexis moved, she had, too.
When they opened the door and climbed out—now wearing all black clothing and carrying Kevlar vests—he had another moment of cognitive dissonance. Twice in a week he was running an op, something he’d thought he’d left behind years ago. His instincts and training were coming back, and the gun in his hand felt like an old friend, but still…
“The paperwork is complete, Clarke,” Shah said as she approached them. She’d worked some magic and he was now an official consultant with the FBI. He didn’t want to ask too many questions, he just hoped it wouldn’t become a regular thing. He liked tending to his bar.
“Are we ready?” Alexis asked, sliding a weapon into her thigh holster.
“Nearly,” Beni answered as she and the rest of the team gathered around. The realization that not only was he running an op but that he was doing it as a part of a team he’d never trained with, settled a little uneasily on his shoulders, but he pushed it aside. The women who were being held inside the mansion were more important.
“We’ll take the zodiac boats directly into the boathouse,” Beni said. “The SWAT team will lead and once they’ve secured the area, we’ll follow behind. They’ll contain their actions to the basement to the extent they can, so that when we arrive, we can take the lead on the upstairs raid which is where we think we’ll find most of the men participating in, well—”
“Rape,” Isiah said.
Alexis’s sharp gaze landed on him and Beni studied him closely.
“Just calling a spade a spade,” he said.
“No one’s saying it’s not rape. I think we can all agree it’s that and more,” Beni responded. He didn’t think they thought it was anything less, but he also knew that by calling it what it was, he’d humanized the situation. And not that being human was a bad thing, but sometimes, before ops, it was easier to disassociate and think of the people involved as objects—perpetrators, victims, suspects, casualties—than it was to think of them as human.
But other than crimes against kids, there was very little Isiah liked less than crimes against women. And he didn’t need Alexis’s psychology Ph.D. to know why—his mother had never been trafficked, but she sure as shit had been treated as nothing more than a piece of property for his father to use and abuse as he saw fit.
“Right,” Jake interjected. “So once the basement is secure, we’ll move into the upper part of the house. Everyone has seen the plans and knows their role?”
Everyone nodded and murmured their assent. A call came from the water, presumably the leader of the tactical team, and a boat engine started.
“Let’s roll,” Damian said, leading the team toward the water.
“Alexis, Isiah, a minute?” Shah waved them closer.
Isiah cast a glance in the direction of Alexis’s team members, but nodded. Shah’s request hadn’t been a request.
“I want you both to hang back and let the others take the lead upstairs,” she said, surprising them. “I’ve already informed the rest of the team and they’ve made adjustments.”
Shah shot him a look that reminded him of his mom when she was about to say “because I said so,” but then she surprised him by answering. “Three reasons. Alexis is known in Peter Gregson’s world but very few people know that she’s FBI. I want to keep that as quiet as we can in case we need to use those connections again as we did tonight. She’s also a trained psychologist and I think best positioned to deal with the women we’re likely to find in the basement. And the third reason is that I don’t want one of my agents left on their own, and since you’re the least up to speed, you get to stay and watch her back. I trust that meets with your approval, Clarke?”
Her answer was awfully succinct. As if she’d had this planned all along but hadn’t bothered to tell them until now. But he was smart enough not to argue with Sunita Shah.
“Fine,” he said.
“Agent Wright?” Using Alexis’s title was akin to a parent using a child’s full name.
Alexis nodded. “If they’ve come from Honduras, language might be an issue, but we’ll do our best.” By silent consensus, together, they made their way to the others. Within minutes, they were zipping across the water as the SWAT team boat disappeared into Gregson’s boathouse, visible across the wide bay.
Their captain maneuvered them closer but stayed out of range until the SWAT team called “clear.” Isiah didn’t think he was the only one who caught the strain in the man’s voice as they motored straight into the boathouse.
On alert, they leaped from the boat onto the interior dock. A member of the SWAT team stood at an open door, his back to the frame, and silently waved them in.
Isiah should have been prepared, he should have at least given some serious thought to what they might find. But he hadn’t. And damned if his steps didn’t falter when he entered the room last, trailing behind Alexis and her team. He paused, dimly aware that Beni, Damian, Dominic, and Jake were already leading the SWAT team to the upper part of the house.
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