“Well, who wouldn’t?” she asked. “I mean a cookie or a woman who is given money by a man—that’s what they call them, right? If you have a sugar daddy, that makes you a sugar baby.”
They all looked over at Callen.
He laughed.
“Uh, she is NOT my sugar baby. She’s my wife. What I have is hers, and what she has is hers.”
That made her laugh. While she didn’t like being bought shit, she was adjusting to it. A long time ago, Chris used to do the same thing, and she had adjusted to it—until that fateful day when she swore it off.
“It is catchy,” Christina teased.
“Ugh, seriously. Give me a break,” she stated, rolling her eyes. “I’d hurt any man who called me that.”
Chris opened his mouth.
“Outside the bedroom.”
Chris laughed.
“Duly noted.”
Elizabeth was just glad they found something. That meant she was going to have some work cut out for her. Talking to hookers was ALWAYS an adventure.
“Anyway, pony up the address. Me and my sexy Native partner are going hooker spelunking.”
Ivan snorted from his spot against the wall. His face said it all. He was expecting this to be a nightmare for her.
WELL, she had news for him.
Misery loved company.
“Oh, and my babysitter, who laughs at the wrong moment, is going to be driving the vehicle. Why is that bad, you ask? Well, who do you think will be the first point of contact and rolling down his window when we pull up to random hookers, asking them if they are Black Magica?”
He looked horrified.
“Someone is going trolling for a hooker,” she sang, in that sing-song voice that had them all laughing.
“COME ON!”
“You wouldn’t want me in danger…right?” she asked, smiling. “Well, what if one of those hookers has a knife?”
“You are a bitch,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.
She laughed.
Yeah, she could be.
“For the record, it’s not right how you have a way of picking and choosing which rules you want to obey, and ignoring them when you couldn’t be bothered. That sucks.”
She was aware.
“Is the big boss going to be riding shotgun?” Chris asked. That’s when he saw the tension.
Uh oh.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m great,” she stated, lying her ass off.
It was worktime—not personal BS time.
She’d stress Ethan issues later when they were in the privacy of their own home.
“If anyone needs Callen, or myself, you know where we’ll be. We’re going to talk to some ladies of the night.”
“Well, good luck,” Noah said smiling. “Take pictures—not of the women, but Ivan flustered. He’s sexy when he’s worked up,” he teased.
He pointed at the man.
“I’m engaged. You missed the boat.”
Noah sighed.
“That’s the story of my life.”
Elizabeth needed them to focus and keep working on the case. Fun was fun, but this was still serious. It was day one of the investigation and they needed everyone working.
“Keep searching for Black Magica,” she stated, “or I’ll let my Marine babysitter oohrah you right in the ass.”
Noah opened his mouth.
“HR…I will send you there. You had your one questionable comment for the day. You know the rules.”
He laughed.
“Okay! I’ll behave.”
She grabbed another coffee, kissed Chris on the cheek, and saluted her four other team members, and then was gone.
Out in the hall, she took a sip of the really nasty coffee, knew better, and then tossed it in the trash.
“Angel?” he began.
“Let’s get to this hooker’s apartment. I’m ready to get this taken care of and then home.”
Yeah, they could see that.
Elizabeth was not happy.
She was in bitch-mode. God help Sugar Baby.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Sugar Baby/ AKA
Ginger Snap’s
Flop
Twenty Minutes Later
When they pulled up, it totally looked like the place a hooker would call her home. It was a five-floor building, and there were undergarments hanging from makeshift lines between the structures.
Yeah, undergarments.
Hooker britches.
Slutty panties.
They were flapping in the summer breeze, catching everyone’s attention. Amusingly, all of those things made what she had on under her gear look like granny-like things.
“I think we found the place,” she stated. “This screams HIV hotel—check-in, but never checkout.”
Callen laughed despite himself.
While he knew his wife was pissed, she was still that crass, ball-kicker he loved.
“May I suggest that we don’t touch anything? We don’t need anyone picking up a little parting gift.”
Yeah, she knew he was right.
Getting out, Ivan finally spotted Saint not far from them. He was down the street, leaning against a streetlight. He made some hand signals, and the man subtly nodded.
“I don’t feel safe,” she said. “I feel like we’re being watched,” she admitted.
Ivan immediately went on alert, going into protection mode.
“What? Where?”
She laughed, trying to cheer herself up.
“Kidding. I was just seeing if you were paying attention.”
Ivan flipped her off.
“Who pissed in your cereal? Mean is not pretty on you, Brunhilda. Trust me.”
When she didn’t answer, Ivan immediately knew. She was talking to Callen, so that gave it away.
Eagle One had pissed off Eagle Two.
It looked like they’d have to keep her from booting her husband’s ass around Fort Whitefox-Blackhawk.
“Don’t antagonize her,” Callen warned, giving Ivan a heads-up. They didn’t need her getting meaner.
That was a death wish.
Honestly, Callen was glad she was laughing. At least that was a start. Ivan was going to have to swallow the busting. It kept her mind off of what was going on.
“At this rate, angel, Ivan is going to need meds by Friday.”
She smiled even more.
“I know.”
Together, they headed up the stairs and found the apartment on the third floor.
How did they find it?
Well, oddly, it was easy to locate since there was another hooker banging on the door with her shoe.
How did they know she was a hooker?
Her ass cheeks were hanging out from beneath the bright neon skirt. She also had condoms safety pinned to her very revealing skirt.
That was…so very wrong on all kinds of levels.
“Hey!”
Elizabeth held up her badge to get the woman’s attention. It worked. The woman looked for a way to escape the two giants, who were heading her way.
“FBI! If you make me chase you, I will catch you easily, and I will mess up your face!”
She didn’t move.
“What are you doing?” Elizabeth asked.
The woman looked worried.
“Me and my girl were about to go out and…,” she began, but decided to clean it up, “to look for some new shoes,” she said, not going there. “I always pick her up when I go to get new shoes for the night.”
Elizabeth stared down at her clear platforms with the lights flashing in the heels.
“Yeah, great idea. Don’t buy shoes that look like that. One pair is sufficient.”
The woman snapped her gum.
“Anyway, my boo isn’t answering her door. I know she’s home. Her light is on. I saw it from the outside.”
Elizabeth moved toward the door.
“What’s her real name?” she asked.
/> “Wilma.”
She knocked.
“Wilma! It’s the FBI. Open up! We just want to make sure you’re okay.”
Elizabeth was getting that feeling in the pit of her stomach. The hooker the president liked…now suddenly not answering her door for her friend…?
She glanced back at Callen.
He was thinking the same thing.
“Go get the building manager,” she stated. “I can’t kick the door in,” she told Callen. “I don’t have any signs that she’s in distress. She could be in the shower.”
He got it.
“Ivan, watch her back!”
He moved closer to Elizabeth, placing himself between her and the hooker.
Just.
In.
Case.
Elizabeth had a way of pissing people off in a matter of seconds and with just a look.
“Hey, cutie, do you want to go shoe shopping with me?” the woman asked Ivan.
He looked horrified.
Elizabeth handled it.
While it was okay for her to bust his ass, no one was welcome to that perk but her.
“Uh, back off. His name isn’t John, and he doesn’t want what you’re peddling. If you keep it up, you’ll go to that really shitty shoe store called ‘Lockup’.”
She shut up.
FAST.
“Tell me about your friend. Does she go by Ginger Snap or Sugar Baby?”
“It depends on her hair. When she goes red, she likes Ginger Snap. When she’s the color of cotton candy, she goes with Sugar Baby. Get it? Sugar. Cotton Candy?”
Oh, she got it.
Unfortunately.
“And you are?”
She opened her mouth.
“The name on your birth certificate—not the name of a candy bar, a frisky cat, or what you can do with your tongue and a cherry stem.”
“You’re cranky. You should get laid more often. That would take some of the tension off.”
Ivan laughed.
“Yeah, three or four more times a day,” he said. “That would keep her busy enough so I could sit down and eat a real meal,” Ivan stated.
She lifted a brow and never looked away from him.
“I’ll give you fifty to give him a blowjob.”
“I’ll do him for free.”
He looked appalled.
“I hate you.”
She smiled.
“Then shut it, troll. Be seen and not heard like Saint. He might be my favorite.”
Ivan didn’t buy that for a second.
He knew he was her favorite—well, next to Heath. He’d only gotten lucky because the big man headed West.
“My name is Carla Catterson. I swear to God!” she said when the Fed lifted a brow. “I can show you my driver’s license. Really!”
“Who did Ginger, or Sugar, cater to on the street? Any big clients?”
The woman thought about it.
“Well, she had one sugar daddy. I know he was big time. She’d never tell us girls who, but she’d come back battered and bruised, but sporting a fat grand. She said it was hell, but for that kind of money, she’d fuck a stop sign in a preacher’s kitchen.”
“Colorful.”
“Those were her words, not mine. I won’t let a man use me as a punching bag,” she said, pulling a blade.
Ivan pulled his gun and pointed it at her head. There was no way he was risking it.”
“Chill! I was showing her, that’s all!”
Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder. She knew why he was on edge.
“It’s okay, Ivan.”
Carla focused on the woman as she tucked the knife away in her top.
“When did she last see him? Last night?”
“Nah, she was turning tricks, I mean shoe shopping. I was with her on the corner.”
“Relax. I’m not going to bust you. I’m not a vice cop. I work murders.”
“I know who you are, baby girl. You’re that rich bitch banging all those men to live in that big house.”
“Uh, my husbands?”
“Hey, baby, you work it how you gotta work it. A dick is a dick is a dick. Once you’ve seen half of DC, you don’t care about the reason anymore. Well, unless they are covered in warts. Then you gotta ask questions and care.”
She snorted.
“Yeah, right Ivan? Warts suck.”
He stared at her.
“Seriously?”
That made her laugh.
“Do you know a Black Magica?” she asked, trying to get some work done. What the hell was Callen doing? Creating the building manager from a spare rib and mud?
“Yeah, who doesn’t?”
Elizabeth raised her hand.
“Me. That’s why I asked. I need to become acquainted with her. Help a Fed out.”
The woman closed her mouth.
“Okay, we can play it that way. What will it take for you to tell me who that name belongs to?” Elizabeth asked.
“If you pay, I’ll talk. Info on the streets is valuable. That’s why we pick new names. We don’t want to be found. Black Magica likes anonymity.”
Yeah, well, that didn’t help her out, but money paved the way, and she was willing to spread it around.
She pulled a bunch of cash out of her pocket. “I have eighty-six bucks. I don’t carry a wallet.”
She hesitated.
“I do carry a gun and badge,” she stated, lifting the edge of her blazer. “I’ve worked the streets undercover. That’s a blowjob, a footjob, and letting a man call you mommy while you spank him in the backseat of his Mazda.”
Ivan stared at her.
“Your life is fascinating.”
She snorted.
Oh, she was aware. The things she could tell him about what Miss Kitty had been asked to do.
“I’ll take it.”
“Name?”
“Her real name is Lala. I don’t know more. She doesn’t work the streets.”
“Where does she work?” she asked.
“Lala likes the clubs. She’s one of them fancy girls. You know with the glittery panties and blowjobs on the DL in the back.”
“A stripper?”
“Yeah, a stripper. That’s easy work. She should be ashamed of herself not working like the rest of us. My momma would box my ears for taking the easy way out.”
She wasn’t going there.
She’d played a stripper.
Her feet had hurt for a week.
“Okay,” she stated. “If you see her, I need you to call me,” she stated, pulling a business card from the back of her badge.
“Woo-wee, baby girl. You got a shitload of names there.”
“Yeah, I know. I like filling a business card with them,” she stated sarcastically.
Callen was heading their way, dragging a sweaty man with a big beer belly.
“Sorry, angel. I would have been here sooner, but he resisted. I insisted that his porno could wait until later.”
She didn’t want to know. His wife beater was stained, and she hoped to God it was food and not…
“Open it,” she stated.
“You don’t have a search warrant. I’m calling the…”
He didn’t get to finish. She actually slapped her badge onto the middle of his forehead and held it there.
“OPEN. THE. DOOR. OR. I. WILL. HURT. YOU.”
He must have sensed her seriousness. That made him nod and pull out a ring of keys.
“NOW!”
Callen grinned at her.
So hot! Hurt me next, he mouthed.
She rolled her eyes.
When the building manager finally opened the door, Elizabeth didn’t even need to look.
She smelled it.
Despite the heat, the stank of the building, and the man’s sweat, she could pick up that telltale scent.
Death was in the house.
Literally.
“Back up! Ivan, keep your eyes on them. Callen, we have trouble.”
Immedi
ately, he pulled his gun and moved into position by her side.
Together, they headed in, guns drawn as they entered the small apartment. They didn’t get ten feet inside the door when they saw her feet in the living room.
Well, Ginger Snap, AKA Sugar Baby, was not going out shoe shopping.
Ever.
Again.
She was dead.
There was a pillowcase over her head, and it was stained with blood.
Well, that was a familiar scene. They didn’t doubt that this wasn’t some random act of violence. The president’s first side piece was now in pieces.
“Callen, call Chris. He’s going to be working late tonight on this one.”
Yeah, he could see that.
Their ‘easy’ single homicide had just multiplied.
And so did the shit storm.
Unfortunately.
* * * B l a c k h a w k - W h i t e f o x * * *
Forty Minutes
Later
The trickiest part of this woman’s death wasn’t the fact that another hooker had bit the dust in DC, but that they had to keep the body removal low-key.
They couldn’t let the local Metro Police find out that someone had died in their jurisdiction, and that the FBI was removing them without proper procedures in place.
Yeah, they were breaking the law.
While they didn’t have to be as secretive with her as with the president, they still needed to watch their backs. There were eyes on them everywhere.
How did she know?
Hookers talked, pimps liked money, and the media would pay for the right story. She was working a case that the media would love to get wind of, and that couldn’t happen.
So, as they called out Chris, with Dalia in tow, she told him to keep to a minimum.
Which was easy.
They didn’t have anyone else but Chrissy and the two Feds back at the morgue. The techs were already at home.
When Chris walked into the hooker’s home, he immediately headed toward the body. His whistle said it all.
“Well, this is oddly familiar in a very inconvenient way,” Chris admitted.
She laughed.
“You think, Christopher? This is exactly what we didn’t want to happen. Way to go Team Lunatic. They scored another point. It’s now two to zip with me lagging way behind.”
All the King's Henchmen Page 36