With the barrel of the gun against the back of his head, I repeated myself again to Bryce, “Hands behind your back.”
Paul held him as I looked for Bryce’s guys. They were lying motionless in puddles of blood where they stood before.
“You shot them?” I asked Paul.
“They shot at you first.”
I looked down at my arm, blood trickled down and onto the butt of the gun I was aiming at Bryce on the floor. Sirens could be heard in the distance and I knew I would be fine. “Thank you.”
“When were you going to tell me you were FBI?”
I sighed. “I couldn’t.”
“Why? You told me other things.”
“I’m undercover.”
He gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Is your name even Andi?”
I was tired of lying. I was tired of lying to everyone. I’d been lying for twelve years. And most of all, I loved Paul. I loved him so much. I wanted to spend forever with him. I wanted to hear him call me by my real name—groan my real name when he made love to me. Tell the real me that he loved me.
“You’ll want to hear this too,” I said to Bryce as I nudged his side with my foot. He snorted as if I lost my mind, but turned his head as if curiosity got the best of him.
“My name’s Joselyn Marquez.”
Chapter Twenty
Joselyn
Realization flashed across Bryce’s face the moment I uttered my real name and it seemed as though it vanished. Paul was still looking at me as though his heart was breaking in two. Everything was a disaster. It was the wrong timing for all of it to go down. I never in my wildest dreams thought I would be reunited with my brother and arresting him because he was the ringleader in the sex trafficking case I was undercover in. I wanted to kick and scream at the thought of how this had happened. How he fucking grew up to become this man.
I’d never thought Paul would find out that I was undercover like this. I knew eventually the case would come to a close. I never knew when, though. He stared at me as if he didn’t know me from the next cop in the sea of them buzzing around the crime scene.
Before I could tell Paul that we’d talk at home and everything would be okay, the local police department was rushing in and both Bryce and Paul were handcuffed. I explained that it was Bryce who needed to be handcuffed, not Paul, and then immediately reached for my cell to call Eric.
After explaining on the secure line that I needed to get the local division involved to apprehend Bryce, they told me to hang tight while they contacted Eric and the local bureau. Paul was questioned by the local PD, my arm was patched up by the paramedics and then I was pulled aside by the head of the local FBI division.
“Agent Marquez, I’m Agent Reigles. Agent Green called me. If you want to come with me, we’ll take Martinez in and question him down in our office.”
I nodded and gave Paul one final look before we left for their headquarters. I wanted to tell him more, but he was being asked to make his own statement of what happened.
I was certain everything would be okay once we met back home.
In the short ride down to their bureau, Agent Reigles and I didn’t speak much. We couldn’t talk about the case and I was glad. I wondered if I should tell anyone that Bryce was my brother. I wondered if he was going to say he was my brother—if he understood he was even my brother. There was no way he didn’t remember … right? There were so many things I wanted to ask him and he was sitting right behind me. After over a decade, my flesh and blood was finally in the same car as me and I couldn’t speak to him. Couldn’t hug him, kiss him, tell him that I missed him.
What had Tony done to him?
We pulled into the parking lot and escorted Bryce into the building. I was starting to get sick to my stomach. Could I do this? Could I act as if Bryce was only another criminal I’d arrested several times? I wanted to ask him every question but the ones pertaining to the investigation. I didn’t care anymore about the case. I wanted to know what had happened the night of my birthday when I didn’t return home. I wanted to know what had happened the next day, the next week, the next month, year—years even. What had happened to our mother? Why was he was now Bryce Martinez and not Bryce Marquez?
Instead, as we sat him down in the black metal chair behind a white metal table under the florescent lighting in the small room, Reigles gave me the lead and again, like everything else, I faked it.
“Comfortable?” I asked motioning to the cuffs.
“Are these really necessary?” He raised his arms from his lap.
“Let’s see how this goes. Your men shot me and my arm’s a little sore.” Really the cuffs weren’t necessary, the door was locked, but for some reason a part of me felt as if I released him from them, it would show special treatment. It was ridiculous, but I needed him to be like a criminal and not my brother.
He chuckled. “They saw a gun—”
I slapped the table with my right hand, causing pain to radiate through my arm. “You don’t know what they were thinking!”
He rolled his eyes. Either we were both really good at faking it or he didn’t know I was his sister.
Did Tony brainwash him?
“Now, Martinez, let’s cut the shit. You hired me today to scare me because the other night a john in your company tried to rape me—”
“You have no proof I’m involved.”
“You said, and I quote, ‘What gives you the right to disobey my orders?’.”
“That could mean anything, preciosa.”
“Don’t call me that!”
“Touchy, touchy!” He laughed.
I looked over at Agent Reigles and sighed. I realized that I didn’t have proof that Bryce was involved, yet he was Martinez and I knew first hand that he was running the streets because the girls had mentioned him by name. If I would had known that I was meeting him for lunch, I would had recorded the conversation with him and gotten my proof. Instead, it was my word against his. As I stared into those fucking eyes that matched mine, I realized I was fucked.
“Your girl Jasmine and I have become close you know. We’ve played craps at the Palazzo together.”
He leaned back in his chair, spread his legs wide and smiled. “Agent Marquez, I run an escort business similar to Saddles & Racks. It’s no different from what you do. It’s not my fault when you took a date from my company to make extra money on the side that that guy took it too far.” He looked under the table as if to look at my body. I was still in my dress from our date and I closed my eyes, trying to stomach the fact that my brother was doing this. “I don’t blame him. In fact, it’s my understanding you killed him. I was wondering why you weren’t being charged for murder. Now I know. So, Jasmine did her job. She hooked you and got you under my payroll.”
I laughed. “Bryce … Can I call you Bryce? I feel as if I’ve known you since you’ve been born.” I was done fucking around.
He chuckled. “You can call me whatever you want.”
“Bryce, I met with your girls for drinks one night, and one mentioned her best friend, Nelly was sold by you.”
He tsked. “They’re just whores running their mouths.”
“That’s funny because I have them in my pocket ready to come forward. I told them that once I had you, I just needed them and they were quick to turn on you.”
“That doesn’t make sense because they would have just led you to me.”
“See … I thought that, too. But you scared them and they thought you were going to scare me.” I laughed. “You thought you were going to scare me. Do you always set your girls up first with rape dates? Is that how it works? Rape them first so they do whatever you want and if they don’t then you sell them?”
He was silent and I continued before he asked for a lawyer. I knew it was coming because I was right. I could feel it in my bones. That was how he worked. “How many have you sold, Bryce? How did this start? When did this start? When did you move to Vegas? Did Tony do this to you?”
His gaze darte
d to mine at the mention of Tony. “How do you know about Tony?” he asked.
I rubbed the bridge of my nose with a sigh and took a few moments before I spoke. This was the make it or break it moment that I needed to determine if we were on the same page. I needed to know if he knew I was his sister or not.
“Have you ever wanted a Dalmatians plantation?” His eyes became big, but he didn’t say anything and I continued and quoted the first quote I could think of from 101 Dalmatians. “But I am, just the same. I’m so hungry I could eat a … a whole elephant.”
He stilled and stared me straight in the eyes. If he didn’t know before, he knew now. I’d always called our mother Cruella. It wasn’t only because she was evil—she was, but it was because we watched that movie on repeat because it was the only thing we had to watch for entertainment. We knew almost every line. I’d chosen that line in particular because on several occasions we did go hungry growing up.
“Are you okay?” Agent Reigles asked.
“Yeah. Sorry, I never got to eat at lunch since this was supposed to be my lunch date.” I laughed, trying to brush off the hint I was giving Bryce. “So Bryce—”
“I’m the middle man,” he blurted.
I pulled my head back in confusion. “What?”
“You’re right. Tony made me do it.”
“Who’s Tony?” Reigles asked.
“My father,” Bryce replied.
I stared at him. “Your … father?”
He nodded. “Do you want my life story or what?”
“Does it pertain to the case?” Reigles asked. I wanted to reach over and cover her mouth with my hand. I wanted his entire life story. I wanted it all!
“I think most of it does.” He nodded. “It started when I was eight.” He looked me square in the eyes. He knew. This was it. This was the moment I’d been waiting for.
“And you’re willing to talk without a lawyer present?”
“Let the man talk!” I spat. Jesus!
Bryce laughed. “I’ve been waiting for the day I could take down my father.”
Me too! “I think we can remove the cuffs now. Get you some water.” I stood and started to remove the cuffs as Agent Reigles left the room to get the water. It was the first time I was trying to fight back tears. This was my brother. I wanted to wrap him in my arms and hug him. I didn’t care who he was and what he’d been doing for the last twelve years. I’d missed him.
Reigles returned with a bottle of water and Bryce took a few sips. “The night of my sister’s seventeenth birthday, all I wanted was cake. We never got treats. I was eight and thought that we’d at least have a cake. Instead, our mother sent her out with my dad. At the time, I didn’t know he was my dad. I don’t think she knew he was my father either because he wasn’t her dad. Anyway, she never came back. To this day, I don’t know what happened to her.”
I pulled everything from within me to show no emotions as he stared directly at me and told the story.
“That night, my dad came into our trailer and beat my mom. I’d thought that he’d beaten her to death, but I was too young to know for sure, so I left her in her room. The next day he returned and took us. She wasn’t dead, but we left and never returned. I thought for sure my sister was dead and I cried. I cried for days, but never in front of my mother and that man. I didn’t want him to beat me like he beat her, but I just wanted my sister because she was my best friend. But she never returned to get me.”
I stood, causing the metal chair to screech in the process. I was about to lose my shit and become a blubbering mess. I should of returned that night and taken him with me. I had enough money for two bus tickets. Seth could have taken us both in. Instead, my actions caused my brother to become a criminal.
“He filed some papers and changed my last name to Martinez. Growing up he forced me to do things that I never wanted to do. Steal this, beat him up, fuck her. It escalated each time. Eventually, we moved here from Miami and started picking up the prostitutes working the streets of Vegas, or the Weekend Warriors who fly in just on the weekends to have a good time. Those are the best ones because it’s harder to know they’re missing.”
“Anyway, my mother killed herself three years ago. She left a suicide note and confessed that Tony was my father, so it’s only fitting he has me running his business for him.”
“How did …”
“She overdosed on oxy. She said the pain of losing her daughter for selling her at seventeen was eating her alive and it was too much for her to take. She was tired of living under Tony and his orders.”
“And you still think it’s okay to sell women?”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Why not come to the police?”
“I’d still end up in prison.”
“But you’ll be doing the right thing. Think about your mother. Think about your sister.”
He stared at me. “Can I make a deal?”
I stared back. “What kind of deal?”
“I can’t save my mother, but in hopes that my sister’s still alive I want to make a plea in exchange for Tony. I’ll work with you to bring him down.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Paul
Before I could speak to Andi—or Joselyn … whatever her name was, the police rushed in. It was a whirlwind. At first I was handcuffed until she explained the situation and then I was asked to go down to make a statement of what happened. Then I was told to not tell anyone because Andi … Joselyn … was still undercover.
I didn’t understand why. I thought she’d caught the guy. Why else would she pull her gun on him? Why would they shoot at her? And why did she reveal her real name?
Usually, I would go to Gabe and talk everything out with him, but I couldn’t tell him that I was just in a shootout with two thugs, a pimp, and my FBI girlfriend. I’d thought his situation with Major Dick was crazy, but I believed mine was the icing on the cake and I couldn’t even tell him.
Wasn’t that some shit?
So I went to the liquor store, bought a bottle of tequila and went home to wait for whatever the fuck her name was. I wasn’t sure why I was mad at her—but I was. I was questioning if it was all even real between us or if it was all an act. I half expected her shit to be packed and moved out by the time I arrived home. But when I pulled in and peeked in her room, everything was the same. I showered and changed into shorts and then broke open the bottle of agave goodness.
I was halfway through the bottle, watching ESPN and almost forgetting that I’d killed two men—something I hadn’t done since Afghanistan, when An … Joselyn walked in.
“Hey,” she greeted.
“Hey,” I slurred.
“Are you doing okay?” she asked, setting her purse down on the coffee table and sitting next to me. I tensed and so did she. “You’re mad?”
“Of course I am!” I shouted and stood. Well, stumbled.
“You’re drunk.”
“And you’re an FBI agent. Are you going to arrest me now?”
“Why are you being an asshole?”
I swayed for a few seconds and then sat on the coffee table, unable to stand any longer from the alcohol in my system. “Do you know what happened today?” I snapped, jerking my head up a little too fast. I was referring to the fact I’d killed two men.
She stood. “Do you know what happened today?”
“I learned that you’ve been lying to me this entire time.”
“I only lied to you about my occupation, Paul.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Are you sure about that, gorgeous?”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“I’ve been sitting here for hours questioning everything.”
She sat back down and reach for me, but I slid a few feet from her so she couldn’t touch me. “Why?” she asked.
I chuckled. “You were placed here by the FBI and then you struck up a relationship with me. I’ve replayed everything over and over in my head, but I don’t know what’s real and
what’s not.”
“Everything between us was real.”
“Except your name.”
“Yes, except my name.”
I looked directly into her eyes, wanting to know the one hundred percent truth about my next question. “What about your seventeenth birthday?”
“It was all true. What I felt for you and what I told you was true. I fell in love with you. If you can’t grasp that, then I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ve had a long and emotional day.” She stood and so did I.
“You had an emotional day? You caught the guy you were after. I saved your fucking life. And all I got when you walked in the door was a hey.”
“Sex—”
“No!” I wasn’t sure if it was the tequila, my heart, the fact that she’d lied to me or that I had killed two men, but I was angry and I was angry at her and I couldn’t hold my tongue once I started. “Don’t sexy me, Andi, Joselyn, whatever the fuck your name is. I killed two fucking men today and I can’t even talk to my best friend about it. Fuck, I can’t even talk to you about it because you weren’t here. Now I get a fucking hey. Well, fuck your hey. See, this is why I don’t date. Women and their fucking games—”
“What games are you talking about? I’m not playing games!”
“You are with my heart!”
“I’m not playing games with your heart.”
“You pretended to love me.”
“Is that really what you think?” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Yes.”
She stared at me for what felt like an eternity, I didn’t know why I said the things coming from my mouth. The more I said them, the more I knew they weren’t true, but I felt like hurting her.
She reached down and grabbed her purse from the coffee table. I watched her wipe tears from her cheek. I didn’t even know I’d made her cry. I wanted to reach out and pull her to me, tell her I was sorry, that I didn’t mean any of it.
Tequila & Lace Page 17