That Dani was still alive.
Her shoulders tensed as fresh waves of pain shook the faux contentment. Hunt’s arms tightened and his cheek brushed hers.
“You okay?” His voice, husky from sleep, was a soft rumble of concern.
She nodded and pulled out of his embrace, sitting up with her feet off the edge of the bed. “Actually, that was a lie. I’m not okay. I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again.” Standing, she realized she still wore her clothes from the night before.
“I’m going to go take a shower and—”
“Carley.” The sound of her name stopped her. “I will find out who killed your sister.”
Her lungs burned from trying to breathe without crying. She mentally counted to ten then spun around to look down at him. “No, you won’t. We will.”
Hunt sat up, the sheet dropping to his waist. “We? There is no we. This is not a joint operation. This is my job.”
“And it’s more to me than just a job, which is why I know you’ll understand when I tell you I can’t walk away from this.”
“You don’t have a choice.” He scooted to the edge of the bed. “There’s nothing you can do. Emotions can’t be a part of this, Carley. Emotions get people killed.”
“You need someone who can get close to Franklin without getting caught. Your wiretaps or whatever you’ve got going on obviously aren’t working. What you need is someone who is used to slipping in and slipping out without leaving a trace. And, as my recent breaking and entering proved, I am the perfect criminal for this job.”
Hunt leaped to his feet. “No. No way. It’s too dangerous.”
“So was breaking into a cop’s home.” Carley glared at him, welcoming the anger. She held on to the emotion, needing it to propel her out of the pain.
He stormed toward her and took hold of her arms. “I won’t allow you to get involved, Carley. Not now. I mean it. Look at me.”
“I wasn’t asking for permission.” Carley met his gaze squarely, issuing the challenge with her words. She’d expected interference, was ready to take it on if she had to. There was no way she was walking away from this now.
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t let you do this.”
She gritted her teeth. “I’m going to allow that to slide for now, but let me ask you something. What would you do if it was a member of your family, Hunt? Would you walk away, and please don’t tell me it’s different because you’re a cop.” The words stuck in her throat, as bitter as the casing around her heart.
His hands loosened a bit. “This can’t be about revenge, Carley, and that’s what you want.”
“Am I not supposed to want the person or persons who killed my sister dead? Am I not supposed to want them to suffer? You’ll have to tell me if I’m doing this all wrong because this is a first for me.”
He tried to coax her back to the bed, to get her to sit down, but she resisted. “Carley, I need to do my job, and to do that I need to know you’re safe.” His hands framed her face. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
How could he expect her to do nothing when she needed something to focus on besides the pain? If she couldn’t do anything else for Dani, she could bring her killer down. The son of a bitch had crossed the wrong family.
“I understand, but I can’t give you what you want because it’s not what I want. I’m sorry.” She tugged her hands free and walked away, refusing to look back when he called her name.
The pain sliced her like a scalpel but the cuts were jagged. She imagined bleeding from every organ because that was how real the anguish was. Somehow she managed to push through, putting one foot in front of the other until she could close the bathroom door behind her.
She understood Hunt had a job to do and the badge he wore required him to operate within the parameters of the law. But she didn’t have those restrictions.
As she stared at her pale face in the mirror, she promised herself the bastards who killed her sister wouldn’t spend time in a cell eating three meals a day. She’d see to that…even if she had to cross the line from thief to killer.
“I’ve decided to move up our timetable.” Rena moved down the short row of women, casually inspecting their hair, their skin, their eyes, checking for any qualities her buyers would find distasteful. “We’ll be leaving Charleston within the next forty-eight hours.”
Her booted heels clicked on the concrete floor of the warehouse, echoing against the aluminum walls. She’d pushed the start of the auction up, needing to get this batch of women out of town in a hurry. Still, as much as she’d like to wrap things up faster than the two-day time frame, she couldn’t rush the presentation. Some buyers could be so particular, but when they were offering upward of half a million per unit of merchandise, Rena found it was always in her best interest to present the highest quality of women.
“Yes, ma’am.” JT, the black-clad security guard, spoke with great deference. She liked that about him. He knew his place, knew that it was literally hundreds of rungs below hers.
Leaning in to get a closer look at a short, blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman’s face, Rena frowned. “JT, take this one to the back. Her hair’s been colored. Our buyers want natural.”
JT, thickly muscled man with close-cropped hair and a permanent frown line, stepped forward and took hold of the blonde’s arm. “This way.” His voice rumbled like thunder and Rena favored him with a smile.
She’d always liked JT. Not enough to spend any time with him other than what was required, but he was one of her employees who did as he was instructed when he was instructed. And he was loyal to a fault, never wavering in his trust in her decisions. It was hard to find that kind of allegiance in the circles she traveled in. And allegiance was what she needed right now, especially with this next task.
She’d given Franklin too much rope, allowed him to call some of the shots, and he’d taken advantage of that power. Though he might have made the right call with the Rivers girl, his plan had had a fatal flaw. She didn’t like being left out of the loop.
“On second thought, JT, give the girl to one of the other handlers. I have something else for you to do.” As she walked away from the quartet of remaining women, she heard the sniffles and sobs, reminders that these women were weak and deserved what was coming to them.
She’d never been weak, which was precisely why she held the power. The world hadn’t given her a damn thing and no one, certainly no man, would ever dare to put their hands on her. Her very manner assured her safety.
She carried herself with an air of authority and importance that spoke of confidence and strength. Criminals always preyed on the weak, and she’d decided long ago she’d rather be the hunter than the prey. Her husband’s repeated infidelities only spurred her to action sooner. And that decision had led to this multimillion-dollar industry and a very good life for her, one that assured her she could survive without her husband to take care of her.
JT tugged the roller door shut behind him once Rena had exited and turned to face her, his beefy arms folded, ready for his next assignment. He didn’t speak or ask questions, another trait Rena admired.
With a perfectly practiced smile, Rena tipped her head back to let her dark hair caress her waist. “This business needs to be handled quickly and efficiently.” Withdrawing a photograph from the inside of her blouse, she handed it to JT.
He surveyed the photo but remained silent.
Rena clucked her tongue, giving the impression she regretted having to make this decision. In reality, she’d known all along it was inevitable. Some men just weren’t cut out for this life.
She stroked her fingertips along the edge of the picture. “That’s Lieutenant Darrell Franklin. His home address is on the back as well as a note for him. He should be there around seven this evening, as he’s expecting me.” She sighed, kissed the tips of her fingers and touched the photograph again. “Unfortunately, something’s come up and I’m not going to be able to make it. So I’m sending you in my place.”
“Please make sure it’s clean. No trace of evidence. No strings left untied.” She pinned him with a hard look. “You understand what I’m saying, I’m sure.”
JT tucked the picture into the front pocket of his t-shirt. “Yes, ma’am. You’ll be notified immediately upon elimination of the target.”
Rena sighed her satisfaction, favoring him with a beaming smile that made him stand up even straighter. JT was the type of employee who basked in the appreciation of his superiors. She wondered if she’d ever be able to find someone who needed the approval as much.
Unfortunately she’d have to try because, as much as she liked the muscular employee, after this assignment, he would have to be eliminated. As much as JT trusted her, she didn’t have that much faith in anyone.
And she never left witnesses behind.
“What you’re after isn’t justice.” Hunt met Carley at the door to the bathroom the second it opened. He’d been impatiently waiting since she’d defected, and the tension had crept up the back of his neck, settled in with the beginning stab of a migraine.
Carley ignored the statement and offered one of her own. “I think I have the perfect plan. I draw Franklin’s attention, get close to him and I have immediate access to the evidence you need. I just need to come up with a good cover story but don’t worry. I can convince a man in the desert he’s dying of frostbite.”
Hunt’s blood pressure shot through the roof. “I don’t give a shit if you’re good enough to win an Oscar. You’re not going anywhere near Franklin. He, or at least someone he knows, just killed your sister, and I’m not about to put your life in jeopardy. You’re not trained for this type of work.”
The second the words left his mouth he knew he’d thrown accelerant onto an open flame. Her jaw tightened and her hands clenched at her sides. And when she responded, her voice chilled as viciously as the bite of a Chicago winter.
“You might have done some research on me but you don’t know about what’s not in my jacket. My father lived a life of crime long before I ever did, and he was damn good at it. He wasn’t just an ordinary criminal.” She turned toward the mirror over the Victorian dresser. “No, he dealt in high society burglaries, jewels worth millions of dollars. He broke into places that, before he came along, had never been breached.”
She met his gaze in the mirror. “He taught me everything he knew and I took what he taught me and improved upon it.” Without waiting for a response, she left the bedroom and headed into the kitchen.
“What does that have to do with getting close to Franklin?” Hunt followed her, leaning one hip against the counter while she opened the refrigerator and retrieved a bottled water.
“Do you know why you’ve never been able to get the goods on Franklin? Because you don’t think like he does. I do. Maybe not on all levels but certainly on most.”
“I doubt that.” Hunt’s brow furrowed. He didn’t like the idea of her thoughts meshing with Franklin’s. To participate in human trafficking, the man had to have lost his conscience—or never have had one to begin with. Though he only knew a little about Carley, she had a conscience.
“Really? Do you think Franklin lives his life on the edge, waiting for the axe to fall? I know my father did. He was always looking over his shoulder, waiting to get caught. We didn’t spend longer than two months in one place, just long enough for Dad to pull a job. The only difference I see here is that Franklin pretends to be one of the good guys so he doesn’t have to move from place to place.”
Gathering steam, Carley plowed onward, leaning forward to jab one finger into Hunt’s chest. “He’s so busy looking over his shoulder he doesn’t have time to look in front of him. And that’s how I can catch him.”
Hunt’s mouth went dry. He wanted to grab her and shake her, to tell her the real reason why he couldn’t let her get close to Franklin. The thought of something happening to her, of her voice being on the other end of the line begging for help, threatened his foundation.
He dragged a hand through his hair, cursed silently when it shook. “This isn’t happening, Carley. I don’t care if you’re Houdini. You’re not getting anywhere near Franklin or this investigation, and if I have to lock you up to make sure it doesn’t happen, that’s what I’ll do.”
“Really?” She didn’t sound convinced.
He watched her twist off the cap and tilt the bottle back. As she swallowed the cool liquid, he slid his gaze over the smooth column of her throat. She made even a simple gesture like taking a drink sexy as hell.
Clearing his throat, he straightened and walked closer to her, pinning her against the opposite counter. He breathed in her scent, closed his eyes and waited for his world to balance. Damn. “Really.”
Carley gave him a grim smile. “Is anyone on your team really prepared to step out on a limb and do whatever it takes to stop Franklin and whoever he works with? Because from where I’m standing, playing by the rules has gotten you nowhere. Don’t you think it’s time to break some of those rules, to step across that blue line?”
Hunt was finding it a bit difficult to concentrate with her soft breasts pressed against his chest. For a moment his brain went completely fuzzy. “What are you talking about?”
“Sometimes, in order to get to the truth, you have to get your hands dirty.”
Sanity returned with one blinding slap. Hunt lifted his head and his vision grayed. “What the hell does that mean? How dirty are you willing to get your hands to nail Franklin, to find your sister’s killer?” Something hot flickered in her gaze. Wicked even. “Is there any line you won’t cross?”
She shoved his chest but he didn’t budge. “At one time I would have said yes, but I’m not letting Franklin walk away from this. And if you really listen to what I’m saying, you’ll see I may just be the best chance you’ve got of bringing Franklin down.”
“I am listening, Carley, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“We’ve both chosen risky careers. And we’re both still alive. We never know when the clock will run out but if it’s my time I’d rather go out trying to get justice for my sister.”
Franklin tossed back the glass of scotch and reached for the bottle, needing the extra fortification. Deciding against wasting time with refills, he carried the half-empty bottle to the sofa, sinking down into the leather with a grunt that was half satisfaction and half dread.
What he was thinking could get him killed. But keeping quiet would kill him anyway. Just much more slowly. He gave a short laugh. What difference did it make? He’d had enough, enough of looking over his shoulder, wondering when IA was going to catch him.
And he couldn’t live like this any longer.
Another swallow of scotch burned its way down his throat and he dropped his head back against the sofa, his eyes closed. How easy would it be to just pack up his stuff and leave? Just walk away.
The thought had its merits. He could disappear. He’d certainly stashed enough money away to live comfortably for a dozen or so years, maybe longer if he was frugal. As the idea worked its way into a plan, hope resurrected.
Franklin jumped to his feet, sat the bottle on the table and turned. Just in time to see the black-clad figure raise the silenced weapon and point it at the center of his chest.
“Wh-what’s going on?” His mind faltered and he wondered if he could make it to his backup piece stashed inside the top drawer of his desk.
“Rena sent me. Unfortunately, she won’t be able to join you this evening. Oh, and by the way, Dani Rivers isn’t dead. Rena doesn’t like to throw away good merchandise.”
All the blood rushed from Franklin’s head. “But I put her in the car myself. I saw her in the trunk.”
“The driver is very loyal to Rena. He would never do anything without her knowledge.”
He couldn’t believe it. Rena had played him. Son of a bitch. And now she’d sent her goon to take him out. Well fuck that.
“I�
��ve got a message you can take back to Rena.” Franklin offered the words as a way to buy time. He was a cop, and cops always thought on their feet. If Rena thought he was going down without a fight, she didn’t know him very well.
“She’s already given me her reply.”
Franklin didn’t really register what was happening before the bullet burned its way toward his heart.
Chapter Nine
One look at Hunt’s face told Carley she’d made her point, but that didn’t mean he’d change his mind or would seriously consider her plan. In fact, the stubborn set of his jaw said quite the opposite.
After draining the last of the water, Carley tossed the bottle into the recycling bin and folded her arms across her chest. “So what do you think?”
“I think it’s a crazy idea.”
“But you also think it’s a workable one.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that it’s crazy.” He rubbed his palm along his jawline, the late evening beard rasping against his skin.
“It’s my risk.” She dared him to challenge the statement.
“It’s your life.”
Carley’s chin went up. She would fight with every breath in her body to win this cause. Surely he had to see how much she needed to do this.
“So it should be my decision.”
He dropped his face into his hands and scrubbed before looking at her over the tops of his fingers. “Not necessarily.” His cell phone rang and he dug it out of the front pocket of his pants, holding up one finger to silence further conversation. He answered the summons with a brusque, “Detective Brandon.”
The second his eyes widened, Carley’s internal alarm sounded. Something had happened. And it wasn’t good.
“When? Okay, I’ll meet you there.” He clicked his phone shut and stared at it for a long moment before assuaging her curiosity. “Our conversation is moot. Franklin’s dead. Clean shot to the heart.”
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