Bound by Danger

by Danielle M. Haas

  Her muscles went lax and she melted against the seat. She might have helped save the day, but she was going to need a very large drink soon.

  Chapter Two

  Sucking in a mouthful of humid air, Graham forced himself to swallow and pushed down the anxiety churning up his throat. Telling a mother a suspected sex-trafficker took her child never got easier. He loved his job at the bureau, but not this part…never this part. He’d much rather be back in Mexico chasing down suspects. But that wasn’t an option right now. Especially since Sanchez had figured out who he was and hightailed it onto that stupid plane back to Chicago. Graham might have gotten the information he needed from Sanchez once he’d thrown him in a cell, but it hadn’t been in time to stop Pete Bogart from taking one more girl. And a plane full of innocent people almost died because of his screw-up.

  He turned toward his partner and nodded. Eric pressed the button for the intercom on the side of the apartment building and Graham waited for the moment he would bring a nightmare to a stranger’s doorstep. Becca Stanley’s family had no idea of the hell they were in for.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Stanley?” Eric’s voice boomed from his large form, but a hint of compassion softened his delivery.

  “Yes?”

  “My partner and I are here to speak with you about your daughter’s disappearance. We’re with the FBI. Can we come up?”

  No more words crackled through the speaker, but a soft buzz vibrated against the metal lock on the door. Graham opened the door and they hustled up three flights of stairs to the apartment Becca lived in with her mother. Images of young Becca Stanley flashed through his mind. Her curly blond hair and crystal blue eyes made her appear more like an angel than a child. Her cherub cheeks and heart-shaped mouth were the picture of innocence. He fisted his hands as a desire to beat the man who took her to a fucking pulp surged through him.

  He’d failed Becca, and all of the other girls Pete Bogart had taken. He hadn’t gotten the information he’d needed from Sanchez until it was much too late. Too late to keep Pete from taking more girls, but not too late to save their lives. He’d only gotten the name of the man responsible for planting a sex ring in Chicago from Sanchez the day before and hadn’t had much time to get more information on the bastard. But now he had a name, and with the help of Suzi Stanley, he’d bust the sonofabitch if it was the last thing he did.

  “You want to ask the questions?” Eric asked outside the closed apartment door.

  Graham nodded and readjusted the file clenched in his fist.

  Eric gave one curt nod and knocked on the door. A woman with eyes the same color as Becca’s opened the door. Dark circles hung low under those blue eyes and tears streaked down her cheeks. She leaned against the side of the door and gazed at them with a far-off stare that suggested she’d taken something to dim her pain.

  “Hi, Ms. Stanley. I’m Special Agent Graham Grassi and this is my partner, Special Agent Eric Short. We need to ask you some questions about Becca.”

  “Of course. Come in.” She stumbled backward and Graham reached out to steady her. Ms. Stanley placed a hand over her heart and closed her eyes for a beat. For a second, Graham feared she wouldn’t open them back up. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I can’t… It’s just…” Sobs interrupted her words and Graham led her to the sofa in the living room.

  “This is a difficult situation and we’re very sorry about what’s happening. But if we’re going to find Becca, we need you to answer some questions about the man Becca was with this morning.” Graham sat down beside her and took a pen from the pocket of his jacket. He scribbled notes down on the notepad he had sandwiched in his file.

  Ms. Stanley clasped her hands together on her lap and tried to regain her composure. “I’ve told the police everything I know.”

  “And they’re doing everything they can to find Pete Bogart right now. An Amber Alert has been issued for Becca, and Pete’s picture is being flashed across the state in hopes of gaining more information. But we’ve been investigating Mr. Bogart for a while and we need you to tell us how you and Becca met him.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head. “You’ve been investigating him? You knew he was a bad man and let him hang around with young girls?”

  “Why was he spending time with Becca this morning, Ms. Stanley?” Eric cut in.

  Graham shot him a what-the-hell-are-you-doing look, but kept his mouth shut. He wondered the same thing but would have asked in a subtler way.

  “Pete dated my best friend, Mickey O’Shay. Becca spends a lot of time with Mickey. Mickey’s her godmother.” Her gaze flitted between him and Eric and she wrung her hands. She sniffled back a sob and pressed on. “Mickey canceled their weekly get-together last minute and Becca was upset. It seemed perfect when Pete texted this morning wanting to see her. I figured an hour out of the house would take her mind off missing Mickey.”

  “Pete dated Mickey, as in they aren’t dating anymore?”

  “She broke things off a couple of weeks ago. Something about their schedules being too busy.”

  Eric took a step forward and angled his chin in her direction. “You didn’t think it was odd that Pete would want to spend time with Becca after your friend broke up with him?”

  A gasp escaped Ms. Stanley’s parted lips and she clamped a shaky hand over her mouth.

  Graham cleared his throat and shot Eric another warning look. The dude needed a little more tact today. Ignoring Eric’s question, Graham cut into the tense silence with one of his own. “Did you or Becca ever visit Pete’s house?”

  She shook her head. “No. He and Mickey would pick her up.”

  “So you don’t know where he lives?”

  Again, she shook her head and the messy waves stuck to her moist cheeks.

  Graham pulled pictures from his file of Pete with other missing girls in the city. “Do you know any of these girls?”

  Ms. Stanley took the pictures and flipped through them. She lifted her head and fear invaded the blue of her eyes, turning them dark as night. “They look familiar, but I don’t know them. Maybe I’ve seen them at the market or the park? Why did he take these girls?”

  Graham glanced at Eric before he faced her. Time to tell the truth about the monster who’d taken Becca. “Pete Bogart is suspected of being involved in running a sex-trafficking ring.”

  The pictures in her hand fell to the ground and Ms. Stanley covered her mouth with shaking fingers. “Oh my God. Not my Becca.” The sobs she beat back before they returned with a vengeance. She cradled her stomach and fell against the side of the sofa.

  Graham glanced up at his partner. One of them needed to stay and get more information from Becca’s mom. One of them needed to go find Mickey O’Shay. Since he had already looked up Ms. O’Shay’s information, he’d be the one paying a visit to the bombshell who he’d been shocked to discover was the flight attendant who’d zipped around a plunging airplane last night and helped him take down the hijacker.

  Could she have been working with Pete all along?

  …

  Graham rubbed fatigue from his eyes as he sat on Mickey O’Shay’s front stoop. He hadn’t slept last night.

  He couldn’t believe his bad luck. It couldn’t be a coincidence Mickey was working on the plane the night Sanchez had boarded and was connected to Pete Bogart. Especially since the man he’d followed onto the plane, and later taken into custody, was involved in the same sex-trafficking ring he suspected had taken Becca Stanley. He still couldn’t believe the jackass had attempted to hijack a plane instead of going into custody.

  But now he couldn’t help but wonder if Mickey’s actions were too planned out, as if she expected something to go wrong on the plane. Sanchez had sung like a canary and told them a lot about their operation. His vile excuse of a job was to take the new girls to Mexico to train them, and then transport them back to Chicago. The only person he worked with directly was Pete, but t
here were others. Sanchez had spoken to a woman in Chicago who was in charge of keeping an eye on the girls and breaking them down emotionally. Could that woman be Mickey?

  Graham needed to get a grip. She should be home any minute now and he had to get a better handle of who she was and what she knew. The lives of three young girls depended on it.

  The hot August sun beat down on him, causing rivers of sweat to pour down his back. Summers in Chicago were brutal and the linen jacket he wore to cover his firearm didn’t help. Not even a slight breeze stirred the stilted air to cool him. He rested his forearms on his knees, his hands clasped together, as he watched people hustle along the busy street. Cars honked their horns as they crawled past and radios blared from open windows.

  Dumbasses should have their air blasting.

  Graham glanced at his watch. Ten minutes had passed since he buzzed the doorbell and no one had answered. He didn’t have time to wait all day. He had shit to do. Rising to his feet, he grabbed the file folder sitting beside him and walked down the three steps to the cracked sidewalk. He rounded the corner, his grip lingering on the metal rail at the bottom of the stoop, and stopped in his tracks.

  Mickey walked toward him with a pink yoga mat slung over her shoulder. Tight black pants showed off her sculpted legs and defined shoulders peeked out from her purple tank top. The mess of curly red hair piled high on top of her head bounced with every motion and long wisps of unruly strands curled around her face. Her gaze met his and her wide mouth curved into a smile.

  Knots twisted in his stomach like a pretzel. Under different circumstances, he’d be smiling about seeing her again, too. But not like this. Not when he had to tell her that her goddaughter was missing and then figure out if she had anything to do with it.

  Mickey stopped to stand in front of him and pushed back a coil of stray hair. She furrowed her brow and studied him, but the smile never left her face. “Hi.”

  Graham shoved his hand in the pocket of his khakis, rocked back on his heels, and let the file dangle at his side. The sun hung high in the sky behind her, causing him to squint despite his aviator sunglasses. He noted the dark circles under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping, either. “Can we talk?”

  Her amber eyes darted around him and she shifted her stance. “About the plane? I already gave my statement. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “No, something else. Can we go somewhere private?”

  A light blush colored her cheeks and her eyebrows rose. Dammit, he was giving her the wrong idea. He cleared his throat. “There’s been an incident this morning and I need to ask you some questions.”

  “What kind of incident?” Her voice held a hint of weariness and she hoisted her yoga mat higher on her sunburned shoulder.

  He ground his teeth together. She wasn’t making this easy. He wanted to get her somewhere private so he could gauge her reaction when he told her about the girl. “I’d really like to sit somewhere to talk about this.”

  She folded her arms across her chest and pressed her lips together. The pleasure etched on her face moments before disappeared. “And I’d really like to know what’s going on.”

  A young man in a suit and tie bumped into his shoulder as he hurried by. Graham grunted and staggered back before gaining his footing. Enough. He was hot and tired and he didn’t have time to play games. If she wanted to do this the hard way, he’d play along. “I’ll try one more time to be nice. We can go to your apartment and have a conversation, or I can take you to my office. The choice is yours.”

  Mickey’s eyes hardened, sketching lines in their corners. “Fine.” She stepped around him and climbed the stairs of the stoop. The faint scent of sweat and strawberries lingered behind her.

  Following her, he climbed the two flights to her apartment and his dress shoes slapped against the wooden stairs. He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head and tried to keep his eyes off the rounded shape of her ass. He was in enough hot water with his boss right now. He didn’t need to add fuel to the fire by allowing himself to become attracted to a woman involved in one of his cases. He could already hear Harper berating him over conflict of interest bullshit.

  She took a key out of a discreet pocket in the top of her pants and opened the door. Pushing the door wide, Mickey stepped over the threshold and threw her yoga mat on the gray sectional in the small living room. The door squeaked as he closed it behind him and he followed her to the kitchen. Mickey grabbed a clean glass from the cabinet and then banged the door shut. Water splashed out of the faucet and she filled the glass before bringing it to her full lips for a sip.

  “Can I get a glass?”

  Mickey shut off the water and sat down at the round distressed table nestled in the corner. “Sure. Once you tell me why you’re here.” The tight smile on her face told him her patience wore thin. She’d worn the same smile when he’d pissed her off on the plane.

  He walked over to the table, sat down across from her, and placed the file in front of him. She placed her glass on the table and kept her gaze trained on his face. He studied her. How would her porcelain coloring change? Would lines ripple on her smooth-as-silk skin? Would tears burst from the corners of her eyes? He blew out a breath and dove in. “I’m here to tell you Becca Stanley went missing this morning around ten a.m.”

  Water sloshed over the side of the glass and dripped down onto the table. Her hand trembled and she set the glass down. “You can’t be serious.”

  He watched her intently. Her forehead puckered as she took in his words, but no other signs of distress burst forward. “Trust me, this is no joke. I’d like to know where you were all day.”

  She jumped out of her seat and pulled her shirt from her body and said, “What does it look like? I was working out. What happened to Becca? I need to call Suzi. She doesn’t have a lot of family. She’ll need me.” She started pacing across the kitchen and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “This has to be a mistake.”

  His gaze followed her. No tears sprang to her eyes, no asking who took the girl. Mentally tucking away his observations, he waited a beat before he said, “You need to answer some questions before you call Suzi.”

  She stopped moving and scanned the kitchen. “Where the hell did I leave my phone? Dammit!”

  Mickey raced into the living room and threw decorative pillows and blankets off the sofa. Graham stood from the table and walked to the cabinet Mickey had taken a glass from. He grabbed a clear glass, filled it with water, and waited for her to find her phone.

  Her head popped up from the front of the couch and she raised her phone in the air. She shot fire at him with her eyes. “She didn’t call. I don’t know what game you’re playing, but Suzi would have called me if something happened to Becca. I love that girl with my whole heart.” Mickey’s voice cracked, but the heat never left her gaze.

  Graham pressed the small of his back against the countertop and set the glass down beside him. “Suzi didn’t contact you because she was told not to. If you want to help us find Becca, it’s important you tell me where you were today.”

  Mickey pressed the tips of her fingers into her eyes and drew a long breath in through her nose. She lowered her hands and tears hovered above her long lashes. “I went to yoga class this morning.”

  “What time did it start?”

  Her cheeks sunk in as if she were biting them. “Nine.”

  That was hours ago. No way she’d been doing yoga until after three in the afternoon. He scanned the lean lines of her body. Well, maybe she had with a body like that. He forced his eyes back to her face. “What time did class end?”

  “The class lasts an hour and a half. After class, I went for coffee with a friend.” She lifted a hand to her forehead and her fingers rubbed her hairline. “By the time we finished, it was lunch. We intended to get a quick bite to eat but ended up talking for a while.”

  “About?” He picked up his water and took a sip.

  Anger flashed in her eyes. “About how I a
lmost died last night in a plane crash and the asshole who saved my life.”

  “Did you tell your boyfriend about how I saved your life?” He kept his gaze steady and gauged her reaction to his words.

  She snorted and sat down at the table. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Can I call Suzi now?”

  “No.” He picked up his glass and sat across from her. “What about Pete Bogart?”

  She squinted and tilted her head to the side. The hair piled on top of her head bounced along with the movement. “How do you know about Pete?”

  “I know a lot of things.”

  “Then you should know we aren’t seeing each other anymore. I ended things a couple of weeks ago.”

  Suzi had told him the same thing earlier, but that didn’t mean Mickey didn’t know the truth about her recent ex. “When you were together, did the two of you spend a lot of time with Becca?”

  Mickey straightened and her body tensed. “Sometimes. I try to see Becca once a week, and Pete would come along when he was in town. Becca’s father isn’t in the picture, and she liked having him around.”

  “Why didn’t you see Becca this morning? Aren’t Sundays the day you usually see her?”

  “I needed some time to myself today.” She dropped her gaze and wiped some crumbs off the table. “I wanted to get my head on straight before I spent time with her. She’s a sensitive girl, and I didn’t want her to pick up on my anxiety.”

  Graham slid the file toward her. “Did you know Becca planned on seeing Pete this morning?” He flipped open the file and a grainy picture of Pete and Becca eating yogurt on the street stared up at Mickey.

  Mickey’s head whipped up and met his gaze. “No. I haven’t talked to Pete in two weeks, and Suzi didn’t mention it when I called and canceled yesterday.”