Damaged Goods

by Dane, Cynthia

  Like this investigation had quickly gone downhill.

  “Don’t get caught up in a woman again, Joseph.” His mother’s warning hit him like ice during a storm. “Don’t neglect your duties because you’re still on the rebound from Angelica.”

  He was almost impressed that his mother said his ex’s name correctly. “Please don’t go there. Don’t drag Angelica into this.”

  “But it’s okay to drag Stella into this?”

  Joseph shook his head. “She came to see me last night, you know. Said she had some information about our investigation.”

  “She knows about the investigation? Holy shit.”

  “She knows a lot thanks to her connections. I don’t doubt that there are those in our department still talking to her. It’s not me, by the way.”

  “I know. Because she’s talking to me too.”

  “What?”

  “You think she’s the only one she went to see last night? She hit my place first. Was quite the shock to see your mess of an ex-girlfriend on my property.”

  Joseph slowly closed his eyes. “She told you about Sylvia and me.” Why not? Stella had made it clear that she knew all about their involvement. She had stalked them, after all. I wish that her information had been good. It was nothing that they hadn’t uncovered during the investigation that day. Good to have corroboration, but Stella’s word didn’t mean much. Genevieve hadn’t even seriously considered it until the evidence was in front of her now. “Fucking Stella.”

  “That’s what got you in trouble in the first place. Don’t replace Stella with Sylvia.”

  Too late. Even so, a fine layer of embarrassment had claimed Joseph’s body. It wasn’t just his female commander finding out about his behind-the-scenes liaisons. It was his mother. If that’s not a nightmare, I don’t know what is.

  “Do you understand me, Joseph? Your negligence could have cost you a colleague’s life.”

  “I understand.” He had to understand. If anything happened to Cindy… shit. Joseph would never be able to forgive himself. “Tomorrow I’ll be in the office going over every detail we’ve accumulated so far this week. Friday is the last day of our investigation. I promise you, we’ll have enough evidence to start gathering warrants.”

  “Don’t promise me things you may not be able to keep.” Genevieve relaxed her stance, weariness lining her older face. She rarely looked her age. She was the type of woman who not only had good genes, but took damn good care of herself, from eating right to working out every day. She placed in the top ten percentile of that marathon. Joseph had made an appearance at the finish line with his mother’s boyfriend. Stanley was the only man Genevieve embraced that day. “I don’t say these things to be cruel to you. It’s been a long week. I don’t want you faltering when we’re starting to make headway.” She sighed. “I’m going to assign two more agents to you tomorrow. I should have from the beginning. This is as much my fault as it is yours.”

  “No, it’s not. I take all the blame.”

  Genevieve clasped her hand on her son’s arm. Joseph had no idea what to do. Hug her? Shake her hand? Stand there and pretend, as usual, that his mother and father had switched roles in his life? Affection ran deep in the Montoya family, even when they were yelling at one another at the dinner table.

  “Joseph,” his mother said softly. “Should you ever be in a more powerful leadership position one day… whether it be as head of a family or a commander like me… you’ll realize that every failure beneath you also rests atop you.

  “You know I’m never going to be head of the family, right?” He meant the Montoyas, of course. “That’s going to be Rafael.”

  “You can create your own family, you know.”

  Had she forgotten about Angelica and those kids already?

  “Look, Joseph, I know this isn’t easy. God knows that I know you’re under a lot of pressure to succeed here. That’s why I’m telling you, both as your mother and your commander, that you need to pull your head out of your ass and keep it in the game. That means no women. Do you understand me?”

  “Absolutely.” Joseph didn’t like it – of course he didn’t like it! Wasn’t he a warm-blooded man? With a woman who was willing to be with him, as he was with her? He and Sylvia were getting used to each other. His walls were coming down, and her heart was bleeding for him. This was a woman who had been through so much in her short life. Joseph didn’t like the idea of having to break it off with her, or at least until the investigation was over, but how could it be helped? He clearly could not be trusted to stay true to such important work. Kline had been hurt over it! What was more important than that? “You can count on me. If you need to make an example out of me to the department, I won’t hold it against you. I know you’re doing your job, and it’s an important one.”

  “Thank you for understanding. The fact that you’re able to see this without letting your emotions get in the way of our professional relationship means that I can ultimately trust you.”

  She gave his arm a squeeze before grabbing the door handle. “We need to go check up on Kline. I will personally escort Ms. Rogers home after we leave. We are right about one thing. She does need to be escorted after dark. Whatever happened in front of her house, she was probably supposed to be involved.”

  Honestly? Joseph couldn’t stand that thought.

  Chapter 18

  Sylvia

  Dark had long fallen by the time Sylvia got off work at the Italian restaurant. She walked slowly down her street, careful to keep her eye out for anything suspicious. After what happened last night? She didn’t trust anyone unless they were in a cop car.

  She hadn’t been given many updates since Agent Kline ended up in the hospital, although police tape remained in the neighbor’s yard. Was that where the jogger lived? What happened to her? All Sylvia knew was that both women were in critical condition.

  She also knew that Joseph wasn’t really speaking to her. She wished she could say this was an interesting turn of events, but she had a good feeling that she knew what his mother talked to him about.

  Commander Stone knows. That much was made clear when she insisted on driving Sylvia home from the hospital. After pulling up in front of her house, Genevieve had left Sylvia with a fun snippet. “Be careful around Joseph. He has a lot of pressure on him to succeed with this investigation. At the very least, he can’t afford many mistakes. It’s better for him to get no information and play it safe than it is for him to completely botch it.”

  Sylvia got the message loud and clear. She was a liability, and Genevieve knew about the hanky-panky going on in the off-hours. Or perhaps they were not off-hours.

  Thursday was supposed to be a more relaxing day, even though Sylvia had to work at her least favorite job. But she couldn’t relax. From the moment she went to bed late Wednesday night, she worried that she would be next.

  The next what?

  The next on the chopping block?

  The next notch on Alexander’s bed post, whether she wanted to be or not?

  The next ex-girlfriend of Joseph Montoya?

  The next what?

  Either way, Sylvia did not hear from Joseph at all on Thursday, and that worried her.

  Okay, so it doesn’t worry me, per se. It did hurt her. After how far they had come personally? Surely, he could have called her on his lunch break or after work. Just to chat. To talk about what was going on with the investigation, off the record. To say sweet nothings and declare that he wanted to be there with her, wherever she was.

  Except there were no texts or voicemails from him. Certainly no calls while she held her phone in her hand.

  Come on, get a grip. It’s not like that with him. But they had a connection, didn’t they? Joseph wasn’t the type of man to make love like that to a woman unless he felt something strong with her. Maybe not “Future Mrs. Montoya” strong, but…

  Heh. That was a funny thought. Mrs. Sylvia Montoya. Damn, that was sexy. Sylvia Rogers sounded like a dowdy spin
ster who made due by reliving her glory days whenever someone would let her. Sylvia Montoya? She was a heartbreaker. A woman with the kind of legacy Sylvia pined to have.

  Wait, what was she doing? The last thing she should be doing was fantasizing about marrying Joseph! They still barely knew each other! Yet this was the trap Sylvia always slipped into. As soon as she nurtured an emotional connection to a man, she started taking it way too far. He was her Prince Charming. He was her everything. He was her future husband, damnit. Sylvia was going to fill a notebook with her name matching any man’s she fancied. How many times had she practiced introducing herself as Sylvia Carlisle? Now there was a solid name of the rich and privileged. People may not have taken her seriously because of her history in the area as one of the most sought after courtesans, but they would pretend to respect her once she had a name like Sylvia Carlisle.

  I was supposed to be married by now. Sylvia stared at the diamond ring that had been left on her dresser the night before. In her haste to undress, she had almost dropped Alexander’s gift between the floorboards. Pft. Why would she do that when it could fetch her a decent price at a pawn shop? That ring could put food in her stomach for a good, long while.

  Sylvia stood on her sidewalk, groaning. This was too much for her to process. Time to go home, drink some wine, take a bubble bath, and maybe read some dirty novels that didn’t remind her of bastards. If such books existed.

  “Hey. Who’s there?”

  Sylvia almost jumped out of her skin. It was a fucking miracle she didn’t roundhouse kick Sam Jean when she snuck up on a girl who was on the edge and about ready to fall off.

  “Sam Jean!” Sylvia picked up the bag of leftover Italian food she had dropped. One thing she could say about her work? They always let her go home with day old garlic bread. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” She hadn’t seen the local homeless woman since the day she was attacked. And that jogger was conveniently in the area…

  “Oh. It’s you.” Sam Jean turned away, as if she were going to return to her small camp in a group of bushes. “Was making sure you weren’t one of those snatchers.”

  Sylvia followed Sam Jean toward the bushes. “You mean the people who attacked you?”

  “One person. Only one person attacked me.” She shrugged. “I already told the cops. They didn’t do anything.”

  “I’m sure they’re investigating these snatchers.”

  “No, no, you don’t understand. Tanya and Cassie… they’re gone. Both gone now. Gone to Thailand.”

  “Who’s Tanya and Cassie?”

  “You know. Tanya. Cassie.” Sam Jean scratched her tangled blond hair. “See them down at the Lutheran church for dinner.”

  “Oh. Are they homeless like you?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Tanya got the scratch real bad.” Saying it made Sam Jean’s arm itch. “Cassie’s like you. She has many boyfriends.”

  “I see. And they’re gone? You’re sure they were kidnapped?”

  “Man, everyone who’s disappearing ain’t going back down to Santa Monica. They’re going jogging.”

  “Going… jogging…” That could not be a coincidence. “Hey, Sam Jean. Remember when the snatchers tried to take you?”

  Erratic arm swinging commenced. Sam Jean stuck one arm in the nearest bush, as if it grounded her and kept her from being dragged away. “Of course I remember! You think I’m dumb? I was there, wasn’t I?”

  “Yes. Sorry. Anyway, do you think that the person who jumped you was a woman?”

  “Women are strong.” Sam Jean nodded. “I don’t remember. I can’t do faces well. I only know you because you have a pretty voice. You look the same as everyone else to me.”

  Yes, that’s what you told Joseph and the others. Joseph had said that Sam Jean hadn’t remembered anything about her attacker. “But you think it could have been a woman?”

  “Yes. No. Maybe?”

  “Hmm.” Sylvia reached into her purse and pulled two dollars out. She handed them to Sam Jean, who readily took them. Seeing that hunger in her eye, Sylvia also happily gave her neighbor one of the slices of bread in her bag. “Take care, Sam Jean. With any luck these people will be off the streets in the next few weeks.”

  “They can’t take me. I hate jogging.”

  “Me too, Sam.”

  Sylvia soon came upon the cordoned off crime scene. The neighbors didn’t even look like they were home. Is that where the jogger lived? Or did those people freak out and go out of town for a while? The neighborhood was so quiet, even for a Thursday night. Sighing, Sylvia grabbed her house keys and helped herself in. She had never been so happy to see her flippant roommate Posey lounging in front of the TV and eating burnt popcorn. The smell was atrocious, but at least Sylvia wasn’t alone.

  ***

  Another day, another fucking date with Alexander Sheen.

  Except now Sylvia could barely stand to be around the man. Having him touch her whenever he could? She wanted to gag. The thought that this man was fantasizing about her was nothing like she had experienced before. Even Sebastian was more palpable than this, and there was never any delusion that he wanted Sylvia for anything more than an accessible lay.

  This undercover investigation had gone from “Okay, so this is not a good man who is controlling some pretty deplorable operations,” to “I don’t even want to be in the same room as him.” Sylvia had never been so grateful to have never slept with a specific (rich) man. She had been with some real stinkers too. Men who were cheating on their wives. Men who gambled away their kids’ tuitions. Men who literally smelled like shit no matter how many times Sylvia joined them in the shower. Men who only ever wanted to fuck her in the ass. Men who wanted to pretend to be a baby for her. They were terrible, but still better than this waste of oxygen.

  It was the way he looked at her. Touched her. Breathed the same air that she did. Nothing he did was spared from the touch of sociopathic tendencies. This was a man who was willing to peddle kidnapped flesh all around the world in order to make more untaxable money. Because if Sylvia wasn’t claiming her sex work money on her taxes? Alexander Sheen sure as fuck was not claiming his human trafficking money.

  Some would say that they weren’t so different. Sylvia would love to kindly punch those “some” in the face.

  “I’m leaving Portland tomorrow,” Alexander said more than once. The first time he said it was in the back of his limo. The second time? During dinner. I should be working at Decades tonight. Sylvia had called in sick that afternoon. From the bathroom of a convention center, no less. “We simply must spend the night together, Sylvia. I won’t be able to bear it if I don’t know what you feel like next to me.”

  Many women died to hear a man say that to her. In truth, it was nice when a client said those sorts of words. Alexander wasn’t a normal client. Everything he said was laced in aggressive peacocking.

  I don’t want this man. I want… Joseph. A man who had remained entirely too quiet all day in her headset.

  By ten that Friday night, Sylvia was back in a hotel room, waiting for Alexander Sheen to have his way with her.

  There’s no getting out of it now. Sylvia was resigned to it. With Cindy Kline the fake madam out of commission, there was no way for Alexander to petition for his money back due to services unrendered. Besides, this was Sylvia’s job. If she couldn’t put up with the occasional sociopath, then she wasn’t very good at her job.

  So the detachment exercises began early. Little by little, Sylvia’s mind vacated the world and holed itself away in a safe corner of her head. Her body stiffened, preparing for the kind of rough sex this man probably wanted. No, it wasn’t about love, but her heart hurt. The last time her heart hurt like this when she was a courtesan? When she became more than serious with Maxwell, a man who was a client first, fiancé second. I still saw other clients before retiring and moving in with Maxwell as his fiancée. It was part of the job. Maxwell understood, like Sebastian didn’t give a fuck that Sylvia had to sleep with other men d
uring their tenure in Xavier Crow’s circle.

  This was different. Joseph wasn’t like those men. And Sylvia? She was glad to have a man unlike them.

  Perhaps that hurt the most. Joseph was a witness to all of this. He understood. He knew what was on the line. But things had grown between him and Sylvia, even if it was only sexual intimacy. Intimacy is still intimacy. The man could not feel good about his lover sleeping with a man like this. On camera. On a mic.

  On one hand, she was glad to have him nearby. Thinking of him kept her mind off other things. Like Cindy. Like Sam Jean. Like Alexander.

  He didn’t waste a single moment. Once he was off the phone with a last minute business matter, Alexander was practically on top of Sylvia, groping her, biting her shoulder, and pulling her hair until her lips were forced the meet his.

  “Joder,” Joseph grumbled.

  Sylvia didn’t know if she wanted him talking to her through this, or if she wanted to pretend he was somewhere else entirely.

  “Wow,” Sylvia said, almost unable to realize that she had slipped into her girlish voice. The one that only came out when she was completely detached. “That was quite the kiss, sir.”

  “Of course I’ve got more where that came from.” Alexander grabbed her shoulder, squeezing until she bruised. “I’ve got a lot I need to do to you tonight, Sylvia.”

  Spare me. The way he said that… the words he used… God had better send Sylvia an extra guardian angel that night. And she didn’t mean the two new agents assigned to their investigation. I barely remember them. Two men who were out following leads and hopefully not getting shot too.