by Holly Rayner
The girl she had been sent to find.
A few weeks after she’d returned from New Mexico, Morgan had received a call about a missing girl. Morgan had sat with her weeping mother, not knowing what to do to comfort her.
“Her father died two years ago,” Denise had wept, dabbing her leaking nose with a moist tissue. “It was horrible. He was killed in a car accident, by a drunk driver.”
Morgan’s shoulders tensed. Not another one. Not another young woman left without a father, because of some idiot.
“At least, that’s what we thought at the time,” the woman continued, glancing up at Morgan with watery eyes. “Now I can’t be certain. His brother was mixed up with the mob—a lot of scary people who are good at getting away scot-free even though they’ve done horrible things!”
Morgan knew those people. She’d seen them enter their jail cells with smug grins before being removed after one night; no matter how big the bail was, somehow they always had the money.
“So you believe Bella’s uncle may have something to do with this?”
“Yes,” Denise said, taking a deep breath. “Morgan, you have to help me!” she said, bursting into another fit of tears.
Morgan laid a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. She had learned to be a calm, steady presence in front of her clients. It was the best way to earn their trust, even if she did have misgivings about getting involved with the mob. Still, after the skinheads of New Mexico, what were these bozos?
“Denise,” she said, her voice composed. “I’m going to find your daughter and bring her home. Then we’re going to set you up with witness protection and get the both of you out of here, okay? Everything is going to be fine.”
Denise grasped Morgan’s hand then, her grip like cold iron. Morgan held on just as tightly.
“Thank you,” Denise whispered.
Morgan nodded and left after that, immediately heading toward Chinatown, where she knew a lot of mob members did their business.
It hadn’t taken her long to find the girl, and Morgan had briefly wondered if she was walking into a trap.
Now, with her back against the wall, she decided that having an open-carry weapon probably wasn’t the best idea. She rolled up her left pant leg and strapped her gun into the holster there before rolling the fabric back down. Then she strolled around the building, onto the main road, and entered the restaurant through glass doors. A chime went off as she exchanged hot, humid air for frigid air conditioning. The girl didn’t look up.
Morgan stood at the front, looking around for someone. After a minute, an Asian man in a white, button-down shirt and black slacks approached her with a wary expression.
“Can I help you, miss?” he asked, clearly trying not to sound annoyed.
Funny, Morgan thought. One would think they would want customers.
“Table for one, please,” she said, watching his expression carefully.
His eyes darted around the room like he couldn’t decide where to seat her.
“I prefer to sit in the middle of the room, facing the door,” Morgan said.
The man gave her a strange look, but after a brief hesitation he picked up a plastic menu and escorted her toward the table directly behind Bella’s.
Morgan took a seat, smiling up at her reluctant waiter. “I’ll start off with a glass of Diet Coke, please,” she said, and he nodded as he walked away.
Once the man had reached the kitchens, Morgan leaned in slightly towards the girl.
“Hey,” she whispered.
Bella looked up and gazed at Morgan.
“Is your name Bella?” Morgan asked, and the girl sat back for a moment before slowly nodding her head.
“It’s okay,” Morgan said, her tone as comforting as possible. “Your mom sent me here to come and get you.”
“My mom?” Bella asked, her eyes lighting up.
“Yes. But I’m going to need your help. Can you tell me anything about the people here?”
Bella nodded. “There’s a man who guards the door, and I’m not allowed to leave.”
Morgan could see tears welling up in Bella’s eyes. She glanced down at her menu, the better to keep up her charade.
“It’s going to be all right, Bella. I’m going to get you out of here.”
Just then a burly man strolled into the dining room, clearly Bella’s “bodyguard.”
Morgan glanced up at him before looking at her menu again, seemingly bored.
The man joined Bella at her table. “I’m going to take my break now, Bella. Remember, you need to stay inside. There are some bad men in this neighborhood and it’s important that you stay here, right?”
“I want to go home!” Bella cried, and the man’s expression hardened.
“You need to give that up now, Bella.”
Bastard, Morgan thought, trying to keep her temper from flaring, just as the waiter returned to her table with a glass of Diet Coke and asked to take her order. She noted the departure of the guard before ordering a plate of sesame chicken to get the waiter out of their hair. Then she glanced back at the girl.
“You’re going to count to ten, Bella. Then you’re going to get up and act like you’re going to the bathroom. There’s a door back there, just behind the kitchens, and I’m going to meet you there. Okay?”
“Okay,” Bella murmured.
“Great,” Megan replied, grateful that the guard clearly believed Bella didn’t have the courage to run. That was going to be his fatal mistake.
Bella rose then, making her way toward the bathroom. After she reached the hallway, Morgan followed, placing a gentle hand on the girl’s arm to guide her towards the kitchens. When the cook walked out of the room to grab some oil, she seized her chance and pulled Bella out the back door and into an alley. The two of them walked quickly and silently through a series of alleyways until Morgan reached the busy street she was looking for.
Morgan’s heart was racing as her eyes darted around her surroundings, taking in faces as they strolled along the bustling sidewalks of one of the major shopping areas in town. She didn’t see anyone suspicious, but it didn’t keep her stomach from churning with anxiety.
Finally, they turned into a kitschy tourist shop, and Morgan waved a hand to Bella’s mother from across several Houston knickknacks.
The woman swallowed a sob as she ran to her daughter and the two collided in a fierce embrace.
“Mom!” Bella cried, and Morgan found she was having a hard time keeping herself from crying as she watched mother and daughter reunite. “Uncle Rick took me to this place in Chinatown; he said he was going to the bathroom but then he didn’t come back. And then they wouldn’t let me leave!”
“That bastard,” Denise spat. “I’ll see that he pays for this,” she said, standing and looking at Morgan. “What do we do now?” she asked, and Morgan pulled out a set of plane tickets.
“Get out of Houston. Find a police unit that isn’t under the thumb of this particular mob, and get yourselves into witness protection. They’ll be able to keep you safe after that,” Morgan said, handing over the tickets.
Denise took the tickets and slid them into her purse before removing a checkbook and writing out a quick check to Morgan. Ripping it out of the booklet, she handed it over.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Morgan. You brought my daughter back to me. I’ll never forget it. Bless you,” she said, grasping Morgan’s hand.
Bella pulled away from her mother and gave Morgan a fierce hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t come.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Morgan said. “You’re safe now. Get to the airport and go straight through security—you can buy new clothes and toiletries on the other side,” she said, ushering them back onto the sidewalk.
She saw them into a taxi and watched it drive off in the direction of the airport before taking a look at her check.
Then she ripped the check into tiny pieces.
ELEVEN
She was wondering what kind of bug she might have when a hand reached out from an alleyway and pulled her against a wall.
“What did you do with her?”
A stocky man with thinning brown hair held her against the wall of the alley, his forearm pressed hard into her sternum.
Morgan feigned fear, her eyes widening and her breath erratic. “With who? What are you talking about? Who are you?” she demanded, her voice frantic.
The man didn’t budge. “Don’t play games with me, lady. You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Now I’ll ask you again. Where did you take her?”
“Really, I simply have no idea what you’re talking about,” Morgan said, but this time her gaze was mocking. She wasn’t afraid of this moron. She’d faced down worse on a Monday morning alone.
The man shoved her back against the wall and Morgan cringed. It would be time to turn the tables, soon.
“Tell me!” he shouted, spit flecking her face. His breath smelled like skunks.
“You really should brush your teeth before you go out in the morning, you know,” Morgan said, and the man slammed her against the wall again.
“You think this is some kind of game? My niece’s life is at stake here!”
Morgan stared at him. “Your niece’s life, or your life?” she asked, glaring at him.
The man glanced down, but held his grip firm.
“You think I don’t know what you were about to subject that girl to?” Morgan said, her glare hardening. “I’ve been trying to dig you assholes out for a long, long time. You got in with the mob. Good money, right? But then you couldn’t pay your debts. So what do you do? Kidnap your niece and bide your time while you wait for the next truck to arrive. I imagine that’s why her guard ‘took a break,’ right? He was getting the truck ready for departure.”
The man, obviously Uncle Rick, stared at Morgan with dark, tired eyes. His shoulders slumped, and his grip slackened just a tiny bit. “I had no choice,” he said, his voice hoarse. “They were going to kill me.”
“And you were willing to trade in your niece so you could live,” Morgan said, her voice laced with disgust.
“I tell you I had no choice!” he screamed, holding her tight against the wall again.
Morgan’s glance darted out onto the street, and she gave him a cold grin. “Well, you certainly don’t now,” she said, as three cops descended into the alley, pulling Rick off of her and onto the sidewalk.