by Brook Wilder
I was the enemy some fought against and it was damn near surprising I hadn’t been killed before now. I woke up each day expecting to be met with a bullet and because of what I did, I didn’t sleep real well at night either.
Well, that, and the nightmares from my past seemed to find me in the thick of night.
A bike buzzed by and I straightened, well aware of the eyes that followed my every movement. I hadn’t checked in with the police here in Lincoln this time, not wanting to have them call attention to me or interfere in the chance that I would find Polanco here. There was a thin line between the local cops and the federal ones and while it would have been polite for me to announce my presence, I had forgone the opportunity.
Hell, I hadn’t imagined I would be in Lincoln so long to begin with. There was a trail, a faint one, that I had been sniffing down since my arrival. Rumors were swirling in the seedy bars and dark recesses that Polanco had a girlfriend he trusted in Lincoln, though I hadn’t been able to get wind of her name.
Yet.
Sighing, I rubbed my forehead. I was getting pressure from my one-up to return to the office and give up this search, but I’d fed him enough bullshit to stay on the case for now. Eventually, though, I was gonna have to turn back.
I just hoped that they didn’t put me at a desk for fucking this all up. I hated sitting at a desk. Fifteen years in the field was what had kept me going. The thrill of knowing I was pulling the wool over my contacts’ eyes, pretending to be someone I wasn’t, had been something that I had enjoyed until the last year or so.
I didn’t know what I was gonna do after this was all over.
“Dispatch, come in.”
I paused as the earpiece crackled in my ear, the first sound coming from the police radios in over thirty minutes. I had tapped into their system on my arrival, wanting to keep tabs on the local cops to make sure they weren’t going to interfere with anything I would find myself into. It was damn hard to explain to the local guys what my role was and the moment they knew, it essentially blew my cover.
“Copy.”
“We have a missing girl, fourteen years old, who did not come home from school today. Brown hair, green eyes. Last seen wearing a red shirt and blue jeans, carrying a pink backpack. Call an Amber Alert.”
“Copy.”
Shit. A missing kid. I hated working the child divisions in my earlier career, not wanting to see the very innocent ones be treated the way they were. Human trafficking was a huge issue in this area, one that I knew had been snuffed out by the Jesters club months ago.
But a damn good cover for Polanco.
Unable to help it, I glanced up at Siren’s balcony, finding it empty. Well, hell. Maybe she was tired of watching my routine for hours on end and had decided to give up her search.
Yeah, when hell froze over.
But this kid missing, this might be the break I was looking for in locating Polanco. Something told me that the cartel was involved in this, trying to start back up the trafficking lines that ran all the way to Mexico.
Something easy for Polanco to do in his spare time.
Pushing away from the railing, I started down the stairs to my bike, listening to the chatter in the earpiece. I would go investigate where this young kid had gone missing, see if there was any evidence that the cartel or Polanco himself was involved.
This could be my big break I had been looking for.
Gunning the engine, I waited until the next pack of bikers rode by before I joined them, heading toward the location. If I could bag Polanco, it would be more than just satisfying my CIA assignment.
It would give me a chance to make some sort of retribution for what I had done to Machine Gun.
It wouldn’t wipe my already black soul, but it would allow me to sleep easier at night.
Almost.
Chapter 3
Siren
I climbed off the bike and walked along the road, glad that this wasn’t a normal neighborhood. A strange woman walking through a neighborhood that someone had just been kidnapped from would be highly suspicious to say the least.
No, this road was a bit out of the way, with endless prairie on either side and houses peeking through the wavy tall grass. I couldn’t imagine being a young girl getting off a bus stop nearly in the middle of nowhere and walking home, exposed to the occasional passerby that might see them as an easy target.
I was an easy target.
The other interesting thing was that this road was not far from the old trafficking lines we had taken down. It seemed someone else had decided to restart them, which meant there were numerous states that could be impacted.
Hundreds of unsuspecting women and children that would be taken.
Drawing in a breath, I walked back to my bike and fired it up, heading toward the old route that I knew by heart. The route ran through the woods and back roads from Nebraska to Texas, then from Texas to Mexico. It was enough foliage coverage to move without lights at night, providing numerous water sources along the way for the kidnappers. Some would peel off and be put into trucks to go the rest of the way while others would continue the trek.
That way if they got caught, they didn’t lose all their catch.
I turned the bike down the first dirt path, abandoning it about halfway in. The path had been used recently. The grass was trampled down, though it was hard to tell if it was an actual trafficking pack or just the police checking it for any sign of the missing girl.
Either way, someone had been down the path, which would cause me to do the same. After checking my weapons and grabbing my fold-up water bottle just in case I got lost, I started down the path, dark now that the sun was going down. Soon I wouldn’t be able to see my hand in front of my face, relying on the small flashlight I had tucked in my back pocket before leaving the hotel room. I couldn’t walk the entire thing tonight, but I could at least get to the next roadway.
If this girl had been taken for what I thought she was taken, she would be crossing over into Texas by this time tomorrow.
A twig snapped behind me and I whirled around, pulling my gun as I did so.
“Whoa. Don’t shoot, Siren.”
Drat. I knew that voice. I had heard it many times over the last two months, so much so that I heard it in my sleep some nights. “Voodoo. Fancy meeting you here.”
He chuckled. “I could say the same.”
I lowered my gun, knowing he wasn’t going to shoot me.
Well, at least I didn’t think he was going to shoot me. “What can I do for you, Voodoo?”
“You?” he asked, walking toward me. “You can’t do anything for me other than to explain why you are out here.”
“That is none of your business,” I retorted as he came to stand a few feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in a relaxed pose. He wasn’t afraid of me, which kind of pissed me off. I was the one stalking him. I was the one who was just waiting on orders to kill.
“I know why you are here,” he said after a moment. “And I don’t mean on this trail. What’s wrong, Siren? Haven’t gotten your go-ahead yet?”
Damn him. I clenched my hand in a fist at my side, attempting to keep the easy smile on my face. I didn’t want him to see that he could rattle me so easily. People took advantage of the fact that I was too pretty to be in the club until they went one round with me and realized I wasn’t the sweet, innocent type. I had clawed and fought my way to get my position with the Bitches and had proven over and over again that I deserved to be in this club like the next girl.
I wasn’t about to let some CIA agent tear that down. “You know I could shoot you and keep on going, right?”
“Oh, I know,” he laughed, the sound breaking through the silence of the forest. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to test you to do so either. I much prefer this handsome head to be intact.”
I rolled my eyes. I had forgotten how cocky he was. “Maybe I would be doing you a favor.”
“Maybe,” he answered, the laughter evident in his vo
ice. “But then you wouldn’t have half as much fun tailing me.”
He had me there. Unfortunately, the past two months had made him grow on me—from a distance, of course—and I hated to admit I looked forward to following him every morning. “This your job as well?”
“No,” he answered, sobering. “I heard the rumblings and decided to come investigate myself. You think she’s still in Nebraska?”
“I can only hope so,” I admitted. “You here to help or hinder?” He knew I was talking about me personally.
“Help,” Voodoo said, his jaw clenching. “And if we hurry, we might intercept this kidnapping before she gets across state lines.”
He was right. We needed to keep moving. I turned away and started down the path, hearing him fall in step beside me. We would be losing light soon so the timing was critical to identify something that would give us an indication that they had taken her along here.
Finally, after a few minutes of walking without talking, I spotted something in the brush, something that chilled my very soul. “What is it?” Voodoo asked as I hurried over there.
“It’s her book bag,” I breathed, pulling the bag out of the brush.
“Shit,” Voodoo responded. “They really did take her.”
I swallowed, looking down at the ever-darkening forest path. There was no way we would be able to continue and catch up to them. It would be better to take to the bikes and find the intersecting road.
Hopefully we could pick out the transport vehicle.
Wait a second. There was no ‘we’ in this. Clutching the bag to my chest, I turned to Voodoo. “While I have been enjoying this face-to-face with you, I have shit to do.”
“What are you going to do, exactly?” he asked as I started back the way I came.
“Nothing that involves you,” I shot back, my stride long and fast. Voodoo was no longer my primary concern. I needed to find this girl. I felt it in my blood that this was what I needed to do.
“Siren, wait,” Voodoo called out, nearly at a jog to keep up with me. “Let’s talk about this.”
There was nothing to talk about. If I knew I wouldn’t get into trouble, I would shoot him just to make him slow down and leave me alone.
But as we reached the opening of the road, the blue lights caught my eye and I cursed under my breath as I realized that two cop cars were surrounding my bike. It seemed that we weren’t the only ones that knew about this route.
“Stop!”
I halted, clutching the bag. “Listen, you got this wrong.”
The police officer approached me, his hand on his gun. “Drop that bag.”
I did as he asked, holding my hands over my head. “We have to hit up the intersecting road. She will be on that road.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” he said instead, approaching me cautiously.
I turned my head and realized that Voodoo was no longer beside me, nothing but the darkness to be found.
Great, just great.
***
It took thirty minutes for them to take me to jail and process me, throwing me into a holding cell while they decided if I was telling the truth or not. There was no doubt in my mind that they were looking at the bag and pegging me as the kidnapper.
No doubt whatsoever.
I slumped against the bench, rubbing my hand over my face. While they had taken all my weapons, they had allowed me to keep my clothes on at least, but once they ran my prints, I would likely be booked on some bogus charge to keep me in jail just a little longer. It would take two days, possibly longer for the club’s attorney to come and bail me out, meaning I would be subjected to intense questioning until then.
While I wasn’t worried about being in jail, I was worried about my psyche after two days.
And Voodoo. Damn him. He had just disappeared into thin air when he could have vouched for me. I guess that was what I got for trailing him all this time, waiting for my opportunity to kill him.
But he could have at least helped just a little bit.
Chapter 4
Voodoo
The chief of police peered at me over the slip of paper he was reading, his expression telling me that he wasn’t too keen on my story. “So, this is you?”
I nodded, irritated that he was dragging this out. “Do you want me to fish out my driver’s license too?”
He laid down the paper I had provided, crossing his arms across his massive chest. “Son, I’ve heard a great deal of bullshit in my career and I’m trying to decide if you are feeding me a line or not.”
“I assure you, I’m not,” I said, attempting to keep my neutral expression and not jack him up by his starched collar. “I’m Agent Daniel Culbertson. I’ve given you my superior’s name and number. If you are still thinking I’m not who I say I am, then call him up.” I made a point to look at the clock over his head. “He might just take your call on his way to dinner.”
“And the other agent?”
I winced inwardly, wondering how the hell I would explain that to my superior. The moment I’d caught wind of the local police, I’d bailed on Siren, ducking behind a tree. I had hoped they would just question her and be on their way, but she had been holding that damn book bag and they had taken her into custody without much questioning. I had wrestled with that fact before deciding that I was probably the reason she had been busted and needed to bail her out.
Hence pulling my rank card on this fine good ole boy chief of police. I had informed him that he had just arrested an undercover agent, so deep undercover that he wouldn’t find anything about her being a CIA agent.
Yeah, that lie was gonna come back to haunt me. “I told you. Her identity has been erased to protect her. You know the biker clubs. Sometimes they are smart and run backgrounds. We couldn’t take the chance of them finding her out.”
“She don’t look like no biker,” the chief huffed. “But we did impound a bike she claimed was hers.”
“See,” I said, bracing my hands on the scarred desk. “She’s very good at her job.”
“What about that book bag?” he continued, grating on my last nerve. “That’s the missing girl’s from earlier. That’s awfully suspicious.”
“We were hunting for the girl as well,” I answered smoothly. “We found the bag and were bringing it to you.”
The chief didn’t look like he believed any of my bullshit, so I was surprised when he made a sound and waved his hand at me. “Tell them to release her then and get the hell out of my jurisdiction. CIA or not, this is my case, not yours.”
“I will be more than happy to do so,” I grinned before walking out of the office, a heavy sigh escaping me. Thank God. The quicker we got out of here, the better off we would be.
After the officer at the front desk called the chief and confirmed my story, he led me back to the cell where they were holding Siren.
She was seated on the bench, her foot swinging back and forth, looking bored as hell. “You’ve been sprung,” the officer called out, sliding the key into the lock and pulling open the door.
She turned and I could see the fury in her eyes, all directed at me.
Of course. “Come on, agent,” I said, giving her a winning smile. “I’ve cleared up the little misunderstanding with these fine fellows.”
Her eyes narrowed at my address, but she got up anyway, brushing past me. “I want my weapons back, agent.”
I looked at the officer, giving him a shrug. “You heard her.”
In a matter of ten minutes, Siren had her weapons back and we were walking out of the station, the chilly night air ruffling through my hair. “You care to explain what happened back there?”
“Not now,” I stated, directing her toward my bike.
She stalled. “Where’s my bike?”
“Impounded,” I answered, continuing to walk. “I couldn’t spring you both.”
“Wait a minute,” she said, hurrying to catch up with her. “I’m not leaving without my bike.”
I turned to h
er, raking a hand through my hair in frustration. “Listen. I just lied to the chief of police to get you out of a kidnapping charge. Either you get on this bike or you can deal with the group in there that will figure out eventually that I was lying. Your choice.”