by Marlow Kelly
“I-I-I’m sorry.” Tears streamed down her face. He knew she wasn’t really sorry, not for him, anyway.
He moved his knife up to her cheek, making another small nick. “You’re a bad girl, Lucy. You’ve been living off the suffering of others, and I can’t let it continue. It has to end. Tell me who the Trainer is.”
“I don’t know.”
He scored an X across her chin and inhaled deeply. The scent flooded him with warmth.
“Please.” She wept, tears streaming down her face, streaking her makeup.
“Does the Trainer know about your human trafficking business?”
She hiccupped. “Yes. All the customers are Syndicate members.
“All this time, I’ve been working for a bunch of rapists?”
Her eyes held a distant look of shock, and she didn’t seem able to respond.
Using the hand that was wrapped around her throat, he gave her a shake. “I’m going to burn it all down. I will destroy everything the Syndicate have built, and I will kill every one of them. Starting with you.”
“Please, you don’t have to—”
“No, I don’t have to, but I will.” He slid his blade between her ribs so it pierced her heart. He stepped back, allowing her body to slump to the ground as he was rocked with another surge of euphoria. Once it was over, he breathed deeply as he observed Lucy’s body, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor.
It was a quicker death than she deserved. He would’ve liked more time to play, but he would have to move quickly if he didn’t want to get caught standing over the body with a bloody knife in his hand. He wasn’t sure if the Syndicate would suspect him in Lucy’s death. Which could be a problem, but he had a backup ID ready should he need it. The Trainer would demand answers and, unlike Lucy, he wouldn’t be put off with stories about a bad burrito.
He probably had less than twelve hours before the shit hit the proverbial fan. He needed to be ready and organized in case he had to make an exit. But before he left, he had one last job to do.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Sinclair marched into the Dumb Luck Café with Michael by her side. She had been questioned repeatedly by Detective Ramirez of the Granite City-Elkhead County Police. They had wanted every detail and had asked her to account for every second of her confinement. She’d done her best to comply.
By the time they were finished with her, she was tired and achy. Above all, she’d wanted to see Michael, to hold him and once again enjoy the sensation that she belonged.
She also needed to thank Finn, who had been injured when he’d created a distraction in the lobby.
But before she could leave, Ramirez had asked her to confirm Jake’s identity before they made an arrest. She was happy to comply. Shockingly, he hadn’t taken off after he’d drugged her and the Sun Down had been raided. Was he so greedy that he wanted to continue to use Child Seekers to grow his bank account? Or maybe he hadn’t heard the news and thought he was safe.
The coffee house was basically a rectangle with one corner carved out as a serving space, which meant the seating area was an L shape.
Michael grabbed her hand and tugged her toward a table in the corner away from Ramirez and his fellow officers who sat on the opposite side. “If we sit here, he won’t be able to see you from the door.”
“That’s a good idea.” She was still shaken by what happened. She’d known Michael would come for Nadie and Ava, but he had refused to leave without her. Which shouldn’t be a surprise because he was a good man. For him, that was a normal reaction, but it meant so much to her. She hadn’t realized how isolated she’d become in the last year. Reconnecting with Michael had opened her eyes. She didn’t want to walk through life alone. At the same time, she couldn’t give up her work at Child Seekers. How could she turn her back on all that suffering?
Ramirez waved at her from across the room, telling her he was aware they were in position. He had arranged for Amy to call Jake, telling him someone wanted to share a lead. Apparently, Jake had refused to meet with the informant unless they were in a public place, which was standard operating procedure but still a pain.
Every single muscle in Sinclair’s body tensed as she waited. Why had Jake betrayed them? All Child Seekers workers, whether they were volunteers or paid employees, went through extensive background checks. Had he always been corrupt? Had she driven him to it? Although she couldn’t recall his exact words when he’d drugged her, she did remember the hate that had oozed out of him, like a dark, evil entity from a horror movie.
Michael brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Don’t think about it.” He cupped her neck, forcing her to look at him. She twisted, trying to turn.
He placed his forehead against hers. “Hush. Don’t struggle. There’s a guy with a gray moustache looking around.”
“Tell me when I can turn.” Even if she couldn’t talk to him, she wanted to look him in the eye and watch his arrest.
Michael nodded and leaned back. “He’s approaching the counter. Turn now.”
She stood and spun around.
On the other side of the room, Ramirez jumped to his feet.
Jake stared at her for a minute. He seemed too stunned to move.
“That’s him,” Sinclair shouted.
Detective Ramirez sprang, ramming his gun into Jake’s ribs so hard he almost lifted him off the ground.
“Jake Cox, I’m charging you with second degree assault and kidnapping in the first degree.” Ramirez held Jake up against the counter while another officer with blond hair and a pock-marked face cuffed him. “You are also charged with filing a fake report in the break and enter at Child Seeker’s International. You have the right…”
She grinned. As an ex-cop, he would suffer in prison, and he deserved every second of it. Part of her wanted to punch him in the face and smash him until he was nothing, but it was probably better if she let the cops do their thing.
Michael held her hand. “Are you ready?”
She would let the authorities deal with the fallout. She needed some well-earned rest. “Let’s go and see Finn.”
They walked out hand in hand.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Finn sat in a curtained cubicle of the emergency room, waiting for the doctor to tell him he could go home.
A tiny dark-haired woman wearing a white lab coat entered. “It took a lot of work to get the wound cleaned. That stick fragmented into tiny splinters. We think we got it all. You’ll be on antibiotics for a while. And you’ll need to check in with your doctor.”
“But it was just my arm.” He held up his injured limb and immediately regretted it as a throb of pain forced him to lower it.
She stared at him as though he was an idiot. “You damaged your muscle. That’s going to take a while to heal.”
“How long’s a while? Weeks?”
“Months?” She held out several pieces of paper. “Here’s your prescription and something for the pain. I also jotted down some instructions about caring for your injury so you don’t forget.”
“I won’t need the pain meds. Over the counter stuff will work fine.”
She made a humph sound, tugged the curtain aside, and left.
Kennedy waved at him. She must’ve been waiting on the other side of the screen.
He beckoned her closer as he tried to get his bandaged arm into his bloody and ragged shirt.
She clutched the fabric of the sleeve and tore it. “What the…?” He stopped complaining. There was no point. His shirt was ruined. He was going to have to throw it away anyway, so it didn’t matter.
She took over the task of doing up the buttons. There were dark circles under her eyes. Her thick, lush hair was down, and there was a bruise on her chin.
He pointed to her face. “You’re hurt, too.”
She shook her head and took a step back, having finished her chore. “It’s nothing.”
He felt like a fool. Here he was receiving all this fuss over a stick, and she was just as beaten u
p. His concern wasn’t just about her physical state. He was also worried about the effects of trauma. They’d walked into that hotel, knowing they would come under fire. As her superior, and her partner, he was responsible for her safety. “Deluca will have my badge for this.”
She shook her head and gave a humorless chuckle. “For the Sun Down? Not a chance. The FBI is sending the Child Exploitation and Human Trafficking Task force to go through their records and talk to the victims. They found a wealth of files that suggest it’s part of a global operation.”
“Sinclair and the others?” God, he was tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in his own bed.
“They’re safe, as are the twenty women who were rescued. We did good.” Her gaze didn’t meet his.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Her eyes widened and then narrowed, which told him she was surprised by his question but still didn’t want to answer.
“I’ll find out eventually,” he pressed.
“We’re both on administrative leave, and your story is all over the news.”
“We knew that would happen.” The knowledge that his personal life was being sensationalized in the public arena was a kick in the pants, but he’d been mentally preparing for it. The only shock was that the Syndicate had sat on the information for as long as they had.
He eased off the bed. “They might want us to take a break after being involved in a shootout.” That was probably the official explanation, but with everything going on, it was more likely they were sidelining him to evaluate his actions. He wasn’t sure how he’d come out of the investigation that was bound to follow. He just hoped Kennedy was spared.
She met his stride as he made his way to the exit. “The others are waiting outside.”
“Others?” He gave her a sideways glance. If by “others” she meant his superiors at the FBI, then he was leaving by the back door. He didn’t want to talk to them until he’d had some sleep and his mind was clear.
She smiled. “Michael, Sinclair, David, and Tim.”
“Oh.” Them he could handle.
The minute he left the ward, Tim said, “Finn, you were hospitalized for a splinter. I guess FBI agents aren’t as tough as they used to be.”
Everyone laughed, him included.
Sinclair hugged him. “Thanks for everything.”
He was surprised by her show of affection, but hugged her back. “You’re welcome. Are you okay?”
Before she could answer, Michael thrust a folded piece of paper into his pocket and leaned in close, whispering in Finn’s ear, “This is a list of all the members of the Syndicate. There are no other copies except for the one in my head.”
He was amazed the Syndicate had taken so long to see Michael as a threat and move against him. Which had worked in his friend’s favor. That time had given him an opportunity to recover, and judging by the way he held Sinclair’s hand, he’d obviously managed to persuade her to take a chance on him.
The group made their way through the exit and out into the parking lot. It felt good to breathe in the cool night air and rid himself of the antiseptic smell that permeated the emergency room. “You should all lay low for a while.”
“I have a bolt hole,” David announced. “After everything that happened with Marie, we thought it would be a good idea.”
Tim frowned. “I’m not that organized. I might be able to persuade Dana and Logan to camp in the mountains, but it’ll be tough. She’s the police chief and Logan has school. How long do you think it will take for things to calm down?”
Michael cleared his throat. “It could be a while.”
Or forever. That thought appeared in Finn’s mind out of nowhere.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Finn sighed as he unlocked the door to his apartment. All he wanted to do was take a shower, go to bed, and sleep for at least twelve hours, maybe longer.
His place wasn’t upmarket or stylish. The décor was dated with way too much beige for his taste, but it was clean.
The vacuum had been moved and there were tracks in the rug. He was instantly alert, his senses going into overdrive. Someone was in his home. He always vacuumed the carpet before he left the house, brushing the pile in the same direction, so if anyone walked through, he would be able to see their footprints. Then he placed the appliance against the door so anyone entering would have to push it out of the way.
He drew his weapon and silently cursed because his arm hurt like a bitch. Ignoring the pain, he entered. First, he cleared the galley kitchen to the right and then the bathroom on the left. He inched along the short hallway, listening. The hall emptied into a living room, which was square in shape. From this angle, he could tell there was no one on the far side of the room, but there was a blind spot, one corner he couldn’t see.
“I’m not here to kill you.” Ethan Moore strolled into the middle of the room, his arms raised. “I’m here to say goodbye and to tell you I will be in touch.”
“I don’t understand.” The morning light was behind Moore, so his face was shadowed, which made it impossible for Finn to read his responses.
“I’ve left the Syndicate.”
Still holding his Glock on the assassin, Finn crept around him, forcing the suspect to turn. “Leaving them doesn’t absolve you of murder.”
Ethan smiled, his mouth turning up as his eyes lit. It was a genuine reaction. “No, it doesn’t. I’ll admit I enjoy killing, but I never would have worked for them if I’d known about the slavery.”
He didn’t seem like a demonstrative man who would communicate with big gestures, but he made small movements with his hands as he talked. His body faced Finn. Similarly, his feet weren’t turned toward the door. If someone wanted to leave, their feet normally pointed the way. That wasn’t the case here. Ethan was exactly where he wanted to be, which made sense considering he’d broken into Finn’s apartment.
“They crossed a line, your line. That’s why you helped Michael get his family back.”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Finn hadn’t lowered his handgun, but he also hadn’t put the cuffs on him. “Who’s in charge?”
“I’m not sure. My contact was known as the Trainer.” Once again, Ethan’s hands moved when he talked.
“The Trainer?” That was a strange name for a boss unless… “As in a sports team?”
He shrugged. “Years ago, I worked for a group of businessmen who formed a syndicate to buy a racehorse.”
“This is a different group from the Syndicate?” He used air quotes when he said “the Syndicate.”
“Yes, but they work in the same way.”
“Are you saying the Syndicate are a group of businessmen who have an individual who’s their racehorse, and they are preparing them for…what? Politics? A political race?” That would make sense with their connection to the Global Democratic Coalition.
Ethan shrugged. “I’ve always believed any politician could be bought or blackmailed, which is why I’ve never had to kill one.”
As cynical as that viewpoint was, it did make sense. “Then it would have to be someone high up in the justice department or maybe a judge.”
Ethan shrugged. “Or some other government official with power.”
The DOJ would make the most sense because money already manipulated politics, but the system of law and order was independent.
“I’m not here to discuss all the crazy possibilities with you.” He pointed a finger at his temple and drew circles in the air as he took two steps back.
“Why then?” Finn glanced down. At some time during their conversation, he had lowered his weapon. He didn’t raise it.
“Taking out the Sun Down hurt them. They’ll come after you now.”
“They already did. I’m all over the news, and I’m on leave. My career is over.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they go after your friends. I was expecting to get the order to take out Papin months ago when he ruined my plans at Molly’s Mountain.”
“But the order never came?”
“No, Ackerman was the one who wanted him dead, and he was out of the picture.” He took another step back.
Finn closed the distance between them. He couldn’t let Ethan leave without answers. “So why come after him now?”
“One of Lucy’s computer geek’s, a guy named Tyler, found the virus dormant in the system and activated it. Papin had put him in prison, and he knew it would force the Syndicate to hunt Papin down.”
“Tyler,” Finn repeated the name and then said, “What’s his last name? We need to bring him in for questioning.”
“He’s dead.” Ethan smiled.
Once again, it was a genuine response, which made ice trickle down Finn’s back. This guy really enjoyed slaughtering people. “Did Lucy Portman have him killed?”
The creepy grin widened. “No. She’s dead, too.”
“Be a witness for us. We can protect you.” As soon as he said the words, he realized he was lying. Not necessarily to Moore, but to himself. All the agencies under the Department of Justice were compromised. He’d served on the side of law and order for all his adult life. First as military police with the US Army and later with the FBI. The Syndicate were shitting on his life.
Ethan laughed and then said, “Liar. How many witnesses have you lost? You can’t even protect yourself. Sooner or later, they will come for you and your friends.”
“Special Agent Morris?”
“Everyone.” He turned and headed for the front door.
“Shit.” Finn didn’t try to stop him. He holstered his sidearm and retrieved his phone from his pocket. He had to call Kennedy to warn her.
There was no way he’d get any sleep tonight.
Chapter Forty
Sinclair stopped on the thin mountain trail to adjust the straps on her backpack. They weren’t digging in, but it was heavy, and the weight of it was hurting her back. Michael did the same. The scent of pine needles hung in the early evening air. The sun slanted across the peaks, creating long evening shadows. It wasn’t expected to snow yet, but the forecast predicted a cold front. They’d packed plenty of layers, some waterproof gear, and lots of food. They were prepared to stay up here for a while.