by Kate Lowell
DeGraff strolled over to chat with the customer. Leo strained to listen to the conversation, but the babble of voices and laughter and the occasional passionate moan blotted out most of the words. He glanced around the room, noted all the victims engaged with customers and, in particular, Julian with some creepy bastard attempting to check out Julian’s tonsils with his tongue. Leo shifted uncomfortably, trying to get his partner’s attention in case Julian wanted to be rescued. He didn’t have a clue how he’d manage it, but he’d been in tight corners before. Julian, however, was now stretched out beneath his molester, one hand clenched tightly on the edge of the cushions.
Another knock on the door. Leo opened it and stepped back—it was Carragher.
“Ah, hello, Mr. Leon. How are you settling in? DeGraff says you picked us a good one. I hope that’s going to be a regular thing.”
“Thank you, sir. I’m settling in. I’d like to get away to see my kids at some point, if that’s possible.” Carragher was carrying a laptop bag over his shoulder. The rush of adrenaline sharpened everything, like a hit of cocaine.
Leo wanted that bag. But how to get it?
Carragher patted his shoulder as he walked past Leo. “Talk to DeGraff, but you’re bottom of the totem pole, and you haven’t been with us a year yet. See if he can schedule you some days off.” He paused about four feet from Leo. “By the way, I’ll have money for you tomorrow morning. I’d have it tonight, but this party took up too much of my day. And you don’t want to be carrying that kind of cash around all night anyway.”
“Thank you, sir.” Damn, but he needed to get to an unsupervised phone. Now.
Carragher crossed the room to speak to DeGraff. Whatever he said must have been good news, because DeGraff perked right up and started looking around the room. Leo scanned the space as well, trying to pick up whatever had gotten DeGraff’s interest.
Movement beside the man with his own boy caught Leo’s eye again. DeGraff and Carragher had left him to approach the man molesting Julian. DeGraff tapped the client on the shoulder and spoke to him briefly. Carragher pulled Julian to his feet and began to lead him away.
Julian glanced at Leo, wide-eyed, and then turned his attention back to Carragher. His mouth fell open, then snapped shut, and his eyes locked on Carragher’s bag. In an instant, his demeanor changed completely, and he smiled up at DeGraff and nodded.
DeGraff turned to escort Julian to the man with his own boy. As they walked, Julian shook his head discreetly at Leo. Leo got the message, but he hated it.
His partner was right. He had to get that laptop.
JULIAN WAS GOING to puke, or hit something—someone?—if he had to kiss one more creepy old man. He watched Leo stewing at the side of the room and wondered if the agent knew that the empty space around him had to be a direct result of the vibe he was giving off. If anyone looked like the new Terminator come to earth, it was Leo at that moment.
Kind of flattering, though, that it was at least partly on Julian’s behalf.
The man kissing him pushed him down against the arm of the couch to gnaw at Julian’s mouth like a rabid cougar. Julian tasted blood, but he was trapped beneath the man, with no subtle means of escape. Turning his head was pointless—his attacker simply used Julian’s bangs as a handle and forced him back where the man wanted him. The best he could do was keep this guy from eating him alive and wonder if Leo had found time to make that phone call yet.
Then, without notice, he was free. The man on top of him crawled away, and DeGraff stood over him.
“But I had him first!” the creeper whined.
Someone Julian had never met stepped around DeGraff. “We’ll find someone just as nice for you. You can wait for Chris to get back from his current engagement, or there’s a gorgeous redhead coming anytime now. I can guarantee he won’t disappoint you. We’ve also got hors d’oeuvres ordered—you might want to store up some energy for the rest of the night.” While he talked, he took Julian’s arm and pulled, a silent order to stand.
Oh, what now? The guy looked like he belonged in Human Resources, with his blah suit and stick-up-his-butt face. That, or working in a used-car dealership. Julian swung himself to his feet, taking a certain amount of amusement in listening to the creeper as Smarmy placated him like a toddler. It was likely the only thing he’d find funny here tonight. He caught Leo’s eye, but something swinging at Smarmy’s side caught his attention. A laptop bag. Which should, logically, hold a laptop. No online transmission. Portable storage. This had to be Carragher. As much as he hated it, that laptop was way more important than having sex with some entitled pervert of a stranger.
When Leo caught his gaze again, Julian shook his head and shot a glance at the bag. He looked back and saw Leo nod—short, sharp, and very unhappy. Tough. You do your job; I’ll do mine. That was settled. The only thing left was to get himself through the rest of this night, until Leo and the bureau swept in and arrested everyone. He glanced away to see who Smarmy was taking him to and caught his breath. The guy was beautiful—like, movie-star beautiful. If Julian had seen him in a club, he would have lined up behind the hundred other people who would have gotten there before him to take his chances.
The jerk sitting next to that man, though, not so much. And it became apparent in less than two seconds that the hot blond actually belonged to this man in some way. Oh, God, I hope he just likes to watch. But still, Julian smiled as he and DeGraff approached them, and made himself look submissive.
Smarmy pulled Julian to attention in front of the pair. “Mr. Copeland, how are you this evening?”
“I’m very well, and how are you?” He had an old man’s gravelly voice, and up close, Julian added another ten years to his age. Sixty? Of course, if he was rich enough to be here, maybe seventy was a better bet. You could pay for a lot of apparent youth when you had money.
“Very happy to see you here.” Smarmy’s lips stretched into something he probably assumed was a smile. “I got your message today. Jonathan didn’t suit anymore?”
“I’d had him almost two years. It was time for a change.”
“I perfectly understand. In that case, I’d like to introduce you to Julian. Five foot ten, one hundred fifty-five pounds. Brand new. In fact, last night was his first night. You’d be his second client ever.”
“New, hey? Come here, boy.” The old guy waved Julian over. “You are a pretty thing. He’d make a lovely pair with my Shiro.” He passed a hand over the white-blond hair of the young man with him. Shiro smiled up at him, his eyes watchful. “Go stand with him, Shiro. I want to see the two of you together.”
The blond got gracefully to his feet and pressed himself against Julian’s side. He rested one hand on Julian’s waist and turned Julian’s face toward him with the other. For a moment Julian lost track of where he was, and he couldn’t break his gaze away from the lush mouth in front of him. A thrill of arousal, or guilty excitement, crawled over his skin and brought blood rushing to his groin with it.
“Yes, they’re delicious together.” The old man stared greedily at them, and all Julian’s inappropriate arousal was doused. “I’ve taken a suite here for the night. I’d prefer to try him out there.”
Julian glanced at Leo, looking for advice. Would the other agent blow their cover? Was that even safe?
Leo came right over. “Mind if I chat with Julian for a moment?”
Carragher looked down his nose at him. “Julian has an engagement.” He shifted the bag to his other hand.
DeGraff put a hand on Leo’s shoulder. “I expect he just wants to make sure Julian makes a good showing. He is, after all, not particularly experienced.” He directed a glance at Leo. “Only a minute. Mr. Copeland is a valued customer.”
“Yes, sir. I just want to give him a few words of advice.” Leo pulled Julian aside, far enough that they would be out of earshot as long as they kept their voices low.
Julian started talking before Leo could open his mouth. “Is that a laptop?”
Leo
nodded. “Do you want me to break you out? I’ll go with you, we knock out Copeland, and you and I grab the boy and run.”
That wasn’t what he’d expected. “And what happens to the rest of them? You think they won’t go underground if we do? And what about the laptop?” Oh, God, it was still so tempting. But maybe, if he could manipulate the situation… He’d done it with his dad; this couldn’t be any harder than that.
“Screw the laptop. You know what’s going to happen if you go with that man. HRT doesn’t follow us around, ready to go. There’s at least an hour wait before they can come in.”
“I know.” He thought about Ethan. And Shiro. And Lucas. And the other kids who filled this room, fake laughter and open legs, clothing already half-off. One night for him versus hundreds for them. The sick apprehension he felt was nothing. “What are the chances that the laptop carries all the information?” What he wouldn’t do for that to be the source of all this.
“I don’t know. It’s not worth you doing…that to find out. There are other ways.”
“Slower ones.” Julian scowled at him. “They’re going to wonder what’s taking so long. Get that laptop; then come find me.”
“Wait.” Leo pulled a small blue bottle out of his pocket. “DeGraff gave me this for you. It’s a relaxant.”
“I don’t need drugs.” Then he remembered their attempt to keep Julian out of this mess. “Oh, right. What do I do?”
“Open the top. Sniff the fumes. Only don’t really do it.”
“Yeah.” He gazed into Leo’s eyes. “Don’t worry about me. You do your part. This is mine. I’ll be fine.”
He wished he was as confident as he sounded.
The Bill
The blond, Shiro, smiled and took Julian’s hand, leading him out the door like they were boyfriends on a romantic walk on the beach. DeGraff sent Maciel with them. It was the hardest decision Leo’d ever had to make, not forcing himself into that situation, but it really wasn’t a decision at all. They each had their jobs to do, and it was up to Leo to get that laptop.
He never had a chance.
As soon as Julian was out the door, Leo went for the phone in the suite. He dialed for an outside line and started punching in the number for the bureau. He’d made it to the sixth number when DeGraff disconnected the call. “What are you doing?”
He had this. “I was trying to call room service, but I kept getting cut off.”
DeGraff shook his head. “I know I gave you some slack because you’ve got potential, but until you’ve been here longer, you report everything to me or Kittridge. You don’t take matters into your own hands until you understand how we do things, you got it?” He reached out and took the phone receiver from Leo’s hand. As he moved, his suit jacket swung open, and the butt of a handgun flashed briefly into view.
“Yes, sir,” Leo replied and stepped back to his place at the door. He wondered how many of the others were armed, while he went weaponless. That changed things, lengthened the odds. He eyed the customers, wondering which one might be drunk enough to not notice a missing phone. He also kept an eye on Carragher. If he could get his hands on the laptop, he’d make a run for it, find Julian, and get them both out of there.
After the phone incident, DeGraff sent Kittridge to keep Leo company.
Kittridge was in an excellent mood. “Your boy did well—I thought Copeland would go for the redhead this time. Last year was another brunet. He usually keeps them two years, switches out one each year, but he’s been hanging on to that blond for a while. I guess I’m out of a commission.”
“The redhead is yours?”
“Yep. Picked him up a couple of months ago. He went to LA for a pretty good price, but private sales always go higher. If I can find a buyer for Lucas there, I’ll have to pay off the brothel, but the extra is mine, minus some operating costs. So even if they go within the business, there’s always the chance to make the full amount on them later.”
“That’s good to know. Is the blond yours too?”
“Oh, he’s not one of ours. Copeland got him through a private sale, already trained. His last two were from us, though.”
“What’s he do for money, Copeland? This isn’t cheap.” Leo gestured at the party around them.
Kittridge shook his head and smiled. “Oh, we don’t ask. None of our business as long as the money comes through. Not like they’re going to rat us out, now are they?”
That’s what you think. Leo watched Carragher working away on the laptop from the corner of his eye, waiting for a moment’s inattention. Carragher was cagey, though; he kept the laptop with him the whole time, taking orders from the men in the suite and doing other things that he was careful to let no one see.
When he went, he did it without fanfare. Around midnight, Leo looked up from defusing an argument between two of the increasingly drunken customers, and Carragher was gone. Disappeared like he’d never existed.
Leo’s stomach churned as he imagined the things Julian was being forced to do, while Leo wandered impotent in relative comfort, though no more safety.
The party finally ended in the wee hours of the morning. Leo had gotten his hands on a customer’s phone not long after Carragher’s exit, only to lose it to DeGraff before he could use it.
Julian came back to the suite wearing a shattered look that made Leo regret every choice he’d made since the start of this operation. He fell asleep in the car, and Leo carried him into the warehouse and put him to bed in Leo’s room. Restless, frustrated, and so angry his hands twitched with the urge to violence, he tracked down Kittridge in the common room where he manned the monitors.
“I’m going for a walk, clear my head out.”
Kittridge just waved at him and slumped lower in his chair.
Outside the building, the signal bars showed strong, and he called the single number saved in the contacts. That was it. He was done.
It took surprisingly little time to throw away eighteen months of risk and effort. They compromised—Leo would make one final effort to locate the laptop. If he didn’t call them earlier, they’d hit at two in the afternoon.
Leo closed the phone and walked some more, until fatigue finally overcame guilt and he thought he might sleep a little. He woke a little after nine, stiff and cloudy, his eyes full of sand.
Julian opened his eyes not long after, starving and closemouthed. All Leo’s attempts to find out what had happened the night before were met with stony silence and a glare that could have stripped paint. “Did you get it?” was the only thing Julian wanted to know.
And Leo had to confess.
The look on Julian’s face broke Leo’s heart. The only thing Leo had to offer in return was extraction that afternoon and an end to all this misery. It didn’t help. Julian turned away and pulled the sheets over his head, shaking off Leo’s attempts to get him to talk. Finally Leo convinced him to at least come to the common room for breakfast. Things always looked better on a full stomach.
DeGraff insisted that Julian do the cooking. “You can make something for yourself too, but serve Mr. Leon first.”
“Yes, sir.” Julian walked into the kitchen and started frying eggs, avoiding Leo’s eyes.
The distance between them was palpable.
Julian brought Leo a cup of coffee and a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, home fries, and toast. Once Leo had been served, he went back for his own and sat at Leo’s feet, like any other morning.
Maciel’s two girls huddled in the corner, watching him hungrily. They’d be hoping someone would slip them some decent food. After their first meal, when DeGraff tested them for allergies, he kept the kids on bologna and peanut butter sandwiches—cheap, unappetizing after the third day, and not nearly enough to keep stomachs from rumbling. If they wanted more, they had to earn it. Part of his carrot-and-stick approach. It was crushingly effective, since the girls had already stopped crying and did their best to make themselves agreeable to whoever was around.
Leo buried his face in his co
ffee cup, trying to wipe away the faint smell of sweat and sex that rose from Julian’s skin, but it was stuck in his nose. He should have let Julian take a shower before coming out here. His mind ran in circles while he tried over and over to derail it, with poor results.
He was eating his last bite of toast when DeGraff looked up from his phone. “You going in to play your dogs this morning?”
“Was thinking about it. I need to call the ex too, once I know how much money there is. When’s Carragher going to be here?”
“Soon.” DeGraff pulled out his wallet and extracted a credit card. “Take this. Get lunch for everyone. Pizza, chicken, whatever. Bring something for the kids too.”
This was a change of pace. Leo accepted the card, but his obvious confusion made DeGraff laugh.
“Just got some good news, so the boss said okay.” DeGraff went back to his own breakfast, tossing a corner of his toast to one of the girls. “Don’t go crazy with it—we’re not talking Michelin star—but if you see someplace interesting, go for it.”
“Sure.” Leo slipped the card into his wallet. “You want me to go now?”
“Some of us didn’t sleep half the morning. Or maybe you didn’t sleep, eh? Your boy there looks like he could use some cleaning up.”
“He was hungry.”
“Hmm. I’ll look after him for you.” DeGraff raised his voice. “Boy, you get back to Mr. Leon’s room once you’ve done cleaning up here. I’ll be by later to take you to the shower.” He shot a look over his shoulder at Julian, who crammed the last of his breakfast into his mouth and scurried for the kitchen in a perfect imitation of a frightened teenager.
At least, that’s what Leo hoped it was. He didn’t think an agent would break like that, but to his knowledge, they’d never put an agent in this kind of situation before.
“Be good,” he said. Julian glanced over his shoulder, stared blank-faced at the back of DeGraff’s head, and replied, “Yes, sir.” His nose wrinkled, and his eyes shot daggers at DeGraff.
Leo felt the tension drain out of his shoulders. They were still good. He offered Julian a quick smile and turned to leave.