Page 29

“Did your old buddy Leonard send you out there tonight to kill Charlotte Cavanaugh?” It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and Andi had been hammering at Kimball for a few hours. “Come on, Vince, be honest.” She leaned close and lowered her voice, as if to keep their conversation between the two of them. “Aren’t you getting tired of doing his dirty work all the time?”

His face was scraped up on one side from Hawk grinding it into the gravel. Not that anyone would blame him—the asshole was going to kill Charlotte, after all.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. And I got nothin’ else to say without my lawyer.” He tried to cross his arms atop his belly, but the chain from the shackles wouldn’t reach that far. So he crossed his hands in his lap instead.

Time to play their ace card.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Vince.” She grabbed her legal pad, stood, and rolled her chair beneath the table. “Maybe Helene will be more cooperative.”

“You leave her out of this!” He shot up from his chair, made a move toward her, and was tripped up by the shackles around his ankle. His girth threw him off balance, and he tipped forward and landed on his hands and knees.

“Well, that’s a pitiful sight if I ever saw one.” Andi stood by the door and watched as he struggled to stand. Once he managed to get himself off the floor and onto the chair, she said, “You okay, Vince? You’re breathing kinda heavy over there.”

“Helene doesn’t know anything.” His chest heaved up and down.

“Huh, that’s interesting, because her prints were all over the GPS tracker we found in Charlotte Cavanaugh’s bag.” Total bluff. Hawk destroyed the device before they could check it for prints.

Andi wrapped her hand around the doorknob and started to turn it.

“You found … but … No, wait.” He sputtered and fumbled over his words. “I can explain—”

“Sorry, Vince. You had a chance to help us out but chose not to.” Andi shrugged. “I’ll tell Helene you said hi.”

She tapped the pad on the side of her leg and left him alone.

“Wait! Come back here!” He pounded his fist on the table. “I want a lawyer! You can’t keep me here!”

Cole stood in the darkened viewing room, arms crossed, legs wide, and stared at Kimball through the two-way glass. The asshole kept yelling and tugging on the cuffs.

Do your best , he thought.

Idiot could work at getting free all night, but it would be a waste of time. Those shackles were stronger than the ones used by traditional law enforcement.

He flipped the speaker off, and a few seconds later, the door to the viewing room opened and light spilled in from the hallway. Andi entered and shut the door behind her.

“That guy is an absolute dolt, and right now, he’s super conflicted. His loyalty to Everett is being tested tonight. Makes me wonder what else he’s handled for the guy over the years.” She tossed the notepad onto the table, crossed her arms, and stood next to Cole at the window. “I’m going to let him stew for a bit while I question Helene.”

“We’ve got her across the hall. She’s pretty freaked out.” It’s not every day a person is rousted from their bed in the middle of the night by a bunch of guys decked out in tactical gear, then hauled to a secret location.

“Good, that makes it all the more fun.” Andi was tough as nails and had zero tolerance for shitty people. “How’s Luna doing on the bus thing?”

They continued watching Kimball, who’d apparently run out of steam and was pouting in his chair like a child.

“She found all of the manifest and scheduling information for them—pickup dates, times, and locations—but there are inconsistencies,” Cole said.

“What kind of inconsistencies?” Andi turned to him.

“At the end of a trip, all of the bus drivers are required to input their actual trip mileage into a specially designed database. However, the numbers they’ve been recording don’t match up to the trips on the official travel logs.”

“Wait, so they’re not sticking to their designated routes or something?” Andi lowered her arms.

“Doesn’t look like it.” He shook his head and ran his hand down the side of his beard. “And nobody’s ever bothered to keep track.”

“But why would they—”

They looked at each other.

“We were right. They’re trafficking those kids. That son of a bitch.” She stormed out of the room.

“Shit.” Cole went after her.

Andi was almost six feet tall, lean, and extremely well-trained. She didn’t put up with shit from anyone and could take down most men with her bare hands. What influenced her most in this instance was the fact she was a mother.

She yanked open the door to the interview room and stomped toward Kimball.

His eyes widened, and he tried to scramble back in his chair. “What are you—”

Andi smacked her palms against his chest, fisted her hands into the front of his shirt, and jerked him up from the chair. His chains rattled when she slammed his back against the wall.

“Where are they?” When he didn’t answer fast enough, she drew back her arm and slammed her forearm across his head. “Where are those kids being taken?”

Kimball blinked a few times, and blood oozed from his ear and the cut on the bridge of his broken nose. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Wrong answer.” Cole crossed his arms, leaned one shoulder against the wall, and let Andi do her thing.

“You don’t know what I’m talking about? Well, that’s a shame .” On the last word, she kneed him in the crotch.

Kimball squealed like a pig, his face turned beet-red, and he dropped to his knees on the floor. He grabbed his junk, tipped over, drew his knees to his chest, and tried to suck in air.

Andi squatted down next to him, pinched his broken nose between her fingers and twisted.

“Owwww!” Kimball wailed.

“I sure hope your girlfriend has the answers we want.” Andi torqued on his nose one more time, released it, then wiped the blood from her fingers onto his shirt. “This guy is useless.”

She put her hands on her knees, pushed up to stand, and tugged her phone from her pocket. She opened the camera, took a picture of Kimball, and left him lying on the floor—a whimpering, crying mess.

Cole looked down at him and shook his head.

“She really hates liars.” He slipped his phone from his back pocket as he walked out the door, scrolled to Jeffrey Burke’s number, and tapped the screen.

The phone rang five times, and Cole was expecting to get his voicemail when he answered.

“This better be good.” His former boss’s voice was rough from being awakened in the middle of the night.

“It is.” He spent a few minutes bringing him up to speed on the situation.

Burke already knew about the list, but Cole told him about Kimball going after Charlotte, how the HRA appeared to be trafficking unaccompanied minors, and that Pennington’s assistant was deeply involved.

“Hang on.” There was a kissing sound and the rustle of blankets in the background. “Everything’s fine, baby. Go back to sleep.”

“I’m sorry for waking up Maya,” Cole said.

“My wife, better than most, understands it’s part of the job,” he whispered, and a door quietly closed.

Burke and his wife, a former MI6 agent, had a long history and not all of it pleasant. But things were great between them now, and Jeffrey had a teenage daughter he knew nothing about until recently.

“There’s a guy named Leonard Everett, owns a transportation company. He and Kimball go way back.” Cole told him about the contract with HRA. “Luna did some more digging on the guy, and according to his bank records, his revenue has increased dramatically since he signed that contract.”

“That’s one hell of a coincidence,” Burke said. “What do you need from me?”

“Andi flew in earlier and tried questioning Kimball.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Dumbass refused to cooperate and—”

“I take it things didn’t end well for him?” Jeffrey knew Andi better than most.

He’d recruited her right out of college to come work for him at the NSA. Burke was more than just a former boss and mentor to her—he was part of the family.

“Let’s just say his nose will never be the same, and there’s a pretty good chance he may never procreate.” Which was probably for the best, considering what a piece of shit the guy was. “Pennington’s personal assistant was the one who placed the tracker, so we pulled her in. Andi’s questioning her now. Once she’s done, we’ll need to do something with her and Kimball.”

“I’ve got a contact at the local PD, a guy by the name of Holden Westmore,” Burke said. “I’ll give him a call and have him call you.”

“Can we trust him?” Cole didn’t want some by-the-book cop crawling up his ass.

“Westmore’s kid brother was killed by a trafficker. So, yeah, we can trust him.”

“Okay, thanks.” Cole added, “And apologize to Maya for me, will ya?”

“Will do.” Jeffrey ended the call.

Cole tucked his phone back into his pocket, headed into the other viewing room, and flipped on the speaker.

“Who are you?” Helene wrapped her arms around herself and looked around the room. “What is this place?”

She’d been sleeping in the nude when the team grabbed her. They’d wanted to keep her off-kilter, so Eddie had tossed her a bathrobe and some beat-up sneakers from her closet and told her to put them on.

Without her usual makeup, her hair all over the place, and wrapped in her beat-up robe, Helene had gone from looking like a blond bombshell to a train wreck.

Andi ignored her questions.

“So … you and Vincent Kimball, huh?” Andi sat back and crossed her arms. “Funny, he doesn’t seem like your type.”

“You … you have me confused with someone else.” Helene straightened her back and stuck her chin out in a failed attempt at looking unafraid. “I don’t know a Vincent Kimball.”

“Oh, come on now, Helene.” Andi tsked. “When I spoke to Vince a few minutes ago, he positively gushed about you. He said you told him you’ve never loved any man the way you do him.”

Cole watched for Helene’s reaction.

“That’s crazy! I never told him—” She stopped and rolled her lips in to keep from talking but too late.

Damn, Andi was good.

“Ah, so … you not knowing him was a lie then.” Andi rolled her chair around in front of Helene until their knees almost touched. “Gosh, I really hate liars.” She shook her head. “Want to see what happened to the last person who lied to me?” She pulled up the picture of Kimball’s battered face and held it in front of Helene.

She gasped, her eyes widened with fear, and she turned away from the graphic photo.

“Now, let’s try this again.” Andi rolled back to her spot and set her phone on the table. “How about you tell me the truth and don’t keep anything from me.”

“O … k-kay, I’ll … I’ll tell you.” Helene started crying.

Andi slid the box of tissues across the table and turned to the window. She rolled her eyes, shook her head, and threw up her hands.

After a few minutes of tears and nose-blowing, Helene realized it wasn’t going to dissuade Andi from getting the answers she wanted. So she pulled herself together and started talking.

What she told them was bigger and more shocking than they expected.

Leonard startled awake, lifted his head, and it felt like it was going to fall off his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and tried to clear the pounding from his scotch-addled brain.

The burner phone beeped on his desk. He slowly lifted his head and reached out to pick it up. He checked the screen and saw that he’d received a text message from Vince.

“Finally.” He tapped to open the messaging app.

V: its done list is destroyed we can resume deliveries

L: i want details call me

V: i’d rather tell you in person

L: come to the house and bring bagels

V: ok

Three buses were already scheduled for pickups at separate HRA facilities. Any delays would fuck up his delivery timeline commitments.

There was a knock on his office door.

“I’m going out,” Melissa said from the other side.

What the hell was she doing up so early? He looked at the time and realized it wasn’t early at all—it was almost ten o’clock.

“Shit,” he mumbled, then called out, “Hang on.” He pushed up from his chair, and dizziness swamped him. He flattened his hand on his desk until it passed and walked over to open the door. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” She spritzed some perfume on each side of her neck and dropped the tiny travel-size bottle into her purse.

Leonard got a long whiff of the scent and noticed it wasn’t the same one she always wore. Her hair was styled differently, too, and her outfit was more form-fitting than usual. Had she lost weight?

What the fuck? Was she screwing some other guy?

“Out where?” He was getting a little sick and damn tired of her forgetting she was still a married woman.

“Just … out.” As if to emphasize her statement, Melissa locked eyes with him as she snapped her purse shut. Then she gave him the look , the one with an overly plucked eyebrow lifted, daring him to say more. “Is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s all.” Everything about her was pissing him off right now, so it was best to end this thrilling exchange.

“Have a nice day.” She flashed him an insincere smile, looped her purse strap over her shoulder, and left him standing there in the wake of her unfamiliar perfume.

A few minutes later, the door to the garage slammed shut.

“Fuck.” He scrubbed his hands over his face and felt the morning whiskers against his palms.

He couldn’t wait until the day he had enough money banked that he could cut her loose. Because their current arrangement was not working for him.

Leonard started out of his office, stopped, and went back to grab his phone off the desk. He managed to get to the kitchen without falling over, grabbed the bottle of aspirin, and dumped three tablets into his palm. He filled a glass with water from the fridge door, tossed the pills into his mouth, and drained the glass.

Hopefully, they would kick in quickly.

In the meantime, a bit of the hair of the dog might help.

He went to the bar cart in the corner of their formal dining room and grabbed the bottle of Tito’s vodka. Back in the kitchen, he poured the Tito’s and tomato juice in a tall glass, added a couple of drops of Tabasco sauce, a squirt of lemon juice, then he stabbed a celery stalk into the red liquid.

Leonard carried his Bloody Mary back to his bathroom, relieved the Cavanaugh broad was no longer a problem, the list was destroyed, and things were back to business as usual. Maybe now that pompous asshole, Pennington, would get off his damn back.

He stripped and stepped into his large walk-in shower with his Bloody Mary in hand. “Today’s going to be a great day.”