Page 12 of Gilded
LUKA
A s I near the cherry trees on the Shuman running trail in Central Park, I’m sprinting all-out.
I drive myself until I reach the concrete path cut between the Shuman and Bridal trails, then jog out the burn in my legs and press my hand against my head as counterpressure to the throb. It’s still killing me even two days later.
I timed this meet so I could get a full five miles in first, hoping to get the things Jairo learned about Malia out of my mind.
I spot Simms on a bench, earbuds in, gaze on his phone, and walk to catch my breath as I approach.
The cherry trees are in full bloom, bursting in every shade of pink from magenta to blush, and they fill the air with a light, sweet scent.
Malia pops back into my head and the way Cherry Smoke smelled on her body. Delicious. Erotic. Carnal.
I wonder if she’s ever walked paths like this, the blooming trees creating a canopy of color. I don’t remember seeing any cherry trees on the island.
I catch myself thinking of her as an average woman and scold myself.
I hate the way empathy keeps creeping in when I’m not paying attention.
Generally, I have a soft spot for an underdog.
And after being abused for a decade, watching others go through it triggers me.
I have to remind myself of the enormous amount of money she brings in for her father.
Of how many people that money has enslaved, crushed, and killed.
Robert Simms is the best of the best. Former Marine Intelligence, he left the military after several gruesome tours in Afghanistan and joined the Upstate Task Force of the Office of the Attorney General as an investigator focused on human trafficking.
I’m nothing but a scoundrel. No education.
No training. Nothing but street smarts and a death wish.
But it’s gotten me here. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Simms and I have crossed paths several times in the last few years, and while we respect each other’s missions and abilities, we don’t particularly like each other. He’s committed to following the law. I’m committed to delivering the justice the law can’t provide.
His request for this meeting is unusual. Despite never exchanging information, he typically just pops up when he wants to bounce questions off me to see how I react. Other runners and couples dot Bridal Path, parallel to the running trail, but we’re mostly obscured by trees.
“Does the other guy look worse?” he asks.
At the bench, I stretch out and search the area for other eyes. “A lot worse.”
“Wouldn’t happen to be Tabuni, would it? The phantom hit the fucker night before last.”
“They should have given that guy a better name. He sounds like a cartoon character.”
Simms smirks but doesn’t make eye contact. “What would you prefer?”
“Not my preference to have. Just sayin’.”
“Took out Tabuni’s entire compound,” he says.
“Huh.”
“And Senator Reynolds’s son was found and returned the same night.”
“That’s good news. How’s he doing?”
“Traumatized, but his family is getting him through it.”
I nod and cross one arm over my chest to stretch, then the other.
“Justin said there was a team of men who saved him. Said they spoke English and got all the boys out, leaving all the guards dead. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He knows I won’t answer. The question is designed to tell me that he knows.
I finish stretching and sit on the corner of the bench angled away from Simms. “I love karma.”
“How ’bout Vasquez? Know anything about his death?”
Vasquez was the fucker who handled security for Tarik. The one I took out so I could step in. Again, I don’t answer.
Simms glances around the area before saying, “You’re good, my friend, but your current target is well above your pay grade.”
“That’s why my job rocks. Nothing is above my pay grade.”
“Your arrogance could land you in an ugly spot.”
“I’m not arrogant. I’m confident. I’m also unburdened by the justice system.”
“He’s a monster in every sense of the word. And his empire is massive.”
“Which is why it took me twenty years to work my way closer to him. I know what I’m doing.”
“Why don’t you let us handle it?”
“And watch him slither out from under whatever pathetic charges you can drum up? Not happening.”
I stand.
He looks at me for the first time. “Just a heads-up. His charity is being investigated for money laundering.”
Malia fills my mind again and Jairo’s information nags at me. I spent all day yesterday trying to connect Malia with the business end of Tarik’s empire, but Jairo was right. She really is a ghost, and her only connection is her role as the director of his charity.
But that’s enough for me. Money is the seed of his evil empire. Without that, Tarik’s victim list would be far shorter.
Hands on hips, I frown at Simms. He’s never shared information with me. We more or less dance around each other, talking in innuendos. “That’s a big tell. But considering it’s coming from you, I’d guess you went after him for laundering because you can’t get him for trafficking.”
Simms doesn’t answer.
“Who’s involved?” I ask.
“Top of the ticket is Malia Eros.”
Hearing him say her name makes everything inside me twist. I don’t want him taking Malia down before I leverage her to the full extent. And I don’t want him getting to Tarik before I do.
“I think you’re wasting your time there. We’ve scoured for connections. They’re nonexistent.”
Simms doesn’t answer.
Then I realize why they’re going after her. “You want her to flip.”
He still doesn’t respond, but I know how this works. She rats out her father and then goes free. But in my world, no trafficker goes free. And a dead woman can’t flip.
I turn toward the trail to head home. “Good luck with that.”