Page 31 of Kyle (Gold Team #3)

“Myles is in charge.”

“Yes, Zane, you already said that,” I returned.

“This is why I don’t employ women,” Zane muttered. “They roll their eyes and throw attitude.”

“And Jasmin’s not a woman?”

“Fuck no. Jasmin’s got balls of steel. She doesn’t roll her eyes, she simply shoots people.”

“And Ivy? She works for you,” Tatiana joined the conversation. “And Violet? And me?”

“Good point. You’re fired.”

“Fired?” Tatiana laughed. “What did I do?”

“Fraternization.”

“Is that somewhere in your employee handbook?”

“See, right there. That’s why you’re fired. My men don’t ask me for an employee handbook. They have a field manual. They also don’t give me lip. Well, that is until they lose their balls to a woman, then they give me nothing but grief.”

There was something working behind Zane’s blue eyes. They were stormy and alert. I’d come to understand the attitude he was giving at the moment was normal. Zane was sarcastic and gruff. But something was off with the way he was looking at us.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Besides the fact you’re standing here givin’ me—”

“Zane. What is wrong?”

On a long exhale his gaze went from me to Emerson then came back to me.

“Askin’ a lot of the two of you. Askin’ a lot of the men.

Straight up, if it was Ivy, no way would she be going.

I’d have her ass safely chained to my desk.

Struggling with my decision. I have two men who are deployed who won’t be dedicated to the mission because they’ll be worried about their women.

That’s how operations fail. That’s how good men get dead.

And I’m sending two traumatized women into an uncertain situation asking them to relive their trauma. ”

“I’m not traumatized,” I denied. “And don’t you dare treat me like I am.”

“Eight years, Zane,” Emerson started. “You know how I lived. What I did. And you know I can handle this. I’ve been in worse situations and I was alone. Now I have you and the team at my back. Don’t start acting like I can’t handle the simple task of talking to a woman.”

“What if Monica is Landry’s partner?” Zane asked.

“Then she is and we’ll sniff that out in a heartbeat,” Emerson answered. “I know the difference.”

“Fuck,” Zane clipped.

“We got this. We’re talking to the woman in a controlled environment. If it turns out she’s one of the bad guys, Anaya and I leave, and Jeremy will have what he needs.”

“I’m gonna come with you.”

“No, you’re not. Your wife just had a baby and she needs you.

As you said, you have a team deployed and need to be ready to take their backs if something should happen.

Besides, Garrett is unravelling the Omni network and you’re needed here.

Myles will drive us up. Look around, if he feels something’s off, he puts us back in the car and we’re gone. We have a plan and it’s a good one.”

“If—”

“Zane, honest to God, stop. If we were two of your men, this wouldn’t be a conversation,” Emerson pressed.

“But you’re not two of my men. You’re two women who mean something to my men. If shit goes sideways, it’s on me.”

“What do you need from us to make you feel better?” I asked.

“Promise me you’ll follow orders. Don’t question Myles, don’t argue with Jeremy if he tells you something, and you listen to me if I tell you to bug out. Without hesitation or question you follow directions to the T.”

“Promise,” we both said in unison.

“Goddamn.” Zane shook his head. “You two be safe. Myles, they’re all yours. Check in.”

“Copy that, boss.”

Zane made his way to the front door, then he turned back and stared at Myles.

“Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas. And if your team does, castrate them immediately. No more goddamn women.”

“No worries from us, LT. Living free and wild, just the way we all like.”

“Famous last fucking words,” Zane grumbled and slammed the door behind him.

I glanced over at Emerson and I returned her smile. “That was easier than I thought.”

“You just have to know how to handle him,” she returned.

“Handle Zane Lewis.” Myles barked out a laugh. “Never thought I’d hear someone utter those words.”

“Why are we driving again?” I complained from the back seat.

We’d just passed Newark, New Jersey. It should’ve taken just over three hours from Annapolis but Myles was avoiding toll roads which had tacked another thirty minutes onto the drive so far.

“You’re worse than a five-year-old.” Myles laughed.

“Something’s not sitting right with me,” Emerson said. “You read the file on Monica, right?”

Emerson glanced over her shoulder waiting for my response.

“Yeah. But nothing stuck out.”

“Monica went missing from Ontario when she was thirteen. Her parents didn’t alert the police right away.”

“Maybe they thought she ran away? How was her homelife?” Myles asked before I could.

“Everything looks copasetic on paper. But we all know that can be bullshit. Here’s the weird part, the missing person’s report was closed.”

“Do you have information on why?” Myles further inquired.

“I read that, too. But I don’t know anything about Canadian procedures,” I told Emerson.

“I don’t think the Canadian police would close an investigation into a missing thirteen-year-old without good cause. I’m gonna call Garrett and ask him.”

Emerson rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone. She put it on speaker and a few seconds later it was ringing.

“Emerson?” Garrett answered.

“Yeah. Listen, can you look into the police report from when Monica Tremblay went missing and find out why the investigation was closed?”

“Sure. What are you thinking?”

I could hear Garrett clicking his keyboard as he waited for Emerson to answer.

“Not sure. Something seems off about it. In the US that would never happen, right?”

“Correct,” I answered. “The investigation would remain active and the missing person’s name would be added to the federal database. The NCMEC would also be involved and have a record.”

“Shit,” Garrett muttered. “We didn’t run the parents. And we should’ve. The case was closed when the Tremblays reported Monica had gone to live with a family member in the United States.”

“Was there a visa issued?” Myles asked.

“Negative. Nothing was filed with INS. Though Monica’s mom had dual citizenship, which means Monica does, too.”

“Is there anything that supports their claim?” I probed. “School records? Doctors’ visits? Anything?”

“Negative. She’s a ghost.”

“Is it possible her parents sold her?” Emerson questioned.

“Strong possibility. Good catch, Emmy. Let me dig into the parents and I’ll call you back. How’s the drive?”

“Long,” I muttered.

“Now you sound like Tatiana. She vowed never to take another road trip with the team.”

“She’s a smart woman.”

“Right. Out.”

Garrett disconnected and Emerson turned back to me. She looked troubled.

“How do you wanna handle her?”

I thought about her question for a moment before I answered.

“We go in soft. Open up to her and see if she responds. I think she needs to see us as women who understand what she’s been through.

If we don’t get the right reactions from her, we can change tactics.

But if she is a trafficking victim and we go in hard, treating her like Landry’s partner and we’re wrong, we’ll never gain her trust. Not to mention, we’ll damage her more. ”

“I agree. And I’ve been around enough women who’ve lived through that hell to know what they look like.

If we’re right and her parents did sell her, she’s a victim no matter what.

Even if Harry did turn her and she then willingly helped him.

Bottom line—Monica would’ve done what she needed to do to survive. ”

Emerson was right and the thought churned my stomach. There was only so much a person could take before mentally they checked out and survival mode took over.

It would be another two hours before Garrett called us back. I was staring out the window watching the New York Stewart airport go by when Emerson answered her phone.

“Find anything?” Emerson asked.

“Gold mine,” Garrett stated. “Dale Tremblay worked as a programmer until the company he worked for went bankrupt and he found himself unemployed. His wife, Beatrice, worked a low-paying job as an assistant.”

“Wait, worked? She doesn’t now?” I cut in.

“Both deceased. Suicide.”

Shit. That didn’t sound good. At all.

“Nothing screams guilt like a double suicide,” Emerson whispered.

“And you’d be right. The Tremblays were struggling. Beatrice was the only one working, they’d lost their house, and were living out of a motel. ”

“Fallin’ on hard times and being homeless doesn’t equal selling your kid,” Myles put in.

“It doesn’t, but the two-hundred thousand dollars that appeared in their bank account does.”

“A transfer that large doesn’t set off red flags?” I asked.

“Not when it comes from your employer as an on-the-job injury settlement.”

“Employer?” I breathed. “What the hell?”

“Still working my way down the rabbit hole, but I thought you’d want to know what I’d found so far.”

“What’s your gut telling you, Garrett?” Myles queried.

“Can’t find it yet, but I bet Icon Fashion has ties to Omni. That’s where Beatrice worked.”

“Icon? That’s owned by Madeleine Strotherby,” I said in disbelief.

Madeleine had to be in her eighties now. She was a fashion model, turned actress, turned fashion designer. She also had a line of perfumes and makeup. The world viewed the woman as a saint with all of her charitable work.

“Anaya, it pains me to burst your rosy perception,” Garrett started.

“But it is my experience those who look the best on paper, those who try to show the world how good they are, are usually hiding something. And what they’re hiding is dark and heinous.

Not saying I’m right about Icon, but when something stinks, it’s rotten.

And the whole fucking thing surrounding the Tremblays stinks. ”

“If you’re right, that’ll suck,” I mumbled. “Madeleine has given almost half her fortune away.”

“Maybe I am,” Garrett conceded, though he didn’t sound like he meant it. “I’ll be in touch.”

“What’s your opinion, Myles?” Emerson asked.

“Seen a lot in my life,” Myles started. “And I have to agree with Garrett. Wealth and power go hand-in-hand. Once someone acquires those, they don’t want to lose either. ”

“And Omni? What about them?” I asked. “It sounds like all the people involved are wealthy business owners. Legit businesses. Why traffic women?”

“Not just women. Drugs, arms, antiquities, you name it, they deal it. The answer is simple. Money. More power. And I’m sure for men like Harry Landry and Jefferson Baldwin they get off on buying and selling women.

They’re pigs and they think they can buy anything, own anything.

What does a man who literally has the world at his fingertips buy?

A person. The ultimate rush of power for scum like them.

They have no morals, no soul, and the screams of their victims feeds their perverse egos.

The man my team is tracking deals in weapons.

He’s known to discount his loads if the buyers will allow him to watch. ”

“Watch what?” I asked.

“The first raid.”

“The man likes to watch a raid?”

“Miguel Lopez gets his rocks off on watching innocent people die by the weapons he provides,” Myles explained.

“That’s…that’s…” I couldn’t finish my sentence because I didn’t even know what that was. Disgusting? Horrible?

“Fucked,” Myles provided. “That’s what it is. The man needs to be put to ground. And hopefully in the next forty-eight hours that’s where he’ll be.”

I sat back in my seat and thought about what Myles had said and the manner in which he said it. Nonchalant. Flippant. Like it was no skin off his back that he was telling me without actually telling me he was going to kill the man.

Then I realized I didn’t much care if a man like Miguel Lopez was going to die.

The world would be a better place for it.

Maybe I should’ve felt differently, and maybe a few months ago I would’ve, but I’d had quite the education since Kalee had died.

Since I’d huddled in a closet praying the rebels wouldn’t find me as I heard them senselessly torture and kill the villagers.

Since the rebels had killed innocent children in an orphanage.

Since I’d been taken and for the second time in my life chained to a wall.

Now I felt no pity.