Say the Word (40 page)

“And, I suppose, if things had gone poorly for me and Bash in there, you’d be free to deny any involvement,” I said, my lips twisting in a wry smile at the thought. “Convenient.”

“It was a calculated risk.” Agent Gallagher shrugged without remorse.

Fae snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nice of you.”

He ignored her. “What I need to know, Ms. Kincaid…” He rubbed at his stubble, a nervous habit. “Did you see anything in there — anything at all — that might tie
Labyrinth
to the brewery at Red Hook and the trafficking ring I suspect they’re running? Think hard — it could be something small, just a tiny detail that didn’t seem important at the time but, in retrospect—”

“What’s your name?” I interrupted his somewhat patronizing tangent.

“Excuse me?” he asked, taken aback that I’d cut him off.

“Your name. Your first name. The one your momma gave you. What is it?” I asked.

He stared at me for a moment, no doubt judging how serious I was. My resolute expression must’ve convinced him I wasn’t joking, because he finally sighed and relented. “Conor.”

“Hi, Conor. I’m Lux.” I smiled at him. “I believe you’re asking me for a favor. Where I come from, people who ask favors have to, at the very least, display a little bit of common courtesy. Especially at three in the damn morning.”

“He’s always like this,” Fae noted. “It could be three in the afternoon, he’d still be this unpleasant.”

“Ms. Montgomery, please be silent.” Conor’s jaw clenched. “I know it’s a constant struggle for you, but I’d appreciate any effort.”

Fae rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorr
y if I’ve offended you, Ms. Ki—” He broke off when he saw my chastising look. “Lux,” he amended. “It’s just very important that you think really hard—”

“Conor, I’m going to stop you right there, before you dig yourself into an even deeper hole.” I met his eyes with a serious look. “I can sense that this is important to you. But you don’t seem to realize how important it is to me as well.”

He opened his mouth to speak but I plowed onward.

“I’m not some dumb blonde who stumbled across this mess and thought
Hey! That sounds like a neat story to investigate!
I’m not doing this for fun, or for fame, or for whatever reason you’ve thought up.” I touched the silver cuff I’d forgotten to remove from my wrist when I fell into bed earlier. “A friend of mine is missing. This isn’t a game to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Conor said, his eyes softening a little.

“Downstairs,
Labyrinth
is everything it promises to be — a sanctuary for blue-bloods. Tea parlors, cigar rooms, and the like, but nothing of interest to you.” I took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself. “Most of the people down there probably have no idea what’s going on upstairs.”

“Upstairs?”

“It’s an auction,” I told him, feeling the crushing sadness return to lay against my chest like a heavy weight, as though someone had spliced open my ribs and poured a batch of concrete inside.

His brows
rose. “Excuse me?”

“They’re auctioning off the immigrant girls to the highest bidder. There’s a room, on the top floor. Ten private betting booths, facing a small round platform with a track of spotlights overhead to illuminate the space.” I swallowed roughly. “There are chains attached to the stage — ankle bindings, so the girls can’t run.”

I heard Fae gasp. Conor’s reaction was more subdued — he released a low expletive under his breath, and the skin around his eyes tightened with tension. “Could you describe it for a sketch artist? We could replicate the space…”

“No need.” I stared at him for a wei
ghty moment. “We have pictures.”

As I rode the elevator back upstairs, I thought about the conversation I’d just had with m
y best friend — a woman I once thought I knew everything about, from her deepest secrets right down to her favorite shade of nail polish. I knew now, I couldn’t have been more wrong about that assumption.

I’d climbed from the car clutching Agent Gallagher’s business card in one hand, feeling more than a little shell shocked at the fact that I, Lux Kincaid — sunny Georgia girl and all round believer in the good things in life — had just had a conversation with a federal agent about a secret human trafficking ring on the Upper East Side, potentially involving people who had the power to wipe me off the face of the earth with a single phone call.

I’d leaned against the car for some time, lost in my thoughts and half-listening to Agent Gallagher bark orders into his cellphone, until I felt Fae settle in next to me. Her hipbone pressed against mine, our elbows and shoulder blades bumped lightly. Glancing over at her, I’d seen an unfamiliar look in her eyes — it took me a minute to recognize it as worry. 

“Are you mad?” she whispered.

“What?” My brow furrowed in confusion.

“I didn’t tell you about any of this.”

I looked over at her. “About your double life?” I smiled faintly. “No, I’m not mad. If you didn’t tell me, I’m guessing you have a pretty good reason.”

She nodded. “Remember that night at the bar a few weeks ago, when Simon said he’d always wanted to know someone in the Witness Protection Program?” Her voice was hesitant and hushed.

I felt my eyes widen.

“Surprise,” she muttered weakly.

“Jesus,” I whispered, my mind whirling with possibilities. “I know you probably can’t tell me much, but I have to know… Are you safe, at least?”

She nodded. “For now, I’m safe enough.”

“You’re hiding from someone,” I guessed.

Fae looked over at me for a moment, her eyes intense and sad. “My husband.”

I felt my eyes well with tears as I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her. “Oh, Fae. I’m sorry, love.”

“It was a long time ago,” she whispered into my neck, her arms coming up to return my embrace. “I’m fine.”

The threads of sadness and regret interwoven in her tone said otherwise, but I didn’t push her.

“No wonder you never date,” I murmured.

Fae laughed lightly and squeezed me tighter until Agent Gallagher ended his phone call and leaned out the open window.

“Alright, ladies, time to break up your little love-fest. It’s four in the morning — I’m beat. I want to get home.”

Fae sighed as she detached from me and turned to face the undeniably handsome, undeniably rude agent.  “You could at least ask nicely, Conor,” she muttered.

“It’s Agent Gallagher to you, sweetheart.”

“Lux gets to call you Conor and I don’t?” Fae’s face morphed into a scowl. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

“Lux is about to hand me a promotion on a silver platter by helping me bring down a group of criminals the Bureau has been after for years,” he said, smiling for the first time since we’d met. Though handsome even with his typical glower, Conor’s entire face lit up when he grinned. If he’d show off that set of pearly whites a little more often, he’d have women lined up around the block for him. “You, on the other hand…” He looked Fae up and down. “Only ever come to me for favors or when things in your life need fixing.”

“You’re an asshole.” Fae’s eyes shot daggers at him.

“Well, you’re an entitled princess.” Conor didn’t attempt to conceal his look of dislike.

They glared at each other for so long, I began to think they’d forgotten my existence entirely. Wondering what could’ve happened between them to brew a relationship of such anger and animosity, I cleared my throat lightly and took a step in the direction of the elevator. “Well, then, I’m gonna go…”

In sync, their heads swiveled toward me.

“You’ll email me those photos as soon as you get inside, Lux?” Conor reminded me, his eyes once again serious.

I nodded, pushing the button to call the elevator. “I have to get back before Bash wakes up and flips out because I’m not there.”

“Tell him I said hi,” Fae said, winking at me. “And plan on drinks with Simon tomorrow night. He’ll want the low-down — and so do I.”

I waved before boarding the elevator and heading back upstairs to the man waiting in bed for me. I was nearly giddy at the thought, my huge grin unstoppable as it spread across my cheeks. Just as the elevator reached the top floor, I felt an insistent vibration coming from
the pocket of Sebastian’s sweatpants — my cellphone. I fished it out as I walked down the hall to Bash’s front door, glancing at the screen just as I came to a stop outside the entrance to his loft. I sighed and slid my finger across the screen to answer the call.

“Hi.”

“Where the hell are you?” His voice was ragged with worry. “I woke up and you were gone.”

“Breathe, Bash.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe. We finally work things out and you fucking vanish in the middle of the night.” I heard his harsh intake of air as he tried to regain calm. “I thought we were past this, Lux.”

“We are!” I protested.

“Then why did I just wake up in my bed alone?”

“I had to meet someone!”

Silence blasted over the line. “What possible reason could you have for meeting anyone at four in the morning?”

“You don’t exactly say ‘no’ to the FBI, Bash.” I rolled my eyes and tried the doorknob — it was locked.

“You’re with the FBI? Why?”

“It’
s a long story. Remember Fae’s
guy
?” I reached up and knocked lightly on the door.

“Yeah.”

“Turns out his name is Agent Conor Gallagher — he’s with the New York field office. Organized Crime.”

“He wants to know what we found at
Labyrinth
,” he deduced.

“I have to send him the pictures.” I reached up and knocked harder on his front door. “Are you going to answer your door, or not?”

“What?”

“I’m literally standing at your front door freezing my ass off in this damn, uninsulated hallway, waiting for you to open up. I’ve been knocking for
three minutes.”

I heard the sound of his footsteps echoing through both the door and the receiver at my ear. He pulled open the door and stared down at me, surprise etched on his features and not a stitch of clothing covering his chiseled, naked body. I whispered into the phone, a huge smile stretching across my face.

“Took you long enough.”

“Sorry, I was a little distracted between waking up to find my girlfriend missing from my bed in the middle of the damn night and hearing about her clandestine meetings with federal agents.” He grinned down at me so warmly, I decided to ignore his casual use of the g-word, for the moment.

“You about done with your super-spy antics for the night?” he asked.

“Just about,” I said, hanging up my phone.

“Good.” He placed his phone on the small table by the entryway, removed mine from my hand, and tossed it alongside his. Before I could retreat, he bent forward, propped his shoulder against my stomach, and threw me over his back in a fireman’s carry.

“Bash!” I squealed. “What are you doing?”

He kicked the door closed with one bare foot and carried me across the loft to the bed. As we went, he pulled the over-large sweatpants from my legs and tossed them to the floor. I squeaked in protest when I felt cool air against my suddenly exposed backside.

“Bash! Put me down!”

“Gladly,” he muttered, tossing me onto the bed and settling above me. He straddled my thighs, staring down at me with a look I couldn’t quite decipher. With one hand, he reached down to move a strand of flyaway hair from my face; with the other, he began to slowly unbutton the white shirt I’d borrowed.

“I like my clothes on you.” His voice was deep, his eyes dark with lust.

When his hands moved beneath the fabric, I arched up into his touch and felt my eyes droop to half-mast, my gaze still locked on his face.

“I like you in my bed,” he added, slipping the shirt down my arms and casting it quickly aside.

I felt my limbs turn liquid beneath the heat of his gaze, as his eyes roamed my body. A small, distant thought niggled at the back of my mind, nagging that there was something I had to do — something important — before I could lose myself between Bash’s sheets for the next several hours.

Agent Gallagher’s scowling face flashed in my mind — Ah, yes. The
Labyrinth
photos.

“I have to email those pictures to Conor,” I managed to mumble between gasps, as Bash lowered his head to kiss the column of my naked throat.

“He can wait,” Bash muttered. “I can’t.”

I opened my mouth to object, but all that escaped was a breathy moan of pleasure as Bash thrust into me and my mind went blank.

I walked into
Swagat
the next day with an immovable grin on my face. My cheeks had begun to ache from my constant smile several blocks ago, but nothing in the world could dampen my spirits today.

“Hey, Mrs. Patel!” I called as the door swung shut behind me.

She waved begrudgingly from her post behind the cash register. Her sari was purple today, covered from the waist down with her usual dull brown crocheted blanket, and her hair was twisted into a high knot at the crown of her head.

“Love that color on you. Purple looks great with your skin tone.” I grinned at her as I walked past the counter and headed for the frozen section, chuckling when I heard her responding grunt of acknowledgement. The doorbell chimed overhead, signaling the arrival of another customer, but I was far too busy contemplating ice cream flavors to look up.

“What do you think, Mrs. Patel? Black cherry or chocolate chip cookie dough?” I called, opening the clear refrigerated door and swirling my index finger through the icy condensation on the glass. “I know I usually get the cookie dough, but today feels like a perfect day to switch things up.”

I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t answer as I made my decision and pulled the carton of black cherry from the shelf— she rarely did. But I
was
surprised to hear a man’s voice close to my ear, to feel the heat of his body press against my side far too intimately for a stranger.

“I would’ve gone with cookie dough, personally,” he whispered, one hand clamping down on my arm in a rough grip. He whipped me around so fast the carton slipped between my fingers and clattered to the ground, rolling down the aisle and coming to a stop beneath a shelving unit. Pressing me close to the fridge, he brought one meaty hand up to cover my mouth before I could scream for help. I struggled, thrashing so hard my vision went blurry, but
managed to make out one distinct feature on my assailant’s face.

The nose — more mangled than Rocky Balboa’s after a fight, hit one too many times and never set properly. In my peripherals, I saw another man hovering just behind my attacker — big, strong, and silent, waiting to step in if his partner couldn’t control the situation. My veins flooded with panic as I realized that I knew these men. 

Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal, come to collect me.

Correction — to
try
to collect me. I wasn’t going without a fight.

My teeth sa
nk into Smash-Nose’s palm with enough force I knew I’d broken the skin. I tasted the coppery tang of blood on my tongue even as his curse pierced the air.

“Fuck! You little bitch!” he howled, clutching his bleeding hand inside his uninjured fist. I paid him no attention as I turned and ran toward the counter, screaming as I went.

“Help! Mrs. Patel, call the police!”

I heard the Neanderthal
close on my heels, his pounding footsteps chasing me through the store faster than I could run away. I rounded a wire shelf display filled with chips too fast and felt my toe catch on the bottom corner. Sailing into the air, I was perilous to stop the crash. On my way to the ground, I locked eyes with Mrs. Patel for a fraction of a second — not long enough to draw in a breath or brace myself for impact, not long enough to scream for help one last time or plead for intervention.

Just long enough to watch as she — my knight in shining purple sari — threw off that brown, crocheted blanket I’d always thought was terribly ugly, stood on trembling legs, and aimed a sleek, state-of-the-art, semi-automatic pistol at the men behind me. As I hit the ground, a dull ache spreading through my body from my battered knees and elbows, I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

Mrs. Patel’s faintly accented voice, ringing with authority, along with the telltale click of her Glock as she cocked back the barrel.

“Leave Miss Lux alone! Get out of my store!”

I scrambled to my feet in time to see Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal freeze, eyeing the elderly woman skeptically. I could see them weighing the odds — how serious was this little old lady? Would she really shoot? Did she even know
how
to shoot?