Sweet Reward (19 page)

“What’s going on with us has nothing to do with the case.”

“So you trust her?”

Did he? Yeah, he trusted her in a lot of things, but did he trust her to be able to handle herself? Could those soft, innocent brown eyes look down the sight of a gun and take the kill shot? She’d shown him that she could knock him on his ass; could she beat the hell out of a man if necessary? LCR training included hand-to-hand fighting. Operatives were trained to hold nothing back when fighting for their lives. She had the training, and she had McCall’s endorsement. What other proof did he need?

“I’m willing to go on your recommendation.”

McCall nodded. “Good enough.”

Wanting to get away from the ambivalence he felt about Mia, Jared changed the subject. “Who’s the operative on the inside?”

“Dylan.”

“He and Jamie are back from their honeymoon already?”

“An unexpected teaching opportunity came open for Jamie that they didn’t want to miss out on.”

The emotionless Dylan Savage seemed one of the least likely men to succumb to a permanent relationship; it still amazed Jared that Savage was now married. But after seeing the way the man had looked at Jamie, Jared didn’t doubt his feelings and was genuinely pleased for him. Some people were meant to be in a relationship; some weren’t. Jared knew which one he was.

“Okay, I’m ready when you guys are.”

Jared turned to see Mia standing at the door. Wearing black jeans and T-shirt with a black leather jacket draped over her arm, she looked fresh, beautiful, and so damn sexy he knew that if McCall weren’t in the room with them, he would’ve kissed her.

Irritated at this unusual weakness he seemed to have only for this woman, Jared glared at her as he stalked past her out the door.

“Was it something I said?” Mia’s voice sweetly rang out.

McCall’s bark of laughter had Jared grinding his teeth. Yeah, he knew he was behaving like an ass. And as Mia stepped into the elevator with him, she winked at him as if it didn’t bother her in the least.

Stubborn, exasperating woman.

   Mia stood at the corner of the house, hidden by a large clump of overgrown shrubbery. The gray brick home looked average, unassuming, and slightly run-down. Separated from the rest of the houses on the street by a small decaying rock wall and weeds, it had the ideal location. The comings and goings of traffic through the
night wouldn’t disturb any of the neighbors, and the house was so well hidden, few people would see it unless they knew it was there. The perfect spot for a prostitution business and the occasional auction to sell human beings.

On the way, Noah had explained the plan, which sounded relatively simple: Dylan Savage, the embedded LCR operative on the inside, was bringing in another man to bid on the women. That man was Jared. Once Jared had viewed the merchandise, the sale would begin. Noah and Mia would enter the house but remain out of sight until the auction got under way.

Both Jared and Dylan were wearing watches that held powerful hidden microphones—no earbuds, though, since they would have been searched. One of them would say, “Sweet as candy.” Then she and Noah would strike. The goal was to rescue the women and take down all of the men, hopefully without firing a shot.

As Mia listened to Jared being introduced to the other men, she shivered, imagining the scene. The usual back slapping and crude remarks ensued. Hearing the men talk about the women they were selling as if they were discussing slabs of beef could still infuriate her, but she had learned early on that in the midst of filth, a treasure of information could sometimes be obtained. Such as one man bragging about how he’d snatched a young girl off the Rue de Ménard and had sold her to another man just a couple of hours ago. Or how two of them had their eyes on a family with three teenage girls and had been following them after school in the hopes of snagging all three at once. The idiot men, overcome with their need to impress others, behaved like proud, puffed-up peacocks, boasting and spouting off their accomplishments. Mia couldn’t wait until all of that hot air was taken from them.

Her eyes and ears were open for any kind of extra activity inside as she waited for Noah’s signal to enter. When she’d worked with LCR before, she’d gone on similar raids. The worst part had been the waiting. The second-worst part had been Noah’s anger when she’d acted against orders and done things her own way. There’d been the occasional close call, but other than a few extra scrapes and bruises, she’d had no real problems. And she’d been successful.

On the last LCR raid she had worked, when she’d traded herself as a hostage, she had known that if she was successful and came out alive, Noah would fire her. He’d warned her too many times for her not to expect it. And, truthfully, she believed he had done the right thing. When he’d told her that she wasn’t just putting her life in danger, she was jeopardizing the mission, Mia had understood that it was time for her to go. If Noah hadn’t fired her, she would have quit on her own.

Years of following orders and doing all the proper things had left her with the need to do things her own way. She had struggled within the tight strictures of LCR’s rules. She wanted to make a difference, but she had to do it on her own terms. She had left LCR with no hard feelings or regrets.

Even though she figured he’d give her hell about it, much the way Noah had, Mia couldn’t help but believe that Jared would understand her need to veer from protocol. That dangerous edge that was so much a part of him said he was a man who got things done his way, and to hell with protocol.

Noises suddenly sounded in her ear. Mia checked her watch: half past five. Was the sale about to begin?

Bending down, she pulled a gun from her ankle holster. To avoid red tape and too many questions, she had chosen not to travel with her own weapon. Noah had
loaned her an LCR standard-issue, a .38-caliber Smith & Wesson Airweight. Many of the female LCR operatives preferred it to the Glock that most of the men opted for. She had tried out several guns over the years but still preferred her Beretta Tomcat. She had no problem with the S&W, though. It would definitely get the job done.

Mia raised her head and peered through the bushes. She heard footsteps and what sounded like a door closing. Was that Dylan and Jared moving from one room to another?

Noah whispered, “Go.”

Mia took off across the small courtyard and headed toward the door she’d been assigned. She eased the door open and peered inside. The smell of old, wet shoes and mildew assaulted her nostrils. The single bulb overhead revealed several pairs of muddy boots, an ancient clothes washer, and a clothesline with several men’s shirts hanging from it. Apparently even evil thugs needed clean laundry.

Her footsteps silent on the worn linoleum, she moved slowly through the room, alert for any sounds close by. Gun at the ready, she paused at the door and eased her head in slightly to get a better look—a trashy-looking kitchen. The small table in the middle of the room was cluttered with remains of an unappetizing-looking dinner. Cigarette butts filled several ashtrays on the table, one still smoldering. A garbage can in the corner overflowed with refuse.

She paused briefly in indecision. There were two doorways she could go through. One looked as though it led to a hallway; the other one might lead to a larger room. The light was off … Mia couldn’t make out what kind of room it was.

Noises sounded in her ear again. Curses, grunts, and a distinctive thud. What had happened? Had Noah been discovered?

Mia went lower and scrambled for the closest cover—a cardboard box in a far corner, barely large enough to hide behind.

“Mia?” Noah said quietly.

“In the kitchen,” Mia answered softly. “You okay?”

No answer. Fear rocketed through Mia.

“Noah, are you okay?” she asked again.

“Yeah.”

Since she had known him, Mia had heard Noah’s voice in various tones. This wasn’t one she’d heard before. Definitely tension, but something else, too.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Got a little nick. Guy got me as I was going inside. Clipped me, but I caught him before he could make any more noise. He’s tied up under some bushes in the side yard.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m still outside, beside the steps.”

“I can be there in a minute or less.”

“No, plan is still on. The sale’s going down soon. If you’re clear, head to the second floor. Stay hidden and maintain your position until the go signal.”

Scooting from behind her hiding place, she ran to one of the doorways. At the entrance, she stopped. Saw and heard no one. The stairway was on the other side of the room; Mia took off. At the bottom of the stairs, she halted. The place was silent … too silent.

Running lightly up the stairway, she stopped at the landing. A noise to her right had her pressing herself up against the wall. She froze. The noise—heavy footsteps—clomped down a hallway. She had no place to hide. If the man was headed her way, she needed to be ready to take him.

Holding her breath, poised to do whatever she had to do, Mia waited. The footsteps ended abruptly, a door opened and closed, and then again there was silence. Releasing
her breath slowly, Mia peered around the edge of the wall. The hallway was clear. Four closed doors. Which one were Jared and Dylan behind?

“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m on the second floor.”

“Savage and Livingston are in the room on the right, closest to the stairs. Hold your position,” Noah said softly.

“Okay. Will do.”

The waiting gave her time to worry. How badly was Noah hurt? Though he lived with danger every day, as far as she knew, he’d never been seriously injured. The thought of something happening to a man who’d done so much for so many people was unbearable. And he had a beautiful wife and two precious children who would be devastated if—

“Okay,” Noah whispered, “I got myself patched up.”

“And you’re all right?”

Noah answered irritably, “Just pissed, mostly. I’m going to maintain my position here. When you get the signal, go in and help Savage and Livingston.”

Though she had asked numerous times already, she had yet to get a satisfactory reply. The news that he wasn’t joining them scared the crap out of her. “Dammit, Noah, how bad are you hurt?”

“It’s deep, but from what I can tell, it missed the major organs. I’ve slowed the bleeding, but if I get up and move around, I’ll pass out and be of no help to anyone.”

That wasn’t exactly a report of good health, but Noah’s priority was clear: continue with the mission.

“Okay, I—” She broke off when a doorknob rattled.

“Either shut your mouth or I’m going to shut it for you!” a harsh male voice shouted.

Mia heard a soft sob before the door was yanked open. Taking a chance, she eased her head out and caught sight of a large man in jeans and a T-shirt standing in the open
doorway of a room. Before he closed the door, Mia saw several cots and bare legs. So there were more girls than the ones in the room with Dylan and Jared.

She heard a sound below her. Thinking Noah had changed his mind, she shot a look downstairs and spotted the top of a head, bald and gleaming—definitely not Noah’s. If she didn’t move, she would be caught. Mia took off from the stairway and ran down the hall. All the doors were closed; she pushed open the door to the room with the girls. Closing it quietly, she turned around and lost her breath.

Jared eyed the two men sitting on a worn sofa across from where he stood. One was a tall, mountainous man named Alen who spoke like a street punk from New Jersey, but with a Croatian accent. The other man, François, was French, wore a mustard-stained white T-shirt over his big belly, and seemed to be the eviler of the two. While talking about where the young women had come from, he had spat on one of them and kicked another. When Jared had mildly commented, his voice holding just the right amount of menace, that he wouldn’t purchase a damaged woman, the man had reluctantly stopped. François would be his first target.

Dealing with the dregs of society wasn’t a new thing for Jared, but some sleazeballs could make his stomach turn more than others. The slime across from him was the typical kind. They made no pretense of being anything other than what they were: human slugs.

Two other men were stationed by the door. Neither had said anything; they just watched silently. Both wore a “too lazy to scratch my ass” expression on their scruffy, unshaven faces. The Glocks in their hands, however, said they weren’t too lazy to kill if necessary.

Four young women, maybe in their mid-twenties, were huddled together in a corner. Wearing only their underwear, they had their hands and ankles tied, and duct tape covered their mouths. Their desperate eyes communicated
more than words ever could. Jared saw the hopelessness, the grim acceptance. They thought he was just another piece of shit who’d come to abuse them.

Dylan Savage stood beside him. Jared had worked with the operative many times and could read him about as well as anyone. He, like Jared, deliberately kept his expression blank. The least inkling that this wasn’t a legitimate transaction would get their asses fried.

François’s beady eyes gleamed. “You come highly recommended by our friend here, however, we always insist on seeing the funds before a transaction can take place.”

Jared carefully eased his hand inside his jacket. He’d already been searched and relieved of the cheap weapon he would have been expected to carry. Thankfully, there were lots of ways to disable or kill a man that didn’t involve bullets. Even so, he knew not to move too fast. These men expected betrayal. It amused him that he and Dylan would soon be able to meet those expectations.

He flashed a wad of euros, unsurprised to see the man’s eyes widen slightly.

“Perhaps you would be interested in more than what you see here.”

“What do you mean?” Jared asked. “You have more than the bitches in the corner?”

“Yes. Sweet and fresh …” He gestured at the cowering women. “Nothing like these whores.”

Dylan stiffened beside him. Though the man never changed his expression, Jared could tell this was new information.