Chapter 8
Jersey
I grind my teeth as I press harder into his back with my knee.
"I'll be out before the sun rises," the guy grunts, still not accepting his fate.
It's very possible that this guy isn't as entangled with the crew we just took down, but guilt by association is a real thing. There's very little chance the guy will make it out of jail any time soon.
All the men have been talking shit except for the one who Hemlock has handcuffed. They're in the corner of the room, and that guy looks like he's well aware of the reality of his situation.
This craft beer brewery is just on the edge of historic Asheville, North Carolina, and it has been the location of a sting operation that Lark has been working on for several weeks.
Their hidden menu was selling a lot more than pale ale to specific discerning customers. Although the women working here were doing so willingly, the escort service and prostitution ring are not only illegal, but they've been loosely connected to a trafficking ring that's been traveling through from further south.
"Here," Zeus says, tapping my shoulder to hand me a pair of zip-tie cuffs.
The guy under me continues to fight to get away as if being pinned down is a slight to his masculinity. Even in his rage at being busted, he's no competition for me. Without much effort, I get him cuffed, resisting the urge to slam his head into the floor before pulling him to his feet.
One of the SWAT guys who assisted us today walks up and takes the degenerate off my hands.
The best part of working for Cerberus and no longer working for ICE is that all that red tape and paperwork are left up to other people. We get to come in and do a lot of the surveillance and the arrests. Then we get to walk away without having to sit at a desk and type up reports.
I walk past the others, leaving the room, making sure to keep my eyes down as I pass by the women who are somehow wrapped up in this. A lot of times, the girls are simply workers who are trying to make enough money to live on, or they're somehow either being forced or coerced into sex work.
Periodically, they're actually part of the problem and are actively and willingly helping the business run. It means they have to be interviewed by authorities to determine their place in all of it and if charges should be brought against them. It's one of those delicate situations where I'm severely underqualified to help.
We never want to further traumatize someone or increase their victimization, but gone are the days of assuming that just because they're female, they aren't part of the problem .
The cool air is a relief to my skin, but despite the clean breeze coming off the mountains, it doesn't clear my head of the thoughts I've done my best to remove from my mind.
She's never far from my thoughts whether I want her there or not. Thinking about her tied to that St. Andrew's cross feels wrong, but that doesn't stop my heart from pounding when those memories flash in my mind.
I'm not into that sort of thing. Women being tied up or restrained has never been something that gets me off, but that's how I've seen her now twice. It makes me want to see her differently, maybe lounged back on my bed or smiling at me from the pool in that demure little one-piece bathing suit she wore not long ago.
It seems like hours drag by as the different teams trade all the information needed to end this case. I spend the majority of that time on the small deck just outside the back door of the business, waiting for Lark to give the feds all the information he gathered.
Each job we work should make dealing with the other agencies easier, but since we're all over this side of the United States, we always run into folks who feel as if their toes are being stepped on.
They don't have the time nor resources to do what we do, but they're also never grateful to have cases solved by outside forces in their jurisdictions. It's weird that they'd have a problem with criminals being stopped, especially the kind who hurt women, but we always catch attitude.
I can't count how many times I've been told the evidence I've gathered isn't good enough or won't hold up in court. We make a point to make sure we have enough to convict before pulling the trigger on a raid.
"You gonna sit out here all damn night with your dick in your hand? "
I turn and narrow my eyes at Nyx. The man is a fucking menace, but I know he doesn't mean anything offensive. That's just how he is.
"Everyone done?" I ask, standing from the small pub-style table.
"Hemlock told a couple of us to head out. He still has some shit to settle with the DEA," he says as he walks away. "Figured you were ready since you haven't done shit the last twenty minutes."
I follow him to the SUV, both wanting to be home and knowing that being back in Gatlinburg is going to make my skin crawl until I go back to the club.
Hell, I guess I could just hang out in the living room. I know that Caitlyn visits with Eli four or so times a week. Remembering that makes me take a mental pause.
Jericho was adamant about me not getting involved with her in any way because he won't have that interference ruining his son's therapy, and suddenly I feel like a complete piece of shit for even letting the woman infiltrate my thoughts.
I'd never do anything to compromise the boy's recovery. Eli has been through enough in his short little life. The last thing he needs is to anticipate Caitlyn showing up and then being disappointed that she doesn't because I get in the way and make her uncomfortable.
Guilt swims inside of me as I climb into the back passenger seat of the SUV, not saying a word to Lark and Zeus, who are both in the front. Once Nyx is settled in behind Zeus, who is driving, he puts the vehicle in drive and we start the just over two-hour journey back home.
I'm not surprised by the silence in the SUV. I have no doubt that the other guys are reflecting on the events of the day while I try to erase all thoughts of the therapist from my mind.
"He's zoned out," Nyx grunts, but then he smacks the back of his hand across my chest .
I glare at the man and watch as his lips tilt slightly as if he's just waiting for me to do something about it. I see it as the challenge that it is, but the man is seriously a psycho. I'd be a fool to get into a tussle with him. I think there's a real chance he might be a little more unhinged than Hemlock, and I was worried about Zara's safety more than once while keeping an eye on the both of them at the Lost Kitten all those months ago.
"What?" I growl, turning my attention to Zeus when Nyx angles his head in that direction.
"I asked if you're planning on going back to the club," Zeus says as he risks a glance over his shoulder at me.
"Why would I do that?" I ask, wondering if he's using this as a segue into telling the guys about the good doctor's appearance there.
"Because the case isn't over," Lark interjects. "I still hate that this damn brewery kept me from going last time."
"You don't really seem like the kinky type," Zeus says, a wide smile across his face.
"I'm not. Not really," Lark adds. "But that only means that I can learn a lot."
"Kink isn't for everyone," Nyx mutters, his eyes cast out the window as if he can see everything in the darkness.
"What do you know about it?" Lark asks, curiosity in his tone.
Nyx, of course, doesn't respond.
The man is like a vault, and he's only going to speak or add something to the conversation if he feels like it. The man isn't governed by social norms and common courtesy.
He's fucking phenomenal when it comes to the type of work we do, but he isn't the most social motherfucker.
Lark huffs when the mean asshole remains silent and doesn't even bother to look at the guy.
"I don't know that there's going to be anything to find," I mutter .
"There's always something to find," Zeus replies, his eyes locked on the road in front of the vehicle.