Chapter 10
I knocked twice then used my keycard to let myself into Wilson’s suite. Once I was inside I took in the room.
Jack and Asher were at the small table, both working on their laptops.
Wilson was out on the balcony pacing, his phone up to his ear.
Davis was on the couch, his booted feet resting on the coffee table in front of him, computer on his lap, his phone to his ear.
He nodded at whatever the person on the other end was saying.
Only Jack spared me a glance as I entered. I returned a chin lift and made my way across the hotel suite.
“Wilson’s updating the feds,” Jack started. I had called Wilson on the short drive from Brooklyn’s house to the bookstore so it wasn’t a surprise my team was already on the Desi Cunns situation.
“Davis is talking to Shep, and Asher’s getting us access to the hospital’s security feeds where Desi’s a patient.
Reese and Cole checked in; the Welches went straight home and so far Michael hasn’t attempted to leave.
” Before I could respond Jack went on, “We ran Desi. The last twelve months she’s been flush with cash—before that, struggling.
Then suddenly she pays off her car, all her credit cards, rent’s caught up then paid on time when she’s normally late.
She’s also got thirty K in a checking account. All cash deposits.”
“Shit,” I grumbled. “That cash coming from Kiki?”
“Doubtful, she’s broke. Unless Kiki’s using Desi to funnel money for her.
And in exchange for cleaning the money, Kiki felt generous and forked over about forty large to pay off Desi’s debt.
Not to mention, there’d have to be a level of trust there to give all your money to someone and have them hold it.
And I mean all the money. Kiki’s got twenty-three dollars in her checking account. ”
“Where’s Desi work?”
“Bartender at Houlihan’s—before and after the influx of cash. Asher pulled the employee records from the bar, checked the other employees’ bank accounts, and no one else working there had a sudden windfall.”
In other words, it wasn’t that the bar suddenly became a hot spot and the bartenders benefited from that by making more money. The good news was, whatever racket Desi was pulling she hadn’t recruited other bartenders or waiters to participate.
“Desi involved with the Horsemen, too?” I asked.
“Done with the feeds,” Asher entered the conversation then added, “we haven’t gotten that far.”
“Anything on Trevor Lawrence?”
I looked between the two men and watched Jack’s lips curl before he answered, “He’s got a rap sheet that proves he’s a dumb fuck.
Being as he’s stupid as shit, the cops cleared him quick when Letty Welsh reported he was dating her sister after Kiki was reported missing because Lawrence was indeed in Sacramento, California, enjoying a free night’s stay in lock-up.
Bar fight—drunk and disorderly, assault, and property damage.
Charges were dropped, Lawrence paid for the damage and the fine, and he was on his merry way forty-eight hours later. ”
“Was Kiki with him?”
“Unknown,” Asher told me. “I’ll see what I can find after we secure Desi. It’d be good we could alibi Kiki but it won’t be enough to clear her.”
Technically Kiki Welsh had done nothing wrong.
No law prohibited her from behaving like a selfish twat and her parents had done what any parents would do when their child fell off the radar; they called it in thinking there was foul play.
So, seeing as Kiki was of an age where she had no obligation to her family, being in California with her felonious boyfriend wasn’t breaking the law but it was part of the scope of Takeback’s new investigation.
Not to mention, I just plain wanted to know where Kiki had been, and that was to give the Welshes peace of mind.
My attention went to the balcony door and I watched Wilson walk through. Jaw set, eyes hard and narrowed—not on anyone in particular, that was just Wilson. A telling sign his phone conversation hadn’t gone well.
“Feds want Desi brought in but they want it communicated to her she’s a witness, not a suspect. They also want her doctor to sign off.”
“Dotting their i’s,” Asher noted.
“More like covering their asses,” Jack corrected. “What they’d say about the money?”
Wilson stopped three paces away and looked at Davis. “You still on with Shep?”
Davis jerked his chin in the affirmative and Wilson went on, “Tell Shep I need that money traced however he needs to do that but we have to know who’s bankrolling Desi Cunns.”
“You hear that?” Davis asked into his phone. There was a pause then, “Right. I’ll let you go. Thanks.”
“Feds said they’ll look into her tax returns, see if she claimed the cash,” Wilson answered Jack’s earlier question.
“They can deal with the IRS which, even if she did claim the cash on her return it won’t give them shit, just that she paid taxes.
Shep will get us what we need. Fucks me to say this, but, Rhode, I need you to run the list of victims.”
“What am I looking for?” I asked.
“Anything. Connection to Desi, to the Horsemen, to Kiki, an influx of money, arrest record, any change in the last year.”
I felt unease slither up my spine until my shoulders went rigid.
“You think Desi was working on the inside.”
“Would make sense,” Wilson agreed.
“And Kiki? You think she’s involved?”
“Wild card. I hope for your woman’s sake and for the Welshes she’s telling the truth.”
This time when my body locked and my muscles tensed it had nothing to do with Kiki. And when the blood rushed to my head and the buzzing started, it had not a damn thing to do with the Welshes.
My woman.
Christ.
I wanted that.
It was insane but I’d wanted it five years ago.
I wanted it when I saw her huddled next to Letty behind yellow police tape.
And I wanted it even more when Brooklyn was sitting on my lap holding on tight, burrowing close.
Total insanity but I didn’t care. I felt it, so I was going with it. Add in Remington and I was taking what I wanted.
So, yes, my woman.
There was no reason to deny it or correct Wilson so I didn’t bother.
“I think Letty was right. There’s something off about Desi and I think you’re right, too, she’s working for someone. The question is—was she supposed to get swept up in the rescue or did we take her off-guard when we went in?”
“Fuck,” Wilson bit off.
The rest of the guys went on alert but it was Jack who started talking it out.
“Desi getting swept up on purpose means she could report back. Lots of shit inadvertently gets said in front of victims and if she’s smart, she’d suss out what the cops had just by what the cops were asking. But Desi givin’ a fake name says desperation. Like she got caught off-guard and panicked.”
“She knew where Kiki was, that she hadn’t been in contact with her family, had no plans of getting in contact, and gave the fake name as part of the act.
Gaining sympathy. Not from the Welshes, though that worked in her favor, too.
But by lying about her name she was drawing attention to herself and at the same time cementing her status as a scared victim.
She’d be questioned and released immediately,” Asher offered.
“Maybe,” Jack granted. “Or Desi and Kiki are both neck-deep in this shit and Kiki coming back at just the right time means her family’s no longer looking. Desi’s in Seattle thinking she’s in the clear.”
“Or,” Davis grunted, “Kiki’s telling the truth.
Desi got tangled in something, lost control, and found herself hours away from being in the back of a train car up to Canada where she’d be sold and never seen again.
And her head’s so fucked-up she’s confused or afraid so she’s lying through her teeth. ”
All plausible.
All within the realm of the fucked-up world we lived in.
Theories—which meant we had dick-all.
And part of living in that fucked-up world, where humans were traded, sold, and used. My only hope was that Kiki Welsh wasn’t on the inside of a trafficking ring. My hope was that Kiki was simply a bitch with shit taste in men and a chip on her shoulder.
I didn’t know Letty. But I knew she loved my son.
I knew Letty and Brooklyn were tight. I knew she was a good daughter.
So I didn’t want this for her just as much as I didn’t want it for Brooklyn.
I had a feeling with time both women would get over and move on from Kiki being a twat.
I doubted they’d get over Kiki aiding in human trafficking.
By the time I left the hotel to go back to Smutties, my head was throbbing.
I’d gotten through a quarter of the forty-one victims we’d rescued. All of them clean. Nothing out of the ordinary. Everyday, normal citizens going about their daily lives until they weren’t. Until they were snatched and their worlds became hell on earth.
But that wasn’t why I had a stress headache.
All morning my thoughts had drifted from Brooklyn to Remington back to Brooklyn.
And self-doubt had crept in. I was all-in.
I wanted mother and son, knew that to my soul.
It was the manner in which I would imbed myself into their lives that I’d begun to doubt.
No, not the manner—the speed. Seeing as I was all-in, I wanted what I wanted and I wanted it immediately.
If it were just Brooklyn, I’d move in so fast her hair would be on fire.
But there was a four-year-old to consider.
I had a ten-minute drive to the bookstore and I planned on using my time wisely. There were two men I knew who could help—Alec Hall and Holden Stanford. But Holden would have the answers I needed.
A tight ball formed in my gut just thinking about what Holden had gone through. The man’s life had been torn apart only to be resurrected by the love of a woman he’d thought he’d lost forever. A woman and the daughter he didn’t know was his. I had played a part in Holden learning the truth.