CHAPTER SEVEN
JAKE
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Climbing out of the topless Jeep, I slide my sunglasses over my eyes and adjust my cap while waiting for Liam to meet me on the sidewalk. He pockets the keys, and we take off.
My outfit has changed since this morning.
Both of ours have.
While I had visions of donning a black tactical outfit at one point, that wasn’t happening today.
I might be a former US Marshal, and Liam a former US Airforce pilot, but today we look like two classic Californian guys heading to a bar.
And that’s exactly what we’re doing.
Wearing tan shorts, short-sleeved floral shirts and ball caps—backwards—while packing a ton of muscle between us, anyone would think we spent the day at the beach working out and chugging protein shakes.
Instead, we’re about to connect with one of the agents working on Project Green Grass, the name given to the FBI trafficking case.
We see him the moment we walk in.
Liam takes the lead, ordering us two beers, while I glance around the room. I check out a couple of women I’d never look twice at normally, identify all the exits—as Liam did—then wink at one of the servers.
She blushes.
Liam sits down on a stool, while I remain standing, leaving one free between us and Agent Reed.
The agent has barely glanced at us since we arrived–no more than any other patron would. His eyes are focused on the TV screens watching a game.
A minute later, someone scores a touchdown.
“Yes!” Reed leans back, grin on his face and glances around, stopping on us “See that. Rams are seven points ahead. Soon to be nine, baby.”
“Think they’ll win? They’ve had a bad season.” Liam leans on the bar, and the two start talking football while I sip my beer slowly and appear to be far more interested in the girls.
I’m not.
My focus is predominantly on the surrounding space, but unless anyone was paying close attention, I’d doubt they’d notice.
Unless they’re guilty.
Or trained to recognize the signs.
I pick up the conversation shifting next to me and tune in.
“Past month we’ve had two go missing from this area,” Reed says. “Five in the past six months.”
My brows lift half an inch
“Known pimps in the area?” Liam asks.
“It’s not them.”
“Someone new.” I sip my beer, wishing it was a refreshing glass of water. It’s way too early for me.
“Someone good.” Reed glances my way, and I note the concern on his face. “These girls are not their usual targets.”
“In what way?”
Another player scores, and the two of them cheer, Reed slamming the bar. “That’s my boy right there. Yeah!”
I take another sip, feigning interest, keeping in character.
I prefer baseball.
A curvy blonde watches me, and I wink. She grins, glances at her friends then flicks her gaze back my way.
She’s cute.
If I weren’t working, I might say hello.
Caylee.
Yeah. No, I wouldn’t.
It’s not like I haven’t slept with anyone else since we stopped seeing one another. I have. But I’ll be honest, I was a dick and thought about her both times.
All three times.
Might’ve been four.
Anyway...I’m working, so it’s a moot point. Plus, I intend to touch base with Caylee and convince her to forgive me.
That’s the entire plan.
I don’t know if there is a plan. Because even if she does give me another chance, my phone is going to ring, and I’ll have to leave.
Caylee wants answers.
Answers I can’t give.
“Demographics,” Liam asks, lifting his glass to his lips.
“Middle to upper income. All of them taken off the streets while alone, their parents expecting a ransom request that never came.” Reed stares at the TV and shakes his head. “Which means someone else funded it.”
Fuck.
They were sex trafficked.
“All girls?” I ask.
“Yes.” He turns. “But it’s too precise. Not random. At least, it doesn’t seem that way.”
I know what he means.
Sex traffickers pull kids off the street who look like they are down on their luck, homeless or using. As in a substance. No one is coming after them. No one is going to cause trouble.
It’s low risk and a high profitable return.
They’re sitting ducks while society is mostly just standing by and letting it happen.
Targeting middle to upper-class girls is not normal. Not at all.
Usually, as the agent said, that would be considered a kidnapping case and eventually a request for a large sum of money arrives.
If it doesn’t, you consider the job fell apart.
When it happens multiple times, you need to start asking questions. Multiple rich young girls start looking like a whole other trafficking demographic.
Precise.
Reed means someone has a customer lined up for these girls and is deliberately targeting them.
But how?
Reed stands, pulls out some notes and slides them onto the bar. Without looking up, as he pulls out his phone, he says. “We’ve tapped out our resources and known leads. It needs a different approach that the agency doesn’t have the...wherewithal to take right now.”
He's talking in code.
They can’t take certain steps because of their limitations.
“We need to find out who this new pimp is and shut them down.”
Reed taps the bar randomly, then turns and walks out while Liam tosses some nuts into his mouth and I cringe.
I wonder how long Reed’s been undercover. This dark side of humanity is hard. There are so many fucking people involved in trafficking it can be jaw dropping. A lot of money is at stake at the hands of powerful people.
It makes you sick.
It can take a long time to find the head of the snake, and by then a lot of lives are destroyed, innocence lost and futures destroyed.
These kids might never recover...if they are found. Most aren’t.
I slide my beer onto the bar and take a seat, focusing on the screens.
“What do you think?” I ask Liam.
“I think we hit the streets and do a little observation as a starting point.”
“Great. I am so glad I left my role as a US Marshal to become a beat cop again.” I chuckle.
“Hey, if it gets the job done.” Liam slides some cash on the bar, and we head out the door. “Except this time, we’ll have some fancy toys at our disposal.”
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THIRTY MINUTES LATER, after walking a few blocks, we find a seat near a park and eat our ice cream. Perks of the job.
Then, we survey the environment.
Nearby, two moms walk their babies in strollers, a group of workers sit on the grass eating lunch, three businessmen stroll past with matching satchels across their chests, and a couple stand facing one another focused on their phones.
Fuck that.
If I had a girlfriend, I’d want her full attention. I’d make sure I was her focus. That she knew she was mine.
I know reality is different, but watching them as they ignore one another and connect to whoever(s) inside their devices—people who likely do not give a shit about them—it makes me mad.
Having a relationship is almost impossible for me. Yet here are two lucky people who have found one another, and they’re taking it for granted.
They shake hands and walk away.
Oh.
Fine, maybe they weren’t fucking.
Whatever.
My point still stands. Most couples don’t connect or appreciate what they have. I’m starting to want it more and more. At thirty-two, I would like to settle down, have a family, meet someone...
I shut that shit down.
While my father is alive, nothing is going to change.
“Jesus, I’m going to need a good workout tomorrow morning after all this beer and ice-cream,” I say, changing my mental pattern.
I’m not unhappy with my salted caramel choice.
“Tough job.” Liam surveys the buildings, tapping the side of his sunglasses, which are, I figured out, taking photos and sending them back to Thomas in the office.
“Any advice on clearing the air with Cole?” I ask.
“Don’t fuck his sister.”
Choking on my ice cream, I laugh. I wipe my chin with my forearm and lick my lips. “That ship has sailed.”
“I figured. Well, don’t fuck her again.”
I can’t promise that. But at the same time, I don’t deserve a woman like Caylee. God knows she should be with a man who can respect her, keep her safe and not lie to her.
I failed those I loved once; I won’t do it again.
And I probably could fall in love with—
I start choking, and Liam starts to give me shit, unaware of what I’m seeing.
Caylee is walking in our direction, and in about three seconds she’s going to see me.
Three.
Two.
My heart starts thumping, and I stand because, despite everything, when she’s in front of me, I can’t look away.