Freeing Him: A Hart Brothers Novel, Book 2 (37 page)

Colton looks at me. “And this is where you come in, Drex.”

“Go on.”

Colt points to a map of the Dirty Sixth area. “I want you stationed in the bars here. Keep a lookout for anything that might seem suspicious. We’ve got six men and that’s it. I need two guys on rooftops checking streets from that vantage point. And I need one man inside relaying information back and forth. I also need a man in a vehicle standing by in case we need an extraction, because we don’t have a clue who we’re dealing with. That only leaves three … you and two others to case the inside of the clubs down there.” When Colton finishes, I realize we have more than our share of work cut out for us.

“How many clubs?” I ask.

Everyone laughs. “A shit ton,” Dylan says as he runs his hand up and down the map, indicating the number of bars on Sixth Street. And he’s right. There are many.

“Great. Just great. Okay, so are there any that the abductions have been centered around?”

“We’re not even close to a hundred percent on that, but we think it might be these six clubs,” Marshall adds.

“Well, at least that’s something. Damn. This is bad. I can’t remember working on anything that was so lacking in information.”

“Don’t remind us, Drex. But our focus is on those six right now. And the sad thing is we may be off base here.” Colt stands. “Okay, guys, let’s take a break. We’ll meet back here around six thirty for some eats, and then afterward, we’ll gear up and head out for the night. Drex, if you can stay, I’d like a few minutes.”

Everyone heads out. When the door closes behind the last guy, Colt looks at me and says, “I’ve got a very bad feeling about this.”

I try to read him. Colton and I go way back … to our days in Iraq. We both served as Black Ops. We’d been stationed in the Middle East in the Special Forces when we were both culled and subsequently trained in that highly secretive group … not that we truly had a choice. Well, I suppose we did, but back then, neither of us would’ve thought about refusing such an honor. The end result had turned out much better for Colt than for me. I’m thankful to be alive, but the price I paid was steep.

“Don’t just say that and then go quiet on me. Spill it, Colt.”

“I don’t know, man. There’s something here, but I can’t put my finger on it. Human trafficking, yeah, I think we may have hit on that. It’s the perfect profile. Young, unattached female. But the zero clue thing. Usually there is at least one to go on. But not here. Which leads me to believe someone big is behind this.”

“Big, as in government?”

Colton pinches the bridge of his nose. “Naw, not government … at least not ours. More likely corporate. I’m thinking overseas. Once these girls are gone, their pictures are plastered everywhere … Internet, newspapers, TV, you name it. And we have zero hits. So that has to mean they’ve been moved out of the country. In the two or three days between their disappearance and when someone notices they’re gone, they’re already out of here.”

“Mexico?”

“I don’t think so. Unless they’re using the same route that the Mexicans are using to come into the US, the patrols are so heavy right now, I doubt they could make it through. It would have to be by air or sea.”

“And you don’t think this is a serial killer. And that they’re not dead already?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t. There’s nothing here that points to that. Then again, there’s nothing here that says it isn’t, either. My gut is telling me no, though.”

“So, Colt, what are the local guys doing?”

“Everything we ask them to. They’re as baffled as we are, which is why they called us. But, like us, they don’t have a whole lot of manpower to spare. And a lot of their undercover guys are in narcotics and don’t want their covers blown working on this. That’s why we need you.”

I nod. “You got me. I can’t stay forever, but I’ve cleared the next two weeks.”

“Thanks, man. You’re the sharpest guy I know. If anyone can help, it’s you.”

His words strike a deep chord and it’s one I don’t want associated with me. “Hey, don’t put that on me. I may not find a damn thing.”

“I know. But I had to at least give you a shot. If you don’t see anything, I don’t know where we’ll go next.”

I stand to leave when Colt stops me. “Hey, Drex. I just want you to know that I’m happy for you. Happy that your business took off so well. If anyone deserves it, it’s you.”

We exchange a hard look and I nod. Unspoken words pass between us, words neither of us will ever say because of all the bitterness they would expose. But we both know the truth of things, and that’s all that matters. We’ll be brothers until they shovel the dirt onto our coffins.

The club’s crowd
swells as I gaze across the room. My seat at the bar is angled to give me a bird’s eye view. The bartender picks up my glass and I nod, indicating my desire for a refill. I’m drinking Jack and Coke, light on the Jack. It’s not my usual drink of choice, but I need the caffeine. The crowd mix is about fifty-fifty, so I keep checking the sea of people, looking for anything out of order. So far, nothing indicates trouble.

There’s a dark-haired girl, in the right age range, alone. She’s weaving her way through the crowd, heading toward me. A break in the line at the bar allows her to inch through. She scoots next to me and leans in to get the bartender’s attention. He knows why I’m here. We’ve prearranged all of this with the owner, so I signal him with my head. She fits the profile.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I give her a quick glance as I divide my concentration between her and the crowd.  

She inspects me and shakes her head. “No, thanks. I got this.”

“Ah, you must be with someone, then. Maybe your boyfriend?”

She doesn’t answer, but shrugs instead.

“Okay, my loss, his gain. Lucky guy.”

She turns then and looks me straight on. Eyes like onyx, so dark, they’re nearly black. In fact, it’s close to impossible to distinguish her pupils from her irises. Fuck. Me. Dead. They’re the most exotic things I’ve ever seen. Large, almond-shaped, fringed in thick obsidian lashes, I’m drawn into their startling depths. With great difficulty, I force my gaze away from them and move it down to her mouth. Damn if I don’t want to suck my breath in because her lips have that kiss-me, lick-me, bite-me look written all over them. And I would pay for that mouth to be wrapped around my dick right now.

Shit! Get your head straight, man!

My mind buzzes as it tries to figure out if she’s Hispanic, Italian, Asian … Her olive skin and black hair are dead giveaways for any of those, but one thing is certain: she possesses the purest form of beauty I’ve ever seen. She’s so damn perfect; it almost hurts to look at her. My lewd thoughts skyrocket as I continue to gape like an idiot. My dick wreaks havoc in my jeans, taking every coherent thought right out of my brain and sending it straight to my fucking balls.

Without a word, she turns back toward the bar and waits for the bartender. Clearly, she wants nothing to do with me, which is tragic in way too many respects. For once, it doesn’t seem right that I land in a place where such hot beauty exists … but I force those thoughts out of my head as quickly as they appear. Now I start to hope like hell she isn’t a target because the thought of anyone laying a hand on her makes my gut seize.

The bartender hands her a beer, and she’s gone. It’s time for me to get my mind off my dick and back in the game.

As I scrutinize her, I notice she’s alone. She switches from beer to shots of clear liquor, which I presume to be tequila. She’s not wasting any time getting hammered.

My ear piece crackles. “Eagle One to Lone Wolf. You copy?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Anything happening?”

“Nothing. Copy.”

“Stay sharp. Out.”

As far as I can tell, Onyx Eyes is the only female who’s alone right now. It’s time to start cruising the place. I motion to the bartender to let him know I’ll be on the move. Slowly, I make my way from one end of the room to the other. There’s a live band playing, so I weave around the perimeter, keeping Onyx Eyes in my sight, but also trying to scan the room for any other lone females.

My alarm bells start to ring when I see two guys approach her, but she acts like she knows them. They share some brief words and then she pulls cash out of her pocket and passes it to one as he hands her something. I’ve just witnessed a drug deal. What the hell is she doing? She doesn’t fit the profile of a typical user. Then again, looks can be deceiving. A couple more minutes pass after the two dudes leave and she tosses back whatever’s in her hand and takes a swallow of her drink. Then she walks to the bar and orders another shot. I snag some photos of her with my phone.

“Lone Wolf to Eagle One, you copy?”

“Eagle One. Come in, Lone Wolf.”

“I may have a potential target. Copy?”

“Roger that, Lone Wolf. Details?”

“I just witnessed a drug deal and target is alone.”

“Copy, Lone Wolf. Stay on target.”

“Roger that.”

The rest of the night is spent tailing Onyx Eyes, but nothing else happens. After the club closes down and we make sure the streets are empty, we head back to the hotel to debrief. No one has anything extraordinary to report, other than my incident.

“It may be that she’s just a recreational drug user,” Colt says.

“True, but my fears are that if she is, that puts an even bigger bullseye on her back. Easy pickins’ and all.”

“Okay, let’s see what we have.”

I send the pictures I took of her with my phone to Colt’s computer and he puts them up on the screen for everyone to see. “Take a good look and keep her photo with you. I’ll shoot this to you all. If you see her anywhere, tail her. We also need to find out who she is. Dylan, run a search on her. Let’s see what we can find.”

It’s four in the morning when we finish and head to our rooms. My sleep is disturbed by a dark-haired goddess with eyes as dark as the midnight sky and my dick that’s way too hard for comfort.

My apartment is
only a few blocks from Sixth Street, the place in Austin where all the nightlife is. It’s convenient for me, as I am now quite the barfly. How nice. I never thought things would turn to this, but my desire for alcohol and drugs has to be fed and the clubs have connected me with the right people to do just that. My days are filled with sleeping off the effects of my evening rituals, dealing with a crucifying migraine, or usually both. If the pain subsides enough, that’s when I make my way to the clubs.

This particular evening, I get out of the shower and look at the face that stares back at me in the mirror. Gone are the sparkly, laughing eyes. My hair that used to be so shiny is on its way to dull and lifeless. My lips are chewed and I wonder how they got that way; I can’t remember doing that to them. The question that keeps firing through my brain is how much longer can I go on like this? This isn’t life; it’s just some sort of sad imitation. Oftentimes I think it would be so much easier to just take too many pills and not wake up in the morning. I’ve had them in my hand too, ready to swallow. But then a voice comes to me and changes my mind. That really isn’t the answer, and I know it.

I pull on jeans, a black T-shirt, and finally my boots. I detangle my wet hair with my fingers and shake my head. That’s it for styling—honestly, I don’t give a shit how it looks. It’s clean and that’s enough for me. I put on some face cream and some lip gloss, to help heal my gnawed lips. Jewelry’s a thing of the past. It holds no appeal anymore. And I take one final look in the mirror and realize how strung-out I look. I decide maybe a bit of makeup would be helpful after all. I add a touch of blush to my cheeks, some eyeliner, and that’s it. Shoving money, one credit card, ID, and my phone in my pocket, I head out the door.

By the time I get to Red Skies, the band is playing and the place is crowded. My connection will be here around eleven, so I get a drink and cruise, checking things out. Some dude wants to buy me a drink, but I give him my best stink eye, though I’m not sure I even have an adequate one anymore.

The edginess that claims me eases when I see who I’m looking for. We make our transaction and as soon as they hit the road, I throw back the Xanax and down it with my drink. Now it’s time for a shot of tequila to speed things up a bit. I need some relief and that’s just the thing to do it. Soon, I feel that sweet calm seeping into my muscles, invading my bones as it inches along. My jangled-up nerves are soothed; scrambled thoughts are realigned. The numbing effect takes over and I’m breathing easier. The muscles in my neck gripping me like claws finally release and I can feel the tiniest hint of a smile. It doesn’t last because I know this is only temporary. The monster that has invaded my body will return all too soon, taking my pleasure away with it.