'We were. She's dead now. I loved her very much.'
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . .'
'It's okay. I brought it up.'
Thinking about his mother, Diego felt sadness infuse his soul. Rebecca mirrored how he felt with her sympathetic expression. Given their family situations, they made a fine pair. Diego scooped vegetables into the omelet and topped it with a sprinkle of grated cheese, happy for the distraction. He folded over the eggs and placed the lid on top to allow the cheese to melt.
'Actually, my mother was the reason . . .' He stopped himself and set the spatula down. 'It all started with her.'
'Okay, now you've got me hooked, but what about Mike Draper? What role did he play?' She retrieved plates from a cabinet and helped set the table. Her eyes never strayed far from him. 'I heard you were an informant for the FBI. Is that true?'
'Yes, unfortunately, but not by choice. Look, I don't want secrets between us, Rebecca. Not anymore. Let's eat, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know.'
With only a sliver of moon, the heavy cloud cover made the night black as ink. Puddles on the street reflected the shift in light when the clouds parted, but darkness prevailed. Brogan liked the dark. After hitting his remote control, he drove his jet-black Mercedes S550 through the automated gate and headed for the bowels of the old warehouse. On the outside, the place looked abandoned, but Brogan knew better. The broken-down old building housed a very dark secret.
As a warehouse bay door lifted, its metal rattling and creaking, Brogan got a call on his cell. He recognized the number.
'Talk to me.'
'Like you said, the Mex is at her place again. Pretty cozy setup.'
Brogan recognized the voice of his boy Nickels, the man he'd assigned to handle the surveillance on the cop. He yanked off his tie and undid the top buttons of his shirt.
'You picking up anything on that parabolic mike of yours?' Brogan had insisted on the added surveillance equipment. If the Mex wasn't pounding the cop into her mattress—a move Brogan could understand—he wanted to know what they were talking about.
'So far, I haven't gotten much, boss. They talked about working together and some kind of blackmail, but once she put on the music, my party was over. I'm only picking up a garbled mess now.'
'Well, stick with it. Keep track of how long the bastard stays, but no matter what happens, stay with her. I know
Using the cop as bait made it easy to track Galvan's whereabouts, an added bonus. And stalking the sexy cop with the tight little body had side benefits, especially with a good set of binoculars. He hated handing over the assignment to someone else, but Cavanaugh had given him other duties, ones with their own advantages.
Brogan drove into the subterranean level of the building and parked. After he stepped from the car, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it onto the passenger seat. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and retrieved a flashlight from the backseat. With a slam of the car doors, he flicked on the light and let the beam guide him.
The dank air smelled stale, and a chill lingered after the storm. With minimal electricity serving the building, the concrete vault closed in like a tomb. But the layout gave his men a fortified position to defend. Although from the outside it looked like the only way in, Brogan made sure he had an escape route, a recent addition before they moved in. Not even his men knew about it. He contracted it special. Like in all his other locales, he made sure both entrances were sealed and reinforced.
His cleverness made him smile as he swaggered toward the noise, flashlight in hand.
Only a few well-positioned lightbulbs and the faint sound of a radio marked where his men were in the underground maze of ramps. Without windows, their rathole remained steeped in shadows and never changed. Time meant nothing here.
As he approached, Brogan raised his voice.
'Shut that crap off. This is a no-rap zone. You know how much I hate that shit.'
One of his men cut off the radio and emerged from the darkness, with the rest of them not far behind. A single overhead bulb cast a pale light where his man McPhee stood.
'Sorry, boss. It helps pass the time.'
'If that's all you can think of to pass the time down here, McPhee, you got some serious problems.' Brogan joined the rest of his men in a good laugh. When he lost interest in poking fun at McPhee, Brogan picked through boxes of stale pizza sitting on a crate. He griped, 'This place stinks. What's that smell?'
'One of them got sick again. Pretty rank stuff.' McPhee shrugged. He lowered his voice, 'They're beginning to suspect something's up.'
Brogan glanced into the shadows, catching glimpses of young girls huddled together. He heard the rattle of chains. Some of them needed discipline, and had been chained as punishment. A patchwork of blankets covered the concrete floor. And the oldest girls defined their personal space, using wooden crates, old cardboard boxes, and other trash to create temporary walls. They staked out their territories like caged animals, their clothes stuffed into garbage bags around them.
The girls had been moved from place to place, but their new home wasn't fit for pigs. They had no idea this would be the last time they had to worry about their 'accommodations.' Before the consolidation, the girls worked everything from porn flicks to frat parties. Some had been sold outright through foreign connections. And for a fee, any sex act would be digitally recorded and distributed all over the world. Business had been good, but all that changed. Thanks to the cop and Diego Galvan, Cavanaugh wanted out. And Brogan had been charged with tying up loose ends and terminating the business. He resented the interference, especially from the Mex.
'Boss man wanted them all in one place.' Brogan clenched his teeth, but eventually relaxed with a smirk. 'Don't worry. This won't last long.' After a quick head count of his men, he asked, 'Where's Ellis?'
One of the men pointed to the far corner and nudged his head in the direction. Under a dim light, Brogan caught the motion and heard the sounds of flesh slapping flesh. Ellis writhed in the dark, his hips grinding. He had one of the girls pinned beneath him. No wonder McPhee had the radio blaring.
Before all this, there had been rules about roughing up the inventory. Now, all bets were off. Cavanaugh had washed his hands of everything, leaving the girls to the twisted appetites of the men. And Ellis was making up for lost time.
Brogan hated the sudden crimp in cash flow, but with Cavanaugh never coming near the girls, that left him in complete control. The next-best thing. And he had taken full advantage of his new authority and the change in ground rules.
'Check it out, McPhee. Ellis knows how to relieve the boredom. Take notes.'
'Good point. The man's a machine.' McPhee chuckled and peered into the darkness. 'What do you want me to do with the sick one?'
'No time for that right now. First things first.' Brogan licked his lips. 'Bring me the new one. I got to sample the goods.'
Two of his men left the circle. From the dark, Brogan heard a high-pitched shriek and the crying of a young girl. Metal grated against metal. The sounds of her cage echoed in the vault. He felt the blood rush under his skin, making him hard.
'No, please,' she cried. Her sobs turned to whimpers.
Like a pack of hyenas, his men fixed their eyes on the new girl taken from the U.T. Austin campus. No one had touched the Japanese exchange student since the abduction. Brogan would have the honor, the only rule remaining.
Tears beaded in her eyes and streaked her pale cheeks. Small and petite with a pretty face marred by fear, she flailed against the grip of his men, a man on each arm. With one hand, Brogan grabbed her dark hair at the back of her neck and yanked her to his chest. With the other, he ran his fingers down her body. His men yowled like animals, encouraging him to make a show of it. He didn't disappoint them.
When he was done, she grimaced with eyes wide. His men now watched in predatory silence. Most of her
