transported the girls to leaders controlling multiple such places. We prosecuted nine, the remainder fled. Five were extradited last year and are awaiting trial, and the rest we can’t touch. They’re not Americans, and they’ve gone to ground. But, all in all, the operation was a huge success. For everyone except me, that is.”
Dean was right behind her, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “What happened to Maria?”
She blinked back tears. “Two days before we took them down, Maria gave me vital information. I had everything we needed, but she was giddy-there was a new shipment of girls coming in that night. I staked it out, but it was a bust. The next morning, Maria was dead. She’d been set up, and-” She stopped. He didn’t need to know everything.
“Did they know it was you?”
“Yeah. I fucked up, okay?”
“But you got them.”
“Maria not only died, she was tortured. They shipped off half the girls before I could get them out. I found some of them, but … it’s not just about putting the traffickers behind bars, it’s about saving innocent people. Maria should never have died. I should have sensed it was a setup, but I was so high on the power of the hunt, of nailing these guys every which way I could, I was blind.”
“And you don’t want to risk it again.”
“I can’t!”
“I’m not a risk, Sonia. You agreed we’d work together. I can’t work with you if you don’t trust me. It’s your call.”
Sonia wanted to. God, she wanted to, but she suddenly felt the vise tightening and everything was moving too quickly. She needed time to think.
Her phone rang and she excused herself, relieved that she could buy a couple of minutes. Dean walked out, mumbling something about water. He was angry, and Sonia wished she could patch things up. Dean wasn’t Charlie, she had to trust him, somehow.
“Hello,” she snapped into the phone.
“Sonia.”
The deep voice was none other than Kane Rogan. She breathed easier. Kane had never let her down. She wanted to trust Dean like she did Kane, but she didn’t know the fed. Yet, she didn’t really know Kane, either. Other than the fact he’d saved her life.
“Thank you for returning my call.”
“You don’t call often.”
“Charlie Cammarata.”
The silence was so complete Sonia could picture Kane as a statue, calmly assessing a threat before he acted. “What about him?”
“I saw him today. Working for a trafficker. You’ve hired him in the past-do you know what he’s working on now?”
“I haven’t hired him in ten years.” Kane spoke clearly in a low, deliberate tone.
She swallowed uneasily. She’d angered him without intending to. “I know, but you’ve been in contact.”
“I’ve sent jobs his way. When no one else was willing to take them.”
“Recently?”
“I referred him to a woman whose daughter went missing last year while on a cruise. Security determined that she fell overboard after drinking too much. The mother was not convinced. However, the police were, and they closed the case.”
“That’s all?”
“In these last few years. Cammarata has become un-dependable.”
“Would you still have her contact information?”
“Of course.”
“What about Charlie’s?”
“Yes.”
“I need to talk to him.”
“Very well. I assume you know what you’re doing, but remain aware that Charlie is not the same man he was ten years ago. And he wasn’t trustworthy then.”
“I understand,” she said softly, clearing her throat. “I appreciate your help.”
“You can call anytime, Sonia.”
“I know.”
“Let my brother know if you need anything. Duke will drop everything to assist.”
“He doesn’t even know me.”
“I know you. Watch your back, sweetheart.” Kane hung up.
Ten seconds later the contact information she wanted came through on her text messaging. He included his brother, Duke Rogan’s, private cell phone number.
She trusted Kane Rogan with her life. If it weren’t for him, she would have died ten years ago when Charlie went off on his own mission and left her, only a year out of training, in a situation that forced her to kill for the second time in her life.
But Kane was God-knew-where fighting battles only true heroes had a chance of winning. Once she had called him a cat with nine lives, and he’d actually
If she could trust a man she saw once in a blue moon, why couldn’t she trust FBI agent Dean Hooper, a man she was working side by side with? She already knew more about Hooper after knowing him less than twenty-four hours than she did about Kane, a man she’d known for ten years.
Dean returned with two bottles of cold water and handed her one. Nothing had looked so good; she was parched. “Thank you,” she said.
He didn’t ask, he simply looked at her with piercing brown eyes that demanded answers.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll set up a meeting with my informant. But first, there’s something else you need to know.”
Riley Knight stood sentry outside Jane Doe’s hospital room.
There were many things Sonia never said, but after twenty years of being virtual twins, Riley knew her better than she knew herself. This was no exaggeration; Riley didn’t think Sonia cared to be introspective. Like any good cop, she could handle her complex and emotionally demanding job because she could compartmentalize. That trait enabled her to put her past in a box she rarely, if ever, opened. But that didn’t mean her past didn’t shape her present and future. Maybe that was why Riley still worried about her even though she was one of the most self- reliant people he knew.
He hoped Charlie Cammarata-that bastard who nearly got his sister killed-didn’t mess her up with whatever insane mission he was on. She had never spoken about it again, after telling Riley what had happened on that undercover assignment ten years ago. But Riley couldn’t forget that Cammarata had set up his sister so he could get the glory. Cammarata had never apologized for what he had put Sonia through, only said he was sorry that “it had gone too far” and he “never meant for her to get hurt.”
Cammarata was like an extremist Muslim on a jihad; he didn’t care who he hurt as long as his goal was achieved. Riley didn’t give a rat’s ass how noble the goal was; the bodies Cammarata laid in his wake made him the enemy. Riley didn’t want one of those bodies to be his sister.
Dr. Peter Miller left Ann’s room, acknowledged Riley, and walked down the hall, passing Detective John Black, who approached with a cup of coffee. “Thought you could use some,” he said.
“Thanks.” Riley sipped. It was nowhere near as good as his mom’s.
“I have Ericson relieving you at twenty-one hundred. You good till then?”
