Fatal Secrets

brushing aside the government investigation as if it were an annoying mosquito. People died from mosquito bites. The FBI was the malaria-carrying mosquito; Jones would be its victim. His cavalier attitude confirmed it.

Noel continued. “I know who ratted you out to the FBI.”

“Not one of my people!” Jones’s odd loyalty to his employees made no sense to Noel. “But it’s a moot point: the FBI has nothing. They are going away. My attorney is already working on harassment charges.”

“Greg Vega,” Noel said.

Jones laughed nervously. “Greg is one of my most dedicated, disciplined employees. He has been with me for eight years. He is completely loyal.”

“And his wife is pregnant and he’s thinking about the future. And that future has nothing to do with you or your business.”

“I want proof. If it’s true, I will take care of it.”

“My word is proof enough.” Noel took his hand out of his pocket and said, as he pulled the trigger of the 9mm Beretta, “You have become a liability.”

Jones fell to the asphalt, clutching his gut. He tried to reach inside his jacket. Tobias jumped up and down and clapped, looking ridiculous. “Can we do that again?” the idiot begged. “Please?”

Noel shot Jones three more times, then put a final bullet in Jones’s head just because he was pissed off.

Noel commanded his brother, “Pick him up. We need to move him.”

Tobias picked up the body with ease, without regard to the blood, and asked, “Where?”

“Behind the restaurant.”

Noel followed as Tobias carried Xavier Jones down to the dock. He stopped in the middle and frowned. Noel said, “To the end. You have to drop him into the river.”

Noel didn’t care if Jones was found or not; he simply wanted to get Tobias to the edge.

“I don’t want to fall in,” Tobias whined.

“You won’t.”

Cautiously, Tobias approached the edge of the short pier. He dropped the body into the water without preamble. “He’s sinking!” Tobias called.

He’d surface soon enough, Noel knew from experience. “Thank you, Tobias.”

His brother turned and beamed at him with that sick, excited grin. How Tobias could have killed so many women was a shock in and of itself. Their father, who had watched Tobias in action once, remarked that Tobias didn’t understand the difference between fantasy and reality. “He’s the type of boy who didn’t understand that fish die from lack of food or water, or that puppies’ skulls are easily crushed. He takes what he wants with the girls and enjoys himself, and sometimes they die.”

It wouldn’t matter anymore.

“Mr. Ling. Please.” Noel had some compassion for Tobias. It wasn’t solely his brother’s fault he was a stupid brute.

Mr. Ling raised his gun and fired three bullets into Tobias’s chest. Tobias stared at Ling, stunned, raw emotions emblazoned across his face as he stepped backward. He turned his dark eyes toward Noel, his mouth opening and closing, no sound coming out. He fell back into the river with a splash.

“Mr. Ling?” Noel said.

Ling walked over to the edge and shined a bright light into the water.

“He’s gone.”

“Good riddance. Let’s go.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

As if her subconscious was on guard duty while she slept, Sonia was pulled violently awake, remnants of a disturbing dream slipping away while her heart raced. Her peripheral vision registered movement just as a hand fell over her mouth and a voice said, “Don’t be afraid. It’s me.”

Too late, she thought, as her instincts told her body to fight even as her sleep-deprived, disoriented mind recognized the voice.

Charlie grunted when she kicked him in the balls. He let go of her mouth as he doubled over in pain, and she rolled quickly off her bed, landing on both feet in a pouncelike position. She reached for her gun, but it wasn’t on the nightstand. She crouched in attack position, waiting for his next move.

“You asshole. How dare you break into my house. Into my bedroom!” She swallowed, her mouth dry, her heart pounding painfully in her chest. She’d had nightmares about just this thing. Being attacked in her bedroom, restrained, unable to fight back. She was thirteen again, being dragged from her hut, hearing her father’s voice.

“She’s a virgin. I expect to be paid well for her.”

She had fought back and won, not once but twice. First as an untrained, scared child; then as a fully trained cop, though just as scared as she’d been when she was sold the first time.

“Good defense, Sonia.” Charlie grimaced as he adjusted his stance. “You wanted to see me.”

“What?” Her head cleared. Dean Hooper. He sure acted fast. Sonia wondered what he’d said to push Charlie to contact her tonight. She glanced at her clock. 3:30. She’d slept a mere four and a half hours. There’d be no more sleeping this morning. “You were supposed to call me, not come to my house! How do you know where I live?”

Charlie waved off the question as if it were ridiculous that she’d even asked. He looked old and weary under the dim yellow streetlights streaking shadows across her room through the blinds. Not a surprise; he was nearly fifty, and while in shape, years of hard living, extensive physical activity, and hopelessness had eaten away at him. He cared about the victims of human trafficking, of that Sonia had never doubted, but their pain had eaten him alive, and he couldn’t get out of the pit. He suffered and became a predator as much as those who preyed on the innocent. Sonia didn’t want to be Charlie. She didn’t want to become so emotionally involved that her humanity leaked through mortal wounds in her soul and she became a monster hunting monsters.

Without taking her eyes off Charlie, she leaned over and turned on her bedside lamp. Her bed separated them, but he was blocking the doorway. In his hand was her gun. He saw her looking at it.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Sonia. You are so predictable-keeping your gun on your nightstand. I’m disappointed that your instincts are so shoddy and I got close enough to take your only weapon.”

“You don’t know it’s my only weapon.” It wasn’t, but her other gun wasn’t in her bedroom.

“If you had another gun within reach, you’d have it in your hand right now.”

Waves of conflicting emotions ran through her like hot lava followed by an icy avalanche. Charlie, her mentor and onetime friend, had taught her so much about duty, about compassion, about pride in herself and overcoming obstacles. He’d worked with her tirelessly to teach her everything he knew about the business of human trafficking, signs to watch for, questions to ask. He’d been infinitely patient with her as a new INS investigator, knocking the chip off her shoulder that had come from being on the other side of the line-a victim.

“They win if you act like a victim. Stand tall, Sonia, and be the warrior I know you are.”

A warrior. Is that how Charlie saw himself? A warrior in a one-man army? Or Don Quixote, battling windmills?

Because he’d been such a huge part of her early career, when he left her to die she almost wanted to. She fought back and survived because she knew there had to be an explanation. Charlie wouldn’t have set her up. He had her back and must have been injured or dead to leave her trapped with a rapist and killer.

She’d never believed, while she fought for her life, that he had intentionally left her, lying to her about backup, lying to her that their boss knew about the operation in the first place. She’d been terrified in that locked room, knowing she was bait, even while believing there was a team with eyes and ears on her even though she couldn’t see or hear them. She didn’t know there was no one watching, no one ready to jump in and save her before the man who Charlie had sold her to came to claim his property.

And when everything came out about the things Charlie had done, things she’d been blind to even while