“Agent Morrison? Alaric Moretti. I have a gift for you.”
Twenty minutes later, federal agents swarm the warehouse while paramedics check the girls for injuries. I watch from across the street as they’re loaded into ambulances for medical evaluation and eventual repatriation to their home countries.
“You did good tonight,” Kasimira says when I return to the SUV.
“It’s not enough. This was one ring in one city. There are dozens more operating in our territory.”
“So we find them too.”
“We?”
“This is what you do with power, isn’t it? Protect people who can’t protect themselves?”
She’s right. This is exactly what power should be used for. Not just accumulating wealth or eliminating business rivals, but actually making the world less dangerous for people who have no other options.
“The leader of this ring mentioned connections in Chicago and New York,” I tell her as we drive back toward the Strip. “I’mgoing to tear apart every trafficking operation on the East Coast.”
“Good.”
“It won’t be clean. Won’t be quick. Some very dangerous people are going to end up dead.”
“Even better.”
The streetlights blur past as we navigate back toward legitimate Vegas, toward tourists and gamblers and people whose biggest worry is losing money at poker tables. But I’m already planning the war that will dismantle human trafficking networks piece by piece.
40
KASI
Three weeks after Vegas,our morning routine has become sacred.
Coffee at sunrise in the kitchen, newspapers spread between us while Maria prepares breakfast. Alaric reviews security reports while I go through international shipping contracts.
“Klaus approved the Munich expansion,” I tell him, setting down the German correspondence. “Full partnership agreement, three new distribution centers.”
“Good. That gives us coverage through Bavaria.”
I spread strawberry preserves on toast, savoring the simple pleasure of breakfast with my husband. At just over four months pregnant, my appetite has finally returned with vengeance. Everything tastes better now.
“Dr. Patterson wants to see us next week,” I mention. “For another ultrasound.”
“I’ll clear my schedule.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not missing any more appointments.”
The firmness in his voice makes me smile. Alaric has become fiercely protective of anything related to the pregnancy, rearranging business meetings to accommodate doctor visits and refusing any travel that would take him away for more than a day.
“What about the Chicago situation?” I ask.
“Tony’s handling it. The trafficking networks are more extensive than we thought, but we’re making progress.”
Since Vegas, Alaric has devoted himself to dismantling human trafficking operations with single-minded intensity. Three rings shut down in two weeks, fifteen men dead, dozens of girls rescued and returned to their families.
“You’re making a difference,” I tell him.
“We’re making a difference. Your intelligence on the financial networks made the Chicago raid possible.”
