“She got me hard as a fuckin’ rock,” Maestro admitted. “She didn’t do anything but sit there looking at her tablet, with the sun shining through the window hitting all that hair.”
Czar frowned. “That could be a problem for you, Maestro. Finding someone who fits with you and knowing you’re deceiving her can take a toll.”
Maestro’s gut tightened unexpectedly. He didn’t know why Zelie affected him the way she did. He didn’t trust women or outsiders. He couldn’t imagine anyone ever changing his mind. His childhood and teenage years had been horrific, thanks to the many betrayals and, worse, him losing those he cared about because they refused to listen. They refused to acknowledge anyone else’s expertise.
He’d seen that trait in a few of the women his Torpedo Ink brethren had chosen for partners. He could never—would never—be able to put up with that type of what he considered reckless and willful disobedience. He knew he was a control freak when it came to anyone he cared for. The fear of losing them was so strong that he often said and did things that even his sisters and brothers in Torpedo Ink didn’t understand. How could they, when he barely understood how he had become the way he was?
“She’s a mark, Czar,” Maestro reiterated, more for himself than Czar. “We have no idea if she’s involved. This is the first time we’ve had solid information on anyone high up in this trafficking ring. How long have we been working on it? Two years? Three? How many women and children have been lost because we couldn’t find names or places to look for them?”
All members were present as usual when they were deciding on something important. They might follow Czar, their president’s, lead, but the policy was that everyone had a voice. The original members of Torpedo Ink had been joined bytwo of Czar’s birth brothers, Gavriil and Casimir. Stamped with the Prakenskii looks, both had been held and trained in Sorbacov’s schools of horror. The schools they attended weren’t quite as bad as the one Czar had been taken to, but they suffered their own horrors, and more than once, Gavriil had been brought to Czar’s school as a threat.
Torpedo Ink had one newly patched member, Fatei “Rock” Molchalin. Fatei had been with them almost from the beginning. He’d gone to the same school in Russia that Gavriil had attended. He didn’t have the obvious muscle many of the Torpedo Ink members had, but he was strong and could always be counted on. They’d begun calling him Rock because he was the one they had learned over time they could count on. He was a quiet, intelligent man, and had proved his loyalty over and over.
“Unfortunately, he’s right,” Code said. Code was their main source of information. He could handle computers the way race car drivers drove on a speedway. When Code had been brought into the basement of the school where the other children were, he had been thin and frail, his eyes weak. Czar had recognized the genius, tenacity and loyalty in him. Code was a survivor and extremely valuable to Torpedo Ink. He was anything but thin and frail now. He had developed the physical strength to match his enormous intelligence. It didn’t take much for him to get on the scent of a trail and track down whatever the club needed. But the hierarchy of the trafficking ring had eluded them. They were able, at times, to stop auctions and free the women and teens used for prostitution against their will, but those successes seemed few and far between.
“If we can’t utilize this information and get to Alan Billows before he sends out the next batch of sex slaves he could be training, they’ll be lost. We won’t be able to get any of them back,” Code added.
“But we don’t know if this girl—woman—is involved,” Alena “Torch” Koval objected. “Shouldn’t we get more information on her before we destroy her self-esteem? We’velearned the hard way that we should be more careful of how we handle human beings.”
That was Alena. She tried to be tough, but she was soft on the inside. She’d given Maestro the premature silver streaks in his hair. Alena, like all of Torpedo Ink, had been trained to be an assassin. She was good at her job but lacked the toughness the rest of them had. She had compassion and empathy. Unfortunately, that could get her killed.
Alena was a beautiful woman, in Maestro’s opinion, both inside and out. With her curvy body, platinum hair and icy blue eyes, she was striking. Coupled with her fast thinking and compassionate heart, she was extraordinary. Maestro thought of her as a younger sibling, a sister he protected even though she didn’t believe she needed it. Younger birth sister of two Torpedo Ink members, Dmitry “Storm” Koval and Isaak “Ice” Koval, she owned the Crow 287 restaurant. Alena’s ability to cook was undisputed.
Maestro tried to be fair. “I believe we need to act on the information we have. It took us too long to get it, and if we miss this opportunity, we may not get another one.” If he was being honest with himself, he wanted to spend time with Zelie. He also wanted to do the right thing if Billows was holding prisoners.
“I watched her pay for two different orders for a couple of women who clearly needed it and couldn’t afford it. She didn’t make a big deal of it and did it anonymously. She often treats the older women who refer to themselves as the merry widows,” he conceded.
“I looked into her financials,” Code said. “She doesn’t have much, but she’s still generous to others. We’ve had eyes on her for three weeks, and she consistently helps the homeless, seniors, new mothers, and single dads. Most of her money goes to pay for her school, and living in San Francisco is expensive, even in a small studio apartment like hers.”
Maestro found that last bit of information regarding single fathers irritating, which made no sense. “On a different day, I saw her help an older lady when the woman was confused,and two teenagers were laughing at her. Zelie gave them a look that said ‘back off’ and took care of the woman, making certain she had her purse, glasses and food.”
Alena sighed as she drummed her fingers on the end table beside the comfortable chair she occupied. “She doesn’t sound like the kind of woman who would be involved in a human trafficking ring.” She tilted her head to look up at the president of their club. “You tell us all the time that we need to find a way to fit into society. That we should keep learning to be better people. Taking this poor girl’s life apart and destroying all trust, to get information she may not even have, doesn’t sound like we’re progressing to me.”
“Alena.” Maestro spoke as gently as possible. “I know you’ve experienced betrayal time and again. It hurts, but it can also make you strong. I’m not going in with a bulldozer. We know she has information that could be vital to us. She’s central to getting inside the underground rooms situated below the nightclubs. She has keys to those rooms.”
Maksimos “Ink” Korask, their resident and extremely popular tattoo artist, weighed in. He had wide shoulders and dark hair. His body was covered in tattoos, mostly of animals and birds. Ink was a phenomenal artist and had an affinity with the animals tattooed on his body. He owned Black Ink Tattoo, a popular tattoo parlor in the small town of Caspar.
“We’ve spent more than two years trying to get names, anything at all, to help us find a way to break this ring. If Billows has women trapped in those rooms below his club, we need to get them out of there. We also need answers from Billows.”
Savva “Reaper” Pajari and his younger brother, Savin “Savage” Pajari, were the sergeants at arms for the club. Savage rarely spoke, but when he did, they all listened. He shaved his head to keep his blond curls away. He had shockingly blue eyes, and his very appearance often was enough of a deterrent when other bikers wanted to cause fights in the Torpedo Ink Roadhouse, a bar the club owned and operated.
“We can’t interrogate Billows until we know where thosekeys are kept. Breaking into the underground rooms hasn’t been a viable solution. Too many risks. We need the keys. Hell, we don’t even know where the entrance is. Maestro, do you believe you can get them from her?”
Maestro had no doubt that, given time, he would be able to search for the keys and make a copy when he found them. Zelie would have to trust him enough to allow him to roam freely in her studio apartment. They’d already searched her living space multiple times when she was out but hadn’t found the keys to the rooms below the club.
“I told you, give me the time and I’ll get everything we need from her. She’s extremely susceptible to me.” He didn’t add that he was also susceptible to her, but somehow, he must have given it away.
Steele gave him a hard look. “You need me to send Keys in?”
Maestro allowed himself to appear a little disconcerted. “Why would you do that?”
“You reacted to her. You’ve never reacted to any woman.”
“She’s a fuckin’ mark, Steele. For all we know, she could be the brains behind this operation. I’d be shocked, but she’s smart enough. She’s into their books. I don’t see how she could see their books every day for all these years and not know what’s going on. Maybe not the trafficking, but she knows this owner is dirty. She actually told me that the first time she ever did the books for Billows she kept him out of prison, and she was only sixteen.”
There was silence for a moment. Czar shook his head. “Sixteen years old and she’s cooking the books for one of the worst criminals we’ve come across.”
“I think she’s a genius when it comes to numbers and patterns,” Maestro admitted. “How else could she manage those books at such a young age?”
