Tucking my cell into the inside pocket of my jacket, I zip it up before carefully pulling the helmet down over my head, ensuring I don’t mess up my hair. Then I climb onto my motorcycle, kick-start the engine, and floor it out of there.
* * *
I’m waiting in the alleyway alongside the five-star hotel where Manning and Barron are staying this weekend, wondering if they came all this way just to get drunk at the bar, when my cell pings with a new text.
RX: On the move
Me: Follow and advise
I watch my screen with impatience for the next ten minutes, waiting for a further update. When it comes, there are two accompanying photos of black Range Rovers with fully tinted windows. I text the plate numbers to my tech guy and request updates.
I usually always have Andreas on standby when I’m out in the field. There are cameras all over the streets of L.A., and it’s easy enough to follow a vehicle. Andreas will also run a search for cell phone signals and track those closest to the vehicles. In the past, we’ve been lucky when he’s hit the jackpot, and it’s made surveilling our mark easier. Increasingly, I’m using drones, but there are so many of them in the skies of L.A. that it’s challenging to stay concealed. Manning and Barron are shrewd players, and I need to take extra precautions.
RX: Coming your way
Me: I’m on it. Hold position.
I start the engine and wait for their vehicles to pass before I pull out onto the busy street. It’s past eleven p.m. at night in the city that doesn’t sleep, and traffic is still a bitch. I hold well back so they don’t make me, knowing Andreas will send coordinates to my phone if I lose sight of them.
Traffic flows more freely as we move away from downtown, driving south on the highway. I maintain a reasonable distance behind them as we drive for a further twenty minutes, and when they don’t take any of the exits, I think I know where we’re heading.
It’s harder to follow and remain hidden when we reach Long Beach. I’m expecting them to either drive straight to the separate port here or drive farther to the main one at San Pedro Bay, but they veer left, heading toward the industrial section of Long Beach.
Andreas is watching them via the street cams, so I stop on a side road and wait for a couple of minutes. When the coordinates come in, I drive into the large industrial sector where several well-known businesses have warehouses. I spot the two Rovers parked behind a gray warehouse, and I pull in behind the adjoining warehouse and kill the engine. Removing my night vision binoculars and balaclava from the storage area under the seat, I drape the binoculars around my neck and stuff the face covering in my pocket before propping my helmet on my bike and setting out on foot. I use the flashlight on my cell to guide my path because the fuckers who own this space clearly didn’t budget for lighting.
I arrive in time to see Manning and his crew creeping along the back of the warehouse, heading toward the one next door with the lights on. All the men are dressed in dark combat gear and heavily armed as they sneak forward.
I follow at a reasonable pace, sticking to the shadows as I creep up on them. Two of the men are sent up ahead to scout the area around the lit warehouse. Ardent Shipping is written in patchy white lettering on the side of the building. I tap out a text to Andreas to run a quick check on the company before using my binoculars to zoom in on the men Manning sent ahead, watching them slap a few tech devices around the perimeter of the building. I duck down as one of the men sends a stealth drone into the air, directing it toward the tall narrow window at the top righthand side of the building.
I’m guessing their high-tech gear comes courtesy of HADK Cybersecurity, a specialist security company established initially by Sawyer Hunt and Xavier Daniels. They changed the name and rebranded after Zayn Anderson and Keven Kennedy came on board as co-owners. When it comes to running covert illegal ops, it pays to have super-smart tech geniuses for best friends.
After the drone returns along with the two scouts, they form a circle and begin talking in hushed whispers. It seems obvious they plan to bust into the warehouse, and I’d like to know what’s inside, so I turn back the way I came, darting to the right and jogging around successive warehouses as I loop around to the Ardent Shipping warehouse from the rear left of the structure. From this angle, I’m hidden from Manning and his crew. I look up and smile. The gods are certainly looking out for me today. My lips curve wider as I walk toward the fire exit and my way in. Stretching up, I slowly and quietly pull the ladder down.
There’s a fire in my belly and a charge crackling in my veins as I scale the ladder and climb all the way to the top. The small door that leads inside is locked, but it only takes me a few minutes to jimmy the lock and slink inside.
I’m hidden in the roof space, surrounded by a godawful musty smell and several brown boxes. I sneak a peek in a few of them, finding nothing but packing materials. Raised voices from down below tickle my eardrum, and I inch closer to the box nearest the edge, hiding behind it as I gingerly poke my head out.
Down below, a group of men surround an older man with a long straggly gray beard. He appears to be arguing with a tall man sporting a nasty scowl and a large beer belly. They are too far away to hear what they’re saying but not far enough when the tall man whips out a gun and shoots the old man clear through the eyes. The pop rings in my ears, and it’s lights out for the bearded man before he’s even hit the ground.
Manning chooses that moment to make his appearance, bursting into the room with his men from two different angles. In what was clearly a planned strategic attack, his men take out the warehouse guys in quick succession before they’ve even had time to reach for their weapons. I didn’t even have time to record it on my cell. Only two men remain standing. The tall man and a second younger man who bears a striking resemblance to the man standing at his side.
No wonder the board is scared. These guys operate like Luminaries, and they are considerable foes. If I had my rifle, I could take Manning out now, but I wouldn’t make it out of here alive. As much as I respect the guys who lead our world, I’m not ready to die. Not before I’ve truly had a chance to live. Besides, killing him would be premature. I need to discover what he knows and who he’s told. Blowing Manning’s head off now, while hugely appealing, would only cause a different problem. I need to bide my time and gather as much intel as I can. Then it will be Ares, Baz, Knight, and Jase’s collective decision how to handle it.
Manning and Barron quickly disarm the men and secure their wrists with cuffs. Words are exchanged before Manning pistol-whips the tall guy, and he crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The younger guy protests, earning him a punch in the face from Barron. He loses consciousness, falling on top of the older man on the ground while Manning starts issuing orders. I watch him through my binoculars, fascinated with the cold calm expression on his face as he commands his team. A couple of men leave the warehouse while the others begin searching the place. I figure I’ll wait until they’re gone before making my exit, but that decision is taken out of my hands when I hear footsteps climbing the stairs toward my hiding place.
Shit! There’s not enough time to leave, so I do the only thing I can. I pull the balaclava over my head and jump up, grabbing the ceiling beams and using them to haul my body up. I fit my feet into the roof cornices while plastering my spine to the flatter roof panel and gripping the two beams ahead of me. Then I pray to the gods and cling to the roof for dear life while the stocky man with dark eyes and a shiny head checks the area and inspects the boxes. A line of sweat rolls between my breasts as I hold my breath and wait for him to finish his inspection.
I close my eyes for a brief second, offering silent thanks as the guy leaves and begins climbing back down. I wait a good while, to be sure the coast is clear, before carefully unfurling from the roof. My foot lands on something lumpy, and I almost lose my balance. I thrust my arm out, holding on to the side wall to steady myself. I frown as I stare at the slightly raised section of the floor.
Goose bumps sprout on my arms as I bend down to examine it. An ominous sense of foreboding washes over me, but I’m still shocked when I lift the loose edge of the flooring sheet and make a horrific discovery.
Wide, glazed blue eyes stare up at me as I clamp a trembling hand over my mouth. I have met a lot of monsters in my line of work, but it takes a particularly sick, depraved creep to stuff a little girl into the floorboards of a warehouse and leave her to rot because no one would find her here unless they stumbled upon her as I did.
Pain fills every empty space within me as I’m reminded of all the evils of our world. Our leaders have worked tirelessly for years to shut down child trafficking, but as soon as you cut off one head, another one grows. It’s a never-ending cycle, and the world is full of too many sick pricks.
Her skin has a bruised-like complexion, and it’s starting to swell, confirming she’s been dead at least three to four days. She’s small and petite with a thick head of white-blonde hair tied up in a pink and white ribbon. She wears knee-high white socks and glossy black pumps. Her pretty pink dress is torn at one shoulder, and the doll she’s clutching in one arm is missing its head. But it’s the round bullet hole in her forehead that has me welling up. Bile swims up my throat, and nausea pitches through my stomach. I take a picture of her with my cell as I contemplate my options.
I can’t leave her here. Someone out there is frantically looking for this little girl, and they will need closure. Tapping out a message to Andreas, I ask him to send a crew to collect a body at the scene, and I prepare to wait.
