Callie disconnected, and he and Daphne shook the hands of the agents. He confirmed with Tologodor, whose first name was Sebastian, that he’d be back at three, then Hershorn escorted them out.
“I’ve known Stella for years,” she said conversationally as they stepped into the elevator. “It’s a bit annoying when she drops cases on our laps, especially the ones we didn’t even know about, but she’s never been wrong. My career thanks her, and 99 percent of the time, I’m glad she’s in my corner. Glad she’s in the FBI’s corner.” The car slid silently toward the ground floor, then paused at the bottom before the doors opened. Lovell waited until Daphne and Hershorn exited before following.
“That said,” Hershorn continued as they walked toward the security gates, “not everyone in the agency feels the same as I do.”
They passed through the gates and paused in the lobby. A not-so-subtle warning. He better not fuck things up and give those in the anti-HICC camp any cannon fodder.
“Understood,” he said.
Her pale blue eyes studied him, then she nodded. “We’ll see you at three.” With that, she turned and passed back through the security gates.
They donned their coats and hats, then giving the elephant in the room its spotlight, Lovell looked at Daphne with one eyebrow raised.
She wrinkled her nose, as if maybe she was sorry but not really. “I might have laid some groundwork yesterday.”
He had no interest in being mad that she hadn’t told, or even asked, him. She’d given him exactly what he wanted without him having to fight for it. The “what” in this case was far more important than the “how.” The rush of warmth, of tenderness, that tightened his chest, upset his heartbeat, and felt like a thousand butterflies moving through his blood wasn’t entirely comfortable, though. His brothers had gone to the mat for him dozens of times—they protected one another, looked out for one another, and had even killed for one another while serving. But never before had a woman done the same. Not that she’d literally killed someone, but she’d slayed one of his fears, one of his obstacles, and made something possible. Something important to him. And he didn’t doubt that she’d set aside her own worry when she’d done it. With her friends-in-interesting-places, she had to have an idea of how these kinds of ops played out. It wasn’t a picnic in the park; not even the smoothest of ops ran without a hitch. And she’d made this happen for him.
That train of thought led to another. Hemeantsomething to her. He’d known that, of course. Daphne wasn’t one to waste her time on someone she didn’t care for. But knowing andknowingwere two different things. She’d made this happen for him, not because she didn’t care about him, but because she did.Shewanted this for him. No muss, no fuss, no arguments about how dangerous it might be; she knew all that and yet still made it happen.
“Tell me about it on the way to the hotel,” he said, holding out his hand. She slipped hers into his, and he led her to the door. “I don’t want to sound stupid when we talk to your sister.”
They passed through the doors, and a gust of bitterly cold wind, carrying the scent of roasted chestnuts with it, assailedthem. She leaned into him, and he managed to drop a kiss on her head before the rain-slick sidewalk demanded their attention.
“You wouldn’t sound stupid anyway,” she said, her defense making him smile.
“Maybe not, but if Philly gets wind of it, he’ll make up a whole thing, then we’ll never hear the end of how you and Callie saved my ass.”
She laughed. “No question about that. Here’s what little I know.”
“You are not to engage in any hostile activity unless there are no other options, Church, is that clear?” Hershorn said. He nodded. The five of them were back in the small office going through the plan. Three teams, led by Khafra, Charnette, and Tologodor, were responsible for breaching the house occupied by Sweet Dreams. A much larger team would deploy first and manage the grounds and outside security. His job was to wait until told otherwise.
The intel situation hadn’t changed much since he and Daphne left earlier, but in the last six hours, they’d learned that Adam Gareth, a fourth member of the Sweet Dreams ownership team, was the “face” of the service—the thirty-seven-year-old with a baby face, blond hair, round blue eyes, and a dimple gave the appearance of being harmless. Being the one responsible for identifying and recruiting the predators who subscribed to Sweet Dreams services, he was anything but.
They’d also gleaned one additional, salient piece of information, thanks to Weeks’s confession and the wiretapsthey’d been authorized to place. Every morning at 4:00 a.m., after all the clients left for the night, Chanel, Malcom, Ken, and Adam met to discuss the night’s events, their clients, and any potential new ones. They referred to it as their belly-up meeting. Lovell didn’t know why they named it that, doubted the FBI did either, and he had no inclination to spend any mental energy on the question.
No, what most interested him was thenextbelly-up meeting. The one he’d walk in on once the team neutralized both the human and electronic security.
“Khafra’s and Charnette’s teams will wait outside while you go in,” Hershorn said. “When you’ve gotten everything you think you can from those four without putting your life in more danger than it will already be in, give the signal and we’ll take over from there.”
Again, he nodded. He wouldn’t mind going in guns blazing. Chanel and Malcom and possibly the other two had sent people tokillhim. And they’d kidnapped Daphne. They deserved to rot in hell for that alone. Add the trafficking and sex crimes on top of that, and he hoped they had a long, uncomfortable stay in a maximum-security prison. He might even let it leak through his contacts what they were in for. People who sold people, especially young ones, didn’t tend to fare well in general population.
But even from the beginning, when he first started considering the possibility of joining the op, he’d accepted that his role would be limited to gathering intel only. That he had this opportunity at all was a gift horse he wasn’t going to questionorfuck up. He’d do everything in his power to encourage the foursome to talk about the small empire they’d built.
“Did Tologodor kit you out?” Hershorn asked.
He cast a look at the agent. The man raised a dark eyebrow. Lovell had made certain decisions about his equipment thatTologodor hadn’t been shy in telling him Hershorn wouldn’t approve of.
“All I’m going in with is a vest and a wire,” he said.
She blinked. “A vest and a wire.” One of her springy curls fell over her ear as she tipped her head.
“Your team will manage everything outside that room, but other than the fact that the meeting occurs, we have no intel on what happens inside,” he said. “They may have more security with them. Even if it’s only the four owners, though, we should assume that at least Malcom will be armed. Ken, too. They won’t let me through the door if I’m carrying.”
Hershorn’s lips tightened as if she’d sucked a lemon. Everyone in the room remained silent. “A knife,” she said.
“Bring a knife to a gunfight?” he asked, unable to keep the hint of humor from his voice. “I could hide that better than a gun, but they’d still find it.”
Her eyes shifted to her team. “Is there anything we can send him in with?”
