Allison Brennan - Fatal Secrets

“Together we’re going to nail him,” he vowed.

“I’m counting on it.” When she looked at him, Dean was surprised at the vulnerability behind her determined expression.

“It’s Greg Vega, Jones’s head security chief. He’s been with Jones for years.”

Dean appreciated Sonia’s revelation. The admission had been hard, and Dean respected the trust she’d placed in him. “I’d like to talk to your informant.”

Sonia balked. “You can’t.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not you, it’s the system. The fewer people who know about Vega, the better chance he stays alive.”

“He might have information you don’t know to ask about.”

She stiffened as if he’d offended her. “I know my job.”

“And I know about racketeering. I need to know how Jones is laundering his money. I can’t imagine he’s smuggling people in and out of America for fun. He’s getting paid well for it.”

“True, but-”

“We took down Al Capone for tax evasion. We have better laws now to stop criminals like Xavier Jones. I just need the money trail, and then I can nail him. Protect your informant. I don’t want anything to happen to Vega or his family. Trust me, Sonia.”

Sonia saw that Dean meant every word he said. She had no doubt he would do everything in his considerable power to protect the Vegas. She wanted to trust Dean. Why was it so hard to give him that one olive branch? Trust was the most important thing between partners-and that was the crux of the problem. Charlie had not only betrayed their partnership, but he had also destroyed the trust inside of her. It had taken her years to rebuild her confidence in others.

Silence hung between them, and Dean’s entreaty turned to anger. “I see.”

He didn’t see; he couldn’t know what had happened. Not everything. And she couldn’t tell him like this, she didn’t talk about it. Ever. But she didn’t want this riff, she liked Dean, she needed him to take down Jones. Time was critical. She had to share something, so he understood why she was hesitant. She released a long, frustrated sigh. Dean turned from her, but she grabbed his arm to pull him back, her fingers gripping rock-hard muscle beneath his expensive tailored shirt.

“I lost an informant nearly four years ago,” Sonia said. “Before I was transferred here. A nineteen-year-old prostitute from Argentina. I was born in Argentina and I used everything in my arsenal to bring her on board. I pleaded with her, I threatened her, I guilted her into it. She was scared to death, but she knew what happened to the younger girls, girls who had become her sisters and friends. She wanted it to stop.”

Sonia dropped her hand and turned away from Dean, looking at the neat stacks of paperwork but not seeing anything but a blur of black and white. Why was this so hard to say out loud? Not a day went by that she didn’t remember …

“Her name was Maria. She had tattoos like Ann, who’s fighting for her life at Sutter Hospital. Not four stars, but a square with an overlapping cross. She finally agreed to help me after one of the younger girls was murdered by a john. Maria realized that none of them were safe. It took me months to work on her, primarily because I was undercover and only there one day a week. I was the “nurse” giving them their Depo-Provera shots, checking them for pregnancy and STDs, and treating their cuts and bruises.”

“How long were you undercover?”

“Fifteen weeks. We could have gotten them for illegal prostitution, but I needed to prove they were smuggling in not only illegal immigrants but also minors against their will. I wanted the whole chain, not just that one link.” Every night she’d left reluctantly, wanting to take all twenty-four girls with her. Help them. Protect them. That she couldn’t tore apart her heart.

“Did you get them?” he asked quietly.

“Oh, yeah. Twenty-seven people went down in that sting, from low level thugs to the coyotes who transported the girls to leaders controlling multiple such places. We prosecuted nine, the remainder fled. Five were extradited last year and are awaiting trial, and the rest we can’t touch. They’re not Americans, and they’ve gone to ground. But, all in all, the operation was a huge success. For everyone except me, that is.”

Dean was right behind her, she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “What happened to Maria?”

She blinked back tears. “Two days before we took them down, Maria gave me vital information. I had everything we needed, but she was giddy-there was a new shipment of girls coming in that night. I staked it out, but it was a bust. The next morning, Maria was dead. She’d been set up, and-” She stopped. He didn’t need to know everything.

“Did they know it was you?”

“Yeah. I fucked up, okay?”

“But you got them.”

“Maria not only died, she was tortured. They shipped off half the girls before I could get them out. I found some of them, but … it’s not just about putting the traffickers behind bars, it’s about saving innocent people. Maria should never have died. I should have sensed it was a setup, but I was so high on the power of the hunt, of nailing these guys every which way I could, I was blind.”

“And you don’t want to risk it again.”

“I can’t!”

“I’m not a risk, Sonia. You agreed we’d work together. I can’t work with you if you don’t trust me. It’s your call.”

Sonia wanted to. God, she wanted to, but she suddenly felt the vise tightening and everything was moving too quickly. She needed time to think.

Her phone rang and she excused herself, relieved that she could buy a couple of minutes. Dean walked out, mumbling something about water. He was angry, and Sonia wished she could patch things up. Dean wasn’t Charlie, she had to trust him, somehow.

“Hello,” she snapped into the phone.

“Sonia.”

The deep voice was none other than Kane Rogan. She breathed easier. Kane had never let her down. She wanted to trust Dean like she did Kane, but she didn’t know the fed. Yet, she didn’t really know Kane, either. Other than the fact he’d saved her life.

“Thank you for returning my call.”

“You don’t call often.”

“Charlie Cammarata.”

The silence was so complete Sonia could picture Kane as a statue, calmly assessing a threat before he acted. “What about him?”

“I saw him today. Working for a trafficker. You’ve hired him in the past-do you know what he’s working on now?”

“I haven’t hired him in ten years.” Kane spoke clearly in a low, deliberate tone.

She swallowed uneasily. She’d angered him without intending to. “I know, but you’ve been in contact.”

“I’ve sent jobs his way. When no one else was willing to take them.”

“Recently?”

“I referred him to a woman whose daughter went missing last year while on a cruise. Security determined that she fell overboard after drinking too much. The mother was not convinced. However, the police were, and they closed the case.”

“That’s all?”

“In these last few years. Cammarata has become un-dependable.”

“Would you still have her contact information?”

“Of course.”

“What about Charlie’s?”

“Yes.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Very well. I assume you know what you’re doing, but remain aware that Charlie is not the same man he was ten years ago. And he wasn’t trustworthy then.”

“I understand,” she said softly, clearing her throat. “I appreciate your help.”

“You can call anytime, Sonia.”

“I know.”

“Let my brother know if you need anything. Duke will drop everything to assist.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”