Kincaid: Cerberus Mc Book 1 (13 page)

“I’m Jake,” he says reaching out his hand again. “You can start on Friday. Be here by four to fill out the paperwork.”

I hear Kid clear his throat and watch as Jake looks at him. Something passes between them before Jake looks back at me. “Make that four-thirty. No paperwork.”

If I wasn’t so happy about finding a job, I’d question whatever it was that’s clearly going on here. I thank Jake and leave the bar knowing by the charge in the air that Kid is right on my heels.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask Kid the second we’re both back in the vehicle.

His shrug from the driver’s seat makes me want to slap the back of his head for the nonchalance. “You got a job.”

I cross my arms over my chest and look out the window not willing to complain any further because in four days I’ll start a job that brings me one step closer to independence.

“We need to grab a few things from the grocery store before we head back,” Rose says as we pull out of the parking lot.

***

I’m doing my best to make the most of my first shift at
Jake’s
, but every time I look over at the table in the corner and see Kid supervising me, my temper grows. That, along with the fact that my period started this morning, and I had to ask another woman for tampons because I was completely unprepared for it pisses me off even more. My focus has been off since the moment I set my eyes on Diego Anderson, and it’s becoming frustrating.

I grin again at Jake as he makes a comment about the group of ladies at the back of the bar. I’ve been serving the bachelorette party since they got here. At first, I was certain Jake was testing me to see how I handled the table of ten; he settled when he realized not only was I being truthful about my experience but I’m very good at waitressing. He’s been flirting with me every chance he got since realizing I’m capable of handling myself in a busy bar.

I smile all the way to the loud group of boisterous women to deliver the colorful mixed drinks they ordered. When I turn back to the bar, I see Kid has moved from his table to a stool near the drink pick-up area. I ignore him as I lean in to grab the beers ordered by another table. He and Jake were talking but grew silent as I approached.

Without a word, I leave them at the bar. “She’s Kincaid’s,” I hear Kid say in a low voice. I smile, for some reason loving the idea of being Diego’s.

The atmosphere around the bar, including Jake, when I come back to place my next drink order is entirely different than it was just moments before. Jake smiles and is polite, but gone is the flirting and suggestive looks. I have to wonder about the power of the man I can’t seem to get my mind off of if two words have other men backing down immediately. It makes me feel safe and protected, a feeling I haven’t felt in a very long time.

My shift goes by quickly, and I find that the people of New Mexico, for some reason, tip more than the patrons I encountered at
Drifter’s
in Denver. After his conversation with Jake, Kid went back to his table, which surprisingly stayed empty while he was away even though the bar was fairly crowded. Just another level of control the Cerberus MC has over this town. I have no doubt the club’s standing in the community is the reason I was given this job within minutes of asking for it, but I’m not going to look a gift horse in the mouth because at the end of the day I have a job; for that, I’m grateful.

When the crowd begins to dwindle, I head over to Kid’s table. He’s kept an eye on me all night but made sure to sit in one of the other waitress’s areas, giving me some room to breathe. His waitress left for home a few minutes ago, so I make my way over to see if he needs another beer before last call. He’s been nursing a few all night, and that is another reason I’m comfortable around him.

Whether it is Diego’s orders or the fact that he just cares, he’s not going to put me in a position where I’m forced to either ride home with him intoxicated or insist on driving myself. This is a consideration Bobby would’ve never given me. Countless times I had to practically carry him out of my place of employment and drive his drunk ass home.

“You need another?” I ask Kid and angle my head to his empty beer bottle.

He shakes his head no and just watches my face. I’m not uncomfortable with him looking at me, but I do feel pressured to speak.

“This situation is familiar,” I tell him pointedly. He hitches an eyebrow up in confusion. “A man watching my every move while I work.”

His lip twitches as if he’s annoyed that I’d compare him to Bobby. He leans in closer to me before he begins to speak. “I’m here to protect you, Emmalyn, not look for reasons to punish you.” I nod my head in understanding, feeling guilty for even implying he was anything like Bobby. I begin to lower my head in shame because Kid has done nothing but treat me kindly and make sure I’m safe. “Besides,” he begins, “Kincaid would have my balls if I let you get so much as a scratch on the beautiful body of his… I mean yours.”

I snap my head up and glare at him. He holds his hands up as if he may have to protect himself any second. “Don’t look at me like that! Those are his words, not mine.”

I narrow my eyes at him, but smile ear to ear as I walk back to the bar to throw his empty beer bottle away.

The last two weeks have been absolute fucking torture, in more than one sense of the word. The mission took a nasty turn when after we had acted on some bad information, we discovered that we were within hours of rescuing Constance, but something tipped the traders off and they moved the group of captives.

We know, as of twelve hours ago, Constance was in Johannesburg with a group of about fifteen other women. When we made entry into the house, the only thing we discovered was evidence that they were holding a large number of people in a very small building.

We also found the body of a girl that could be no more than sixteen years old. Proper authorities were contacted after that gruesome discovery, and hopefully, they could get that poor soul back to her family; at least their grieving could start in earnest now.

We have eyes and ears all over town, and now the worst part of any mission begins, the waiting. We wait and hope that we’re paying the snitches more than the traffickers, and they call us first when the group we’re tracking gets settled again. We’re days away from the World Cup, and there is no way the traffickers will leave the area without getting the biggest payday they can. It means they will be situated near the stadium grounds, making it easier for travelers to have access to the girls.

We all hit the makeshift beds situated in a small room in a rent-by-the-week motel hoping to get some sleep, so the waiting doesn’t seem as fruitless. We’re all exhausted. We’ve been at this for almost two weeks, and we seem to be just hours behind them with every move we make.

It’s not uncommon. Traffickers are known to be skittish, moving the women with just the slightest hint that someone may be lurking around the corner. They don’t have to only worry about recon forces such as myself catching them, but they also have to worry about other groups of traffickers coming in and poaching the women they’ve spent so much time and money getting here. No honor among thieves and all that.

I shoot Emmalyn a quick text before closing my eyes. I wait for a few minutes for her return text, but it never comes. I look at the time on the cell phone and realize that it’s four in the morning. I close my eyes, knowing she’s asleep and feeling like a jerk for sending a message that could’ve woken her up.

***

I’m livid at whoever it is that’s shaking me out of my dream. Nothing is more important to me right now than the arms I had wrapped around Emmalyn as we lay on our sides holding each other. I grumble and reach for the last few tendrils of sleep, doing my best to stay with her.

She drifts away, and my eyes snap open to find Shadow leaning over my bunk shaking me. “I could kill you right now,” I spit at him.

He chuckles. “I know you want your girl, K, but we have shit to do.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I follow his gaze to my crotch and smirk at the straining erection in my boxers.

“And on top of that, you were whispering her name.” His grin grows. “Not very discrete, man.”

“Fuck off,” I say to him with no animosity at all. He’s too observant for his own damn good. Great for the mission, but a pain in the ass when it comes to my personal shit. “Why are you pulling me away from thoughts of my girl?”

His eyes widen slightly at my admission, and I grin back at him, proud to have finally surprised him if even just a little bit.

“We got word from Rendi. The information he’s feeding us seems to be pretty legit. So you can either lie in your rack and dream about your girl, or we can get this shit over with, and you can be in her arms by this time tomorrow.” He shrugs like he hasn’t just given me the best possible news my ears could ever hear.

Less than an hour later we’re geared up and making entry on a set of rundown apartments just blocks from the stadium where the World Cup will be televised to millions of people all over the world. Viewers are an unsuspecting group of normal people who have no idea the sick and twisted things that go on at every single one of these worldwide events.

The organizers try to keep these facts out of the media. If the public at large knew that over thirty thousand women and girls were trafficked all over the world to be available to the sick, disgusting men at these events, I’m certain viewership would drop dramatically.

There will never be enough justice for the scum we find in these places, the handlers and patrons alike. We found that out on our first recovery mission several years ago. We also discovered the level of immunity we have in a situation like this. That reasoning and knowledge are what motivates us on each and every mission. That is the reason the trafficked women we rescue are the only living survivors we pull out of these places. The only consolation we can offer to these abused women is the knowledge that these certain men will never hurt another woman. Dead men don’t do evil deeds.

Shadow is taking the lead on this one and I keep a watchful eye on him as we move silently down the hall toward the apartment we were told is housing all of the women. With Shadow on one side and me on the other side of the door, Ace is protected as much as he can be. One powerful kick to the door and the lock shatters, allowing us to gain access to the disgusting apartment.

Within minutes and a lot of screaming from unsuspecting women, we’ve taken down a half dozen men and cleared all but one room. Ace kicks the door to that room open as well. I don’t give a second thought to pulling the trigger, sending the piece of shit with his dick out that’s leaning over the girl I’d recognize from anywhere to meet his maker. She doesn’t even blink as he collapses beside her on the bed.

She’s completely broken. I’ve seen it too many times to count. She doesn’t even acknowledge us as Shadow pulls the dead piece of shit from the bed she’s on. I calmly make my way over to her, but can tell by her constant blank stare that she’s either had a mental break down, or they’ve got her high as a kite. It wouldn’t be unusual for her to be suffering from both.

I wrap a blanket Ace hands me around her shoulders and make the call to the Senator’s team that’s a few blocks away. They will be the ones responsible for getting her home. The Senator has also assured us that he will see to any other women we recover along with his daughter.

Once the women are cleared from the apartment, we search it for all weapons and any intel that may lead authorities to other cells of women this organization may be associated with. Satisfied that we’ve done everything we possibly can, we clear out of the building and head back to pack our gear.

By all accounts, this would be considered a successful mission. Convincing any of the men that saw what we saw today that we were successful would be a hard sell. We know that not only will another group just pop up to replace the small sector we just took down, but the hour we were in that apartment, over a thousand women were abducted at various locations around the world and will inevitably end up in a place much like the one we just left.

“What’s the plan?” Shadow asks as we pack our things.

Never stop moving forward. It’s a vow we took when we first started this organization. As uncaring as it seems, we can’t get bogged down by emotion and what-ifs.

“Home,” I say as I shove my wadded up clothing into my duffle bag. I don’t even fold them knowing I’ll have to wash everything once I get back to the states.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Wrench asks from across the room. “We’ve been here for over two weeks working this damn case, and now we don’t even get to celebrate?”

I know why he’s pissed. Every mission we’ve ever had we spend a night celebrating, which usually includes a bar and women. That’s what was happening in Denver the night I met Em. It doesn’t hold the same appeal for me, and my girl is back at the club house. Going by her super sweet texts over the last two weeks, she’s missing me as much as I miss her.

I look over at Shadow and see him giving me a knowing smile. A quick glance at Ace just tells me he’s ready to get back home as well. He has a pretty steady girl. I wouldn’t put it past him to find some chick to sleep with if he was given the opportunity but from the look on his face, he couldn’t care less which way I went.