Undercover Elite (Undercover Elite Book 2) (3 page)

I can’t help the bittersweet smile that briefly touches my lips at the memory. “He didn’t like cats,” I say flatly as I pick up the spoon next to my saucer and swirl it slowly through my now cold coffee.

“But he did it anyway,” Mom replies softly.

She’s right. He did it anyway. For me.

Still reeling from the revelations that my mother just shared with me, I straighten in my chair and shake my head, realizing that I’ve seriously underestimated the depth of my parents’ concerns. This will be harder than I thought. So for now, I keep the news of my job to myself. But I’m more convinced than ever that the time has come for me to strike out on my own. It won’t be an easy adjustment for my parents, but at the ripe, old age of 24, I think the decision is long overdue.

Mom has helped me understand Dad’s overprotective streak a bit better, although I still can’t accept it in my daily life anymore. Moving into an executive position at the hospital all those years ago enabled Dad to earn more money than he ever could as an ER doctor. But along the way, he changed. He saw what money could do and came to believe that everyone has a price – even me. If I know my father -- and I do -- he has no intention of releasing the stranglehold he has on me. In fact, I’m sure that I’m sitting at this table now because he has asked Mom to talk some sense into me. And by the way she’s patting my hand and wearing a smug smile on her face, she thinks our little trip down memory lane has done the trick.

But I have no intention of stopping my volunteer work with Melissa, changing my career choice or continuing to live under their roof.

The profession I’ve chosen is more than a passing interest for me. Knowing what people do isn’t enough for me; I have to know why they do it. It started when I was a kid and I would watch my dad disappear into his study with the man I viewed as a real, live superhero…Jarrod James Taggert, or Thorn, the nickname I know him by. Of course, I know now that his presence in my life was about so much more than that. Back then, I had no idea why Thorn dropped by our house from time to time, I just loved knowing he was there. Sometimes Thorn would even invite me to join them in Dad’s study, where he would ask me questions about school, my teachers, or maybe a new kid in my class. I felt so important, like I was there on “official business.” Looking back now, I probably was.

Back then, just a glimpse of the man I viewed as perfection was enough to keep my crush alive until his next visit. But then the meetings abruptly stopped. For a long time, I waited for him to come back. Even now, sometimes I wonder how he’s doing, but that’s pretty much as far as it goes. After Thorn left, I decided I was far too old for crushes…even if I do sometimes still dream about my very own real, live superhero.

Windy

I press “end” and toss my cell phone a little too hard into my purse, wishing there was a river I could throw it into instead. That was, without a doubt, the phone call to end all phone calls with my dad. My career plans, living situation and ability to make sound decisions have all been called into question. And his purse strings went snip-snip when I refused to give in to his demand that I give up my volunteer work and continue to live at home until I graduate. I can make my own money so I’m not worried about supporting myself; it’s just the principle of the thing. I’m surprised he didn’t try to tell me I was grounded.

I quickly make my way through the women’s shelter’s back door, stow my purse in a locker and join Melissa in the storage closet Melissa has converted into a small office. Melissa and I have some ideas to update the décor and make the space more welcoming. For many of our clients – that’s how we think of the women who depend on us for stability during an important transition for them – Hearth and Home truly is the closest thing to a home they have these days.

My friend cuts her eyes at me, immediately noticing something is wrong.

“Did you fight with your dad again?” Melissa asks as she hands me a case file that I need to enter on the computer system. I fill her in on the phone conversation I just had with Dad.

“No, I never really got the chance to take the conversation to that level. It was pretty cut and dried, really. He had talked to Mom and got the update on my volunteering here -- strike one. Then he talked to me and I told him about my new job and my decision to move in with you here -- strikes two and three. That’s when he cut my checks off,” I say with a smile as my fingers fly across the keyboard.

“Ouch, that’s harsh,” Melissa winces.

“But hey, it’s not a total loss; he says I can have the money when I come to my senses. Translation: His way or the highway.”

“Wow, he did that over you volunteering here?”

“Yes and no. He’s upset about me continuing to volunteer, yes; but that’s only the start of the laundry list of problems he’s having with me lately – his words, not mine. He was already concerned about me spending so much time here, but now he’s completely worked up about the job I’m interviewing for, and me living with you in the apartment here in the building. Let’s talk about it after we get this paperwork taken care of,” I say quietly as one of the shelter’s newest residents walks in, asking for an extra blanket. I direct a sunny smile at her; her problems are surely much bigger than mine.

Thorn

“Pull up last night’s security video on that monitor over there, Harley.” I point to one of the many monitors on the large desk.

“You got it.” He pulls up the video footage of the man in the parking garage making his way over to the bright yellow Lamborghini.

We’re working to bust up a car theft ring. Normally we wouldn’t be working a case like this, but the underlying issues have piqued my interest. These thieves have very particular tastes. The thing about stealing high dollar vehicles is that, although it seems like it would be easier to sell the parts after going to a chop shop, that isn’t the case. This isn’t the work of some inexperienced kid wanting to go on a joy ride; this is a seasoned, organized outfit. I’m leaning toward the theory that it’s either an established gang or someone involved in a more sophisticated form of organized crime. Since I know all the major players in Louisville, I’m thinking it’s probably a gang. Most people don’t realize some of the larger gangs are surprisingly organized in the way they commit crimes. It’s how they make their living, so they pay attention to details. Too bad for them, so do I.

“There, right there, did you see that?” I point at the screen, but I know Harley has already noticed the detail that drew my attention.

“Looks like he knew right where that key was,” Harley answers, picking up on what I’ve seen right away. That’s one of the things I love about working with the
Undercover Elite
agency; we’re always in synch. We work together well and have years of experience under our belts catching criminals together.

Each team member has their own field of expertise. We’ve all been in the military and it damn sure comes in handy using that training in our field of work. We worked together informally before deciding to make a go of it as a more formal group, thanks to Cash. He started the organization when we got tired of getting cryptic messages to do jobs. The people we work for are insanely rich and don’t mind breaking the rules to get what they want or need. Having money isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be; there is a target on your back and kidnapping a family member is always an imminent threat. Our clients come to us because they know we don’t mind breaking rules to get the job done.

“Absolutely, which makes me think the parking attendant is involved.” The ringing of my cell phone is an unwelcome interruption, but when I see who it is, I take the call. “Dr. Fairchild, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Thorn, I need to speak with you, but I would prefer not doing it over the phone,” says the voice from my past.

“You need me, I’m there. Do you want to discuss this over a cup of coffee? I can meet you at the hospital. I hear their coffee’s come a long way in the last ten years.”

I hear him chuckle, but it’s obvious something is on his mind. His voice is strained as he replies, “I’ll see you there in an hour. Thank you, Thorn.”

“Looking forward to seeing you, Doc. It’s been a long time.”

I eye Harley as I hang up the phone; he’s watching me with curiosity.

“New client?” he asks.

“No, an old one,” I reply with a frown. “I’ll fill you in when I know more.” I head out, leaving him to finish up the analysis of the security footage. I have a meeting with an old friend who needs my help. Long ago, I told him all it would take was one phone call. I keep my promises.

We all learned a long time ago that a simple phone call can lead to new mission under the guise of our
Private Investigative Service
. It works well because in a sense it’s true; what we do can be construed as investigative work. We just don’t advertise how far off the rails one of our jobs can go. The general public doesn’t understand things like kidnapping, taking out drug lords, or abducting a victim of Stockholm Syndrome to return them home safely to the family who loves them. They think those things only happen on their favorite (and completely unrealistic) crime dramas on television. Most of our clients are people like Dr. Fairchild; he understands on a very personal level not only what we do, but why we do it.

The guys and I formed this operation when we became frustrated with the endless paper work and bureaucratic red tape that made it damn near impossible to do our job and, ultimately, it put victims in danger. Imagine your daughter being kidnapped at gunpoint to be sold on the deep web; her virginity is being auctioned off. She’s terrified, may have already experienced abuse at the hands of her captors, and she knows that time is running out. Now imagine her parents’ heartache when the international laws that are supposed to protect the public are the very things holding you back from going in and getting her.

That’s where we come in. We’re not afraid to bypass the bullshit and go get the girl before she disappears, never to be seen again. People hire us when the job is too dangerous or too…unconventional…for law enforcement. We’re willing to cross lines they can’t for fear of losing their jobs or damaging their reputations. Our clients come from all walks of life, lawyers, judges -- even cops who can’t let that one case go, the one that keeps them up at night.

There’s no one I trust more than my band of brothers in
Undercover Elite
. I’d take a bullet for any one of my brothers and they’d do the same for me.