Witness
Authors: Piper Davenport
Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense
2014 Piper Davenport
Copyright © 2014 by Piper Davenport
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Witness
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
WITNESS
When FBI agent, Brock Williams, is assigned to a case centered around a mob-run drug operation in Oregon, he’s unprepared to find a beautiful young woman, assaulted and bloody, protecting two young children in an abandoned meth house.
Bailey Harper thought she was heading to a graduation party, only to find herself kidnapped, beaten, and left for dead. When a handsome and charismatic FBI agent comes to her rescue and offers his protection, she finds herself falling hard and fast for him.
When a deeply guarded, dark secret is revealed, will the truth drive them apart or will it strengthen the bonds of their newly found love?
For the man who inspires me daily!
I love you, baby.
CHAPTER ONE
B
ROCK
W
ILLIAMS
S
AT
with his partner, Dallas Stone, in the conference room of his FBI field office in Portland, Oregon. The third part of their team, Jaxon Quinn, arrived a few minutes later and sat beside Dallas. “What do we know?” Jaxon asked.
“Nothing yet,” Brock said.
“Thanks for coming in,” Matt Quinn, assistant director, and Jaxon’s brother, said as he walked into the room and grabbed the remote, clicking an image onto the screen. “Here you have Vasily Bekhterev, cousin to Boris Bekhterev.”
Boris was head of the Russian mob sect that covered the Pacific Northwest, but there’d been chatter that Boris was going to be passing responsibilities off to Vasily.
“Our source says he will be at
the Pink Fox
in Gresham at ten tonight.”
“We can’t just arrest the guy for being at a strip club, Matt,” Jaxon pointed out.
“We’re not going to arrest him,” Matt countered. “Vasily bought in on the poker game in the back. Alana will be workin’ the room, and she’ll get you into the game, Jax. The rest of you will be back-up. Jax is the only agent these guys haven’t seen, so he takes lead. Tonight is information gathering only. I want to know how many guards he travels with, who else is at that table, and what his relationship is to them. Find out whatever you can without revealing yourself. That’s it. Stay safe.”
Matt walked out and Brock rose to his feet. “Jax, they’ll search you when you go in, so no weapons, and we’ll have no way to maintain contact. You and Alana will be on your own for the entirety of the game. If there’s any trouble, Alana will have to get to us. Jax, you’ve got the Mercedes, we’ll follow.”
“Fuck, yeah,” Jaxon said. The field office had a couple of unique and expensive cars at their disposal and tonight Jaxon would be using the Mercedes SL-Class Roadster.
“Suit up and meet at the cars in ten,” Brock said.
The men nodded and headed to the weapons room.
* * *
Two days later, Brock rushed into a dilapidated house in downtown Gresham and glanced at Dallas, pointing to the left. Dallas nodded and moved soundlessly the opposite direction from Brock, gun aimed in front of him, close to his body, his Kevlar vest his only protection from gunfire. Jaxon and two other SWAT agents had already preceded them and disappeared into one of the rooms at the back of the house.
More agents waited outside and would move in, but not until the signal was given, and with kids possibly in the mix, Brock didn’t want to take any chances. He forced aside his disgust at the vandalized walls and floors, discarded needles, and rotting food strewn around the rooms. How anyone could live like this, he had no idea.
Several 9-1-1 calls had come in complaining of screaming and gun shots, and the address given was this known meth house. It had been confiscated two years ago in a drug bust, and squatters had taken advantage of the abandoned building.
Normally, local police would have gotten involved, but when the call came in that neighbors had seen kids being pulled inside, FBI was dispatched.
“Clear,” Brock called, once he was sure no one was in the room.
“Got three!” Dallas called. “Call a bus.”
“Dispatch, we need a bus to 23 South First. SWAT move in,” Brock said into his radio, and then headed to the back of the house. Pushing the door open further, he scowled. A young woman, bloodied and bruised, sat on a filthy mattress in the corner and she had her arms wrapped protectively around a boy of about ten and a girl, maybe six.
“Don’t come any closer,” she snapped as Dallas approached. She held the kids tighter, even though her purpled arm hung at an awkward angle.
He stalled and glanced at Brock.
Brock smiled at her. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
The woman stood, hand slapping against the wall as she seemed to lose her balance. “I
said
, don’t come any closer.”
“Can you tell me your name?” Brock asked, waving Dallas back.
Brock saw her waiver and then caught her as she passed out. Lifting her gently in his arms, the group moved quickly, Dallas lifting the girl, one of the other agents, Jaxon Quinn, handling the boy, who tried to fight, but was no match for the large man.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, buddy,” Jaxon promised. “What’s your name?”
“Conor,” he whispered.
“Hi, Conor. I’m Jax. Do you like cars?”
Conor nodded, although he still looked leery of Jaxon.
The little girl just cried quietly, but looped her arms around Dallas’s neck and laid her head on his shoulder. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Callie.”
“That’s such a pretty name.” Dallas stroked her hair. “I’m Dallas and that’s Brock. Is that your mom?”
Callie shook her head. “No. She’s my friend. She was helping.” Callie started to sob. “She…was…making the men…stay away. They hurt her.”
“Okay, baby. Shhh,” Dallas crooned, holding her close. “What’s your friend’s name?”
“Bailey,” she whispered.
Brock stared down at Bailey. She’d been beaten severely, one eye already closed and the other rapidly swelling to do the same. He thought her hair might be blonde, but with all the dirt and blood, he couldn’t be sure. A sense of protectiveness washed over him as he held her and followed his partner back out the front door.
The ambulance pulled up within minutes, and Brock laid Bailey on the gurney inside. “Her name’s Bailey,” he said. “That’s all we know at this point.”
“Thanks, Brock,” Helen Miller, his friend and the paramedic in charge, said. “We’ll take it from here.”
He started to leave, but paused, reluctant to leave the young woman. She’d been so strong, and had clearly taken on quite a beating to protect two kids who weren’t even her own. Why? He wanted to know more and make sure she was okay. But there was no time for that, so he forced himself to step away, giving Dallas and Jaxon the room to hand over the kids. Brock turned and headed back into the house now that it had been cleared.
Back in the bedroom, Brock flipped over the mattress, searched the closet, and found nothing.
“Here’s Bailey’s purse,” Dallas said, as he joined Brock. “It’s got a license, school ID, phone with missing SIM card, and a couple of credit cards. There’s a medical insurance card too. That’s it.” He handed him a black leather purse and Brock located her pocketbook.
Brock opened it and slid the ID from the window slot. “Bailey Harper,” he read out loud.
She was in fact blonde, twenty-one, a student at Washington State University, and lived in Vancouver. How she ended up in Gresham would have to be ascertained later.
Bailey’s license photo was model worthy. He ran a finger gently over the picture, admiring her beauty.
“Brock.”
He glanced up to find Dallas smirking at him.
“Sorry, what?” Brock said.
“Jaxon’s heading back to headquarters. Do you want me with you, or him?”
“Me,” Brock said. “We need to head to the hospital and ask Bailey a few questions. We also need to find out who those kids are.”
Dallas nodded and left the room, Brock followed, confident the criminal investigators would collect the right evidence and maybe get more answers.
