Wounded at Work Read online

  Sam took the folder Matt gave him and walked out without a word. Matt had faith in the guy. If anyone could get info on the sex-slavery business, it would be Sam. And if Matt was on the wrong track, maybe he would find that out, too.

  Sick bastards.

  He would never forget the young girls found in the basement of the nail salon at the mall almost two years ago. If it had been a day later, not one of them would have survived. As it was, they were with their parents and re-building their lives. He had been angry for weeks after that case. The same feeling had him in its grip now. In a million years, he would never understand how one human could treat another in such a manner.

  It was all for money.

  But money couldn’t work miracles. Nor could it fix what was wrong with your life. And it couldn’t buy love, or happiness.

  He knew that more than most.

  He had more than any person should have, but it wasn’t the money in the Trust that made him happy; it was the knowledge he did some good with it. Not just with the Trust, but his job. Plus, he had a great family.

  Not blood family. His only blood relative was a lazy good-for-nothing cousin. Though his father had paid no attention to the Trust during his lifetime, preferring to jet around the world and play his life away, three generations of Montgomerys before him had worked hard. There had never been so much as a whisper that they hadn’t been the only owner of Montgomery Enterprises, the business from which the Trust was started.

  His cell phone rang. Flannery.

  “Tell me what Reed has?”

  “Just like I predicted, the Trust is frozen. And your son-of-a-bitch cousin claims his great-great-grandfather gave yours twenty-five thousand dollars to help his business when it grew too fast for the working capital to keep up. According to your cousin’s claim, the loan makes him half owner.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “You’re right. Now prove it.” Flannery hung up.

  The old man sounded depressed. Little wonder. His entire life had been devoted to keeping the Trust intact. To have this happen had to be devastating.

  Matt dialed Coop and told him the news. At least now they knew what they were looking for.

  He would try to get home at a decent hour and dig through those trunks. But wouldn’t documents of this import be kept in a more secure place? Under lock and key somewhere?

  Matt looked up, startled, when Sweeney walked in.

  “Boss. It’s going on eight o’clock. Are you going to work all night?” Before Matt could answer, he continued, “I wanted you to know I found a prostitute who might be helpful. She’s a hysterical basket case and claims she’s not a prostitute, even though she was caught in the act. She’s telling everyone who will listen how she was forced into prostitution against her will. You might want to talk to her.”

  Matt stood, grabbed his coat jacket. “Tell me where she is.”

  “County. Are you going there now?”

  “Absolutely. Wanna come with me?”

  “Right behind you.”

  When they asked to speak to Rosa Garza, they were led to a small room with a table and four chairs. On inspection, Matt saw the camera that would tape and record their conversation.

  The woman was in her twenties, but looked forty. Her dark hair was a tangled mess, her face and eyes told Matt she’d been crying. “Do you speak English?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. I’m FBI Special Agent Matthew Montgomery and this is Agent Carl Sweeney.”

  The woman grabbed her chest. “What FBI want with me?” Though she spoke broken English, he understood her.

  “Information. Can you tell us how you came to be a prostitute?”

  Dark eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. “No want that. Want job. I know.” She tossed her head. “It dream we all have. Get job, send money back to familia. I look good, muy bonita, when I get here. A man ask if I want make good money. I no trust him, but I need money. Next thing, I in nice house with new clothes, food, and other women. I think I in heaven until I find out what they want. I young and dumb. I go church with mi familia every Sunday and live nice life. Only I want more.

  “I no know what I have to do until a man pay mucho money to guy who lie to me. I try to escape. I raped and beaten.” She shuddered. “Nothing I can do. He tell me I his best girl.” Her mouth twisted. “He tell all the girls that. But we…we in jail.

  “I decide I die…not go on like this. But before I try leave again, la policia there. All girls arrested, but not guy who lies. No justice.” Her mouth twisted into a grimace.

  Matt thought she might break down in tears. She didn’t. “Can you give us the name of the man who took you there?”

  “I give it. I think is a…what you call it? A fake name.”

  “More than likely.” But she gave it to him anyway. Sweeney wrote Jack Irwin in his book.

  “Can you tell us what he looked like?”

  Her gaze swept the room as if looking for a way out. There was none. Dark eyes filled with anger, hurt, and resignation met his. “Mexicano, black hair, mean eyes. Scar on neck, like someone try cut him.”

  “Do you know if he, or anyone else, was specifically looking for a woman with red hair and green eyes?”

  She nodded. “One day I hear voices. I in bathroom when they come in. No mucho light in room. Through crack in door, I see man.” She shivered. “Just his voice muy scary.”

  “How much of their conversation did you overhear?”

  “You get me out?”

  Could he? “No promises, but I’ll do my best.” Rosa didn’t belong here. Her trafficker did.

  “They whisper. No know I there. I scared. I hold breath until they gone.”

  “Tell me what they said.”

  “Stranger ask if woman with red hair and green eyes in stable. He say, if yes, he give bonus. I not know what stable is. Then think, we animals to bad men.”

  “Were there red-headed women there?”

  “No.”

  “What happened then?”

  “Man ask Jack to look, big bonus if he find woman like that.”

  Matt put the victims’ photos in front of Rosa. “Do you recognize any of these women?”

  Her hands shook as she fingered the photos. “Muerta…dead?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Rosa let out a stream of Spanish and let the tears fall. “I going die? Todas…all us very scared.” She reached over and grabbed Matt’s hand. “No go back bad house, me want go Mexico. No trust Jack.” She looked at the photos again and shivered. “No want die.”

  Matt tamped down his anger. These women may have entered the country illegally, but they didn’t deserve the life shoved upon them. “The house you were in is closed for good. I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of here.”

  They thanked her for her cooperation and left.

  “What can we do, Matt?”

  “I’ll talk to the DA. We’ll see what happens.” Matt sent Sweeney on his way.

  Matt’s phone pinged that he had a text message. He opened it and read: I made a big pot of chili today stop by and pick up a bowl. Sky

  Matt smiled. The women in the family did their best to keep him fed.

  First it had been Shorty, the woman he thought of as Mom. When Lanie joined the family, she took over. Now Lanie and Sky seemed to take turns offering him food.

  It worked for him.

  He stopped at Dirk’s. Sky opened the door. “Come in, Matt.”

  “I can’t stay. The guys are waiting for me.” He looked at her tummy. At six-months pregnant, she looked amazing. “How do you feel?”

  “I’m good. The baby is behaving.”

  She went to the kitchen while he looked around at the comfortable home Sky had made. It was a far cry from the bachelor pad Dirk had before they married.

  Sky pushed a bowl into his hand, along with a big slab of cornbread. Sully, her military-trained German Shepherd, sniffed his leg as he waited to be petted. Matt
obliged.

  “Enjoy. Sorry I can’t visit, but an international client is waiting to video chat.”

  “You’re the greatest.” He kissed her on the cheek, thanked her, and left. Since Sky had left the bank and gone to work for Steel Financial, her life had changed. With so many international clients calling at all hours of the night, it had started getting her down.

  When she found out she was pregnant, she’d asked if she could limit her night calls to one a week. Her boss, Quentin Steel, thought it a good idea. Tonight must be the night.

  When he got to the house, the lights were on. Dirk and Coop were not getting his chili and cornbread. Matt went straight to the fridge, shoved the food to the back, and put milk and eggs in front so it couldn’t be seen. He’d eat when they left.

  “Where are you?” he shouted.

  No answer. They must be in the attic.

  He was too tired for this tonight, but his brothers were here, and he had to help. When he opened the door to the attic he couldn’t believe the mess. “What are you doing? It looks as if a tornado hit.” Papers were strewn from one end of the long attic to the other. Some were in stacks, others single pieces.

  “We’re separating everything to see if we can find something useful. So far, there’s nothing, but once we have it organized we’ll look again.”

  Matt sat on a closed trunk and looked around at the hundreds of papers. “It will take months to go through this.”

  “We have a system.”

  “My system,” Coop reminded Dirk. “Ninety percent of this stuff is irrelevant. It’s bills from as far back as the early nineteen hundreds, some income and tax info. Which is what we have to look at. Once it’s organized, it won’t take long to find what we’re looking for. That is, if it’s here.”

  “Big if,” Matt muttered.

  “We’ll find it.” Coop slapped him on the shoulder.

  “How long have you been at this?”

  Coop looked at his watch. “I’ve missed Maggie’s bedtime.”

  “I’ll stick around for a while,” Dirk volunteered. “Tonight is Sky’s night for international clients. She’ll be busy for hours.”

  “You have to be hungry. Why don’t you call it a night? This can wait.”

  Dirk stood. Stretched. “You’re right. Tomorrow is another day. Now that we know what to look for, it should make this job easier.”

  “With the Trust frozen, we haven’t got much time to disprove Reed’s claim.”

  “We’ll do it. If Flannery weren’t a hundred years old, we might get more help from his end.”

  “Not quite that old, Dirk. But close. He’s going to talk to the board members to see if they ever heard a whisper of this. I’m sure he has a couple of the other attorneys on it as well.”

  When his brothers were finally gone, Matt took out the chili and cornbread and nuked it before he sat down at the kitchen table to eat.

  What did he ever do without his brothers’ wives?

  Both were great cooks.

  He stopped eating for a moment to wonder if he would ever be so lucky.

  Chapter Seven

  Carrie decided she was much more comfortable in her biker duds—jeans, T-shirt, biker boots, and a U.S. Army headband under her helmet. A black leather vest completed her outfit. She sauntered into Magee’s close to nine o’clock. The place was hopping. A jukebox twanged an old Tammy Wynette tune. Two couples, in their late thirties or early forties, were on the floor. The same overweight bartender, Benjie, was handing bottles of beer to one of the two waitresses.

  Maybe she’d waited too late. How would she get info out of anyone, busy as they were?

  She needn’t have worried. By the time she leaned against the bar, Benjie was making tracks her way, and a guy in cowboy boots and an ill-fitting Western shirt was asking her to dance. She shrugged the guy off with a smile and turned to Benjie.

  “I wondered if you would be back.”

  She gave what she hoped was a sexy chuckle. “Did you, now?”

  “Sorry about the interruption the other day.” He leaned closer. “FBI.”

  “I got that. Are you in trouble?” She opened her eyes wide. “I left before you told them much.”

  “I don’t know much. Want your usual?”

  She smiled and nodded—wanting to keep him talking. He popped the cap, handed her a frosted mug and set it in on the bar. Talk. “They were asking about a couple of women, did you know anything about them?”

  He leaned close. “The women they asked about came in here on occasion, but I haven’t seen them in a good while.”

  “Like my missing friend, Amy?”

  “I guess.”

  “Did you get to know any of them?”

  He shook his head. “Didn’t know the name of your friend, but overheard the names of the women the FBI guy asked about—Mona and Nancy.” He gave her an intent look. “You could be their sister.”

  “Why is that?” But she knew why, and her heart thrummed irregularly in her chest.

  “Both had red hair and green eyes.” Benjie was whispering now. “So, be careful.”

  “Why? The FBI didn’t say why they wanted information.”

  “If the FBI is involved, it can’t be good.”

  She looked around as if she were a bit frightened. “Do you think they’ll be back?”

  “I doubt it.” He gave her a close look. “Were you in the army?”

  Carrie gave him a wide smile. “Where else would an orphan go after high school?”

  “No other family?”

  She shook her head. She was building a persona closer to the truth than she wanted to think about.

  “I could tell you don’t like cops. Wanna tell me why?”

  “Not in this lifetime.” She took her drink and started to move away.

  “Hey, just curious. Don’t get all prissy about it.”

  She went back, bent over the bar. “You don’t ask strangers personal questions. Got it?”

  “Hell, yeah!”

  Benjie was too nosy. She took the last swallow of her soda. Now what? Leave? She hadn’t learned a thing.

  He popped the top of another soda and handed it to her. “On the house.”

  “Thanks. Do you have anything more to tell me about my missing friend? It’s really weird how she just up and disappeared.”

  “Nothing more than I told you.”

  “Did she ever leave with one of the customers?”

  “I stay pretty busy. I don’t have time to watch the floor.”

  He was lying. She could tell it in his eyes; the way they scanned from one end of the room to the other, never looking straight at her. Okay, Benjie, what went on here that you don’t want to talk about? And what do you know about Amy Strong you don’t want to share?

  A young guy, late twenties or early thirties, maybe, ripped and eager looking, tied an apron around his waist and came over. “I’ll take care of the lady, Benjie. A couple of guys down at the end want refills.”

  “What’s your name, pretty lady?”

  Who was this guy? She heaved an inward sigh. Would he be more help than Benjie? “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours?”

  Dark brown eyes lit up. “Call me Hank.” His voice was deep, husky. Was he trying to sound sexy? It wasn’t working. At least, not on her.

  “Well, Hank.” If that was his real name, she’d mop the dirty floors. “Call me Sandy.”

  His smile showed the kind of teeth dentists dreamed about. She would bet this guy didn’t have a hard time getting dates.

  “What’s your line of work?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Why not?” He spread his arms. “Me? I tend bar; not a job high on the food chain, but the tips are fair.”

  She gave him a close inspection. He had on designer jeans, his T-shirt sported one of those little insignias, and his hands were manicured. How many bartenders could afford manicures? No matter how many tips he got, and in Magee’s they couldn’t be that g
reat, she figured this guy couldn’t afford himself. There was more to Hank than he let on.

  “Actually, I’m between jobs right now.”

  His eyes took on a look Carrie couldn’t discern. Interest, maybe. “That’s too bad. What? Did the boss’ wife get you fired?”

  She gave him a sad smile. “It’s the story of my life, but…” she gave him a seductive smile. “…I did get a good severance package.”

  He laughed so loud; the customers looked their way. “Sorry, but the image is totally real. I can certainly see how that would happen.”

  She adjusted her headband. “I’m thinking of doing a re-up.”

  He sobered. “You’re kidding? Why would you do that?”

  “I kinda liked the army. Three meals a day, roof over my head, no bills to speak of. What more could a girl ask?” Except that two of her squad had died right in front of her eyes and three were maimed. She had been one of the three.

  He reached across the bar and grabbed her hand. She wanted to jerk it back, but kept still. This guy gave her the creeps—more so than Benjie.

  “How serious are you?”

  “About re-upping?”

  “Yeah! A pretty lady like you could get lost in the army. You can do better.”

  She let out a long sigh, withdrew her hand, and took a sip of her drink. “I haven’t so far.”

  “Are you going to soon? I mean…it’s none of my business, but I would like a chance to at least ask for a date and maybe steer you toward a good job.”

  “Can you do that? Steer me toward a job?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Of course I can.”

  “Hank,” Benjie yelled. “Get with the program. There are customers waiting.”

  Hank leaned over and whispered, “Can you come back tomorrow?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’ll make it worth your time.”

  She laughed and turned to go. Tomorrow was Saturday. Every Saturday the brothers took turns having a get-together for the crew at the PI firm. She never missed it. Even if she didn’t have that commitment, she would make no promises to this guy. Her skin felt like it was crawling with attacking ants.