No One Heard Her Scream (19 page)

"I would have centered my world on what really mattered . . . my family. Momma and Dani would be top of my list." A tear rolled down her cheek. Staring into the shimmering gold of her wine, Becca didn't bother to wipe the tear away. "I feel so lost without them. My mother is dead inside, paralyzed with grief, and I can't find a way back into her life. She doesn't need me ... or want me there. I feel so ashamed of my part in this. And now, I can't even find Dani's killer."

"That's hard to do when you've been banned from the investigation. You shouldn't blame yourself." He leaned closer and reached for her hand, kissing her palm with tenderness. The compassion in his eyes touched her heart. "I believe in second chances, Rebecca. And the people we love? We hold them in our hearts. They make us who we are, become part of us."

He grasped her hand and squeezed it, infusing her with his strength. Becca shut her eyes and took a deep breath, comforted by his words. For an instant, she felt the love of her baby sister, even pictured her smiling face.
God, it feels good to be connected again.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Diego in a new light. How could someone with deception in his heart speak like this? He had let her see inside him, given himself freely. And the foundation of his life had been family, something she envied. Diego made it look easy.

"You are a strong woman, Rebecca. But how you bear the burdens in your life defines that strength. Never be ashamed of your vulnerability. It's as much a part of you as your courage."

He wiped a tear from her face and smiled. "And what about this case you can't ignore? The body of a young girl found in the theater. I can see why it hits close to home, but do you think the murder is connected to Cavanaugh?"

"The evidence suggests other suspects, but my instincts as a cop tell me otherwise. I can't ignore those feelings. Somehow, I think this case is linked to him. I just haven't found the connection yet."

Becca told him about her case, thankful to be off the painful topic of her family. He paid attention to every detail and asked intelligent questions. It felt good to bounce her theories off someone else. It felt good to have a partner.

"If Cavanaugh is involved in trafficking, he's got to have his stash of girls nearby. And I think Matt Brogan is up to his red neck in it." Anger raced across Diego's eyes at the mention of Brogan. "I haven't found any direct evidence, but I've been feeding possible locations to Draper as I find them."

"I can't imagine it would be easy to catch Cavanaugh with his hands in the cookie jar."

"No, the man would distance himself. Brogan is his middleman. I can feel it."

"How have you been finding the locations, the ones you've been feeding Draper?" she asked.

"Any way I can. I rifle through his personal records, both online and hard copy, looking for properties he owns or leases. But lately, he's shut down my sources and changed security codes. His men have been mobilized, mostly at night, but I've got nothing. It's like starting over at ground zero."

"What about your own audio surveillance, phone taps?" she asked. "Draper should have been able to get anything you needed."

"Cavanaugh sweeps the estate at irregular hours and is paranoid as hell. I couldn't risk getting caught planting my own bugs, equipment that might be detected before it did any good. And if the man was foolish enough to incriminate himself on the phone, he has the latest high-tech gear. The phones are encrypted, cells and landlines."

Diego raked fingers through his hair, his frustration showing. He might have resented Draper's interference at the start, but Becca could tell he had found his own motivation to persevere. She respected him for it.

"So far, Draper has nothing. The warehouses and various locations were empty when he got there. We've worked the streets, canvassing for any unusual activity with the girls, and nothing." Diego sighed and shook his head. "If Joe had known Cavanaugh had this thing going on the side, he never would've approved any damned merger. He would've shut the guy down in a hurry. Joe's sick with worry over me and mad as hell the feds got me involved, but I think most of all, he feels guilty about the role he played in putting me here."

"It's got to be hard for Rivera to sit on the sidelines, especially with his son paying the price for his sins." She shifted her weight on the sofa to face him. "So what's next?"

"Desperation. A 'Hail Mary' pass downfield." He shook his head, dimples on full display.

Boyish charm mixed with his seductive qualities, a dangerous combination. Diego moved, his warm thigh touching her leg. Becca liked the feeling. When her cheeks flushed with heat, she didn't pull away. It took all her concentration to listen to what he had to say.

"You see, I found a receipt for some repair work at an old warehouse. Someone added a commercial-sized lock and reinforced the metal on a delivery bay door. It's not much, but I won't know until I check it out."

"What part of town?" she asked. After he gave her the general area, she had to know. "You and Draper going?"

"Yeah, I'm meeting him in an hour. It'll probably be another dead end, but this property? It doesn't show up on Cavanaugh's records, and none of his subsidiary companies are involved. Not a sublease either. As far as I can tell, it's not linked to him at all. The repair raised a red flag with me. I mean, why pay the bill if the property isn't yours, right?"

He finished his wine and set the glass on her coffee table.

"Sounds intriguing. Will you let me know what turns up?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure." Diego stood and reached for her hand to help her up. "Thanks for dinner . . . and everything."

"The next time I feel the urge to have my eggs whipped, I'll know who to call. You make a mean omelet. My regards to the chef." Becca grabbed his coat and walked him to the door. "We're partners now, remember? From here on out, I'm looking out for your backside, Slick."

"Good to know. My ass feels safer already."

For the first time, she felt a twinge of worry for him. Tonight, Draper would be protecting his backside, not her. She should have been okay with Diego being in the company of the big bad FBI, but she only felt useless. A woman forced to take vacation.

"Why hasn't anyone invented bulletproof boxers in Kevlar?" Becca pulled him closer, snuggling into the warmth of his arms.

"Good idea. Maybe Victoria should have a new secret." He lowered his lips to hers, those same full lips she'd eyed all night.

Sensitive to everything Diego, Becca felt his hands on her body and craved more. She filled her senses with him, the aroma of his warm skin, the sweet taste of his lips tinged with wine. This time, she gave in to him, body and soul. Nothing ever felt so right.

Brogan watched as one of his men hauled the Japanese girl away, still crying and barely able to walk. He'd left his mark, as sure as if he had branded her with a hot iron. She wouldn't likely forget him. Wearing only a grin, Brogan walked over to a utility sink and washed up. The musk of sex and fear were heavy in the air.

His men kept a respectful distance until he buttoned his shirt and zipped his pants. He'd done what he came to do.

"Nickels called while you were ... busy. I answered the call." McPhee reported, handing over Brogan's cell phone. "He said the Mex was on the move, but the cop stayed put. Nickels is still with her."

"That damned Mex is a pain in my ass, but not for long." Brogan clenched his teeth and headed for his car.

"Anything you need me to do, boss?" His man followed.

"Be on the alert until you hear from me. No coming or going tonight, McPhee. Lock this place down tight, you hear me?"

"Yeah, boss. Consider it done."

Brogan hated the idea of Diego on the loose without one of his men keeping track of the bastard, but Cavanaugh had a plan. Brogan would get his time with Diego Galvan soon enough. He got to the Mercedes and started it. The squeal of wheels echoed in the garage. Once he got out into the night air, his cell phone rang. Without checking the display, he punched the button to talk.

"Yeah, Nickels, is that you?"

"No, honey. It's me."

Brogan gripped the steering wheel, his eyes narrowed. It took him a while before he recognized the woman's voice. When it finally registered who was on the line, he almost ended the call.
The bitch.

"I never figured you for bein' this stupid. You got a lotta nerve callin' my cell."

"Don't hang up, Matt. Not until you hear what I got to say. I have to talk to you in the flesh. You remember what that feels like, don't you, baby?" She slathered sex into her voice like warm lubricant. "You name the time and place, and I'm there."

As spent as he was, Brogan still felt his body react. He hated her for that. She knew how to punch his buttons, even ones he didn't know he had.

Holding the phone to his ear, he stared into the night, his jaw rigid. He drove out the gate with his mind working double time. The psycho bitch had always been crazed. Brogan heaved a sigh and made her wait while he figured out what to do. He had no intention of picking up where they left off years ago, but the urgency in her voice made him reconsider meeting with her.

"I'm all ears, Sonja. But this better be good."

A sleazy motel off Guadalupe Street suited Brogan's purpose. It rented by the hour.

But the place had gone downhill since the last time he saw it, though it was hard to imagine the dump getting any worse. No doubt the beds made a fertile training ground for a forensics team, a real cesspool of DNA. It had been years since he and Sonja met there, but Brogan's choice had nothing to do with sentimentality—and everything to do with coercion. If she dared to meet him, Brogan would make her pay for such stupidity. She had a lot of nerve contacting him after so many years, especially the way he ended it. Who would take such abuse and beg for more?

He rented the room for an hour. Brogan slouched in a chair, smoking a cigarette and imagining all he could do to Sonja in sixty minutes. A box of condoms sat on the nightstand, with a few packets tossed onto the bed. He wanted her to know this meet had its price. One lamp lit the room, a necessity he wished he could do without. No other way to look at this rathole except in the dark.

Cigarette smoke coiled through the air like a writhing snake and disappeared in the shadows. He preferred to watch the trail of smoke. It kept his mind off the huge roach scurrying across the shag carpet. Brogan made no effort to kill it. He figured the critter had more right to be here than he did.

After a soft knock, he slid his gaze from the roach to the door.

"Baby, it's me," she called out.

Brogan recognized Sonja's voice, but didn't answer.

She tried again. "You in there, Matt?" Another knock.

Still, he didn't say a word.

Eventually, the bitch opened the door. It creaked on rusty hinges. A rush of night air and traffic noise intruded from outside. In the doorway and backlit in neon lights, Sonja stood in silhouette. She wore a black spandex dress. The clingy material hugged her body like a second skin, her nipples wearing party hats. She smelled of stale cigarettes and wore the same cheap cologne he always remembered, her dark eyes smeared by too much makeup. Without warning, the past came to stay. His body hardened, straining against his pants.

She shut the door behind her, a strange mix of fear and lust in her eyes. Brogan didn't move at first, never gave her a word of greeting. His eyes strafed her body, inch by inch. He put out his cigarette in an ashtray and stood. Slow and easy, he walked toward her. Sonja backed up a step, but stopped and held her ground.
Stupid girl.

"You're gonna hurt me, aren't you, baby?" she whispered when he got close. Her lips trembled, and she forced a weak smile.

But before Brogan answered, Sonja reached for his aching crotch, adding fuel to his fire. Greedily, she rubbed the length of him while pretending to be a dewy-eyed virgin. Reverting to one of her old games, she manipulated him with practiced innocence. Sonja was quite the little actress.

"Punish me, baby . . . like you used to."

With her slut switch turned on, Sonja got to her knees, brushing her nipples against his legs as she worked. Her eyes fixed on his, she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, letting them fall to the floor. She teased him with her tongue and made him rock-hard, her fingers groping the rest of him. The warm wetness of her mouth drove him insane. Brogan clutched at her, his fingers thrust into her hair. He gasped with urgency, his skin raging hot as he yanked the bitch to her feet.

Losing control, Brogan tore at her dress and yanked it over her head, ripping it. His mouth clamped on hers, his tongue down her throat. In a fevered rush, Sonja clawed at him, her nails digging into his back. Her breathless panting blended with his. When she ripped open his shirt, buttons flew. His pants pooled at his ankles, and he kicked them off, along with his shoes, not caring where they landed.

Once again, memories of Sonja assaulted his brain, mingling with the present. Brogan grappled her to his chest, clenching soft mounds of her flesh in his hands, rubbing them with force. Her skin flushed with his brutal brand of foreplay.

"Oh, God . . . easy baby. That's it," she coaxed. "Aarrgh. So good."

When they were both naked, he threw her onto the bed and smothered her with his body. Brogan bit her nipples and made her cry out in a strange combination of pain and ecstasy. He wielded his mouth like a weapon, using his tongue and his hands to subdue her. Every move a skirmish, Sonja writhed under him, her body resonating with moans of pleasure and torment. He knew she liked it rough, but Sonja had only one speed—full throttle.

"No, please. Yes. Oh, yes," she cried out, shuddering under the influence of her first orgasm. "Oh, God . . . feels so . . . Yesss."

The word "easy" had been created for Sonja. The woman could come with a flick of his tongue in her ear. But tonight, Brogan made up his mind Sonja wouldn't have it so easy. Without asking, he flipped her onto her stomach, shoving a pillow under her hips. When she resisted, he pinned her down.