Thumper by Marie James

Chapter 10

Thumper

I’m no stranger to stressful situations.

As an undercover FBI agent often stuck in the middle of the equivalent of a viper pit, adapting becomes second nature, but this is the first assignment I’ve had where there are such long periods of inactivity. I wasn’t a pacer or a finger tapper until recently, and it’s driving me crazy.

I know I’m not the only one Gonzalo Sevilla is supplying girls to, and while I wait for the slow trickle of information from my handler, he continues to abduct women off the streets. I’m doing my best to try and save four women and get Lauren where she needs to go, and I don’t doubt his men haven’t abducted ten times that since they arrived.

I feel helpless.

My phone chimes with a text, and I race to pull it from my pocket because at least it may give me something to do.

Angel: Basement. Now.

Two words is all it takes to put me into action. I race out of my office and fly down the hallway.

He’s never texted to demand I be somewhere, and a sick feeling forms in my gut with every heavy step of my boots. My mind immediately goes to Cara, fear twisting me up. Then I feel like an asshole because if there’s an issue, I should be worried about all the women down there equally, but I can’t exactly control my thoughts at a time like this.

I’m breathless, heart racing a hundred miles an hour from adrenaline as I fly down the basement stairs.

It only takes a second to assess the situation. Megan, one of the blonde women, is curled in on herself, sobbing in the corner. Her sweats are ripped to shreds and discarded on the floor. Angel is huffing from exertion with his knee planted against Juan’s neck.

I’m supposed to protect these women, and this animal came down here and fucking raped her.

“What the fuck happened?” I roar.

I took precautions against this. The cages and locks were meant to protect them as much as isolate them.

I’m a failure. I failed all of them. Even as angry as I am, I feel guilty when I look toward Cara’s cage and relief washes over me at the sight of the lock in place on her door. My concern needs to be equal among all of them, yet I know the scales are tipped in Cara’s favor, and that’s fucked up.

“He hit me over the head,” Angel explains. “Took the keys.”

“Get him on his knees.”

Angel shifts, pulling his knee from Juan’s neck. I wonder how long they were fighting down here before Angel got the upper hand. Angel has a cut on his forehead, but that could be from the blow that allowed Juan to get the keys. Juan, on the other hand, looks like he’s been beaten with a baseball bat. One eye is already swelling shut and his right arm is hanging at his side at an awkward angle.

I take a handful of his hair, pulling it back so I can glare into his eyes. His lip is busted, cheek swelling around a gash there.

“You think you have a right to come down here and touch my women?”

The question makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t own them, but as far as they know, they’re possessions.

Juan looks up at me, a sinister smile on his lips, teeth coated in blood from the beating Angel gave him.

“You don’t get to touch what’s mine,” I growl, my fist connecting with his injured cheek hard enough to nearly knock him over.

A low chuckle erupts from his chest. “Whores are meant to be fucked.”

My vision narrows, red filling the empty space around his face.

I don’t even feel the weight of the gun as I pull it from my waistband and press it to his forehead. My ears don’t register the sounds of the women crying, of Megan whimpering. The only thing I’m aware of is the lack of fear in Juan’s eyes. I don’t know if he isn’t afraid because he’s psychotic and isn’t scared to die or if he doesn’t believe I’ll pull the trigger.

“Boss,” Miguel, the other guy Angel brought on with him says. “That’s not a good idea. He’s—”

The echo of the shot rings out around us, the sound too loud and deafening in the enclosed space. No other sound exists but Juan’s body crumpling to the ground, his blood spilling in a wave around his head. I swallow, feeling vindicated in what I’ve done, getting that same sense of justification I’ve gotten every time I pulled the trigger while working for Cerberus. Juan may be a low man on the totem pole as far as things go with trafficked women, but at least it’s one less piece of shit walking the earth.

My eyes drift to Angel. All he does is give me a quick nod, like this is the exact outcome he was hoping for.

“Clean this mess up, and make sure every person in this house knows that these women are off-limits,” I snap.

“But you get to fuck them?” Miguel snaps.

I reangle my gun in his direction, and even though there is rage in his eyes—I did just kill his friend after all—he holds his hands up near his ears in surrender.

I should just walk out of here. I’ve done what was needed to be done. There’s no reason for me to look across the room. I reason that I’m checking on the other women, but my eyes only fall on one in particular.

The sounds of the room come back to me, and I don’t know if the women are crying because Megan was assaulted or because they just witnessed me killing a man. Hell, it’s probably a combination of the two.

But Cara isn’t crying. Her cheeks are red, and her eyes are a little swollen, telling me that she was recently upset, but when her eyes find mine, they’re no longer wet.

Maybe it’s hope and I’m just imagining things, but it feels like something passes between us. Maybe it’s an unspoken promise that I’ll protect her. Maybe she’s foolish enough to believe it despite Juan being able to get his hands on Megan.

I shoulder check Miguel on my way out to further my point, but I wouldn’t put it past that man to put a bullet in my head before the sun comes up tomorrow.

I head straight back to the office and pull up the camera feed, watching with satisfaction as Angel lets Lauren out of her cage to help get Megan to the shower. Miguel is left to drag his dead friend from the room and clean up the blood, something he struggles with considering how steep the basement stairs are.

I’m left wondering if I shouldn’t put a bullet in all their heads. I was thinking Angel wasn’t as happy about being involved in all of this but then something like this happens. He brought that piece of shit on board, supposedly vetted him, and made sure he was a good fit. He was clearly mistaken, and I’m so pissed about what has happened, I want to keep the rampage going. I want to drop them all and take the women and get the fuck out of here.

Lauren may have her head in the right place, and as fucked up as it is, she was right when she reminded me that these women aren’t her mission. Technically, they aren’t mine either. I’m supposed to get in good with Gonzalo’s crew to figure out where that fucker is so he can be taken out, but I can’t ignore what’s in the basement.

I may be working, but we—the FBI and I—are using these women as pawns, keeping them locked in cages like circus animals instead of human beings. And the torture isn’t just happening here. Their families miss them. Their coworkers. Everyone in their lives are left wondering when they vanished. It has to be the worst kind of pain not knowing if you should hold out hope or begin to grieve.

My office door swings open, the heavy wood banging against the wall, the doorknob leaving a dent in the drywall.

Angel is fuming fucking mad, and he should be.

“Are you mad because I killed him or because you didn’t get to do it yourself?”

I aim for nonchalance. I don’t need him to know I’m just as pissed off and worked up as he is.

He doesn’t answer, his breaths rushing out of his flared nose like an angry bull getting ready to charge.

I let him pace, keeping my mouth shut from informing him that he can do it all damn day, but I know from experience it won’t help.

Several minutes pass with me leaned against my desk, arms crossed over my chest as he walks the length of my office and back over and over.

Then without a word, he just walks out, leaving my office door standing wide open.

I’ve never been involved with someone undercover that gave me whiplash. Is Angel a friend or an enemy?

The jury is still out on that one.