Page 39 of Claimed by Him

Eighteen

This was a bad idea.I knew it was a bad idea. Hell, a six-year-old would’ve known this was a bad idea. I was by myself, still healing, and didn’t really know what I was about to find.

But I’d be damned if I let Meka be missing for a single second longer if I could find her now.

Which was why I parked my car at one of the first storage units, then walked down to the unit number Shawn had given me. The guy in the booth at the front had barely looked up when I pulled in, so I doubted he’d even notice that I hadn’t gone inside that first unit, or that I’d started down toward the other end.

Once I was out of sight, I kept to the shadows, my heart pounding harder with every step I took. The adrenaline coursing through my system was in part due to the highly stupid thing I was doing, but another part was the anticipation of doing something important. Finally. The sort of work I’d always thought I’d do with the FBI.

I’d done a couple cases with Adare, but none of them had been the sort of cases that made a difference like this one. Cheating spouses. Missing pets. Deadbeat parents who owed child support. Those were the bread and butter of private investigators. Something like this, where it wasn’t just about finding a single missing girl. If what Shawn had told me was true, this could make a huge difference in so many lives.

I was only a few yards away when I saw the black van parked around the far side of the building. Probably not empty then. I’d taken a couple hours to do some research on the place, and I knew there were a total of three entrances. The giant double doors where people could take things in and out. The main door to the office. And an emergency exit in the back.

It was that door I went to now.

A few months before my uncle died, I’d come home from college for a long weekend and found the two of them, half-drunk, trying to pick every lock they could find. I hadn’t joined in the drinking – between being underage and Clay being an FBI agent, alcohol seemed like a bad idea – but I had listened and learned. The three of us had brought it up again when they were sober, and the lessons had gone on a couple more times.

Which meant when I came to the emergency exit, it didn’t take me long to see it was locked from the outside but unlocked on the inside. I took my lock-picking kit out of my pocket and got to work. I was technically breaking and entering, and if I’d been a cop or FBI agent, that would’ve been an issue. Now, I could go to jail if someone reported me, but I was sure I was going to find one of two things: nothing at all, or people doing things a hell of a lot more illegal than I was.

I let out a breath as the pins clicked into place and then slowly eased the door open. I paused, listening before I went inside. For a few seconds, I couldn’t hear anything, and then I heard a soft sound. Soft sounds. More than one. Girls were crying.

Shit.

I went inside, moving slowly despite the urgency building inside me. I didn’t know what was waiting for me up ahead, and I couldn’t let my emotions rule my behavior. I might not have to worry about preserving chains of evidence and getting search warrants, but if anyone got hurt because of my impatience, I’d never forgive myself.

When I reached the end of the short corridor, I was at the corner where a small office and single stall bathroom sat to the left, the main area to the right. The room was full of large, unopened boxes, giving me cover as I moved toward the sounds.

Then I saw them.

Five girls of high school age were huddled together, sniffling and crying. From where I was hiding, I couldn’t see all of their faces, but I could see the profile of the girl who was above the others. The girl who had placed herself on the outside of the group and kept looking over toward where my peripheral vision had registered a handful of armed men.

I’d get to them in a moment.

I needed a moment to let it sink in. I’d found Meka. She was alive, and it appeared, unharmed. She was dirty and looked like she’d been crying during the time she’d been here, but her clothes were on and not ripped.

I hoped that meant good things.

Then it was time to figure out how to handle things from here because I counted at least four men with weapons. I’d never be able to get all of the girls out of here safely. Not by myself.

Shit. Shit.

I looked down at my phone and tried to power it on, but the screen remained as black as my hope. The battery was dead. I couldn’t call for help, so I needed to go back to the police station.

Dammit!

* * *

“What doyou mean you let him go?”

The desk sergeant sighed. “Look, all I know is that his dad showed up with a lawyer, and ten minutes later, they were all leaving together.”

“He’s been giving girls to sex traffickers in exchange for drugs, and he just walked out?” I was getting louder, but I didn’t care. Shawn had told me exactly what he’d done, and I’d given his statement to the cops, along with an audio file of the recording I had of the conversation.

“Miss, I’m not one of the officers on the case. All I know is what I told you.”

“Who were the officers on the case?” I asked.

“Who’d you speak with before?”

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