Page 5 of Undercover Billionaire

My piece-of-shit undercover car started right up and rattled its way down the street, past the location we were watching. I was careful not to look left at the rundown house containing the dirt-bag human traffickers. Our intel said they were expecting another “delivery” soon, and we had to catch them in the act when the girls arrived, before they all got sent off to other cities.

DC’s finest, the Metropolitan Police Department, had handed the case over to us when they realized the operation crossed state lines.

I made it to my place, and the bathroom, without bursting. In the kitchen, I ground a scoop of my special St. Helena beans and loaded the French press. A few minutes later, the smell of the coffee filled the kitchen as I decanted it into my mug.

I was going to need several cups to make it through another day. We were short staffed for the case load, thanks to more budget wrangling in Congress. While they debated priorities, we didn’t have the manpower to properly handle the crimes that came our way. But that’s what we had the top brass for: to deal with the elected jerkoffs.

Upstairs, I shed my undercover outfit of intentionally dirty clothes. My coffee cup came with me into the shower. That and the hot water eased the soreness of sitting in the car all night.

I hadn’t joined the Bureau to make a living, I reminded myself. My family had plenty of money. I did this to make a difference, and that meant making sacrifices. Sacrifices that mattered.

From a very young age, I’d known that pushing papers around the way my old man did was never going to be my future. Today’s assignment was the kind of admission I had to pay to get a chance at the New York Organized Crime Task Force.

There was evil in this world. It had to be confronted, and I meant to make a difference doing just that. I felt for the telltale bulge of the keyring in my pocket. When I was done, the Cartwright name would no longer be shorthand for screw-up in the FBI.

Chapter 2

Kelly

The little Indianrestaurant was one of my regular haunts. It had only two tables on the sidewalk separated by the walkway to the door. The far one was already occupied by an older couple.

Normally I sat inside, but today I chose the nearer sidewalk table and took the seat with its back to the restaurant. There wasn’t much pedestrian traffic on this street, and I could see well in both directions.

The waiter brought water, and I ordered my usual lunch—Diet Coke, naan, and chicken tikka masala—without bothering with the menu.

After checking in both directions, I dialed my sister.

Serena picked up. “Hi, Kelly. Miss me?”

“Always.” That was certainly true. “Do you have a few minutes? I need some advice.”

“I always have time for you. What’s his name?”

I laughed. “It’s not a man.” Even with my worries, it lifted my spirits to talk to her.

“That’s too bad.” She went silent, waiting for me.

“I have a problem at work.”

“Yeah?”

“I got a threatening note, and I’m not sure what to do.”

“You could take it to HR, I guess.”

“This is worse than that.”

“How much worse?”

“Here’s what it says.” I’d memorized the words and repeated them verbatim.

“Who’s Brooks?”

The waiter arrived with my drink.

“Just a sec…” I thanked him and continued after he left. “She used to work here. She was murdered six months ago.”

An audible gasp came across the line. “Who have you told about this?”

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