Page 17 of Deadly Threat
“It was a dinner at one of the Bayfront hotels—the Hilton,” Mia said quietly. “An organization called She Paints was honoring Amber. They support trauma victims through the arts—painting, sculpture, music, writing—and she’s a big advocate for them. A waiter told me there was a man in the lobby who wanted to make a contribution to Amber’s reelection campaign, and had asked to speak to me specifically.” She glanced up. “A politician can never say no to funding, so I went. Except the guy wasn’t in the lobby, he was outside, smoking a cigarette.”
“Jam King,” Joe supplied.
She nodded. “He apologized for hisnasty habit, and said he appreciated me meeting with him. He pointed to a limo waiting for him and stated he was on his way out of town for business and wouldn’t return for a while. He exclaimed over Amber’s achievements, and asked me to walk with him and explain her stand on crimes against women.” Again her gaze rose. “Irony there, right? As we talked, he led me toward the limo, saying he wanted to write a check. Once we were there, someone came up behind me, put the hood over my head, and I was shoved into the trunk.”
“I’m so sorry,” Josie sympathized. It wasn’t pity in her eyes or tone, but a woman-to-woman solidarity he thought. “Fucking assholes.”
Mia’s eyes teared but she blinked them away. “I was too trusting, gullible. I never should have left the event.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted. “It’s not about being trusting or gullible. They targeted you. You’re not to blame—they are.”
The corner of her lips quivered in a half-hearted smile. “My therapist says the same thing.”
No one here knew about the deal the Bureau had made with King and Lopez. Malachi rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, then spilled what Harris had told him.
Everyone stopped eating and looked at him, then Mia. Mouth open, she slammed her hand on the table, and some of the contents of her burrito went flying. “What the hell?” Her sharp eyes pinned him. “When were you going to tell me this?”
Never. “I wanted to earlier, but our first concern was the dog.”
She started to say something else, then closed her lips. Her cheeks grew red, as though she were holding in her anger.
“I’m sorry,” Malachi added. “Not only for not informing you sooner, but also the fact that the FBI is playing games with this. You should also know Amber was in on the sting.”
Her mouth fell open again. “What? Why?”
“My understanding is that she wants all of those involved brought to justice.”
“How could she not tell me?”
He wanted to reach out and take her hand, but thought better of it. She was barely holding it together, and rightly so. “I’m sure she didn’t want to worry you.”
Her gaze went down and her chest rose and fell in a huge sigh. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment, then blinked them open, but still didn’t look at anyone. From the floor, Ladybug whined.
“Well, that changes everything,” Sam said. Drawing out her phone, she texted someone, and he hoped it wasn’t Harris. He was her immediate boss now that she’d left her former position with the FBI. “I can’t believe the JD cut a deal with that scum.”
“It’s horrible.” Mia pushed her mangled food aside. “They’re as much to blame as anyone.” Her face was blotched and she glared at Malachi. “I want nothing to do with any of them.”
Caleb studied his screen, and swallowed a bite. “Unfortunately, I’ve got nothing on our acne-scarred non-Russian.”
Malachi gave Mia a nod, confirming he understood.
Sam didn’t. “The thing is, we have the experts and the resources to locate your sister.”
“You’re an FBI agent?” Mia huffed when Sam nodded.
“I’m with the SCVC Taskforce, under Director Dupé’s authority. I’m not assigned to this case—yet—but I can ask to be.”
Malachi stepped in. “She’s right. We need to work with the Bureau to gain information that can help us get Amber back.”
Mia’s eyes narrowed.
He motioned around the table. “This group has the capability to get the job done, if we know who and what we’re going up against. The only sure way for us to gain those details is if we at least appear to be working with and not against them.”
“La, la, la.” Sam fake-plugged her ears. “I’m not hearing this.”
Mia ignored her. “Well, since the FBI has done little to help me or my sister, I’d prefer to stick with you.”
“I’m with Sam.” Joe wiped his mouth and swallowed a sip of his drink. “We share everything with the Bureau in good faith. Otherwise, we can get ourselves into some very hot water.”
