Seth
“Hey, did you see this?” he asked Noah, not looking away from the screen.
Noah rolled his chair closer. “What?”
“It’s a shipping container rented under Jagger Miller.”
“How the hell did you find that?”
“The sheriff’s office contacted the commander for the second time and said they got another anonymous tip regarding a shipping container that supposedly was used to hold trafficking victims.”
“Second time?”
“Yeah. The first tip, Asher and I checked out a few weeks ago. The guy was helpful, but we didn’t find anything.”
“So, what’s this place?” Noah leaned in to look at the screen.
“This place is about six blocks away. I was able to pull up the credit card payments on the shipping containers.”
Noah snorted and Seth grinned at the man. “Don’t ask.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Noah retorted, and they shared a chuckle.
“Anyway, I found a credit card receipt from Jagger Miller. I just can’t believe the guy would be that stupid.”
“Or maybe we just got lucky with the tip.”
“Yeah, it’s still really odd.”
“What’s odd?” Asher murmured from near his shoulder.
He jumped and jerked his head up, meeting a pair of amused blue eyes. “Hey! Don’t sneak up on people.” he complained and Noah chuckled.
Asher snorted. “I didn’t sneak. So, what’s odd?”
Asher sure was persistent. He rolled his chair back and pointed to the screen. The operative leaned closer and Seth took a deep breath. Asher smelled like cloves and pine trees. He closed his eyes for a moment to get his pulse to calm down.
“Another shipping container,” Asher said with a frown.
“Yep, just down the street from the last one,” he added.
“Why would Jagger Miller leave a paper trail for a shipping container?” Noah questioned.
“Maybe because it’s legit.” Seth clicked through a few more screens and found out the container was ordered empty. He’d hacked into the manifest, but it was going to take an onsite inspection to find out where that container was located.
“Maybe it’s not empty now,” Noah suggested.
“We should check it out.” He opened his drawer and pulled out his Glock. He checked the clip, tucked another into his pants, and shoved the gun into his arm holster.
“Hold on,” Asher commanded.
He turned slowly, lips pursed, his eyes narrowed at Asher.
“Don’t go off halfcocked,” the man continued.
“What the hell? Since when have I ever gone off halfcocked?”
A flush filled his cheeks. Noah’s mouth went into a complete circle with eyes wide, and both Wild and Storm looked up from their desks. Embarrassment lit up his face with a hot glow. He was going to strangle Asher for treating him like a newbie.
“I can’t go,” Noah said, backing away. “I’m supposed to meet Mac about a wedding venue.”
“That’s fine. Apparently, I’m going off halfcocked, so I may not go either!” he snarled at Asher.
“That’s not what I meant,” Asher charged, and strode to his desk to grab a gun. Hustling to pull a jacket on, the operative tucked the Glock into the back of his jeans.
“Need some backup?” Wild asked, snorting with laughter.
“Just shut it, Wild,” Asher growled.
Storm snickered, but quickly held up his hands when Seth glared at the guy from the door. That was all he needed, ribbing from the unit.
“It’s not that you’re not capable. Having backup isn’t stupid,” Asher said, approaching him.
“Ooooh,” Wild drawled. “Did you just call him stupid?”
“Fucking shit!” Asher shouted.
Having heard enough, Seth turned and smacked the front door so hard it slammed open with a crack.
“Since when did I ever say I was going without backup?” He stomped out the door and swung it closed, hard. “Jesus H. Christ! You’d think I’d never been out on a fucking assignment before.”
The door slammed open and Asher jogged after him. Wild and Storm’s howls of laughter floated out the door.
Mortified, he moved so fast, he made sure Asher had to run to catch up.
“Seth…”
“Shut the hell up, Asher,” he snapped, and jumped into his car. He was of half a mind to leave the guy at the curb, but he reached over and shoved the passenger door open, then tried to ignore the way the man’s body took up every inch of space. Just because he was smaller than Asher didn’t mean he wasn’t just as much of a badass, damn it!
“Calm the fuck down,” Asher grumbled, snapping his seatbelt in place.
Clenching his jaw, he gunned the engine, sending the car skidding out of the parking lot, which had him feeling a great deal of satisfaction when Asher grabbed the “oh shit” handle over the door.
“I am calm.” He pressed his foot down on the accelerator.
“No, you’re not. You’re pissed and driving like a crazy person.”
He sighed and eased off the gas. He wanted to strangle Asher, not kill him. At the next light, he took the onramp to the freeway.
“That comment was uncalled for.”
“I’m sorry.”
I just feel like you’re babysitting me,” he declared. “And don’t call me stupid!”
“I’m not.” Asher made a sound in his throat. “I have much better shit to do than babysit you and I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Right.” He squeezed the steering wheel.
“Did you stop to think that maybe I wanted to come with you?”
He darted a quick look at Asher. Well, that took the wind out of his sails. Did Asher want to come because it was him?
“So, if this was Noah’s deal, you wouldn’t have wanted to be here?”
“No, I didn’t say that. But if this was Noah’s deal, I would have dragged you with us.”
He found himself smiling. “Alright. We’ll have an Asher and Seth day.”
“Don’t start giving it names.”
He laughed when Asher grumbled. This was starting to be fun.
The man shook his head and pulled out his phone. Within a few minutes, Asher was talking with Roscoe Burns. By the time he took the exit, Asher had provided the agent with every detail of what they’d discovered about the container.
“It looks deserted.” He drove through the gates of the humongous shipping yard.
“They should be open.” Asher ended the call.
“Isn’t there supposed to be a guard or something?”
“I don’t know,” Asher replied, rolling down his window.
Seth eased the car into one of the parking spots and got out. They approached the small trailer that housed the main office, or so the sign said on the door. Seth knocked and waited.
“Come in!” a masculine, muffled voice called out.
“Guess it’s open.” He shrugged and reached for the handle. Asher eased the gun from his waistband and motioned at him. Seth pushed the door open and kept to the side of the entryway.
“Hello?” He took a quick look and ducked back. All he saw was a large man behind a desk with an office phone to his ear.
He jumped up into the trailer with Asher’s hiss of “Wait!” ringing in his ears.
“Hey there.” He approached the sweaty man behind the desk with Asher’s sizable presence eating up the space behind him. Asher was acting protective, but he was letting him make the call. Which was nice.
The manager hung up the phone and lifted his T-shirt to wipe at his face, leaving streaks of wetness on the material.
“Can I help you?” The guy looked agitated, and if Seth had to guess, irritated at the interruption.
“Yes, we need the location of a container.” He put on his best smile. He had the manifest, but it would be a lot quicker if the guy pointed them in the right direction.
“ID?” The guy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Seth pulled out his badge and handed it over. It was a bit vague. On purpose, of course, but it could be a pain in the ass sometimes. Especially when they had to be above board on things.
“Yeah, pull the other one.” The manager snorted and tossed the ID back at him.
“How about we call the FBI while we wait?”
He looked around, and then settled into one of the fold out chairs near the desk. The guy shrugged, but his Adam’s apple bobbed and he swallowed hard when Asher pulled his phone.
“Agent Roscoe?” Asher said. “Remember that address I gave you earlier? Yes, that’s the one.” Asher gave him a thumbs up and a big smile. Seth tried not to laugh. “Fifteen minutes? I’ll see you then.” The Phoenix operative tucked his phone away and took up a spot against the wall, arms folded across his massive chest, the shirt he wore straining at the seams. The man was intimidating without trying. Seth looked at the guy behind the desk.
“Now, wait a minute. I didn’t mean…” the manager sputtered.
“Too late,” Seth interrupted, then pulled out his phone to check messages.
After a few very long, uncomfortable moments later, the loud crunch of tires signaled several vehicles arriving in the parking lot.
“What’d he do? Bring the whole office?” How the hell had Roscoe gotten here that quickly? Maybe the guy had already been on the way.
“It’s not Roscoe,” Asher answered smoothly, then lifted his gun and jumped down the trailer steps.
Seth stood and glared at the guy behind the desk. The smug bastard’s face said it all, he had tripped a silent alarm. Rage made Seth want to pound the guy’s face.
Instead, he leveled a hard gaze at the guy. “Let me be clear, if anyone gets hurt today, it’s your ass that’s going down for it.” The manager turned pale. Not waiting for a response, Seth pulled his gun and leaped from the trailer to follow Asher.
Marco Jennings and Asher had faced off. Several of Jennings’ thugs fanned out, and at his right stood Jagger Miller.
“Still keeping shitty company, I see,” he said to Miller. The man’s eyes narrowed, and Seth could have sworn he saw humor in Miller’s gaze.
“Everything’s legit here,” Miller smirked.
“Right.” He drew out the word. “Is that why you used a credit card to rent it?”
Miller just stared back at him. The guy didn’t seem surprised that they knew. “There’s no law against using a credit card to rent an empty container.”
“There is if the container is being used to hold victims of human trafficking,” he snapped back.
“I rented it empty,” Miller retorted.
Flashing lights suddenly filled the small parking lot as vehicles marked FBI tore into the drive. Sure enough, Roscoe arrived with what looked to be the whole office.
The agent stepped out of the SUV and strode toward them. Roscoe’s hard gaze traveled over the area and then landed on Jagger Miller for a brief moment before he addressed Marco Jennings.
“What seems to be the problem?” Roscoe’s deep voice boomed.
“Nothing, Agent,” Jennings responded smoothly.
“The intelligence we found gives us reason to believe that there’s a shipping container in this yard that was rented by Jagger Miller and is being used to hold or transport human trafficking victims,” Asher answered Roscoe.
“That’s ridiculous.” Jennings glared at Asher.
“Well, if that’s the case, then you have nothing to fear,” Seth countered.
“Wait!” Miller’s voice rose. “Don’t you need a warrant?”
“And that would be right here.” Roscoe slapped a piece of paper against Miller’s chest. Asher’s earlier call to the agent had paid off. “It pays to have a judge on standby. You just stand over there and look pretty and let us do our job.” The agent turned away, and then swung back suddenly. “And don’t think of going anywhere.” Roscoe pointed one finger at Miller.
The sweating manager was ordered to locate the container and then the group walked to the south end of the yard.
He, Asher, Roscoe, and a few agents followed the manager while other agents walked behind to keep tabs on Miller, Jennings, and their men.
The lock on the container was missing. Pulling his gun, Seth aimed it at the doors as two of Roscoe’s men pulled the container open. The smell singed his nose hairs and he held his breath. The container was empty of life, but clothing and half empty bowls of rotting food lay strewn about.
“Jesus…” Roscoe whispered, and bent to pick up a woman’s dirty blue sweater.
“I have nothing to do with this,” Marco Jennings said, looking bored. “Miller must have rented it on his own.”
Miller snorted, but said nothing.
“This is a serious crime,” Roscoe growled at the snorting man. “Are you going to take the fall for this?”
“What crime?” Miller looked at the empty container and then back at Roscoe. “I rented an empty container. Looks like some homeless people used this one and then left.”
“You little shit,” Roscoe growled.
“Where are the people?” Seth cut in. Roscoe looked ready to pummel Miller.
“What people?” Marco Jennings asked, looking around.
“The people that were eating the food and wearing these clothes.” Asher’s eyes narrowed. His partner looked like he was going to take a punch at Jennings, so Seth stepped between them.
“Like I said, I have nothing to do with this. You’ll need to talk to him,” Jennings pointed at Miller before walking away. Well, the guy tried to walk away, but one of Roscoe’s men blocked the way.
The shitty part was Marco Jennings was right, they couldn’t hold him on any charges. There was nothing there but circumstantial evidence. Seth took in the horror of the container. So they may not get Jennings, but Jagger Miller, on the other hand, they could hold, possibly for seventy-two hours.
“Turn around,” Roscoe told Miller and snapped a plastic zip-tie around the man’s wrists.
A federal agent stepped up to take Miller.
“He works for you,” Seth said, calling after Jennings.
The drug lord sneered at him. “So? I don’t control his every move. If he wants to rent a container, who am I to interfere?” Jennings said mockingly, and then shoved the FBI agent out of his way.
Miller’s face looked set in stone. Did the guy feel anything about his boss’s desertion?
“On second thought,” Roscoe snarled, “arrest them all. I want a background check on every god damned single one of them.”
“On what charges?” Jennings yelled as his hands were cuffed behind his back.
“For pushing an officer of the law and on suspicion of involvement with human trafficking. Don’t tempt me, Jennings, or it’ll get a lot worse!” Roscoe bellowed back.
“Fuck you! You can’t do this!” Jennings hollered.
“Read them their rights and get them the hell out of here,” Roscoe growled, and the agent’s men hauled Miller, Jennings, and the others away.
Seth crouched by a bowl of food. “We were a couple of days too late.” The food was molding and half dried up.
“This can’t be the only holding place,” Asher said near his side.
“Pretty fucked up that Miller used a card for this,” he said, letting the piece of blanket he’d lifted fall back to the ground. Standing, he brushed his hands together.
“You think he did it on purpose?” Asher glanced at him.
“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully and walked to the end of the container, turned, and then walked back toward the door.
“What are you thinking?” Asher moved so he was in step with him. He loved the feel of Asher’s big body next to his and had to drag his mind away from that and concentrate on Asher’s question. Especially when Roscoe joined them.
“I’m thinking this is just a temporary holding place.”
“What makes you say that?” His partner looked back at the contents of the container.
“Think about it, it’s got everything but the people. And why would they not eat the food?” He pointed to the bowls. “They must have been starving.”
Asher frowned and then nodded. “Could be.”
“I’ll ask smartass over there and see if he’ll talk,” Roscoe said with a sigh and left them to walk toward Jagger Miller sitting in the back of an FBI SUV.
He sensed Asher move closer rather than saw him. He supposed they would always have this connection. Just the sheer size of the man felt warm against his back as Asher hovered near his shoulder. Wanting to see Asher’s expression, he tipped his head back and looked up. The man’s blue eyes weren’t cool at the moment, but rather achingly hot. It appeared Asher was just as affected by his closeness. When Asher leaned closer and gently bumped his groin against his ass, Seth made a sound in his throat and eased slightly back into that solid mass of muscle.
“Anything else?” Asher’s rough breath ghosted over his ear and Seth swallowed with difficulty. Rubbing his sweating palms against his pants, he nodded.
“They could have loaded this container on a truck, but they swapped them out for some reason. I think there’s another holding place.”
“Good observation.” Asher agreed, making him smile. Afraid to move lest Asher moved, he stayed still. It didn’t last long, though, and after a moment, the operative stepped away.
“Or, maybe it’s a place they use as a quick transferring of people. I mean, if the people get here and there’s no transportation, then they need to hold them somewhere. The pick-up transportation must have come before they could finish eating.”
“So maybe not temporary,” Asher agreed. “Maybe they were just interrupted.”
“Okay, so let’s say it’s not temporary. But if this is the main container where they keep trafficking victims, why the hell use a credit card and his real name to rent it?” he questioned and stepped back when the FBI forensic technician skirted past him to dust for prints.
“That’s the million dollar question,” Roscoe said from the door. “And neither Miller nor Jennings are talking,” the agent added in disgust, then stalked away.
Asher moved to stand near the door. Seth couldn’t blame the guy, the place smelled rank. The pale shade of the operative’s face said he was having a hard time with it.
“What?” Asher asked a bit sullenly and covered his nose with the long sleeve of his shirt.
“Nothing.” Seth grinned and walked toward the man.
“Don’t give me that. You’re laughing about something.”
“Quit being such a baby.”
“I’m not a baby.” Asher sounded affronted.
“Yes, you are. Now, come on.” He grabbed Asher’s arm and marched him a few feet away. “You should have just let me handle this and stayed the hell at headquarters.”
His partner’s mouth dropped open and eyes widened. “Because I don’t like the smell of rotten food and feces?”
Seth bit his lip and headed toward his car.