“I want a major win by Christmas,” Special Agent Brewster states from beside the projector screen where she’s standing.
Yeah and I want my nanny sucking my dick every night, but that’s probably not gonna happen. At least mine shouldn’t. Hers would be a great thing for humanity, but what I want is completely selfish.
And I can’t be that selfish.
I just can’t.
“There are three major auction sites we are focusing our task force on at this time.” She hits a button on her remote causing a white logo that contains a large dog hugging a puppy close to it. “The Pow Wow Pound.”
Pedophile auction site. Its coded lingo relates to puppies. From what I’ve managed to decode, breeds match specific races, weeks mimic ages, and adoption fee is the price per child. There aren’t specific pictures placed up for viewing pleasure however you can contact the ‘Kennel Owner’ for proof of existence. The night I discovered it? I took Lynk and Sage to school late the next morning. Sat on the couch and just held them tighter than they deemed necessary while watching classic Batman cartoons.
Brewster switches to a pink logo with tiny vanilla cupcake, white frosting, and an oversized cherry. “The Cupcake Palace.”
Specifically, a teenage girl auction site. The cherry is to imply you’re buying virginity, the white obviously a tacky reference to cum. It’s run a little different than The Pow Wow Pound. You can ‘browse’ the flavor combinations they have available or you can custom choose. Cake is an illusion to race, frosting hair color, additional shit such as sprinkles to imply freckles. You can request ‘mini’ for younger girls or ‘hot out the oven’ for those closer to 18. Contact is set up similarly to The Pow Wow Pound except they require you to have a reference number when sending an email. How you get the reference number I haven’t a fucking clue, but they won’t acknowledge you as a customer without it. After discovering that one? I considered buying Sage a necklace with a GPS tracker hidden in it.
Her final image is a group of wild flowers with the words floating in the clouds behind it. “The Garden of Eden.”
More like what was kicked out. It’s a torture auction site. The poor individuals who are sold on it are used for the purpose of pain only. Colors of flowers correlate to the amount of pain you’re looking to inflict. Breeds have something to do with sizes and seasons indicate availability. Unlike the other two they do not take special requests nor do they have any contact information listed. It has the least amount of data, which allows it to give me the least amount of nightmares. The only reason I know the little I do is from monitoring chatter with the dummy account I have set up specifically for that type of diving. Just like I have two other accounts set up for the other types. All of them are solid enough to blend in, but also documented on paper as consulting undercover operations so they don’t try to lock me up for something I would rather slit my own throat for than partake in.
“These three have had the largest increase in traffic lately. After Reiss helped us provide a massive hit to their customers, business seemed to slow down, however over the past four days, things seem to be headed back to their established ‘normal’.” The disgust in her tone is prevalent. “Their normal means there are more victims available for exploitation. More children being abused. More women being raped. More people being murdered for entertainment.”
And this is the hell I live in. Beth made it easier to deal with the disgusting because she was always there to provide some sort of beauty, even if it was an illusion. She viewed the world with blissfully, blazed, colored goggles, which was easy for her. She was a new age hippie with a trust fund to back her fickle beliefs and her addiction to them. She could ‘connect’ with the mother earth or dance with father time or sing the songs of the struggling souls because she was all she had to take care of. Even after we had kids that didn’t change, but at least she helped me focus on more in life than the isolated existence I came from and the desolate one I have to work in.
“I want at least one of these down before the holiday. I want the operation destroyed and I want enough evidence on every son of a bitch who helps run the damn thing to convict them for four lifetimes. I understand there is a limited amount of information we have at this time, but use what we have. Use Reiss. Around the clock. Any lead you have send it his way. At the very least it will take him less time than the rest of you to discover if it’s viable.”
Compliment?
“And Reiss?” Her dark blue eyes narrow in on me. “I know you’re not giving me 100%.”
She assumes correctly.
“I understand how the agreement works. Every catch we convict comes with a price. You give us something to put away and we make sure you stay out of prison. No financial compensation gained.”
Exactly. It’s why doing security work for a high-priced escort service is necessary rather than optional.
“You provide me with something substantial to bring one of these to their knees and I’ll get you a pardon.”
There’s a collective mumble around the room as I silently shift in my chair.
“You do half ass work because you get a half ass reward. Well, I’m offering you your freedom. Expose the auction head and your consultation becomes profitable in new ways.”
I roll the pen I was toying with around my fingers. “You have that authority?”
Pretty sure she doesn’t.
“I do. I also have the authority to revoke the deal if you disappoint me.”
That I know for sure she doesn’t.
“So, how about you stop throwing away your time with alerting the office to Murphy’s current STD problem and give me something that will actually save someone’s life.” She doesn’t wait for a response. “Dismissed.”
Chairs move around to allow the assigned agents to exit the room along with Brewster yet Murphy plants himself in front of me. His voice drops to a low rumble, “You little piece of-”
“I don’t like being bothered when I’m reading my kids bedtime stories.”
His pale nostrils flare. “This is because I checked in on you? Because I was doing my job?”
“This was a warning.” I stand, the space between us almost nonexistent. “Do not call again during non-crucial work hours and interrogate me. I may not be entitled to much of a life, but I am allowed time with them. Now, move out of my way, before the next memo that makes it around contains information on how you caught the STD and why Greenburg should really be concerned with his wife’s recent ‘cold’.”
Murphy’s chocolate eyes glare, but he steps out of my way.
Never fuck with someone who can destroy your life without really trying.
Always hit the zero when the option makes itself visible.
I adjust my shoulder bag, name badge, and head for the main lobby.
Freedom? Actual freedom? The kind that would allow me to take my kids to fucking Disney or camping up north in the woods? The kind that I wouldn’t have to rush away from the dinner table because some pedophile was making moves online and they wanted to see if I could track it. The kind where I would feel less like a bystander in their lives whose main job is to make sure they survive each round of hiring and firing of a nanny?
The doors ding granting me access to the empty elevator.
Once the doors shut with me inside, I shake my head.
She was bluffing. That was just some poor fucking motivational tactic to encourage me to get her better results. She just wants her work horses to pull heavier weight. I already do enough. I already provide them with plenty. And while I am grateful as shit it keeps me out of prison and lets me spend time with my kids, they are actively making the latter more and more difficult. My kids need me around. I’m the only parent they have left.
The drive to the house my best friend, Nate, is renting with his girlfriend thankfully isn’t far from the field office. Most of the time now, I see each of my bros once a week unless they’re traveling. While the four of us used to be inseparable having to grow up against our wishes has had quite the effect on that. Sometimes I miss the old days. The wild parties. The late hours. The cops I controlled. Beth…
Parts of Beth, anyway.
I let myself into the one-story house and announce, “Bro, I’m here.”
Not getting an immediate answer, I invite myself in and make my way towards the living room.
This is what real family is like or at least the family I cultivated with Pax, Wyatt, and Nate. We all have keys to each other’s places. We come and go as we please. We cross boundaries that disgust most people, but that’s just the type of brotherhood we are. When we all rushed the same frat back in college only to decide shortly after to basically start our own instead of falling victim to their idiotic customs, we agreed on a bullshit free bond. One that never had to answer to the norms of society. One that couldn’t be severed by pussy or the joke of a judicial system. We answer to one another and we protect one another, even in the least ideal situations possible. How we execute this varies of course. And my skillset gets the most constant amount of scowls…right until secrets that should never see the light of day need burying.
Just as I prepare to shout again, Nate comes stumbling out of his bedroom wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and huge grin.
I smirk, shake my head, and start to move my lips when his young girlfriend comes giggling out.
She pushes her dark wavy hair behind her ear. “Hey, Holden…”
“Hey, Ainsley.”
“I was just…headed to class.”
Leaning against the edge of their black leather couch, I lightly laugh. “One where you’re not sleeping with the professor, right?”
Nate growls at the poke I take about their relationship’s origin, but she playfully snickers. “You know there’s only one Teach for me.”
The pet nickname wipes away the glower on my best friend’s face seconds before she places a kiss on his lips. What was obviously intended to be a chaste kiss is quickly corrected with Nate cupping her ass to hold her in place while his tongue loses control.
She’s good for him. After an incident in college he became almost isolated. We kept waiting for him to bounce back, shake it off, remember we were all there for him and how it was okay to be the bro we all loved, but it never happened. Then somehow, someway, Ainsley slithered under his skin and shook free the man we all missed. I’m grateful. We all are. But, I’m also a little jealous. My chance at life with something more than a one nightstand was laid to rest years ago.
When he finally lets her go, her mocha face is flushed and she’s obviously breathless. With pride in his voice, he states, “Have a great day, Kid.”
Ainsley smirks wide and saunters her way towards the front door.
After we hear it shut, I say, “All good?”
“Perfect,” he sighs, dropping down onto the love seat closest to him. “She loves everything about Ashwin. I love everything about my job. And this house…Well, let’s just say we might end up buying it.”
“Wouldn’t be difficult. You wouldn’t have much trouble getting a bank’s approval.”
“Thanks?”
“Unless you and Ainsley are trying to do it together. There’ll be a push back because of that. This is the first time she’s had more than like a 100 dollars in her bank account for a sustained period of time. Plus, she doesn’t exactly have credit yet.”
“Why did you-”
“Then again, since the owner has a huge online gambling problem, you could probably get a good deal.”
Great deal if I not so casually send an anonymous message to one of his bookies about the assets he’s trying to keep hidden from them.
“You know, he really should stop hitting on 16. He could probably save himself some cash.”
“Finding this place for us to rent was enough, Holden. You don’t need to do anything else…”
“I rarely need to do anything else,” I cockily retort.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You want a beer?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
Nate’s crystal blue eyes narrow with suspicion. “Are you really?”
His question lifts my brow.
“Because Wyatt mentioned you might have another nanny problem.”
“Swear, if his mouth gets any fucking bigger, King Kong’s dick will be able to fit in it.”
He laughs a little louder and leans forward onto his elbows. “So, you do have a problem.”
No.
1.
“What did Wyatt say?”
“Why?” his voice grows more curious. “What did you want him to not say?”
The line of questioning forces me to adjust my tie.
I fucking hate ties. Seems like the only times I wear them are when my freedom is on the line.
There’s mirth in his obnoxiously young expression that makes me gag. He turned thirty earlier this year and still looks like he should be fucking carded for walking into a liquor store. How’d he get good genetics and the love of his life? I’ve seen pictures of his father from his younger years. At least that one makes sense. Love…Well that’s never fucking easy to calculate.
“Did you fuck up, Holden?”
Yes.
My lack of response pushes him to continue. “What’d you do? Read what she was sexting her boyfriend while she was supposed to be watching your kids then rip her apart for it?”
If Meena had a boyfriend to be sexting I wouldn’t have a problem or at least…I don’t think I would.
Fuck, I know that’s a zero.
“Find out she was secretly a stripper?”
There’s no such thing as secretly being a stripper. When it comes to being in my life, let alone my children’s, there’s no such thing as secrets period. And she’s never gone through that sort of phase. Even her provocative outfits pale in comparison to the shit her siblings have worn over the years, especially Mia. I get it. She shouldn’t be afraid of showcasing her body, but she couldn’t have put a price tag on it either.
“Did you find topless photos of her on the internet from a crazy Spring Break weekend?”
Not sure if the line of interrogation is irking me because it implies I only higher idiotic, juvenile women to watch my children or because it insinuates I’m sort of fucking uptight asshole, I snap, “I finger fucked her the first night.”
His eyes widen and I instantly regret opening my mouth. “What!”
I tug at my tie again. “It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”
No matter how much I want it to.
No matter how much she wants it to.
No matter how easy it would be to just press 1….
“Whoa. Whoa. Back up,” he quickly commands. “Start at the beginning. Where’d you find this girl?”
“Woman,” I chomp. “She used to watch Lynk back in the day when we were partying at The Row. She was always the first babysitter I would call if we needed one. For anything, really.”
Nate nods his understanding. “And since you’ve hired then fired every available woman in the city you decided it would be best to start the process all over?”
His sarcastic comment receives my middle finger.
“I’m not exaggerating, bro. Ever since Beth died you’ve had a revolving door of women to watch them.”
“No one’s ever been good enough.”
“Is anyone ever going to be?”
My hands slides up to the tie that’s beginning to feel more like a noose.
“How’d you get in contact with her?”
“Randomly.”
“Holden Reiss doesn’t do random,” he states matter of factly. “He does calculated.”
It’s really the best for everyone.
“We ran into each other at Lynk’s soccer game. One of her nephews was on the opposing team. She had only been back in town a week and this was the first chance she had to see him play. We started talking on the sideline and before that part of my brain could get to work, I was offering her the job.”
“Without looking at her resume?”
I shake my head.
“Without checking her references and their twice removed uncles?”
Fucking dramatic, just like Wyatt.
“You just…went with a feeling?”
Dread drags itself down my neck. “And that’s exactly the fucking problem. I can’t make commitments based on that bullshit. Just like I can’t let my dick make decisions for me anymore. My life’s not about me, bro. It’s about Lynk. It’s about Sage. Doing what’s best for them and giving them the life I never had.”
“Shouldn’t that include a father who isn’t fucking miserable?”
My lips press together to prevent responding.
“Look, Holden, I get it. Your world, your life, are those kids. We all know there’s nothing you wouldn’t fucking do for them, just like we know there’s nothing you wouldn’t fucking do for us. But what about doing something for you? What about doing something that makes you fucking happy? Shouldn’t that factor in? Shouldn’t you want your kids to see their father not only loves them but is capable of loving another person?”
“I loved their mother,” I bite harshly. “Don’t you fucking sit there and make it seem like I didn’t.”
Nate’s hands fly up in surrender. “No one is doubting you loved Beth, bro. All I’m saying is maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing if your kids saw you move forward?”
I let my eyes fall to the floor space in front of me.
“Maybe it’s not the best idea to do that with the nanny, but maybe it’s not the worst.” When my eyes lift to meet his, he shrugs. “What’s the harm in finding out?”
Destroying what is probably the most incredible shot my children will ever have at stability with a nanny, because I suddenly can’t say no to my cock. It’s not that I don’t see his point. It’s not that part of me doesn’t agree, particularly the part of me that wants to spend hours sandwiched between her thighs. It’s that sacrifices have to be made to assure they don’t end up trapped in the foster care system because I lost focus.
Because I failed them.
I already have the weight of enough regrets resting on my shoulders. I can’t risk taking on more.