I kept my pace even as I made my way down the sidewalk. The weather had cleared, which meant it was cold but sunny. The perfect excuse to wear sunglasses with my hat and scarf. If I went inside, I’d have to take at least the sunglasses off, but I didn’t look too out-of-place with them on out here. Some people probably thought I was doing a late walk of shame, needing the sunglasses because of a hangover, but it didn’t bother me. If the subject matter hadn’t been so awful, I would’ve been enjoying myself.

Agent Matthews had given Jenna a list of names and no instructions as to what he wanted done. According to her, that’s how things went with them when he wanted her help but couldn’t legally ask her to work on behalf of the FBI. I didn’t ask if he was allowed to give her the names. I didn’t know how much Clay was involved, and the last thing I needed was something like this to come between us.

Some of the names she’d been given were local, some weren’t, so she took the ones on which she’d need to use her considerable hacker skill set and gave me the locals. With the names came very specific instructions regarding my role in the operation. I was to follow the people on my list, see where they went, who they talked to, what their routines were. Anything suspicious, I was supposed to write down and take it back to Jenna who would check it out in the digital world. I was also supposed to record anything else I felt was significant.

I was not to talk to them or interfere with them in any way. I’d seen the expression on Jenna’s face though when she’d given me that instruction. She would trust my judgment. Unlike the cops, she and I were private citizens. If we saw something going on that wasn’t okay – an adult harassing a child, someone being accosted, that sort of thing – we could get involved with the same risks as any other regular person on the street. She’d hired me independently, without any official record as to whether the information was for her, or for someone else. I assumed she’d covered herself within the arrangement she had with Agent Matthews. Considering who her husband was, I was confident that he’d hired the best attorney money could buy to go over any written documentation.

I had to admit, it was nice to know that I didn’t have to follow anyone else’s protocol as I followed my target into a boutique. I was two feet inside when I realized that this place wasn’t merely a boutique. It was a fetishist boutique. While the front of the shop had displayed a few simple yet sexy nightgowns, inside was a whole other world.

Corsets that ranged from covering everything to covering under the breasts down to the bellybutton. High-heeled boots in every style and size imaginable. Skintight pants and skirts of varying length. Assless chaps. Chains. Whips. Ball-gags. Sex toys that made me blush as I considered how they were meant to be used.

I processed it all in seconds but still couldn’t find it in me to move. I was frozen to the spot, calling attention to myself in a way that I definitely didn’t want to. The cashier gave me a concerned look, and I wondered if she was trying to think of the best way to approach me without being offensive.

I could do this.

I had to do this.

Gritting my teeth, I took off my sunglasses and pocketed them. I gave the cashier a smile and started in the same direction as my target had gone. Nothing here was illegal, I reminded myself. Just because some of it was too far in the kinky zone for me to feel comfortable with didn’t mean that there was anything wrong with it. Consent was what mattered.

Hence my reason for following thirty-five-year-old warehouse manager Chuck Elmsworth from his little suburban home to Dominque’s Boutique. He was suspected of seducing and then blackmailing underage girls into performing on camera with things from shops like this. The biggest problem trying to take down someone like him was that technology had progressed to the point where men like him were doing live and streaming videos that didn’t need hard copy storage.

Jenna and I were hoping that some of Elmsworth’s customers would be old school enough that they’d want a physical recording. If we could bust him when he made the move to get his merchandise to his customers, that’d be leverage at the very least.

I reminded myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong by being there. I was an adult, and just because it made me uncomfortable didn’t mean that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Except, it wasn’t the fetish stuff that made me uncomfortable, I realized. Once I’d gotten over the surprise of where I was, the things around me didn’t bother me at all. Some of them, I didn’t get, but hey, to each their own, right?

As long as it was consensual.

And that was the problem I was having at the moment.

Good old Chuck was standing in front of some bondage equipment. Handcuffs. Ropes. Silk scarves. Leather straps. Buckled cuffs. Harnesses. Other more complicated things that I had no clue how they worked. Things that I sincerely hoped Jalen never wanted to use with me.

And Chuck stared at them, the front of his pants tenting out as whatever he was picturing turned him on. I really hoped that Agent Matthews was mistaken, and this guy was just thinking about his legal-age girlfriend or wife. Or maybe a boyfriend or husband. As long as they were over eighteen, I didn’t care who got Chuck’s motor going.

I didn’t go down that aisle but instead went to the next one. It contained a liberal number of different types of lubricant. Dozens of flavors. Warming. Edible.

Without meaning to, I flashed back to the times that Jalen had promised to fuck me in the ass. On impulse, I grabbed a couple tubes.

Just in case I had to follow Chuck to the register, of course. It had nothing to do with the thrill of anticipation that ran down my spine. Whenever Jalen decided that he was ready to take things there, I was sure he’d be prepared.

And that was not the mission.

I needed to focus. I couldn’t let myself get distracted, no matter how tempting the distraction.

A shrill ringtone cut through the air for several seconds before being abruptly cut off.

“I thought I told you never to call me,” a man whispered. “I’ll call you.”

Unless someone else had appeared in the aisle I’d just passed, it was Chuck on the phone. I stilled, concentrating on Chuck’s side of the conversation.

“Yes, yes, I know what I said, and you’ll get your…I’ll have everything on time, just like I promised.” His voice got quieter, but I was close enough to still make out what he was saying. “Three.” Pause. “Yes, they’ll follow the script.”

Script. Fuck.

“No, I can’t get another one. Do you have any idea how hard it is to–”

Another one. Whoever was on the other end of the phone wanted more of what I assumed was kids. Doing things that I didn’t even want to imagine them doing.

“I’m getting supplies right now.” He sighed. “Do you have a preference between whips and crops?”

My stomach lurched, and I tossed the lube toward the closest shelf. I didn’t bother to wait and see if any of them dropped. I needed to get out of there before I did something I regretted. Like throwing up in the middle of the aisle.

Or walking over to Chuck and kicking him right in the balls.

I managed to make it outside without running and then went a few more feet before stopping to catch my breath. When I’d gone into this, I hadn’t known exactly what I’d be looking for, but I’d just found it. It wasn’t the sort of thing that would hold up in court, but that wasn’t my job. Once I got this back to Jenna, she could hack Chuck’s phone records and find out who he was talking to.

The people I’d be following as I helped Jenna would be some of the most despicable types of people on the planet, but I wasn’t regretting my offer to help her. I’d enjoyed the PI work, but tracking down cheating spouses, while lucrative, wasn’t quite as fulfilling as knowing that I was helping the FBI put away human traffickers.

My stomach had settled, which meant it was now time to call Jenna with the information I’d overheard. After that, I’d see if I could find Yvonne Planter at her place of business. According to Jenna, Yvonne was connected to Chuck’s venture in some way and possibly had her fingers into some sweatshops too.

I might not have a badge, but I was doing good work.

I smiled. My mom would’ve been proud.