When Victoria Colby-Camp had called Riley Porter into her office on Christmas Eve, he had known that the case would be different from any other she’d assigned him. He’d put aside his plans to go home to Kansas City and visit his folks.

There was no client in this situation—not a single, official paying client anyway. The parents of the children Von Cassidy and Trinity Barrett rescued mere days ago had called Victoria from the hospital in Alabama where they had been reunited with their children and implored her to use the assets of her agency to stop this human trafficking network.

In addition, Von had gotten a glimpse of a young woman, Tessa Woods, involved in the network who had gone missing almost six years ago. How many other missing teens and children would be rescued by infiltrating this organization?

Victoria had made a solemn promise to do all she could to make that happen.

The FBI in Chicago, New Orleans and Huntsville, Alabama, had formed a task force to get to the root of this evil network.

Right there in the hospital, on Christmas Eve, a preliminary strategy had been put into place. One of the captured kidnappers, Russell “Buzz” Smith, had spilled his guts hours earlier in hopes of a lighter sentence. He’d sworn that this had been his first job with the trafficking organization. He was relatively young and seriously scared and straight-up desperate enough to do whatever was asked of him.

With his cooperation an opportunity had presented itself. Since the names of those captured or fatally injured in the Huntsville showdown had not been released to the press at the time, it was entirely possible—as far as the public knew—that one of the bad guys had escaped.

The end result had placed the Colby Agency in a very unique situation. Riley was the right age and possessed the necessary coloring—brown hair and gold eyes—and build to pass himself off as Buzz Smith. Those who had met Buzz were either dead or being detained. No one else in the organization had seen Buzz face-to-face or spoken directly to him. He had been hired by one of the kidnappers who’d lost his life in the course of the operation.

Putting through a call to the contact provided by Buzz Smith had set an operation in motion. Posing as Buzz, Riley had been instructed by the contact to come to New Orleans and report all that he knew.

Riley sipped the whiskey he’d ordered an hour ago. He needed to fit in with the not-so-low-key crowd partying the night away in this rebuilt warehouse-turned-bar on the fringes of downtown New Orleans. But he couldn’t risk dulling his awareness in any capacity, so he sipped the drink slowly and tipped the waitress whenever she stopped to ensure he stayed on her good side.

Riley had made the call less than twenty-four hours ago. This place—the Rusty Hinge, a sleazy bar way, way off Bourbon Street—had been named as the rendezvous point by the contact. Buzz Smith had sworn that he’d given up all the information provided to him in the way of a briefing when hired, basically just enough to get Riley in the door.

It would have to be enough.

With only a scumbag’s word, Riley had arrived at the rendezvous location an hour early for the meeting with the network’s contact. Riley had taken a position with his back to the wall at a table for two as far from the entrance of the Rusty Hinge as could be gotten.

The weapon hidden in his waistband at the small of his back would be worthless if he wasn’t prepared and on his toes. He set the nearly empty tumbler on the table and surveyed the crowd of after-Christmas revelers.

Any one of them could be watching him, waiting for an opportunity to take him out. Determination tightened his jaw. Considering the importance of his part in this operation, he wasn’t afraid of dying, only of failure. This case was far too important to be put off for any reason. Every squandered minute could mean the loss of another child or teen. Riley couldn’t waste a single moment, not even the time wasted in dying.

Two men swaggered through the front doors, the only entrance or exit for the establishment Riley had noticed in the public area. There would be one in the back somewhere. The fire code would never permit only one access route. He assumed the door marked Employees Only led to a stock area where another entrance must exist. So he’d been keeping an eye on the bar as well.

The newcomers inventoried the crowd, their gazes eventually settling on Riley’s table. When they moved in his direction tension rippled through his muscles. This was it. One man was a head taller than the other. The shorter guy sported a shiny, bald head. Both wore heavy coats, likely concealing weapons.

Riley adjusted the ball cap he wore to ensure the two—if they were his contacts—understood he was the man they sought. The cap was red and sported a popular Alabama college football logo. Buzz Smith hailed from Alabama and wanted the world to know it.

Levi Stark, a colleague from the Colby Agency, and Special Agent Lee Ross from the local New Orleans Bureau office were in the vicinity for backup. But the success of this operation depended upon the two staying in the background. To that end, Riley was unaware of their exact locations except that they were nearby. Communication devices had been left out of the scenario due to the increased risk. They could take no unnecessary chances.

Tracking devices had been installed in Riley’s boot heels. That was the extent of the precautions he could afford to take for the moment. But he wasn’t worried. Backup was close. He fully trusted both men to do their jobs. One of the two was likely stationed outside in preparation for efficient relocation if necessary. The other, the Bureau agent, was likely amid the crowd. Riley hadn’t spotted him but if the agent was good at his job that was to be expected.

And Riley was highly trained to deal with the unexpected. His former career as a Navy SEAL ensured he was fully prepared to evade, outstrategize and outmaneuver the enemy as well as to operate in the midst of that same enemy.

A sense of mind-clearing calm settled over Riley as the two new arrivals stopped at his table; one eyed him with blatant suspicion, then with a quick look around, asked, “Smith?”

“You the man in charge?” Riley demanded with an arrogant thrust of his chin and without bothering to confirm his identity. “I don’t want to talk to some peon.” He leaned across the table showing no fear. “Somebody set us up. Now everyone else is dead. Whoever did this knew exactly what our movements would be. Knew everything.” He shook his head. “I’m not trusting just anybody. I want to talk to the man in charge.”

The two men exchanged a look.

Three, four beats passed.

“Seems like you got yourself an attitude, Mr. Smith. What makes you think,” the shorter guy with the shiny head and a hawklike nose asked, “we care who you trust or what you think?”

“Or—” the first man who’d spoken leaned down and braced his palms on the tabletop to look Riley more closely in the eyes “—if you live or die?”

“Maybe—” Riley downed the last of his whiskey “—because you’re here. And because you and your boss might want to consider that whoever set us up is damned smart. If he did it once, chances are he’ll do it again. And until you know who he is, then you can’t protect yourself. Or your operation.”

“We don’t need you to figure that out,” the taller guy said with a smirk. “Chances are,” he mocked, indifference in his tone and in his eyes, “you won’t be around long enough for it to matter to you one way or another.” He straightened and hitched his head toward the door. “Let’s go,” he said to his buddy. “We’re done here.”

“Folks get nervous,” Riley said, causing both to hesitate, “if they think there’s a loose end hanging around.” His gaze zeroed in on the one who appeared to be in charge, the taller one. “Makes ‘em desperate. Desperation fuels panic. Next thing you know they make a mistake and give themselves away before they have a chance to get in the way—if you know what I mean, again. But then, maybe you’ve got the situation under control and aren’t worried about anyone on the inside setting you up a second time.”

The indifference in the man’s narrow gaze shifted to uncertainty. “Outside. Now.” He turned his back and cut through the crowd, his buddy following.

Riley had pushed all the right buttons. He scooted back his chair and stood. At least he had their attention. Taking his time, he pulled on his coat, then made a path through the crowd of bodies. The waitress smiled at him as he passed a table she was serving.

The instant the entry doors cracked open the sharp sting of cold air greeted Riley. Damned cold. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Just his luck, he reflected for about the tenth time today.

Nature’s white blanket still cloaked the landscape, drawing the light from the full moon. Even the bare limbs of the trees served as shelves for winter’s unexpected gift, adding an eerie glow to the landscape.

Riley had taken a mere three steps away from the door when a muzzle nudged firmly into his back. “Keep walking,” the owner of the weapon instructed. “All the way to the gray SUV on your left.”

Hawk-nose. Riley didn’t have to glance back, he recognized the gruff voice. The taller one was likely close by or in the SUV already. Riley followed the instructions, crossing the parking lot to the specified vehicle.

“Now what?” Riley asked, not about to make any aspect of this easy.

Hawk-nose patted him down, discovered the weapon and claimed it. “Get in.”

Riley reached for the front passenger door.

“The back.”

“Where we going?” Riley asked. “To the boss?”

“Just get in.”

The muzzle burrowed deeper into Riley’s coat, reminding him that his choices were limited for buying additional time for his backup to prepare for following. He opened the back passenger-side door and climbed in. As he’d presumed, the taller of the two sat behind the steering wheel.

“Take off your clothes,” the driver ordered, his gaze on Riley via the rearview mirror.

Now there was one Riley hadn’t expected. “Say what?”

“Take ‘em off,” he repeated and tossed a pair of gray coveralls over the seat.

Riley wasn’t happy about it but he understood exactly what they were up to and it wasn’t good. He had little choice but to comply. Getting inside this operation was the goal, whatever the risk.

Taking his time, he peeled off his coat, then the rest—including his boots. When he’d pulled on the coveralls he reached for his boots to tug them back on. There was snow on the ground after all.

“You won’t need those,” Hawk-nose, who still loomed in the open door, said. He snagged the boots as well as Riley’s clothes.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Riley reminded the two, “it’s cold as hell.”

“Socks, too.” Hawk-nose stuck his hand in front of Riley. “Hurry up. It’s cold out here,” he tacked on in a mocking tone.

Riley peeled off his socks and tossed them to the guy. “Anything else?” Not that he had anything else to fork over.

The rear door slammed shut in his face. Riley glanced at the guy in front of him, then swung his attention to the one outside. It was tough to see beyond the darkly tinted windows, but the clothes Riley had shed, boots included, were dumped between two parked cars. The boots were his favorite pair. Not to mention they carried the tracking device. Nothing he could do about that.

The hawk-nosed guy headed back to the SUV. He opened the rear passenger door. “Slide over.” He gestured toward the other side of the seat with his weapon.

Riley scooted over and the other man climbed in next to him. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to his buddy.

The driver started the engine. “I guess you’re gonna get your wish, Mr. Smith. There’s someone who wants to talk to you after all.”

“As long as he’s higher up the food chain,” Riley said.

Hawk-nose rammed the muzzle of his handgun into Riley’s temple. “Your mouth is going to get you killed. You should keep it closed for now if you want to keep breathing, pal.”

Riley turned his face toward the man next to him, ignoring the business end of the gun. “I’m not your pal. I’m the guy who’s going to provide you and your partner here with a little more job security.”

Fury detonated in the man’s eyes as the interior light faded to black. “I don’t know why we can’t kill him right now,” he snarled.

“You make a mess in my SUV,” the driver warned as the vehicle rolled out onto the deserted street, “and I’ll kill you.”

Hawk-nose wasn’t put off by his colleague’s threat. “I think he’s bluffing,” he mused. “Probably working with the cops.”

Riley didn’t flinch, didn’t take his fierce glare off the man with the gun. The streetlights provided enough illumination for him to see that his scare tactics weren’t working.

“He don’t know nothing,” Hawk-nose suggested.

“If he’s not working with the cops, he’s just trying to get a promotion.”

“The boss’ll be the judge of that,” the driver reminded his colleague.

That piece of news was what he had wanted to hear. Riley relaxed into the seat, directed his attention straight ahead.

He was in … at least far enough to get a face-to-face with the boss.

The first step. If he could convince the boss of his own usefulness, maybe—just maybe—he could get all the way into the organization.

It was the only way to dismantle an operation this large and this sophisticated.

From the inside.

He would, as quickly as possible, learn the key players and then he would move on to step two. That was the most time sensitive and crucial step: take out one or more pivotal pieces of the foundation. Then the entire network collapsed.

Step two would be easy as long as he stayed alive.

Chapter Two

11:05 p.m.

The cold wind whistled through the cracks in the window frame. Tessa touched the wood frame, registering the roughness of the peeling paint that had once been white and the chunks of missing caulk that allowed the frigid air to seep into the room.

Her gaze drifted past the wavy glass of the century-old window, past the intimidating black iron bars, to the snow that remained on the ground. She couldn’t remember the last time it had snowed for Christmas. Her lips ached with the need to smile. But smiling was forbidden.

The Master did not allow his family to smile or to laugh.

Holidays were difficult sometimes. Memories crept in … reminding her of how it used to be.

Before …

“Tessa.”

A tremble slid through her, shaking her bones. She turned to face him. “Yes?”

“Ensure the children and the patients remain in their rooms.”

For a long moment she simply stared in response. Taller than most men, six-three or -four. He worked out religiously to keep his muscles big and hard. Used steroids liberally to be sure they stayed that way well after his youth had become a distant memory. Always dressed in elegant attire. Everything about him, except his skin, was black. Hair, eyes, clothing. He used his coloring, his size and even his clothes to inspire fear.

It always worked.

No one dared cross him.

“Tessa?”

The warning in his tone trapped the oxygen beneath her sternum for a moment more. “Yes.” She blinked, forced away all other thought save his order. “I’ll make sure.”

He surveyed her room, no doubt noting that the covers of her bed had not as of yet been turned down. “I believe it’s past your bedtime, is it not?”

Tessa nodded. She smoothed a hand over the pink flannel of her gown. The metal key in the pocket pressed reassuringly against her hip. “I was about to lie down, but I thought I heard something outside.”

“That would be security’s concern.”

“Of course.”

She held her breath until he’d gone. As long as she obeyed, she could take care of the children and the patients. More caution was necessary. She couldn’t make a mistake. For years she had watched the unthinkable treatment of those confined … she had worked diligently to reach a position of some authority so that she could change that sadness. So that she could devise a plan.

No matter the cost to her, she could not lose that small power.

In spite of that need, she still longed for freedom … escape. There had been opportunities … few and rare, but opportunities nonetheless. She would not take advantage of the chance to escape without being able to take the others with her.

To take the child.

An ache rose in her throat.

No matter the cost.

Pay attention. She squared her shoulders. Something was happening tonight. There was an unusual tension in the air. A sense of anticipation.

For the past hour or so she had seen the seemingly frantic coming and going of the others assigned to the house. There were no other deliveries or pick-ups on the schedule for the next eight days.

Fear trickled into her veins. If he had increased his schedule … No. She shook her head. It was too risky. He wouldn’t do that. She would know if changes had been set in motion.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Tessa turned away from the window and moved toward the door, her bare feet soundless on the frigid floor.

She couldn’t think about the deliveries or the pickups. Taking care of the children and the patients was all that mattered. That was her life now.

At least until the time was right. The opportunity was close … so very close.

A shiver rumbled through her body as defeat weighed heavily down upon her. Stop. Nothing would stop her … she would find a way, no matter the obstacles that arose. Her plan was solid … but the timing had to be perfect.

Outside her door, along the dark, silent corridor were two large rooms besides her own. Tessa removed the key from her pocket and unlocked the first door.

She didn’t turn on the light for fear of waking the sleeping children. Whatever was happening, it could be dangerous. The children would be safest if they were asleep. Noise—not even a whimper—was allowed past eight in the evening.

Tessa crouched down next to the first bed. She pinched her lips together to prevent the forbidden. The urge to sweep soft blond hair back from the little girl’s forehead forced her to clench her fingers. She drew the fist to her lips and resisted the new urge to cry.

She had to protect the child.

She had to protect them all.

In a few days, at most, everything would change … it would all be over.

Clinging to that hope, Tessa moved to the next bed, then the next and the next. All four children slept soundly. All beautiful blond-haired girls with dazzling blue eyes.

And one, her gaze wandered back to the first bed, was the most beautiful of all.

Careful not to make any noise, she padded back to the door. Once in the corridor she closed and locked the door to the children’s room.

Her heart sank into her belly as she approached the next door. Tessa moistened her lips and unlocked it. Her hand shook as she removed the key and slid it into her pocket. Bracing for the misery, she turned the knob. A creak made her flinch. She prayed those inside, too, would be asleep. It would be best if they didn’t ask questions. Their cries and pleas took a heavy toll on Tessa.

Holding her breath, she eased into the dark room. The thick drapes on the windows blocked the moonlight from filtering inside. Beyond the drapes, on all the windows in the house, were iron bars that prevented anything inside from slipping out.

She moved quickly to the first of four narrow beds that lined the walls. Like the children, the women slept soundly. With no nightlight, Tessa couldn’t see their faces in the thick blackness, but she could hear their breathing. Slow, deep, rhythmic. Sleep was their only escape from a reality too horrifying to endure for more than a few hours at a time.

Please let me be able to help them before it’s too late.

The distinct sense of urgency thick in the room caused Tessa’s stomach to tighten with emotion.

Time was running out.

She had to be ready to act. She couldn’t allow this to happen again.

Her plan had to work.

Determination chasing away the uncertainty and fear edging out her courage, she turned and walked quietly back across the room, then as noiselessly as possible she exited and locked the door.

Let them sleep. Reality would intrude soon enough.

The corridor was quiet. Tessa hesitated outside her own room. She should go to bed. But sleep would be impossible. As the time drew nearer, the anticipation built, preventing sleep and prompting a restlessness that wouldn’t go away.

She bit her lower lip and considered the risk involved with indulging her curiosity.

Learning what tonight’s unusual activities were about could prove useful to her plan … but if he caught her she would be punished severely.

No one defied the Master.

Tessa inhaled a breath of courage and set one bare foot in front of the other; her destination: the landing. Each step frayed her nerves a little more. This house was so very old … the floors creaked. It had taken her months to learn the best places to step to avoid the loudest groans.

She didn’t release the air in her lungs until she reached the landing. Repeating a silent mantra for protection, she dared to lean over the railing just far enough to view the stairs that wound down to the second, then the first floor.

Clear.

Holding her breath, she glanced upward to the fourth floor—his floor. No one was allowed up there unless personally invited by the Master.

Her gaze dropped back to the stairs winding downward. Whatever was going on, the trouble had apparently settled in the questioning room.

Another shudder rattled her bones as she considered that room … the basement.

He’d turned it into a chamber of horrors. Steel bars had been erected at both ends of the massive area for using as cells. Every square foot of the floor space between acted as a stage for terror.

Torture devices.

Tessa closed her eyes and summoned her fleeing courage yet again. The silence closed in on her, crumbling away at her fragile bravado.

Just go.

Blocking the warning voices inside her head, she descended quickly to the second floor. She hesitated on the landing. More of that consuming silence. The soldiers who used the second floor for sleeping quarters were either rallied for whatever was going on or adjourned to their rooms. It was past curfew, but until a short time ago there had been much coming and going. That she could not be certain of their status made her decision to get a closer look at what was happening even riskier.

Had the Master summoned his entire team for some impromptu action?

Perhaps the police had finally discovered his identity and this hidden compound. Tessa had prayed for years that the police would come, that somehow she and the others would be rescued.

But he was too smart for the police. Eventually she had realized that no one was coming. There would be no savior … no rescue.

Unless she stepped into the role and organized her own rescue.

The first floor proved equally quiet. She made her way from room to room and from window to window, using her memory as her guide since she didn’t dare turn on any lights. Her breath hitched when two dark figures moved past a rear window. The perimeter guards. Two men walked the grounds twenty-four/seven. The Master never relied solely on security cameras or other gadgets.

So … whatever was happening was in the questioning room. Her gaze lowered to the wood floor. She moistened her lips and swallowed back the confirming lump of fear that had lodged in her throat.

Trouble.

Someone had either been identified as a potential informant or an enemy had been captured. Only once since she’d been with him had an informant been uncovered. He had forced her to watch the slow, agonizing torture and ultimate murder of the man.

Two other times an enemy had been brought here. Most of the time anyone presumed to be the enemy was simply killed on the spot. But if there was information to be gained, the enemy was interrogated. Always here. Always mercilessly.

Tessa returned to the wide entry hall and held her breath. She listened, straining with the effort. Silence. They had to be in the questioning room. That level had been meticulously insulated to ensure no sound escaped or invaded the space.

The original entry point had been in the hall, but the Master had long ago closed that access and created a hidden entrance in his library.

Directly across the entry hall from the parlor, the library had provided hours of escape for her in the beginning. It had taken almost a year for her to accept her new lot in life, then she had turned her attention to gaining trust and responsibility. One day, those years of planning and praying would provide freedom.

Inside the library, bookshelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling. A massive desk sat in the middle of the room, flanked by four chairs. This was where he held his strategy sessions. Only recently had she been allowed to attend the sessions. She had not gained a chair as of yet, but she was allowed to sit on the floor in one corner. A trusted member of the family was assigned a corner and eventually a chair.

A section of the shelving, four feet wide and nine feet tall opened, revealing a wide staircase that led down to the questioning room—or dungeon as she preferred to call it.

There would be only one place she could hide from view and that was about one-third of the way down. She would be able to see around the wall that ended at that point while still concealing her presence—if no one stood at the bottom of the stairs or happened to be coming up as she started down.

She removed the book that concealed the button, then pressed. The section of shelving with its faux books slowly, quietly moved open via its hydraulic hinges. Raised voices vibrated on the cool air. The temperature down there was kept at a steady sixty degrees, adding to the discomfort of those imprisoned and/or being interrogated.

The instant Tessa moved down to the first step she pressed the closing mechanism. The door crept closed behind her. She shivered, as much from the cold as from the fear.

She stood very still and listened.

The Master and his two deputies were grilling a fourth man. Tessa didn’t recognize his voice. She needed to see. She bit the inside of her jaw and considered whether she dared.

The timing was too close to her plans to ignore the situation. If operations or schedules were about to change related to the capture of an informant or an enemy, she needed to be aware.

Easing forward, she peeked around the wall. A man wearing gray coveralls was secured to the interrogation chair. Her heart bumped her chest. His face already showed signs of torture. The Master stood back and watched as his deputies, Brooks and Howard, questioned the man. The man looked young. Brown hair. Definitely no one she had seen before.

She waited a moment more for her heart to stop pounding, then she moved.

Without daring to take a breath she descended the steps and moved around to hide beneath the stairs. Supply containers provided cover for her crouched position. She willed her heart to slow once more, thanked God the fabric of her gown hadn’t so much as whispered against her skin. She inhaled slowly, soundlessly until her breathing returned to normal.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and maintained her balance on the pads of her feet. They called the man “Smith.” Tessa knew no one named Smith.

“Considering your fear of capture,” the Master said, his deputies falling silent as he spoke, “why make contact with us? Why not go into hiding?”

Smith stared up at the Master as if he had no fear at all. Tessa’s eyes widened in expectation of retaliation.

“I had no place else to go,” he said with no humility whatsoever. “That’s why I took this job in the first place. I’d run out of other options.”

Brooks, the taller of the two deputies, backhanded Smith, almost toppling the chair.

“You believe,” the Master went on, “that we have an obligation to take you in? “ He laughed, that deep ugly sound that haunted Tessa’s dreams far too often. “This is no halfway house, Mr. Smith. In fact, in your case, it’s the end of the line.”

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Colby Core

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Colby Core

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

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