Blue-Eyed Devil

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Helping the Feds won't be easy or safe.
But neither is prison.

Justin Miranda’s career as a sex trafficker was over, and a long prison sentence seemed inevitable. His insider knowledge, however, gave him a chance to work with the FBI outside prison walls. A reduced sentence hangs on his ability to discover the head of a suspected Kansas City trafficking ring that uses a cleaning business as a front.

Getting back in the game isn’t easy, however. Dani Harper made an impression he couldn’t easily shake, even if she was now with the Australian. She had put cracks in his firm belief that all women were liars and manipulators.

Then came Mina.

She was just the cleaning lady. Just a woman he was supposed to seduce to move his way up in the company.

How is it possible that she changes everything?

No AI was used in the making of this book. Not the writing, the inspiration, the cover or in any way whatsoever. Please support human-created books.

284 pages

Prologue

Mina's heart was hammering as the plane began its descent. She'd been studying English and reconnecting with old contacts for new information for more than a year. Her best friend, Alicia, thought she should have left months ago, but without gaining a better grasp of the language, that was not wise. A woman had to understand what was going on around her. Otherwise, someone would take advantage. She'd gotten by before because she had been so close to the border. Now she'd be in the center of the country.

She had been blessed with the time she needed; Geraldo had left her enough money to get by for a while. With three children, it didn't last as long as she would have liked—especially after the government issued more paper money, making what she had worth much less.

Her heart clenched at the thought of leaving her children behind in Caracas with her mother and Uncle Beto, but she would work hard and smart. It was lucky for her that American women considered cleaning beneath them. They all wanted to be big bosses like American men.

She looked out the window at the fast-approaching Kansas City airport and took several deep breaths. Would her study be enough? Would she be able to understand English that wasn't slowed down for her benefit? Would Geraldo approve of her plans? She suspected that he would not, but he was no longer there to advise her or turn her path one way or another. He had been a wise man, but he was gone. Now she had to do what she thought best.

The plane touched down, and she knew there was no way now but forward.

Chapter 1

Justin Miranda paced his cell like a tiger in a zoo. He'd had too much time to think. Too much time to talk to himself and every person he ever knew. They'd come to him one by one as the days had droned on and on. They quizzed him about relationships. They questioned his behavior, his lifestyle, his rationale. They interrogated him about his decisions, his motivations, his beliefs, and his humanity. Each one demanding answers. Answers he didn't have. He was done with self-analysis in this space that seemed good for nothing else.

He hadn't seen his own face for forty-five days. Hadn't seen either the adoration he had been accustomed to most of his life nor the repulsion he'd experienced with the mutilated forehead given to him by the crazy diamond smuggler in Brazil. He ran his fingers over the scars, the L F F standing out like braille.

"I should have let him kill me," he muttered for the thousandth time.

"Bad boys come to a bad end." It was his grandmother's voice again. He heard her so often now, he wondered if she was somehow haunting the prison.

She had taken to berating him about the women he'd sold into the sex trade the way she'd judged him in his teens about his constantly changing string of girlfriends. "Do you delight in hurting them, Justin?" She had waited up for him then to come home after a date for a heart-to-heart, but here in these four walls, she popped in without invitation, bringing with her something Justin had rarely felt before a few months ago. Sorrow.

It was a deep sadness, but it stopped short of what she wanted out of him. He didn't feel sufficiently guilty for the old woman. She just shook her head.

Truly, he had loved his former life. Beautiful women, lots of sex, lots of money. Attracting females had always been easy. Charming them had been his well-honed skill, and getting them to fall into his bed awash with desire had been his super power.

This morning, his grandmother had been waiting for him even before he'd opened his eyes, bringing up for discussion what he had worked hard to put out of his mind. The beginning of the end. The deal with Aaron McCain. The purchase of Tiffany Morrow. The disappearance of Rita Miller that had put him in the path of Dani Harper.

Breathing hard, he sank to the edge of his cot, his head falling forward as his hands ran through his too long hair. For that woman, he felt the kind of sorrow the old lady wanted. He felt regret. It was an empty hole inside of him. He'd held her momentarily, kissed her only briefly and lost something of his soul to her forever.

"Your soul is black, Justin," his grandmother intoned. "You're a bad boy that will—"

"Come to a bad end!" he finished, his words bouncing back to him off the soundproof walls.

If they would just let him out, he'd give them what they wanted. That was why they had secreted him into the building and right into solitary. His incarceration had to be off the record. He had told them so himself. He'd even waived his rights to a lawyer, so not a soul would know.

But now he'd been there so long, he thought they must have forgotten. He threw his head back, his eyes immediately tracing the cracks in the ceiling he now knew so well. He had told them he'd give them all the names he knew in exchange for his freedom, but they'd wanted more.

"Fine," he'd said. He'd work with them like in Brazil. He'd play their game by any rules they laid out. He'd played games all his life to get what he wanted. He'd play theirs until he was free again. He was of no use to anyone in here. He might as well have let Formosa kill him.

The small panel slid on the door, and he jumped. "You have a visitor. Stay sitting where you are."

The door opened, and two men he recognized walked in. Logan Stafford's eyes registered his sorry appearance with a lift of his brows, and Justin held his breath, not daring to hope that things were about to change.

After a moment's hesitation where they each regarded the other, Stafford spoke. "First," he said, crossing his arms, "I don't like you."

Justin nodded rapidly. "That's fair."

"If we bring you out," FBI agent Davis said, next to him, "it will be because of Will Yarnel's report on your work in Brazil."

Justin nodded, more slowly this time, his right eye twitching. Play the game. Play the game. Play the game. "Big men were caught. I can… do more. In here, I—"

"You will be my responsibility," Stafford interrupted, then pointed his thumb to Davis, "and I have to report to the FBI." He raised a stern brow. "You will not make me look bad."

Justin swallowed hard, nodded again, and dared to look past them to the door, finally letting himself believe that his "bad end" could be delayed.

Dani snuggled up behind Will as the early-morning light filtered through the blinds, glad for slightly cooler weather that signaled the coming of fall in Brazil. She wrapped an arm around his bare torso and pressed her lips to the back of his neck.

He made a "Hmm" and roused, pulling her hand up to his lips. "You're awake early, possum." His voice was still gravelly from sleep.

"Had a yummy dream about a scruffy Australian," she murmured toward his ear.

He turned, a sleepy smile pulling at his lips. "Are you going to tell me about it?" he asked, turning up his accent a notch and sliding his fingers through her new shorter haircut.

"Maybe." She moved her lips toward his. "Or maybe I'll just show you."

His smile grew as his arm tightened around her, pulling her against him. "I like the sound a that."

Their lips met in a slow, tender caress that melted the last of any lingering drowsiness. Dani's hand slid into Will's brown hair that was in need of another haircut, while his went down her back and over her hip, coming short of her bullet wound scar on her thigh, searching for the hem of her nightshirt.

Fully awake now, the man went to work, relieving her of her clothes and teasing her in all the right ways. "How am I doing?" he whispered as he nibbled a path over her naked shoulder. "In line with your dream, or am I on the wrong trail out in the woop woop?"

"Mmm," she sighed. "Whatever this trail is, I like where it's going."

Will's phone rang with Logan's ringtone. He lifted his head, closed his eyes, and blew out an exasperated breath. "Can I pretend I'm in the shower?"

"If you were in the shower this early, I'd be the one answering."

He moved his lips to hers again, making no move to pick up his phone from the nightstand. "Not if you were in the shower with me."

She kissed him while the phone continued to ring, then broke it off. "Logan never calls this early… maybe it's important."

Will's expression said he didn't care before he moved to kissing her neck. The phone stopped, and Will smiled. "I'm sure he'll call back later."

His lips had no sooner touched her skin, when the same ringtone began again. "Or he'll call back now, I guess," Dani groused.

Will rolled to sweep up the phone. "Logan, can I call you back, mate?"

Dani waited as Will went into serious listening mode. He looked to Dani, all amorous looks gone. "Today," he finally answered, sitting up. "It has to be today."

He ran a hand through his hair, and Dani propped up on an elbow, her curiosity rising.

"He asked for me in particular. Why?" He rubbed his bearded jaw, irritation oozing out of him. "All right, you get the flight lined up, and we'll be on it. But don't make it too early." He looked once again to Dani. "I've got a few things to take care of first."

He hung up without even his usual "hooroo" Aussie goodbye, and Dani raised a brow. "Flight to where?"

Setting his phone back on the nightstand, he turned, looking as if he wanted to throttle someone. "Kansas City."

Her eyes flew wide. "Kansas City!" She pushed up to sitting, clutching the blanket at her chest as he brought up his calendar on his phone. "What's going on?"

He didn't answer, obviously lost in thought.

"Will, was that 'we' you spoke of you and me or you and Rod?"

Finally, he looked at her, irritation lining his face. "Both." He set the phone back down on the nightstand, ran a hand through his hair and turned to lay back down. "Now, don't make me tell you anymore right now because I can't get on a trans-continental flight without finishing… that trail we were on."

He pulled on her arm, and she laid down, rolling her eyes, wondering how he thought she could just drop back into the mood with a big mystery hanging over her. "Will, you're going to have to tell me something if I'm—"

He put a finger to her lips. "Here's the short. Logan has a lead on a trafficking situation in Kansas City, and he wants help." He removed his finger slowly, running it over her lips, her chin, and down her neck.

Despite his attempt at seduction, the question of who had "asked for him in particular" was a burning question she felt needed an immediate answer. Before she could ask it, however, his phone rang again. This time it was Rod.

Will closed his eyes for just a moment before scooping her up and sliding out of bed. "Will, what are you doing?"

"Creating an excuse for not answering." After striding to the bathroom, he stood her on her feet, slid the frosted shower door open and turned on the water.

"This was not in my dream," she announced with mock outrage.

He looked at her with hooded eyes. "If it's not better than your dream, you can have the window seat for the whole flight." He stepped into the spray and offered his hand.

Of course, she took it.

Chapter 2

"There's Logan and Rita." Dani pointed toward the expansive glass windows in the KCI terminal that the sun hadn't seen fit to light up yet. In front, was a good-looking couple that Will hadn't twigged how much he'd missed until he saw them waving. Logan was in jeans and a short winter coat, while Rita looked schmick as ever in a long paisley print skirt over boots that matched her wool-lined suede jacket. After what she went through in Brazil, Will was glad to see her bright, smiling eyes.

He, Dani, and Rod strolled toward them together, matching Dani's slower speed, each with a carry on over one shoulder. Seeing them again, Will felt a bit less grumbly about the long flight. The toothpick clenched in his teeth flipped up and down, though, thinking about coming back to late winter in the States when they were just getting to fall in São Paulo. Dani had insisted that spring was just around the corner, but he'd packed the winterwear they'd bought in Denver anyway, and the white ground they'd seen as the plane landed had proved him prudent.

Dani and Rita hugged while Logan and Will clapped each other's backs. Then Logan and Rod went through the same ritual.

Rita took a step back. "I love your new haircut!"

Dani turned her head side-to side, showing off the asymmetrical cut. "Thanks! It's much better for São Paulo's humidity."

Will couldn't help smiling. Dani was a pearler no matter what her hair looked like.

"I got it short on one side so no one would mistake us for twins."

Rita laughed. "There's probably no danger of that unless I get tired of being a brunette again and grab the bleach instead of the black hair dye." She looked down. "How's the leg?"

Dani's hand went to the six-week-old wound. "It's improving, although it still hurts some at times. I'm not running any marathons yet."

Logan looked between Will and Rod. "And how are the shoulders?" Rod had been clipped by a bullet in Rio and Will by shrapnel from a car bomb in Denver.

Rod rolled his left shoulder around while Will put a hand to his right. "Mine has become a weather predicter," Rod said with a grimace, "but other than that, it's fine."

"Mine's in pretty good nick. Considering." Will put a hand to Dani's back. "We both collected new scars in Denver."

Logan's gaze took both of them in as Dani slid an arm around Will's waist. "Damn, you two look good together!" he pronounced, as if he'd never seen them before.

Rita nodded. "You both look different—better—like you both found a missing piece."

"I won't be giving up this off-sider anytime soon," Will said, sliding his hand to her shoulder, meaning every word.

Dani quirked her lips to the side. "Off-sider, huh?" Her eyes sparked. "Had I known I was merely your assistant—"

Will put up a finger. " 'Off-sider' can just as easily mean partner," he stressed.

Logan laughed, and he and Rita turned to guide them through the airport. Rod shook his head as they walked. "There he goes again with that Aussie mumbo jumbo." He took off his cap, ran a hand through his sandy hair and replaced it again. "You'd think a guy who'd spent as much time away from Australia as he has would learn to communicate more clearly."

Will looked over Dani to Rod's smug expression. The man never got tired of his assault on Will's cockney. And Will had to confess, he could never resist a retort. "Like you're clear, mate. 'Shoot the breeze,' 'under the weather,' 'up my alley' are all nonsensical." He pulled the toothpick out from between his teeth and pointed for emphasis. "And I've never yet heard a good explanation for 'working the graveyard shift.' Nobody works in a cemetery at night."

Dani linked both their arms with her own. "Okay, I think we all need a good breakfast and a nap."

Will agreed, although he didn't admit it out loud. More than brekky and a nap, however, he wanted to hear about this trafficking case from go to whoa and why Justin Miranda, who was now working for Logan and the FBI, had wanted Will specifically to work on it.

Just the thought of having to work with that mongrel again started his belly churning. He didn't believe the former sex trafficker had turned over a new leaf—which was another crazy American phrase—Miranda was just avoiding as much time in prison as possible.

Heading out of the terminal, a blast of cold air hit him, and he fished his hat and gloves out of his pockets, hoping they wouldn't be staying in Dani's hometown long.

"So the bastards pay for the women's airfare to come to the States to work for some wealthy bastard as a maid, and then they sell her to some other bastards to work in their brothels. That's hardly a new scenario for trafficking."

Logan quirked a smile. No matter Rod's opinion on Will's way of communicating, Logan had missed it. "Not exactly. The Feds think this cleaning gig here is a bit more subtle." He picked up the syrup and handed it across the table as Will pulled two more pancakes onto his plate. "But it is the same old scenario of poor women in foreign countries given airfare with the promise of a new life here."

Rod got up to pour himself another cup of coffee. "With strings attached, of course," he threw back as he headed into Rita's kitchen.

Logan nodded. "Of course. Terry doesn't have the proof yet, but he believes that the women working for Plaza Cleaning Services have signed a contract that will keep them retained until they are out of the red. They were given an anonymous tip and have been watching the place, but so far, they can't find evidence of wrongdoing, although the women going in and out do seem to be constantly changing."

Dani's forehead pinched. "So Terry thinks they are moved out of cleaning and into prostitution?"

"The tip was that some are 'groomed' for that while others simply keep the cleaning business going for slave wages," Logan answered, returning his cup to the table, "but so far, they've got no evidence."

"So," Rita continued, "that's where Justin Miranda comes in. He'll use his connections to see if Terry's tip has any merit, then try and get in to find out what happens to the women and who's behind it."

Logan noticed the sour expression that had come to Will's face with the mention of the former sex trafficker. "Will, I know how you feel about Miranda, and I'm far from a fan myself, but he has been very forthcoming with information so far. And it was your own report about his work in Brazil that tipped the scale in favor of a plea deal that included not just names but his assistance outside of prison."

Now finished with his pancakes, Will pulled a new paper-wrapped toothpick out of his front t-shirt pocket, tore off the wrapper and set it between his teeth before answering, his voice seemingly full of regret. "I know. I just don't trust him any further than I can chuck him. And when I wrote that report, I assumed he would be somebody else's problem. Not mine." He leaned his forearms on the table. "Why did he request me anyway?"

"Why wouldn't he, Will?" Dani asked before popping a grape in her mouth and speaking around it. "You're a known quantity to him. I'm sure, as a trafficker, he only used people he could trust, and he knows he can trust you." She picked up another from her plate. "I imagine there are cops who wouldn't cry if a sex trafficker met with some kind of fatal accident on the job."

Will's toothpick flipped up and down while Logan nodded. "He's said as much himself."

Rod sat and leaned back in his chair, linking his legs around the table leg and his hands behind his neck. "So how are we going to keep track of him while we try to break up this trafficking ring? What if he tries to run at the first opportunity?"

"He will actually be doing most of his work from a luxury apartment near the Plaza." At Will's raised brows, Logan added, "With an ankle bracelet of course."

"Well, isn't that posh for a man who spent years selling women?"

Logan blew out a breath. "I know how you feel, but his assistance requires that the flow of information doesn't stop."

Dani nodded understanding. "He needs to look like he just came back from a long business trip in Brazil, and now he's ready to get back into the game here."

Rod let the front legs of his chair hit the floor. "And I'm betting we only have a small window of opportunity before news of his involvement in Brazil's sting reaches here."

Logan hoped that wasn't true. "Capt. Artez reassured—"

"Yeah," Rod interrupted, "but Capt. Artez isn't the judge. And finding an honest judge in Brazil is like… well, you know what it's like."

"They're scarce as hen's teeth," Will added, and Logan agreed, but he still hoped Artez could secure lengthy sentences for the men they'd arrested in the Rio Branco raid.

"Just like in Brazil," Logan explained, "we need Miranda's access and connections. We want the head honcho of this operation, not just the ground floor peons. Otherwise—"

"Yeah, I know." Will pushed back from the table, his jaw grinding that toothpick to dust. "They'll just start over somewhere else." Rising, he walked to the patio door to look out at Rita's backyard, covered in a light dusting of snow. "So at what point is my trust needed?" he asked without looking back.

Rod gave a little snort. "If any of this is going to be believable, he can't stay in his apartment 24/7, Will." He lit up with a wry smile. "I'm betting you're his new 'off-sider.' "

Will turned slowly to meet Logan's gaze, the question hanging between them.

Logan lifted his coffee to drink the last of it. "You did it in Brazil, Will. From what I hear, you two were quite a team."

"Yeah, but—"

"But what?" Logan pushed his chair back and got up, coming around the table to where Will still stood in front of the patio door. "What's so different now? Why were you willing to work with him then?" Logan had never known Will to get so worked up over a job.

"Because then I didn't know he had a thing for Dani!" He took the battered toothpick from between his teeth. "That became clear to me when Perigosa slapped her."

Dani turned in her seat to look at him. "What! You must be kidding, Will. I hardly think—"

"I saw the look in his eyes," he said, stepping toward her. "He didn't look at Vi or any of the other women the same way."

Logan shook his head. "It doesn't matter what he feels or doesn't feel for Dani. It's the same as Brazil; women are being trafficked, and Miranda holds the key to finding one of the kingpins here in Kansas City. Even if Plaza Cleaning Services turns out to be a legit company, we know there is trafficking going on here, and if anyone can find it, he can."

Will pursed his lips and nodded, and Logan blew out a breath, hoping that bringing Will in on the case had been the right call.

"Just as soon as you say the word, I'll make contact with Arlo Jeffries." Justin sat on the gray leather sofa with a laptop on his lap talking to Stafford and his crew in a video chat. "If he can't tell me what I need to know, nobody can." Justin leaned back, crossed his legs at the ankles, then uncrossed them again when he felt the ankle monitor. Having that thing on 24/7 was going to take some getting used to.

"Arlo Jeffries is one of Miranda's Kansas City connections," Logan said to someone beside him, offscreen. He turned back to Justin. "We're just waiting on the go-ahead from Agent Davis. Is Jeffries a trafficker?"

Justin shook his head. "He's more of an… organizer… an information gatherer. He manages to keep his nose clean with the cops, all the while getting cuts from every dirty deal going down. He connects people… for a price. If the connection made is particularly lucrative, he expects to be rewarded."

"So he can tell you if this cleaning scam is really a scam?" It was the Australian's voice—Will Yarnel.

Logan turned the laptop to take him in. He looked less shaggy than the last time Justin had seen him in the rainforest. "Well, I won't call it that, but yes, if anyone outside that business knows, it will be him. If the FBI's tip is true, I'm hoping he'll see fit to hook me up." Out of habit, Justin put a hand to his forehead, the feel of his still relatively new scars an obsession he couldn't shake.

In Brazil, Yarnel had used his military medical knowledge to try to improve the look of them in exchange for trafficker's names. Unfortunately, once the Feds got a hold of him, the treatment had stopped. It was probably too late to do anything about them now that wasn't costly. And although the FBI had set him up to look well off, he really didn't have more than a few Hamiltons in his wallet.

Justin pulled his hand away from his forehead. "In case I need to meet him somewhere—some people are leery of using technology that can too easily record conversations—did you get the specifications I sent for a wardrobe? I will have to look the part of—"

"a stinkin' rich bastard who sells women," Yarnel interrupted. "Yeah, we got it, but I'm guessing the Feds won't like the price."

A muscle in Justin's jaw ticked. As much as he didn't personally care for the Aussie's judge and jury attitude, he believed Yarnel was the best man for him to work with. His dedication to finding lost women would guarantee their success. And Justin needed to show the Feds success if he was going to stay out of prison. He spread his hands. "It's all about appearances. I don't want to give these guys any reason to question that I'm still in the business. And" –he pointed a finger at the screen— "as my bodyguard, you'll have to look the part too."

"All right." Logan was back in the conversation. "We'll pass it on."

"They set up this apartment exactly as I specified," Justin continued, feeling ruffled. They got him out of prison for his expertise. Why wouldn't they let him use it? If there's one thing he knew, it was how rich traffickers lived. He lifted the laptop up above his head so they could see the original modern art on the wall above the sofa. "They even got the painting I—"

"Oh wow! That is nice!"

Justin froze with the laptop above his head. He knew the voice. He swallowed, his heart suddenly beating faster. He brought the laptop back down until he could see the screen, and there she was, looking over Yarnel's shoulder, although she'd cut her hair and added some highlights to the blond.

"Yeah, Miranda's apartment looks like a gallery," Yarnel grumbled, "but in Rod's apartment next door, they were cheap as chips. They've got him sleeping on a mattress on the floor. Not a lick of furniture in the whole place."

"Dani," Justin said quietly, completely ignoring the Australian's rant. His knee started bouncing—a hold-over tic from solitary. He tried to swallow again but didn't seem to have any saliva in his mouth. Why was she there? He knew she lived in Kansas City—they had talked about it once—and from what he had been able to piece together, her friend Rita had taken up with Stafford, but was that the only reason she was there, or did she work for Stafford now? He put a hand to his knee to make it stop jumping. "I wasn't expecting to see you."