Page 3 of Blind Justice

“I have a runner and his sister. They were in the building cowering when shit went down. I think they have information.”

“What’s your plan?” Asher perked up a bit, some of the sleepiness erased from his voice.

“Question them. If they have legitimate information that can help us with the case, I plan on bringing them to Virginia with me.” He would have to put them into protection, but in the meantime, he happened to know a place to keep them safe.

“This could blow up in your face and be a trap,” Asher reminded him.

“I agree. If it is,” he said, glancing at the door, “I’ll turn them loose.”

Asher chuckled. The dark, sadistic sound fit the man’s personality. “Cold-blooded.”

“In my line of work, you have to be.” He wondered if Asher had known the truth about him when he kicked Duncan out of the conference room at the start of this mission. The leader of R.O.O.T. had a shrewd sense about him, and Duncan’s suspicions were confirmed when Asher pulled him aside before sending him to Mexico.

“Keep me posted.”

“Understood.” Duncan cut the connection before removing his comms from his ear and his shirt. He needed a shower. Being inside the blown out remains of the club exposed him to all kinds of shit, including blood and dirt.

Once inside the bathroom, he closed the door part way, allowing him to keep an eye on the room without having to worry about where his wards would be. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror and winced. He looked like shit. His normally black hair had turned a dust-colored grey. His face was streaked by soot. His chest and torso had splotches of blood from where he’d checked on the fallen.

He turned on the water and finished stripping off his clothes while it warmed. He stepped under the hard spray and groaned. The shower massaged the tense muscles of his shoulders and back, pushing away the first throbs of an oncoming migraine. Everything that could go wrong on this stupid fucking mission did, and the one person they needed out of all of this was still on the run.

Frustration filled him.

A simple takedown had blown up in their faces on a massive scale. Because of the shootout and the explosives, the rat Raul got away, and they had nothing to show for it. Sure, he had witnesses and the initial mission of retrieving Scotty and Hannah panned out, but the rest... Fuck, they’d be lucky if they found anything of worth in the carcass of a building once the Federales went through it.

Raul Iniguez was a slippery, paranoid bastard. Now, with shit going south, he knew for sure people were after him. Finding Raul, or any of them for that matter, would be harder than he suspected. The man spent his life preparing for situations like these. All Duncan and the others could hope for was Raul screwing up. It’d be the only chance they’d get to arrest him.

When Duncan finished cleaning up, he got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist. He did need sleep. Bella was perceptive. It would have to wait though. He had a report to write, and he wanted to check in with Thomas. Scotty had gotten fucked up while with Raul. Add to it he was shot while they tried to rescue everyone, and well, the man had a long road to recovery. He stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the closet where he tossed on a pair of sweats and a white ribbed tank top. He grabbed his phone and texted Thomas to check in and see if the man had any updates on Scotty’s condition. Then he went to the small desk in the corner of the room near the bay window.

Asher expected a whole write-up of what happened at the club when they’d realized all of their plans went to shit. He couldn’t do his work properly if he had a full-blown migraine, though he had the meds to treat it. If he took them, he’d be out of it for hours which also left him vulnerable when it came to Enzo and Bella. So, he settled for the Aspirin and a cola and got to work.

Duncan would be lucky if he got a couple of hours sleep before they’d be on the next plane back to Virginia. Can in hand, Duncan sat down at the small table and began the arduous task of relaying the facts, evidence, and observations from the scene. The two names he constantly fell back on were Santiago Velasquez and Miguel Ángel. They were the inside guys, the ones who knew the comings and goings within the club. By all accounts, one of them flipped, exposing their plans and putting all of them in danger.

Duncan didn’t know how long he sat there writing out his statements before the adjoining door opened, and Enzo appeared in the living room of the suite. He looked like shit and probably felt like it too. He also appeared to be out of his element, which didn’t surprise Duncan. He’d experienced the same a time or two.

“What can I do for you, Enzo?” Duncan stopped typing and lounged back in his chair, hands folded on his stomach and his legs crossed at the ankles. The man appeared disheveled and groggy as hell.

“I want to give my statement before Bella. She’s not involved in any of this shit.” He stepped closer to Duncan, his gaze imploring. “If you promise me she’ll be protected, I’ll give you everything.”

Duncan cocked a brow. “Everything?”

“Yes. Where the shipments go. Where they go. Which tunnels are Nieto tunnels. You know, the good shit.” Enzo leaned in. “All of it.” He licked his lips, and the little enticement shot through Duncan.

It was a tempting offer. Duncan sat forward, closing the distance between them. Enzo’s breath floated across Duncan’s cheek. What the fuck was he doing? He stared at the man in front of him and bit back a curse as pink crept into Enzo’s cheeks. “How about you start talking, and I’ll make a determination if it’s enough to keep your sister clean?” He always got a rush out of using his power. If anyone knew the truth about him, they’d realize he wasn’t the person to spill their guts to. As it was, he had a list of the rat bastards at some point he’d take care of and make it look like an accident.

“Fuck, man. It’s my sister.” Enzo stepped back, breaking whatever spell they’d been under. “She’s a good girl. She’s never been cut out for this life. This time, we really fucked up.” Enzo rubbed his bald head. “You have no idea the shit we’ve been through.”

He had an inkling. “Tell me what you know, and I’ll see what I can do.” Duncan sat forward and grabbed his pen. “Fuck me over on any of this, and Iwillend you.”

Enzo held up his hands in supplication as he crossed to the chair beside Duncan. “I won’t risk my sister’s life for anything.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Six days later, Duncan returned to Virginia with Enzo and Bella at his side. The first conversation between him and Enzo turned up some interesting evidence for their case. Some of the bodies buried beneath the building were Raul’s goons. They’d been killed in mutual combat after Raul caught them doing shit on the side, or in some cases, abusing the disabled submissives. That didn’t make a lick of sense, since Raul sold them to people who’d be harming them anyway. Others were kidnapped victims who’d killed themselves so they didn’t have to endure Raul’s brand of torture.

Duncan also found out Bella took care of several of the more incapacitated girls, the ones for the sick, sadistic motherfuckers Raul supplied to. If Duncan read the situation correctly, Bella assisted those girls with their death, which was murder. A ton of weight for such a small woman to bear. The internal war Duncan waged for the last several days left him an irritable bastard.

It was hypocritical to even think about writing in his report about Bella helping those girls die when he killed people for not even a sliver of what the girls went through. Duncan was so covered in blood he’d never come clean with his exact kill number. Somehow, he’d learned to live with it.

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