Special Agent Booker (Undercover FBI Book 5) Read online

  She turned to look at Agent Howard, a man she’d respected from the first day she’d arrived in the Honolulu agency’s office. Sure he’d made a pass, like most of the single guys had, but he’d taken her refusal with grace and had offered friendship rather than trying to get her to change her mind. She liked that.

  “So why didn’t he sell the garage if he hates it there so much? He was admired at the agency. I still hear people telling Booker stories.” Her question was fair and she waited for Don’s answer.

  “You met one of his reasons, Roy Parker. But you didn’t meet the other, Lester Williams. A beach bum and surfer with a gift for incredible designs that would leave you astounded. Only reason he still’s able to do the work God gave him the talent for is because Booker keeps him on the straight and narrow, like his old man used to. As it is, the reprobate falls off the wagon every once in a while and it takes the combined efforts of Booker and Roy to get him back in shape. But without Sloan being there every day to babysit, no telling what trouble those two old orphans would get into. Sure as hell, they’d lose the garage.”

  So… that bad boy, Sloan Booker, had more going for him than she’d thought. Not that a muscular body, thick black waves and deeply dangerous brown eyes with the slant of the island’s heritage in their shape wouldn’t be enough for most females.

  Her initial judgement had taken a bit of a shit-kicking after listening to Don’s explanation of his hunky friend’s responsibilities. She’d considered Booker a swelled-headed egotist who looked down on women and thought highly of himself.

  Maybe she was slightly off.

  Maybe…

  Chapter Seven

  Following directions from Central, they finally arrived at a scene where destruction ruled. A group of misfits calling themselves We’re Bad, a band who’d risen to fame almost overnight, had taken over the penthouse suite of one of the major hotels along Kalakaua Avenue. And they were out of control.

  Partying was one thing, but taking the room maid hostage and trashing the joint was another. The management had called in saying the boys had weapons and shots had been fired.

  When they arrived, other agents had cleared the lobby, shutting down all the exits. They’d sent an officer to every floor to stop the guests from leaving the safety of their rooms. Taking every precaution, they’d covered the stairwells too. Only one elevator was left working and Don, Nigel and Alia used that to join the SWAT guys on the top floor.

  Being the lead, Don questioned the captain, “What’s up, O’Brien?”

  “We just got eyes in the main room and it looks like there’re four in the band. Two are totally wasted, while the other two are crazy-high, I’d say probably cocaine lased with something else that’s driving them loco. The girls have locked themselves in the bathroom. We think one room maid and a couple of groupies the guys picked up after the show who’re terrified and refuse to open the door.”

  “So what are they shooting at?”

  “Everything. They killed two TVs, shot the glass out of both front windows and are now aiming at the bathroom door, trying to coax the girls out.”

  Alia snorted. “Like that’s gonna work!”

  “Kinda what we’ve been trying to tell them. Didn’t seem like they wanted to hear it though. They sent the next few shots toward us; we just dove out of the way in time. If we don’t put a stop to the nonsense soon, those idiots are going to end up hurting someone.”

  “Maybe a woman’s voice will calm them down. Here, let me try.”

  “Fine.” The captain handed over a loudspeaker and stepped back.

  “What’re their names?”

  “The two still functioning are Slade Trolling and Dave Raster. Better known as Troll and Ras.”

  “Okay, here goes.” Alia stepped toward the door, keeping to the right so she wasn’t directly in front where bullet holes could be seen, and cleared her voice.

  “Hey there, Mr. Slade, Mr. Ras, may I have a word? It’s Special Agent Hawkins here.”

  Suddenly, a crash sounded in the room on the other side of the wall and everyone dove behind the bullet-proof barriers—everyone except Alia.

  “Wow! I don’t usually get such a reaction when I ask men if I can speak with them. What’s happening?”

  “Whaddya want, baby? Wanna come and join the party? Those other fucking whores won’t come out from their hidey-hole. Crazy bitches.” Another volley of shots was heard, and faint women’s screams followed.

  Alia banged on the door to get the shooter’s attention. “Hey, calm down in there. You’re terrifying those poor women. No wonder they won’t come out. You’re behaving rather inappropriately, don’t you think?”

  “Jus-s trying to have a little fun.”

  “Well, they’re not having fun. Look, you need to stop this nonsense before someone gets hurt. If you and Dave drop your weapons and unlock the door, we’ll get this settled.”

  “Can’t, we’re having a party. Need more booze, broke this stuff. Need more girls, wanna get high, forget…”

  The voice dwindled down as if the speaker had lost his functions. They heard the sound of someone falling, and within a few seconds, the SWAT member with eyes inside announced that Dave had crashed, leaving only Slade still performing.

  “Slade, are you okay?” Alia kept her voice concerned, hoping to reel him in so he’d calm down.

  “Whadda you care?”

  “I care, my friend. You’re obviously upset. Wanna talk about it, I’m listening.”

  They heard a body slide down the other side of the wall, his voice clear through the holes in the door. “We got a sell-out crowd tonight, people loved us. We’re big stars. Did you know that?”

  “Actually, I didn’t. It must be pretty cool having everyone cheering for you.”

  “It’s fr-frightening, is what it is. All those faces, people yelling, everyone wanting a piece of your soul.”

  “Never thought of it like that before. I guess I was under the impression that was why you performed on stage.”

  “Why, because we make a lot of money?”

  “No, because you make a lot of people happy. They love you.”

  “How can they? They don’t know me. I’m just plain old Oliver Trolling from London.” A sobbing note crept into his voice, warning her that whatever he was on was wearing off.

  “Well, I’m very pleased to meet you, Oliver Trolling from London. Any chance we can shake hands like normal people, maybe share a cup of coffee?”

  A loud sigh could be heard before a sound of something being tossed. What made Alia’s heart swoop lower than her belly was the gunshot that followed and the grunt from a man who took a bullet. Oliver’s scream “Dave!” was the final straw.

  Moving out of the way, she waved on the SWAT team with the battering ram. Once the door flew open, first on the scene, she dashed inside.

  With officers surging into the room behind her, and commotion happening everywhere, all Alia focused on was getting to Oliver. Unable to stand upright, the stumbling fool hovered over the body of his buddy. Blood gushed from a gaping wound on Dave’s shoulder and swear words oozed from his mouth. He screamed. “Ollie-man, why the hell did you shoot me?”

  “I didn’t mean too, Ras. I was throwing the gun away. I didn’t know it would go off.” Oliver’s tears were making it difficult for him to speak. “Shit man, I’m sorry.”

  As Alia moved in, Oliver reacted to having a person near him. He went for her, gripping her shoulders harshly, hurtfully. Without a second’s hesitation, she reacted and flipped him over so she could restrain his movements. The guy was out of his mind and taking chances wasn’t in the cards. He needed to be shut down.

  “Okay, Oliver. Just relax now. We’ll get your buddy to the hospital and let the doctors repair the damage. Unfortunately, you’ll be downtown answering questions.”

  “I jus-s wanted to spend some time being happy.”

  “Once the hotel hands over the bill to your agent, you’ll be spending a hell of a lot
more than time.”

  Chapter Eight

  Weary, slouched at the bar in a local drinking establishment at the end of twelve frustrating non-stop hours of work, Sloan’s attention became riveted on his friend.

  “You should have seen her, Sloan. Cool as a cucumber. Bullets flying and she didn’t even flinch. Christ, Nigel had worked his way behind the barriers as soon as we arrived and she’d moved right up in front of me, like you used to. Craziest damn thing I ever saw.”

  “She’s got balls, so what. Are there any brains working at the top end? Or is she a hotshot show-off? We’ve seen them before. They get themselves and other people killed.”

  “No, she’s not like that. Used common-sense when she talked that idiot down—had it settled. If he hadn’t thrown the gun so it went off accidently, we’d have been in there without any casualties. As it was, her tactics were pretty to watch and she moves like a warrior.”

  Sloan eyeballed his old partner. He couldn’t stop the knowing grin that plastered itself over his face. “I gather you’ve made your play already and it didn’t go over. That’s not like you.”

  Dan picked up the cold bottle of Koko Brown beer to rub it over his forehead. Then he did the sideways glance he always used when embarrassed. “Yeah, well I wasn’t the only one. She’s made it pretty clear she’s not interested. Korver took it personally, says she’s a lesbian.”

  “Korver would. His tiny brain couldn’t visualize anyone smart enough to turn him down.”

  Sloan scratched at the beard that always appeared halfway through the day. By nightfall, it shadowed his face. Sensing his partner’s unease, he searched Don’s brown-eyed gaze and saw the hard-jawed cop he’d fought beside through many battles return his stare. “You wanted me to take this assignment. It matters to you, I can tell. I just don’t know why.”

  After another gulp at the bottle, Don put his elbow on the bar and leaned his head on his palm. “Last weekend at the street barbecue you invited me to, Sam Aman sat with me for a while. He’s a proud man, and the dude had tears in his eyes watching his family interact with everyone else, being accepted as if they belonged.”

  “He’s a softie.”

  “I know.” Don grinned at Sloan. “Your cul-de-sac is a little United Nations. Your next-door neighbors, the Newmans, are black like me, and the rest are a mixture of white families, Chinese and interracial Hawaiian. It’s kinda nice to see everyone being friends, the kids all playing together and the pot-luck food tables filled with such a variety.”

  “Yeah, yeah, get to the point. You planned for me to do this because…?”

  “Because I don’t want to see that family get hurt. Sure there’s enough circumstantial evidence to flag Sam and Janna and you’ll hear it all, but it’s not enough to make any arrests or convict them. Far from it.”

  “So, I’m to prove they’re innocent rather than find confirmation of their guilt.”

  “I just hope you find the truth.”

  “Hey, fuckie, you’re gonna ride me on this one, aren’t you?”

  The stubborn lines around Don’s mouth appeared. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’m screwed.”

  Chapter Nine

  A certain ring tone, one that sent vibes of tension detonating inside Alia Hawkins, jangled from the special phone she kept in her pocket. This small phone never got left behind and never ran out of battery. It was a lifeline for some poor youngster who needed help, and Alia would ultimately be their savior.

  How the hell she got into this role, she’d never know. Life had a way of manipulating one and she’d been suckered by a pro – her son’s nanny, Ruby. The woman had often been described as an angel. True, Ruby did have a big heart. But it was her disciple, Alia, who had a soft head or she’d have put a stop to this nonsense a long time ago. But she hadn’t and each call brought action.

  Quickly closing the drawer of her desk at the Honolulu FBI bureau’s office, she turned her chair to the wall and answered. “Hey, Ruby, what’s up?”

  “This one sounds really young and scared, Alia. She’s being followed but managed to give them a slip and is at the ABC store on Kalakaua Avenue, the one near Koa. Her name is Sara.”

  “Where do I take her?”

  The slight hesitation left Alia under no illusions. Anger sizzled but resignation won out. “Not again, Ruby.”

  “I’m sorry, Alia. Every place in the city is brimful tonight, Harvey can take her tomorrow. I’ll keep her in my room until then.”

  “This isn’t—”

  “I know. Can’t be helped. She said she’s clean. Are you on your way?”

  “Heading for the car right now. See you soon.”

  Alia walked out of the office, breathing a sigh of relief that no one stopped her. Since she often operated alone, the times she’d be forced to leave with no explanation had worked in her favor. No one thought to question her about her destination.

  Heading to her black issued SUV, again she wondered how she’d gotten roped into these mercy missions. When they’d left San Diego, she’d sworn they’d stop and Ruby had agreed. But it hadn’t taken long for the big-hearted one-time-victim to set up a network here in Honolulu, and the next thing she knew, Alia, vigilante and street rescuer, had been revived yet again.

  Not that she’d fought against it too much. Truthfully, it made her feel good to know she’d helped a lot of the young misfits find a way out of the messes they’d unfortunately gotten themselves into.

  So many were teens with either problems at home, or had gotten with the wrong man or had a drug addiction that enslaved them. Hell, there were too many reasons to name. And they all led to a future that none of these kids had ever imagined for themselves.

  Her nanny, Ruby, knew this all too well, life also had a way of engulfing those who couldn’t swim fast enough. And now every fallen angel had to be helped.

  Alia arrive at the convenience store, leaving her car double-parked and hoping to get away with it. She entered the store and quickly found her victim, a young girl with a bright pink bathing suit cover-up wrapped around her like a native dress. Her long hair looked like a rat’s nest, her legs and feet were bare. And her eyes were full of terror. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen.

  When she saw Alia, she flinched and began to cry.

  “You’re Sara, right? Ruby sent me.”

  “Yes. I’m Sara. It’s too late. He’s found me and keeps walking past the store, waiting for me to come out.”

  “Tall dude, struts like he owns the world, long hair and a mean face?”

  “Yes. He’s my friend. But I can’t be with anyone else. I just can’t.” Her voice began to get louder until Alia motioned for her to keep it down. “He’s going to kill me for calling you.”

  “He’ll have to get past me first, honey. And that ain’t going to happen. Let’s go.”

  Alia took the girl’s hand and pulled her to follow. Sara held back and began crying again. Just as they came close to the cash registers, the store manager ran up to them, waving his phone and hissing a warning. “I don’t want no trouble in here. I call the police if you make trouble. Get out now.” He pointed at the door, his face mottled with anger and his finger shaking with fear.

  “No trouble. We’re leaving. Come on, Sara. Just do as I say and we’ll get away. You’ll never have to see that prick again, I promise. Let’s go.”

  Sara locked eyes with Alia and must have seen the calm, the absolute certainty. She swiped her arm over the mess on her face, gathered her courage along with the cotton wrap and squeezed Alia’s hand harder.

  As soon as they moved onto the street, the stalker dude stepped up. “Ah, here you are, baby. I was waiting for you.” He reached to take what he considered his possession and ended face to face with Alia instead. “Get into my car, Sara. The black Honda SUV double-parked.” She blocked the way so Sara had a clear path to the vehicle.

  “Wait, girlfriend. Don’t leave me. I need you. We’ll talk things out, I promise.�
� The phoney good-looking actor, trying to con the young teen, could star in a porn movie, but for Alia, his syrupy whine, full of sexual coaxing, made her want to heave.

  “Hey bud, back off. Sara, get in the car.” The girl only hesitated for a few seconds and then quickly dove to safety.

  Once his charm wasn’t needed, the mean streak appeared, no doubt the same one responsible for the swelling on the Sara’s face. “Get out of my way. That bitch is my property.”

  Alia grabbed the front of his shirt and pushed him up against the wall of the store, her body blocking the view of her gun stuck into his side. The little gray shooter convinced him to let her do whatever the hell she wanted.

  “You mean son of a bitch, back off. She’s no one’s property but her own. If I see you near her again, I’ll come after you with the full force of the law. You won’t get away with just a warning.”

  His breath, stinking of cigarettes and beer, had her gag reflexes kicking in and she quickly stepped away. “Just accept Sara got away and write her off.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen, cop whore. We’ll get her back. I’m just her handler, but she’s the boss’s property and he don’t like anyone messing with his girls. You’re gonna be sorry.”

  “Who’s the boss? Tell me and I’ll go visit him myself, have a little talk.”

  “Yeah, like I’m that stupid. Fuck you, cop.”

  Alia saw the uniform first, making his way over to see what the fracas was all about. Knowing she couldn’t answer any questions, she started towards her car as if she hadn’t a care in the word, got in and drove off.

  Sara watched out her window. “He’s so pissed.”

  “Look, Sara, he doesn’t matter. Not anymore. You’re safe now and you never have to do what he says again.” Alia watched the rear view mirror and sure enough, as suspected, she caught sight of the red Camaro zig-zagging through the traffic, trying to keep up. Loving this part of the game, she drove through the streets she’d mapped out in her getaway plan. In every area of the city she had a perfect route charted, and Waikiki wasn’t any different.