“He’s just pulling in now. I’m out,” Kelan disconnected the call.
Angel came over, slipping his phone into his pocket. “Blade’s coming down with Eden. She wants custody of the dogs.”
Kelan shook his head. “Not a good idea. You saw them when we first pulled up. They’ve been trained to attack females.”
“I told her about them. She said if she doesn’t take them, they’ll be euthanized—for doing what they’ve been trained to do. You know how she feels about that.” Angel grinned.
Lobo didn’t come alone. Several other Feds and a couple of cop cars pulled in behind him. So much for keeping this quiet. It was looking like a RICO bust. He just hoped reporters didn’t show up soon.
Kit talked to Lobo about getting the girls some protection while they were at the hospital and whatever shelter they ended up at. Kelan told them about the owner and tenant of the house. “I want to talk to the owner.”
“No,” Lobo nixed that. “You’ll jeopardize a case that’s been three years in the making. I don’t want our informants and agents compromised. There are a lot more women at stake than just yours. And it’s not my case. I can’t make that call.”
Kelan’s smile was no smile at all. “You’re moving too slowly. Your methodical process nearly cost these girls their lives. It’s time to shake things up. Warn your people I’m coming in. Do what you have to do, but don’t be in my way.”
Kit stepped between the two of them before the situation could escalate. “Go visit Perkins,” he ordered Kelan. “See what info you can get out of him. He’s closer to this and likely to know more anyway.”
*
The house Fred Perkins lived in was a typical mid-last-century home in a neighborhood that had only started being revitalized. They went up the steps just as the guy was walking out the door. He stopped short. “Who are you?”
“The guys who just saved your cathouse from burning down,” Kelan growled.
The man immediately tried to get back inside, but Kelan and Val were right with him. All three of them stepped into the foyer as a woman was hurrying down the stairs, two kids close on her heels. She was dressed in a suit, and the kids were lugging backpacks, as if it was any other normal morning.
“Honey, take the kids upstairs,” Perkins ordered, like a fucking stand-up family man trying to protect his family.
She did as he requested. He waited until she was completely upstairs, then turned and walked into the living room. The TV was on. “So what’s this about a fire? And how does it involve me?”
“Three girls almost burned to death,” Val continued. “They were locked inside when the house you’re renting was set on fire.”
“You want to tell us why you’re trafficking underage girls there?” Kelan asked.
The man’s mouth opened and his eyes bugged in a look of shock. He held his hands out, palms down as he gestured for them to keep their voices quiet.
“Did you think the taint of your business wouldn’t soil your family?” Kelan asked. “Or are they in on your lucrative dealings?”
“It’s not lucrative. It’s not anything. I don’t have anything to do with it.”
“And yet you don’t deny your name’s on the lease…”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“I saw the girls dying in that house. One is probably not even fifteen.” Kelan tilted his head. “How old’s your oldest? Just a couple years younger than that? You’re in a shitload of trouble, Perkins. How about you start talking?”
“Oh, God.”
“Yeah, we’re gonna need more than that,” Val said.
“I was afraid this would happen.” The man wrung his hands and started to pace. “I have a gambling problem.”
“You have a helluva bigger problem than that.”
He sent a look toward the stairs. “My wife knows about my gambling. I tried to quit. I had quit, for a long time, but a couple of years ago, we went through a bad patch. She left, and I thought I’d lose myself in a few rounds of poker. The good rounds—high-stakes, backroom kind. I thought if I could just make some quick money, I could buy us a vacation, and we could work things out. Well, I lost money. A lot of it.
“When I couldn’t pay it back, they threatened my family. One day, when I was here alone, they came for me. They drove me out to a house and told me I had three choices. Pay them back immediately, get a bullet in my head, or agree to put my name on a lease. If I chose the last, we’d be even. They swore I’d never hear from them again—and I wouldn’t have to pay the rent. They just wanted my name.”
“Who are these men?”
“I don’t know. I had never seen them before. Nor since.”
“What did they look like?” The plaintive wail of a siren began in the distance.
Perkins shook his head. “It was two years ago. I was panicking. I don’t remember what they looked like.”
Kelan pulled his lips back from his teeth. The siren was getting closer. He was almost out of time. “These men took my woman. They’re dragging her into the sex-trafficking underworld. How would you like it if your wife was taken and your young daughter fed into the system?”
“The only name I have is the bookie’s who set the games up. But I heard he’s dead.” He gave them the name. “I don’t know who took his spot.”
“Where was this game?” Val asked.
The man gave him an address.
The wife came back down the stairs. “You leave my husband alone. I called the cops. They’re going to be here in seconds.”
Kelan looked over at her. “They were already on their way.”
She sent a worried look toward her husband.
“I swear I had nothing to do with this.”
Val opened the door as the cops came across the porch.