Emerald (Steele Investigations) (14 page)

“Give it to me,” he grunts on an inward thrust.

“Yes,” I moan.  “Oh, god, yes.  Don’t stop, Travis, don’t-,”
he cuts me off with his mouth and I moan my second orgasm down his throat.  He
thrusts once more before burying himself inside me and giving me his own orgasm
the same way I gave him mine – except he growled down my throat and it was
hot.

I think I hear a phone ringing but I’m too worn out to
care.  Instead, I roll over and snuggle into the pillow, tug the super soft
feather down cover up to my chin and fall back into dreamland as I vaguely feel
the bed shift as Travis exits it.

******

“Steele,” Travis growls into the phone.

“Trav, you got Carl.  That info you wanted?”

“Talk to me,” Travis ordered as he made his way down to his
office, entered the room and shut the door behind him before planting his ass
in his high back leather office chair.  The chair was the shit.  Travis didn’t
much like office work, he preferred to be in the field – practical not theory –
but when office work came with the promise of sitting on this chair for a few
hours, he found he could deal with it.  Still, he didn’t spend as much time in
his office as he should, but that said, he spent more time there now he had
that chair.

“Bad, boss,” Carl stated, “Mother, didn’t find much shit on
her.  You were right.  The father, had to dig deep, not as deep as I should
have had to though considerin’ how bad it is, and boss, it’s the fuckin’
worst.  Don’t know how bad you thought it was but whatever you thought, it’s
fuckin’ worse.  The worst.  Make me fuckin’ sick to my fuckin’ stomach. Sick
pricks.”

“Tell me,” Travis barked, harsher than he meant to but his
brow was building sweat, his fists were balled so tight he thought they may
snap off and his heart was thundering in his chest.

“Raymond Calloway also known as Trevor Haines also known as
Thomas Ryan, manager at a building plant.  Wife Cynthia, stay at home mom to
their only child, Jemma.  Father has worked the same job for ten years, before
that same job, different plant.  Own their own house, paid out, had it
mortgaged for twenty years, never missed a payment.  Utilities always paid on
time.  They got one car – brand new Chrysler, updates every three years, never
late with a payment.  Bank account isn’t healthy, but I figured this was okay
since they were never late on payments which meant that’s where their money was
goin’.  Then I got thinkin’.   He’s on a decent wage for his job, not high, not
low, just middle but they’ve finished payin’ their house off, and they don’t
got that extra money showin’ in their account and they got nothin’ outside of
it to say that’s where the money is now goin’ to.  So I dug deeper.  Found he’s
got another account.  Found he deposits an exact amount in his joint account
each week, which is about seventy percent of his wage, and then leaves the rest
of it in his own account.  Now, that ain’t bad.  He could have his own
reasons.  But that account, boss, it hasn’t got thirty percent of his wages in
it.  That account is fuckin’ loaded.  Thirty percent of his wages would have to
go in that account for a few hundred fuckin’ years before it crept up to what’s
in that account.”

“
Fuck
,” Travis hissed as he remembered Jemma telling
him that growing up they were on the verge of poor, how her mother only cooked
nights her father was going to be home for tea.  Fucker was loaded all along.

“Yeah, so I looked into that account – deposits, withdrawals
– found some interesting info.  Deposits made, all of the same amount.  That
amount then transferred to another account with Calloways name attached.  Some
amounts were lower but more regular by the same people, others were higher,
like one offs.  So I dug further.  Found out the lower payments were monthly
membership fees.  The higher amounts were one off joining fees which would then
be followed by the monthly membership fee.  Then I started to wonder – why does
a married father of one, who works at a building plant have a separate account which
he uses to take membership fees.  So I did some nosing around, spoke to an old
acquaintance of mine who’s got his nose to the ground.”  Travis waited as he
heard Carl take a deep breath and he knew it was bad.  Fuck him, but he knew it
was going to be bad.

“Carl,” Travis rumbled, growing impatient.

“Pedophile Ring.  Raymond Calloway is head of pedophile
ring.  They got members in three surrounding states, and it’s a fuckin’ popular
organization.  Girls, under eighteen.  Some younger but most between the ages
of ten and sixteen.”

Travis felt his chest get tight.  Calloway the sick cunt
sold his daughters virginity when she was
sixteen
. 

“Fucker thought he bein’ clever, openin’ accounts in different
names but what the dick forgot to cover was the fact that the paper trail he
left shows the same address
and
the same date of birth
and
the
same tax information on all ‘a them.”

“Fuck me, this is bad.  Fuckin’
fuck
.”  Travis
thought of Jemma.  He thought of the beautiful woman who had just given him her
body, trusted him with it.  He thought of the way her face relaxed and her lit
up as the rest of her body tensed as she came.  Then he thought of the sick
fuck who fathered her.  The same sick fuck that farmed her out to make a buck. 
That same sick fuck who convinced her she had to pay him a penance every month
because she
owed
him because she didn’t stick around so he could further
farm her out.  Then he thought of what that meant.

“Carl, look into Calloway further.  I got a hunch that not
only is he head of a Ring, I got a feelin’ he’s got a stable.  He either runs
it or is heavily involved in it.”

“Right,” Carl said, “On it.”

“Later,”

“Later, boss,” Carl signed off.

Travis tossed his phone on the desk and leaned back in the
chair.  Rubbing his hands over his face in a show of frustration, he forced
himself to relax.  He needed to find out what Jemma knew of her fathers
“business”, if she knew anything that was, and he needed to do it in a way that
didn’t scare her.  So instead of doing what he wanted, which was to wake her up
and pump her for information, he rose from the chair and went to his kitchen. 
Tagging himself a bottle of water from the fridge he took a swig, replaced the
cap and made his way back to his bed resigned to asking his woman difficult
questions in the morning.

He walked into the room and stopped dead.  Not for the first
time that night he thought of how much he liked the look of Jemma Calloway in
his bed.  Placing the bottle of water on his nightstand he climbed into bed
beside her.  Automatically he felt the tension ebb from his body.  He pulled
her into him and tucker her into his side, his arm slung around her holding her
close.  Then he reached over and grabbed the remote, turned the television on,
lowered the volume and flicked through the channels to find the late news. 

Travis noted that Jemma barely stirred as he did this.  Then
he got to wondering, considering it was only early, how she could be so sound
asleep.  Then he wondered further and remembered that she also fell asleep
early last night.  She went to bed early, and slept sound.  Then Travis Steele
decided he had more questions for Jemma in the morning.

******

“What time do you have to be at the store?” Travis asks as
we sit at the breakfast bench, me in one of his shirt which looks like a dress
on me, him in a pair loose fitting sweats that ride his hips in
that
way.

This was after (according to Travis) I woke him by rubbing
my naked ass against his morning wood.  He, in turn, woke me by rolling my
nipples between his thumb and forefinger.  He then slide on a condom and slide
inside me from behind in a spooning position.  It was fabulous.  Soft, slow and
sweet.  What a way to wake up.

“Not until one,” I answer then I take a spoonful of my
breakfast (Greek yoghurt, fresh mixed berries and crunchy muesli flake stuff)
and this time I only let out a small soft moan.  The first mouthful I had I
moaned so loud I wouldn’t be surprised if Travis thought I was having a heart attack
… or an orgasm. 

Right,” he says nodding his head once.  “We got stuff to
talk about.”

My heart automatically thuds at his words and I just know,
just
know,
that he’s going to say ‘thanks for last night, but I won’t be seeing
you again’.    I knew this was going to happen but stupid me thought I could
play this my way and make some memories.  I sigh.  This is for the best.  It
was never going to last anyways.  It
could never
last anyways.  I taking
a deep breath, let it out and say, “fire away.”

“Fire away?” he repeats, his lip twitching, one eyebrow
cocked, emerald eyes dancing with humor. 

“Talk,”  I say sounding a little snappy because as much as I
didn’t want it to happen, it has and my stupid heart has gone and gotten
involved and this is going to hurt.  It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  And
any woman knows the best way to hide hurt is to cover it with anger. 

He looks at me a beat, lip still twitching, eyes alight with
amusement.  I glare back.  Face blank. Waiting. 

“You sleep a lot,” he states.

Um, what? 
That
was
not
what I was expecting.

“Uh, okay?” I reply and it sounds like a question because
I’m so thrown his statement.

“Why?” He asks

“Why, what?” I ask in return still thoroughly confused at
direction of this conversation.

“Why do you sleep a lot?”

“Uh, I don’t know?” I reply, again it sounds like a
question.  Truth is, I do know.  Another truth is, I don’t want Travis to
know.  He already knows too much.  What I can’t work out is, if he’s going to
end things, why is he trying to find out more about me?

“Go to bed at ten the first night, slept like a baby ‘til
seven.  Second night ten thirty ‘til seven thirty.  First night thought it
might ‘a been a one off, but that’s two nights in a row you’ve slept a solid
sound nine hours.  You sleep like that every night?”

“Yes,” I snap, “I do as a matter of fact not that it is any
of your business how much I sleep.  Now, I have a feeling that you don’t really
want to discuss my nocturnal rest patterns so I suggest you get to what you
really want to talk about so I can get to work.” I finish on a hiss.

“I’d love to discuss your nocturnal rest patterns in great
detail,” he smirks, then adds, “but you’re right.  I want to talk about
something else.  After we talk about that, you’re going to tell me why you
sleep so much when you’re in bed with me but you don’t sleep so much when
you’re by yourself.”

Crap
. He totally had me worked out.  Damn man.

“Whatever,” I mutter sullenly.

“What does your father do for work?”

I feel my eyes widen with surprise.  My god this man keeps
me on my toes. 

“Uh, I’m not sure.  He never spoke about work, or anything
really, around me,” I answer cautiously.

Travis scowls at the bench.

“Right,” he grits out through clenched teeth.  “I had my man
Carl do some research on your father.”

“Okay,” I prompt when he doesn’t continue.

He sighs, rubs his hands over his face and then looks me in
the eye.  He looks resigned, sad even.

“It was bad, Jemma.  The stuff we found out, coupled with
what you told me happened to you.”  He swallows hard and balls his fists before
continuing.  “He … your father, he works as a manager at a building plant.  He
also runs an extremely successful pedophile ring and there are indications that
he also is involved with or runs a stable.”

“Uh,” my voice is scratchy and I’m so confused.  
Pedophile
ring?
 Oh my god.  Little kids.  My father is fucking monster.
 I
don’t know what to think.  I don’t know what to say.  I don’t know … 

I jump up from my stool and bolt down the hallway to the
bathroom.  I swing open the door and shove my head in the bowl, losing my
breakfast and most of last night’s dinner.  I heave and heave until there’s
nothing left in my stomach.  Travis had come in sometime during me vomiting and
held my hair off my face and neck.  Once I finish, he hands me a damp washer to
wipe around my mouth and face.  I do this and he helps me up and leads me over
to the vanity.  He hands me my toothbrush from my makeup case and I brush my
teeth and rinse my face.  I look in the mirror and I’m pale.  My eyes look
scared.  Petrified.  I cannot believe, actually I can believe after what he did
to me, it’s just that I
don’t want
to believe, that my father is hurting
children like that. 
And
helping other people hurt children.

“A stable for horses?” I ask hopefully but also naively. 
We’re sitting back at the breakfast bench and Travis has cleared away while I
was fixing myself up.  Sitting in front of me is a glass of orange juice.  I
take a small sip hoping to erase that vile vomit taste from the back of my
throat.

“No, baby.  A stable of women.  The girls who are over
eighteen.  He sells their bodies for sex.  You heard the term ‘pimp’?” he
gently explains and then asks.  I nod my head once as I feel the blood drain
from my face and my throat start to clog as my heart starts to speed up.

Breathe in, two, three, four.

Hold it, two, three, four.

Let it out, two, three, four.

“Carl is nosing around some more but the information we’ve
got is damning.  Now, you got a choice to make.”  I look up at him as my brows furrow. 
“We either take the information we’ve got to the police, you make a statement
and we hand it over to them.  I got a good bud in the force, grew up with him,
he handles your case, your father goes down along with others involved in their
operation.  Police won’t have much trouble findin’ ‘em because your father is
not smart in terms of bein’ invisible or not leavin’ a paper trail.  He is
smart, however at makin’ money and deceivin’ people.  One ‘a those people would
be you.  Way you grew up, lack of food an’ shit, thinkin’ your family weren’t
at the bottom of the barrel poor but they weren’t sittin’ on a pile of gold
either.  Your father had you fooled.  He’s extracurricular activities have made
him a rich man, babe.  Very rich.  Bastard made you go without meals an’ I bet
you never had most ‘a the shit other kids had – trendy clothes, new gadgets –
shit like that.  And the fucker makes you pay him every month.  You may have to
testify, it goes to court.  If not, means your father copped a plea.  He’s
smart, he’ll cop a plea, you won’t have to testify.  He’ll go down and you’ll
sleep easy.  Other option is I seek retribution.  I take care of it.  He goes
down, but in a different way.  You still sleep easy.  That’s your decision to
make.” He finishes explaining and I’m reeling.  I set aside everything he’s
just said.  Nothing sinks in.