Travis exchanged a look with Milan.
Jackson laughed. “That’s what I thought. You aren’t here officially, are you?”
“You’re assuming a lot,” Travis warned him with a bit of a growl.
“I’m assuming the federal government hasn’t changed its stance on kidnapping.”
Travis signaled Milan, and Milan stood. “You can leave now.”
Jackson moved into the middle of the room. “If I walk out of here, I’ll call my task force, request the arrest warrants we’ve already filled out, and I’ll be back.” His body language screamed his confidence. “You screwed up, Crosica. We have the evidence.”
Travis stood, and Langlauf took a step backward. The man looked like a hen locked in a room with two hungry foxes. Even Jackson had a twisted, corrupt sort of alpha badassery about him. Langlauf couldn’t compete.
“I don’t recommend you piss off a fed, Jackson,” Travis advised him.
“I don’t think you’re here as a fed. I think you’re here as a friend of Crosica’s.” Jackson moved toward Travis, but instead of getting in his face, he stopped several feet away. “In fact, I can have that arrest warrant cover anyone else here who might be involved in kidnapping. We could scoop up you and all his staff. And if we looked long enough, what are the odds that we’d find evidence of Detective Robertson?”
“Not good,” Milan said.
Jackson turned to him. “Are you sure? Are you sure you’ve cleared every drain of his hair, every surface of his fingerprints, every floor of his footprints, every restraint of even a drop of his sweat? I don’t think you’re that good, and unlike police you might have come up against in the past, we won’t spare any cost. Captain Greyson is furious that one of our own has been taken, and he has authorized extraordinary measures to track down the perpetrators. He even has a donation fund set up to pay for any costs of the investigation that the department refuses to cover. He’s going to the mat for his detective, which is what makes him such a great captain.” Jackson’s voice had that edge of mockery that made it very clear the captain was playing this for publicity. He had set Ollie up to get kidnapped or killed, and now he was using it to make himself look like a hero. Ollie loathed that man.
“Are you sure you can afford to bring this much attention to yourself?” Milan asked. “You are certain you’ll find some evidence. I have been doing this a very long time. Think of how much credibility you would lose if you undertook a grand search only to find nothing. Think of the friends I could bring to bear on your rather precarious position.”
“Like an FBI agent?” Jackson asked with a dismissive snort. “It’s a bold move, but it’s not enough. Not compared to those pictures.” He gestured toward the pad still sitting on Milan’s desk.
“I’ve made more difficult problems vanish in the past,” Milan said without a hint of concern.
“You’ve taken care of competitors and cops. I doubt you’ve ever had to deal with someone who is both. Now I’m curious. What did you do with that pretty little piece of tail you took? If he’s available for purchase or even rent, I wouldn’t mind using that mouth of his.”
A shiver of revulsion ran through Ollie.
Travis took a step forward. “Don’t even think it. I don’t care if you’re a cop. I’ve made them disappear.”
Jackson smiled. “Is that a confession to murder, Agent Goode?”
“It’s a friendly warning, one honest law-enforcement professional to another,” Travis said. The anger sparked between them. Ollie was surprised to see Jackson hold his own against Travis, but Jackson didn’t back down an inch. After a long silence, Jackson turned to face Milan.
“You will join our organization, and as an affiliate we will make sure to protect you. So let’s stop playing games and talk specifics.”
“No,” Milan said firmly.
That shocked Jackson. “Would you rather go to prison? Because you will.”
“I do not deal with flunkies. And you are a flunky. I will speak to someone with authority, but that is not you. So if your boss wants to get one cent out of my empire, he or she will come and speak with me personally.” Milan settled back down into his desk chair.
“You seriously think my boss is going to come out here?”
“Since I am uninterested in a merger, I don’t care if we ever meet. However, if your boss wants to discuss terms, then he or she will need to find a neutral meeting ground. I would propose the Happy Whip.”
“That’s hardly neutral ground,” Jackson said drily.
“It’s my territory within your territory. I believe those cancel each other out. Now I don’t have time for errand boys, so run along. And if you do come back with an arrest warrant, I can promise you that I can make this whole situation so messy for everyone that no one will take any profit from it at all.”
Instead of leaving, Jackson walked back to the chair in front of Milan’s desk and sat. “Maybe we can play it your way, but I want an assurance that you’re feeling cooperative.”
Milan tilted his head.
“What did you do to Detective Robertson?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ollie took a deep breath. They had suspected that Greyson wanted to know. After all, Ollie had figured out a lot of the corruption, and he’d filed complaints. That had the potential to make these dirty cops’ lives difficult. Logically, they’d want to make sure Ollie was tucked away somewhere safe, like six feet underground.
Milan leaned forward. “You lost your pawn. That is what you get for playing with fire. Accept the loss and move on.”
“Did he have something on you?” Jackson asked. “What? Did he find proof that you’re involved in human smuggling, or did he catch your eye?”
“Was he designed to catch my eye?”
Jackson crossed his legs. “You like tough subs you can save. His cover was built for you—a marine who lost his way and got hooked on sun before getting himself clean. That should have been right up your alley.”
Milan glanced over at Travis. Milan was one hell of an actor, because even Ollie believed he was unsure about how to proceed.
Travis said, “He was a gift. Milan trained me, so we have similar tastes.”
“Ah.” Jackson made it sound like the kidnapping was all perfectly reasonable. “So Milan needs his pet FBI agent to help him out, and in return he grabs a piece as payment.”
“And I annoy you by removing the one detective you’ve managed to get past my staff at the club,” Milan added. “It did seem like a win all around. I had hoped it would teach you to keep your people out of my business. Bad things can happen to people who snoop.”
“How bad?” Jackson had an expectant expression that made Ollie ill. The man wanted to see Ollie humiliated and dehumanized. This was why Ollie questioned those who enjoyed those kinks—he spent too much time around sick fucks who enjoyed abusing others with twisted forms of those sexual practices. When Buck played with his Worm, he gave the man in the suit the attention he probably wanted. If Jackson had someone that helpless, he would probably whip them to death and then call Greyson to help him clean up the mess. It was nauseating, and Ollie hoped all these fuckers spent the rest of their lives in prison. A very dark and poorly managed prison.
“None of your business,” Travis answered.
“Peace,” Milan said when it looked like Travis was about to add more. “They already know we have him. It does no more damage for them to see him now, especially since they have no intention of serving that warrant.”
“I don’t want them around my sub, especially not when I’m still training him,” Travis said fiercely.
Milan narrowed his eyes and did an admirable job of feigning aggravation. “I offered him as a gift, and I can remove him from your care just as easily. Get him.”
“Yeah, fibbie, get the detective,” Jackson said.
Milan turned his attention toward Jackson. “Annoy me enough, show enough disrespect to me or mine, and I will make it a condition of our business merger that your boss turn you over. I promise I can put a more respectful tongue in your mouth. Either that, or I can have my surgeon cut your tongue out. Clear?”
“You don’t have that kind of pull,” Jackson said, but he toned down the attitude.
“You have no idea what I bring to this merger,” Milan said. “Trust me, I will have that sort of pull, and I will have you naked in chains within minutes of completing the deal if you don’t show more good sense.” Milan turned to Langlauf. “And I will put you in the cage next to him for simply having the bad judgment to accompany him here.”
Maybe Jackson expected some protection, but Langlauf seemed to know Greyson would throw him to the wolves, because he lost every bit of color out of his face.
With that, Milan leaned back, seemingly bored with the whole affair. “Now, Travis, bring out your new toy. Show these men what they can expect if they annoy me too much.”
They’d prepared for this, so Ollie took a deep breath and reminded himself that he did trust Travis. He sorta trusted Milan, and after figuring out that Milan was trying to protect his own sub, Ollie believed Milan was a good guy. He was a little morally gray, but at least Ollie understood his motivation.
Travis walked to the wall in front of Ollie and hit a hidden catch. From Jackson and Langlauf’s point of view, it would look like Ollie had been shoved in a hidden closet. The light flooded into Ollie’s tiny passage, and he squinted and flinched away.
When Travis grabbed the harness straps across Ollie’s chest, Ollie braced himself for the move they’d practiced. Travis flung him forward, and Ollie stumbled and fell to the floor with an exaggerated grunt. Then he wiggled away from Travis, struggling to get to his knees before Travis caught him. Of course Ollie failed, and then Travis neatly lifted him by the strap across his back. It was a pretty comfortable hold, but Ollie flailed with his legs as though in pain.
Travis dropped him near the second chair by Milan’s desk, which put him only a few feet from Jackson. Ollie tucked his legs under him and knelt as prettily as he could. The sprawling fall showed off his bruised and marked ass, so Ollie had no doubt Jackson would tell that story far and wide.
Ollie had tried to file a report against their little gang—although he had grossly underestimated the problem—and in return he’d been reduced to a gagged and plugged slave. He kept his gaze on the floor as Travis sat in the chair next to him.
“If you think you’re getting him back, you’re wrong,” Travis said. “He’s far enough into his training that he won’t ever be the same, so it’s kinder allowing him to stay here where he knows his place.” Travis grabbed a whole handful of hair and pulled Ollie’s head back. “You do know your place, don’t you, toy?”
Ollie managed a small nod before Travis let his hair go. Ollie immediately bowed his head again.
“You’ve only had him a few weeks. That’s impressive,” Jackson said.
Milan sounded infinitely superior as he answered. “I know my business, and that is why your boss must deal with me. He might know how the sun business works, but he has no idea what goes into putting out the quality merchandise I do. He couldn’t find my customers if I provided a list of names and a map. They are ghosts who disappear at a whisper and who reappear only when they need new stock.”
Jackson sat up. “I thought your main business was shade prostitution. Are you saying that trafficking is your main business?”
“I do not discuss business with underlings. Now, you have seen your former associate. His return is not an option, so go talk to your bosses and contact me with a meeting time.”
Jackson stood. “Don’t assume you have any power here, Crosica. You’ll have to toe the line like all the businesses that run under our protection.”
“I am not any other business, and I am not in the habit of repeating myself, particularly on an issue as straightforward as my refusal to deal with underlings. Dan, show these men out.”
Ollie kept his head down. Travis stood and rested his hand on Ollie’s shoulder for a moment. “I’ll make sure they find their way to the door,” he said, and then he followed.
When Ollie was sure everyone had left, he looked up to find Milan staring at him.
“No doubt you have questions about Tony. You are far too sharp to let such a detail go.” Milan moved to the sitting area where Travis had been earlier. He sat on the end of the couch and leaned back. “He is a good man, and he is somewhere far out of their reach.”
He fell silent after that, and since Ollie was gagged, he had very little he could do except wait. When Travis returned, he came right to Ollie’s side and began to unbuckle the gag. “When were you planning to tell me they’d threatened your sub?” he asked Milan.
“I wasn’t. Evidently I should have factored in the pleasure stupid people take in gloating.”
“It’s Anthony Reeves, isn’t it?” Travis pulled the gag out and put it on the edge of the desk. The name sounded familiar, and under other circumstances, Ollie would have asked who that was, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself when Travis and Milan were so determined to glare at each other.
“He was found innocent of murder,” Milan said with a fierceness that was clearly meant to warn Travis off.
“Christ, I know that. That damn Dom should have been killed twice more for the shit he pulled, and if Reeves were here, I’d shake his hand and congratulate him. But why didn’t you tell me they had threatened you?”
“I did. I simply left Anthony out of it.”
Anthony Reeves. Ollie remembered the news coverage. He’d gone into a long-term sub contract, and then the Dom wouldn’t let him leave. After a few months of captivity, Reeves had broken loose of his bonds, and they’d gotten into a big fight. It ended when Reeves broke his Dom’s neck. Ollie couldn’t remember the name of the asshole Dom, but he remembered the case from a year or two back. Milan was so gender neutral and wiry that Ollie had trouble seeing him with Reeves. The man had been a professional weight lifter until an injury had forced him into retirement. A bunch of guys at the station agreed that anyone who tried keeping someone as big as Reeves captive deserved to die for being stupid.
“Is he safe?” Travis asked. “These guys are playing for keeps.”
“He’s with Adelaide. They are both on an extended vacation somewhere with limited technology and minimal police presence.”