Convinced some of the dead women were victims of trafficking, she called her friend, Jim Lambert, an agent with the Colorado Bureau of Investigations. She and Jim had become fast friends when they met at a training seminar in Denver a couple of years prior, and whenever she was in Denver, she met up with him for a drink.
“You got yourself in the middle of a maelstrom, Cara. You’re dealing with some dangerous and sick people,” Jim said.
“Do you think a biker club is involved with all this?” she asked.
“My department has been investigating sex trafficking for the last two years, and yep, outlaw bikers are involved in it. I can’t tell you too much, you know, since it’s still an active investigation. No offense, okay?”
“None taken. I understand. Can you tell me if the Insurgents are involved in this?”
“The Insurgents? I’d be surprised. They have a stronghold in the Summit County area, but it’s been their territory for years. They’re not into this kind of stuff, but with outlaws, you never know. It seems the Insurgents have been waning away from the illegal stuff. Their monetary interests are in strip bars, ink shops, restaurants, and dispensaries. We know the Insurgents have a few medicinal and recreational dispensaries, and they also grow the stuff.”
“I can’t believe the state gave them a grow and dispense license.”
“They used a straw man. You know him. It’s your old mentor, Les Anderson.”
“Les is the guy who helped with the dispensaries? I didn’t know he was in that deep with the Insurgents.”
“Believe me, he gets a percentage. He’s not doing it for friendship. Everything is about money.”
“I think bikers are involved with the murders of the young women who have disappeared in my county for the last year,” Cara said.
“Really? I don’t know about that.”
“One of the murdered women has been identified by her sister. The murder victim was smuggled to the US and her sister talked to me about it. She said bikers were involved, and I’m wondering about the Insurgents.”
“If it’s any biker gang, it’s the Deadly Demons. They’ve been a pain in the ass to law enforcement for a long time. They do all kinds of shit, and they’re brutal. It sounds like something they could do.”
Cara took a second, trying to recall where she’d heard that name before. “Is the MC in Colorado?”
“Their main club is in New Mexico, but there are a few Nomads hanging around your area, and some charters in southern Colorado. The Nomads aren’t in your county because if they were, there’d be a gang war for sure between them and the Insurgents, but they have some Nomads scattered near Summit County. You know, I’d like to talk to the victim’s sister. I have two women here who are scared shitless, but willing to testify about their trafficking ordeal, and they also said bikers were involved. They’re in protective custody right now.”
“For some reason, some deputies in the sheriff’s office here are trying to pin crap on the Insurgents, and that’s how I first got involved. One of the guys is my client, Hawk.” She loved saying his name.
“Cara, you’re getting in close and that’s dangerous, so leave this to the professionals. These guys don’t play nice. If they catch a whiff that you’re playing amateur sleuth, they’ll come after you hardcore. I’m telling you this as a CBI agent and as a friend. You need to back way off.”
Goosebumps pricked her skin at Jim’s warning. She knew he was right. Playing Nancy Drew with the big guns wasn’t the best of ideas, and this wasn’t a script or novel she could write the ending for. She’d call her cousin, Eric, and tell him what was going on, and since he was a judge, he’d know what to do. Hopefully.
After making plans to have drinks with Eric later in the evening, she called Hawk. Ever since the scary-as-hell night at the clubhouse, she hadn’t spoken with him, and she missed hearing his voice. Annoyed when he didn’t pick up, Cara left him a message asking him to come to her office the following day so they could talk about his case. She needed to know something of his past so she could offer a sympathetic twist in her argument to the judge. Since the judge wouldn’t be excited to let an outlaw biker off scot-free, it was her job to paint a positive picture of Hawk’s contributions to society, like the charity runs he and his club did throughout the year.
Playing with fire was safer than digging into what was behind Hawk’s scowls and stony exterior. However, from some of his actions, she gleaned that Hawk wasn’t all hardness: wisps of hurt in his eyes when he saw her with Luke, genuine concern the night he rescued her from those drunken animals at the clubhouse, tenderness when he kissed her. She longed to peel back the layers of his rough exterior, no matter how pissed off he got.