Packing Heat(6)

Fortunately, I had her number. For the first time in my life, maybe I was actually going to call a girl back.





3





Cassidy





The park was beautiful, but I was not going to do a beautiful thing

Or maybe I was. I was trying to do something good, but I kept finding myself getting stuck at a dead end or backed into some corner of my own devising. I needed to get myself together and finally buckle down, or else I was going to let this story get away from me.

It was pretty crowded, but that wasn’t surprising. It was Sunday afternoon, the day after I nearly let that mafia man do whatever he wanted to me. In the bright sunlight of the afternoon, I felt totally foolish for the way I had reacted to him.

I’d never done that before with a stranger. I’d never followed a man outside like that and kissed him with the intention of doing more, let alone allowed a guy to talk to me that way.

And yet when Rafa had said those words to me, I had believed him. He had somehow made it seem completely normal that I’d go out into the alley with him and give myself to him. I’d wanted it, too, to make it that much worse. I had wanted it really, really badly.

As I sat down on the bench and scanned the park, I did my best to banish that man from my mind. This meeting was about something far more important than some attractive thug. I checked my watch, satisfied that I was ten minutes early.

Young mothers watched their children play. People walked their dogs, young couples lounged on blankets, and a man with cutoff jean shorts was playing an acoustic guitar for tips.

I’d gotten in touch with her through another informant I’d met while researching human trafficking. That guy turned out to be a loser, but this new contact seemed solid. She sounded like a real insider, someone who knew the city and knew what was going on. I had high hopes for her, but I was also nervous.

“Nice day.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked over, and a pretty woman was sitting next to me. She was wearing simple jeans and a light blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I recognized her from a picture. She smiled at me.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” I said. “Very nice day.”

“Are you meeting someone here?”

I blinked at her, a hint of recognition tugging at my mind. “Yes, I am.”

“Good. What’s her name?”

I paused. I didn’t want to tip my hand. What if this wasn’t her? “I don’t know her name.”

The woman smiled. “My name is Dasha. It’s nice to actually meet you, Cassidy.”

She was my contact. I let out a breath and cocked my head, getting a better look at her. She was maybe twenty-five or so, right around my age. I couldn’t believe my contact was so young, but it had to be her. Besides, I recognized the voice, just a hint of a Russian accent.

“Good to meet you, Dasha.”

“Beautiful day.”

“It really is. Thanks for meeting me.”

“Of course. That tip about that whorehouse you gave me panned out.”

“What tip?”

She laughed. “You didn’t even realize, did you?”

“I guess not; no.”

“You mentioned a whorehouse you investigated. Well, you were right. It was filled with girls.”

“Holy shit,” I said, shocked. “I was in there.”

“I know. I’d lie low for a few weeks if I were you.”

“What are you talking about?”

She smiled at me again. “Cassidy, what do you know about the Barone crime family?”

“They’re the biggest mob family in the Midwest. They control this city, basically.”

“That’s right. But what about their enemies?”

“The Russians.” I shrugged. “That’s it, really.”

“Wrong. There’s one more group, a group of people dedicated to stopping certain barbaric practices.”

“What do you mean?”

“They call us the Spiders.” She looked out across the park. “We adopted that name. It suits us, I guess. We’re black widows, women killers. We kill to save the innocent from those bastards.”

“You’re part of a gang? I assumed you were one of the girls.”

“I was, a while back. But someone saved me, and now I save others.”

“And you call yourselves the Spiders?” I started to get my voice recorder from my pocket.

She held up her hand. “Don’t record.”

“Please, you have to let me. This is so important.”

“I’m telling you too much, mostly because that tip was so good. We saved a lot of girls.”

“At least tell me I can use this in my article.”

“You can, but I wouldn’t. You’ll become a target almost instantly.”