Elite Operatives: Demons Are Forever Part 1

Demons are Forever.

by Kim Baldwin.

and Xenia Alexiou.

Acknowledgments.

The authors wish to thank all the talented women at Bold Strokes Books for making this book possible. Radclyffe, for her vision, faith in us, and example. Editor Sh.e.l.ley Thrasher, your insightful editing of this book is deeply appreciated. Jennifer Knight, for invaluable insights into how to craft a series. Graphic artist Sheri for another amazing cover. Connie Ward, BSB publicist and first-reader extraordinaire, and all of the other support staff who work behind the scenes to make each BSB book an exceptional read.

We'd also like to thank our dear friend and first-reader Jenny Harmon, for your invaluable feedback and insights. And finally, to the readers who encourage us by buying our books, showing up for personal appearances, and for taking the time to e-mail us. Thank you so much.

Xenia, with only two Elite Ops books left to write I'm already missing the joyous task of co-authoring your stories. Working with you on the series has been one of the most fun endeavors I've ever undertaken, and I'll long cherish the countless happy memories of writing, reading, and signing together.

For Marty, for forty plus years of friends.h.i.+p and so much more. Your encouragement started me on this path, and I'm forever grateful.

Mom and Dad, I miss you both so much and know you're watching out for me. And for my brother Tom, for always saying yes when I need a ride to the airport.

I also have to thank a wonderful bunch of friends who provide unwavering support for all my endeavors. Claudia and Esther, Pattie, Linda, Kat, Felicity. You are family, and near or far, I hold you always close to my heart.

Kim Baldwin, February 2012.

My eternal grat.i.tude and respect to my invaluable friend Kim.

Thank you for pointing me in this direction and for being there every step of the way. I am always there for you, no matter what...and so what if the series has two books left. I've got more stories in me and I want my wingman there.

Mom, Dad, and Sis. You are my biggest support and comfort.

Thank you for everything.

May, you have made my world a richer place to write in and about.

And as always a very big thank you to my wonderfully supportive friends. Claudia, Esther, Nicki, Dennis, Steven, Georgia, thank you for putting up with my dark moods and for your constant encouragement.

Last but never least, a big bow of appreciation to all the readers who enjoy the stories and make writing one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. YOU ALL ROCK.

Xenia Alexiou, February 2012.

Dedication.

To May.

It took me more than two decades to realize the one who could love me unconditionally, give herself to me completely, and confront my demons fearlessly was the shy sixteen-year-old girl I once ran from.

I'm eternally grateful you never gave up on me.

I gave you my first kiss and I will give you my last.

I love you.

Xenia.

Demons are Forever.

Prologue.

Near Teaneck, New Jersey.

October 28.

"You're hurting me!" Gigi struggled against the tight grip on her arms and fought to find her footing, but the two men flanking her dragged her up the stairs like her mother used to when she had to see the dentist.

The two johns had picked her up on a Manhattan street corner, but instead of taking her to a hotel, they'd brought her to a house in New Jersey without any furnis.h.i.+ngs. The half-hour journey itself was odd, too. Neither of the men said much or wanted to get down to business with her in the dark sedan.

"I'm a pro, I know the deal," she told the men as they pulled her along. "You don't have to f.u.c.king force me." She heard the tones of someone punching numbers into a cell phone.

"Put me through to Dario," a man behind her said. "I can deliver your order in forty minutes."

"What order?" Gigi craned to see him. A bald, buff, middle-aged man-looked like Mr. Clean. "Where's the other girl?" When they'd arrived at the house, she hadn't noticed him among the several men present, many also in business suits. Another working girl was there, too, an unfamiliar blonde. They'd had some drinks, but the party had barely started when the two guys who'd picked her up grabbed her and hauled her upstairs.

* 13 *

The bald guy ignored her and continued his conversation.

"Yo, Mr. Clean! I asked you something," she yelled.

The man paused and turned his attention on her for the first time. She couldn't remember ever having seen a look like that but was sure she'd never forget it. His dark eyes looked as empty as those of a dead fish. She'd been in scary, uncertain situations before; it was part of the job, especially when she was after a fast buck and the johns were dubious at best. But she'd never felt so terrified and helpless. G.o.d, were they going to kill her? She'd heard plenty of stories about working girls disappearing or found dead, but those tragedies happened to others, not her. Had she been too arrogant?

Was this a warning to change her life? Would she get that chance now? "I want to go home. Where are you taking me?" She clawed at the walls as they dragged her down a long hallway with closed doors on either side. "Where's the other girl?" she asked again.

None of them responded. Being ignored scared her almost as much as the lifeless eyes of the man behind her.

They reached a door at the end of the corridor and the man on her left opened it. Without a word, they threw her forward, and she slid over the parquet like a bowling ball, hitting her head on the wall. "Please, let me go," she said as she got to her knees and whirled toward them. But the door was already closing. Gigi ran to it and tried the k.n.o.b. Locked. "Let me out, you a.s.sholes!" She pounded on the thick wood with her fists, but their steps already sounded faint.

When she was sure they wouldn't return immediately, she studied her small, empty prison. The walls looked newly painted but didn't smell like it. Windows along one wall drew her and she tried to open one. "G.o.dd.a.m.n it," she yelled when a fake nail broke off. She couldn't force any of them open. Not that it would have helped. She was on the second floor, too far up to drop without breaking something or killing herself. And the place was isolated- the nearest sign of civilization was too far away for anyone to hear her scream. She could see only a distant light, illuminating a rooftop that might be a house and, beyond that, a cell tower. The rest was * 14 *

dark woods, save for an abandoned swing set and kiddie pool below her window.

She had only one possible way to get out of there safely.

They'd taken her purse and cell, but she always hid a spare phone for emergencies. She pulled it from her boot and hazily hit the first number on her speed dial. d.a.m.n, why had she drunk so much?

Usually booze helped numb her, but now she couldn't think clearly.

When the line picked up, she gripped the phone tighter and a seed of hope sprouted against her panic. "Thank Jesus. You gotta help me, I'm f.u.c.ked," she whispered loudly, in a rush. "Some guys picked me up and they've locked me in a room and I think they're gonna kill me."

The rea.s.suring voice of her friend replied. "Gigi? Where are you? What are you talking about?"

"I'm in b.u.mf.u.c.k Jersey somewhere. Near Teaneck, I think." She kept an ear attuned to the hallway in case the men returned.

"Some big white house with empty rooms. It's just all creepy-a.s.s wrong. I don't think they brought me here for s.e.x, and they got some other girl here, too. One guy was talking to someone on the phone about making a delivery. I think they meant me."

"Are you drunk?"

"Are you even listening? I'm not drunk and I'm not crazy.

Something's very wrong here."

"If you really think you're in danger, hang up right now and call 911. Even if you don't know where you are, they can trace your cell and find you."

"Yeah, right. Okay." She would rarely even consider calling the police, but this time she didn't hesitate. She mashed the disconnect b.u.t.ton with shaking hands and dialed the number.

"911. What is the nature of your emergency?"

"Some guys have me locked up in a room and I think they're gonna kill me." She slurred her words.

"What is your name and location, ma'am?"

"I don't know where the f.u.c.k I am. A big white house. Near Teaneck, I think. There are trees and a swing set outside, and one of those blue kiddie pools, upside down. And I can see a cell tower."

* 15 *

"What is your name, ma'am?" the dispatcher repeated in a monotone.

"Gigi. Uh, no...uh, Francine Shelhorn. Look, that's not important, just get the cops out here. These guys are gonna do something to me, I know it. I think they're gonna kill me and deliver me to some guy named Dario."

"What makes you think your life is in danger, ma'am? Have they hurt you or threatened you?"

"I just know, okay? They've f.u.c.king locked me up, I said!"

"Have you been drinking, ma'am?"

Before she could reply, footsteps rang in the hall. They were coming back. In a panic, she shut the cell, disconnecting the call, and hurriedly tossed it toward a dark corner of the room. It slid across the smooth parquet floor and disappeared beneath the edge of the long curtain that ran along the far wall.

Seconds later, the door opened, and Mr. Clean and the two guys who'd picked her up came back into the room. While the two goons held her down, the bald guy pulled out a syringe.

"What the f.u.c.k! No! Stop!" she screamed, as she tried unsuccessfully to pull free.

But they were far too strong, and Mr. Clean injected the contents of the syringe into her arm. Once he did, they released her and left without saying a word. This time, she clearly heard the sound of the lock being thrown.

She started to crawl toward the curtain to get her phone, but almost immediately her arms and legs began to go leaden, her muscles unresponsive. Whatever the h.e.l.l they'd shot her up with was paralyzing her. Before she could go six feet, she lay p.r.o.ne on the floor, head to the side and unable to move, but still fully awake.

Gigi couldn't speak or feel anything but the faint, rapid pounding of her heart. She could only see and hear. Her total and complete helplessness terrified her more than anything she'd ever experienced.

After fifteen or twenty excruciating minutes, the two men returned. They carried her back to the sedan, dumped her in the rear seat, and took her for a short ride. Since she couldn't move her * 16 *

head, she stared at the sedan's floor mat during the journey, then saw a smattering of images that told her they were taking her into a medical clinic or doctor's office. The dark outer rooms they pa.s.sed through gave way to their well-illuminated destination, where she saw a cabinet full of medicines, a tray of surgical instruments, and a plastic IV container on a stand before they laid her flat on her back on a bed or table of some sort. She heard them leave.

What in G.o.d's name were they planning? The sterile tray held neat rows of scalpels, clamps, and other s.h.i.+ny medical tools. She'd barely begun to imagine the possibilities when two new people entered her field of vision: a man and woman dressed in surgical gowns and matching caps. White masks concealed their faces and gloves covered their hands.

"Which first?" the woman asked.

"The blonde," the man answered as he moved farther away from Gigi until she could see only his head. The woman followed, and from the sound of it, she was wheeling over the tray of instruments.

The pair faced each other now, looking down at something. It was likely the platinum-haired girl she'd seen at the house.

"We'll take the kidneys first," the man said in a matter-of-fact tone. "Then the liver, corneas. The heart last. Same with the other." He glanced at a clock on the wall. "Let's begin. Scalpel." Gigi screamed but no sound left her mouth.

* 17 *

* 18 *

ChaPter one.

Boston November 16 "Don't hesitate to ask for me again next time you're in need of...company." The beautiful brunette traced Landis Coolidge's bottom lip with her finger.

"There won't be a next time, Jade." Landis smiled and bit the finger playfully.

"I was under the impression you enjoyed my services." The call girl pouted in disappointment. "You're not the type to fake o.r.g.a.s.ms."

"I pay so I don't have to fake anything." Landis grabbed the envelope on the table near the door. "It has nothing to do with your performance. You were great, most of you are, but...repet.i.tion bores." She smiled sweetly and handed Jade the payment.

"Repet.i.tion also makes perfect." Jade caressed Landis's hand as she took the envelope.

"Unless you used the Lord's name in vain all evening. Then striving for better is redundant."