“I appreciate that.” She’d been worried about the mother and baby.
“You understand that this is FBI business, and you can’t talk about it.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mocking salute.
“Consuela’s story started in Mexico. She wanted to be with her husband for the birth of their first child, and she paid a coyote to take her to where her husband was working on a construction crew outside Las Vegas. She never got there. Instead, she fell into the hands of a human trafficking gang.”
She winced as though she’d been slapped. Human trafficking was the modern equivalent of slavery. These people were used and abused until the marrow had been sucked from their bones and there was nothing left. When death came, it was a mercy. “That’s what you’ve been investigating.”
“The FBI has a task force in the field. I’ve been working with them for eight months. I thought I was done, but I’ve got to follow up on what I learned from Consuela.”
Petra sat at the small table opposite Brady. “What did she tell you?”
“She gave birth to Miguel in the back of a semi. The other women helped her, and they managed to keep the baby a secret for a while. Two of them were also pregnant.”
“I thought most girls picked up by traffickers were forced into prostitution. Pregnant women wouldn’t do them much good.” The truth hit her. “Oh, my God, they want the babies.”
He gave a terse nod. “One of the men in charge of Consuela’s group figured that out. His name was Escher. He’d been a coyote for years, but the idea of stealing babies and dumping them into a horrible and uncertain future was too much, even for him. He called me.”
“He was your informant.”
“Consuela said that he tried to free them all. He didn’t really think they had much chance and told her to leave Miguel behind. Escher promised to protect the infant.”
“By running away, she thought she was saving her son,” Petra said.
“Instead, Escher was killed. His partner—the suspect we arrested—tried to find the others, but they were gone, everyone but Consuela who stayed behind to find her baby.”
“And now?” she asked. “What’s going to happen to Consuela and Miguel?”
“They’re reunited with her husband and in protective custody. We need her testimony to convict our suspect. After that, I’m not sure what will happen with immigration. At least, their family is together. They’re all healthy and safe.”
It wasn’t a perfect happy ending, but the fate of Consuela and Miguel wasn’t as terrible as it might have been. They’d escaped. How many others wouldn’t make it?
Unable to sit still, she rose from the table and paced across her kitchen to the counter where she poured herself another cup of coffee. She didn’t need the caffeine. Her blood surged. She was fired up.
This type of injustice was why she’d wanted to be in the FBI. When Brady did his analysis of her, he said she always fought for the underdog. So true. “I wish there was something I could do.”
“There is,” he said. “I told you I was going undercover to investigate the trafficking in babies. And I could use your help.”
“Anything,” she said.
“Will you be my wife?”
Chapter Four
Needless to say, Brady was one-hundred-and-ten-percent serious about his investigation. Enlisting Petra’s help wasn’t something he took lightly. Still, he hadn’t been able to resist teasing her.
Her reaction was huge. Her eyebrows flew up to her hairline. A pink flush dappled her cheeks as she gaped at him, slack-jawed. She stammered, “You w-w-w-want me to do what?”
“Be my wife.” He leaned back in his chair and calmly sipped his coffee, enjoying the show. “I’m sure it’s not the first time someone has asked.”
“Well, no. Not that it’s any of your business.” She braced herself against the kitchen counter. “I need an explanation.”
“Being my wife? I think you know what that means—a white picket fence, a couple of kids and a dog ‘til death do us part. Love, honor and obey, especially obey …”
“I’ll obey you when hell freezes over.”
“We can tinker with the vows. I’m flexible.”
“You can go … flex yourself.” She stalked to the back door. “I’m out of here.”
The screen door slammed behind her with a final sounding slap. Apparently, Petra didn’t respond well to teasing. He’d known she was the sensitive type, but he hadn’t expected her to get so upset. Had he accidentally pinched a nerve? She was twenty-nine years old. Marriage might be a hot-button issue.
He rose slowly from the table, disappointed that he wouldn’t be seeing more of Petra Jamison but glad that he’d found out now that they couldn’t work together. Damn, she was touchy. If she’d thrown a hissy while they were in the middle of their undercover assignment, the consequences would be bad.
When he stepped outside into the crisp fall sunlight, she was waiting for him with her fists stuck on her slim hips. “You said you needed my help. I want to know more.”
The smart move was to keep walking, to move away from her. “This isn’t your problem.”
She stepped in front of him, blocking his path. “Wait up, Brady. I know you were teasing.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Give me another chance.” She swallowed hard. “I might have overreacted.”
He figured that was the closest thing to an apology he was going to get. If she could stay cool, she was the perfect person for the undercover job. He reached into one of the pockets in his cargo pants, took out a photograph and handed it to her. “Do you remember this?”
“It’s the blanket that was wrapped around Miguel. With the sheep design and the blood and the logo for Lost Lamb Ranch.”
“Lost Lamb Ranch was the destination for Consuela and the other pregnant women. We think it’s some kind of clearing house for baby trafficking.”
“Why can’t the FBI just shut it down?”
“Supposedly, this ranch is a nonprofit home for unwed mothers. On paper, they look legit. They file their taxes and pay their bills. The adoptions arranged through Lost Lamb seem to fulfill all the proper requirements, but I think they’re a front for trafficking. If I can get inside and find out who’s really running the show, then I can shut them down, lock them up and make sure they never hurt another child.”
Her head bobbed, and her ponytail bounced. “That’s why you’re going undercover to investigate.”
“But I don’t have an in.”
“And I do,” she said.
“What’s more natural than a midwife looking for work at a facility for unwed mothers?”
“So we’ll move to the area,” she said, “and I’ll be your undercover wife.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“Not exactly.”
He didn’t push the issue. The time for teasing was over. “I won’t lie to you. This assignment is dangerous, and it’s not your responsibility. I want you to consider before you give me your answer.”
“How long would