Page 24
Story: Relentless (Option Zero 2)
He’d even researched the plays in New York but couldn’t find any that purportedly needed a French-speaking actress for a part. Had she made that up? Had that been one of her “stories” and he’d missed it somehow?
His only real lead had been the knowledge that other women had been in the prison with her. They had disappeared too. Victims of human trafficking was his best guess.
During his search for her, he and his team had saved hundreds, but he had not found her, had not been able to save Cat.
Was it time to give up? Time to admit that she wasn’t alive? His gut said no. What if he gave up today and tomorrow was the day he was supposed to find her?
No. No way in hell would he ever give up looking.
The ding of his phone indicated a text. Grabbing it from the table beside him, he clicked on the text from Myron.
Call
me. Got something.
Liam wasted no time. The intel Myron had given him in Indianapolis had been sketchy but valuable. He had been sure he could get more. Looked like he had.
The instant Myron picked up, Liam asked, “Hey, what’ve you got?”
“There’s a house in Bogota. Older home. Nice area, garden district. Don’t know how long they’ve been using it. My sources say they’ve got a steady business going. Have maybe ten to twelve servicing the customers, day and night. Heard it’s a busy place.”
“You got an address or coordinates?”
“No. That’s all I have. Figure your people can pinpoint it fairly quickly.”
Myron was right. Serena and her team could have the address in a matter of hours, probably less.
“That’s some good intel. Why don’t you go to ground for a few days? I can send you to a safe house.”
“Nah. I’m good. Got a new lady I’m keeping company with. We’ll hole up together until this is over.”
“I can protect you both.”
“I know you can, but we’re just getting to know each other. Don’t want to spook her. I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of me and mine.”
“Then be safe, and thank you for this. I’m wiring the funds in a sec.”
“Good enough. Be careful. Sounds like some scummy slime this time.”
Anyone who made money off the misery of another was scummy slime, in his opinion.
“Thanks again.”
Liam ended the call and immediately wired the funds to Myron’s account. One of the most important aspects of intel gathering was paying informants what they were worth and doing so ASAP. Which was why Myron gave him good intel. He knew Liam would pay.
After sending the funds, he texted Serena, giving her the details. He had no worries that he’d be hearing from her soon.
Standing, Liam took one last look at the panorama before him. One more time he would search for her. One more time he would likely be disappointed. But someday…just maybe…he wouldn’t be.
Chapter Ten
Brentwood, California
Lawrence Medford skimmed through another script and tried without success to stave off a yawn. Didn’t anyone write anything original anymore? This was his sixth one tonight, and he could link every one of them to a movie or book that had come out in the last ten years. Yeah, he knew there was nothing new under the sun, but that didn’t mean people had to be lazy about it.
Standing, he stretched his back, twisting left and right. He wasn’t due for his massage for another couple of days, but the way he was feeling, he knew he needed one sooner. He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to his masseuse for an early-morning rubdown.
Placing the phone back on his desk, he wandered restlessly around his office. The frustration wasn’t just from bad scripts. Most of it stemmed from having found the perfect one and not being able to do what he wanted with it.
His only real lead had been the knowledge that other women had been in the prison with her. They had disappeared too. Victims of human trafficking was his best guess.
During his search for her, he and his team had saved hundreds, but he had not found her, had not been able to save Cat.
Was it time to give up? Time to admit that she wasn’t alive? His gut said no. What if he gave up today and tomorrow was the day he was supposed to find her?
No. No way in hell would he ever give up looking.
The ding of his phone indicated a text. Grabbing it from the table beside him, he clicked on the text from Myron.
Call
me. Got something.
Liam wasted no time. The intel Myron had given him in Indianapolis had been sketchy but valuable. He had been sure he could get more. Looked like he had.
The instant Myron picked up, Liam asked, “Hey, what’ve you got?”
“There’s a house in Bogota. Older home. Nice area, garden district. Don’t know how long they’ve been using it. My sources say they’ve got a steady business going. Have maybe ten to twelve servicing the customers, day and night. Heard it’s a busy place.”
“You got an address or coordinates?”
“No. That’s all I have. Figure your people can pinpoint it fairly quickly.”
Myron was right. Serena and her team could have the address in a matter of hours, probably less.
“That’s some good intel. Why don’t you go to ground for a few days? I can send you to a safe house.”
“Nah. I’m good. Got a new lady I’m keeping company with. We’ll hole up together until this is over.”
“I can protect you both.”
“I know you can, but we’re just getting to know each other. Don’t want to spook her. I’ll be fine. I know how to take care of me and mine.”
“Then be safe, and thank you for this. I’m wiring the funds in a sec.”
“Good enough. Be careful. Sounds like some scummy slime this time.”
Anyone who made money off the misery of another was scummy slime, in his opinion.
“Thanks again.”
Liam ended the call and immediately wired the funds to Myron’s account. One of the most important aspects of intel gathering was paying informants what they were worth and doing so ASAP. Which was why Myron gave him good intel. He knew Liam would pay.
After sending the funds, he texted Serena, giving her the details. He had no worries that he’d be hearing from her soon.
Standing, Liam took one last look at the panorama before him. One more time he would search for her. One more time he would likely be disappointed. But someday…just maybe…he wouldn’t be.
Chapter Ten
Brentwood, California
Lawrence Medford skimmed through another script and tried without success to stave off a yawn. Didn’t anyone write anything original anymore? This was his sixth one tonight, and he could link every one of them to a movie or book that had come out in the last ten years. Yeah, he knew there was nothing new under the sun, but that didn’t mean people had to be lazy about it.
Standing, he stretched his back, twisting left and right. He wasn’t due for his massage for another couple of days, but the way he was feeling, he knew he needed one sooner. He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to his masseuse for an early-morning rubdown.
Placing the phone back on his desk, he wandered restlessly around his office. The frustration wasn’t just from bad scripts. Most of it stemmed from having found the perfect one and not being able to do what he wanted with it.
Table of Contents
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