Page 12

Chapter

Twelve

ALPHABET

“ G oddammit,” I swore as Lunchbox barely got the table shoved away from her with one foot as she dropped. Bloodless, she’d taken an almost haunting white pallor. The contrast with her deep blue eyes had been startling for the point two seconds before she pitched forward.

Emotional body blow after body blow had rained down on her slim form. For all that she was a looker—and holy shit was she ever—she looked like this fragile, pale imitation of herself. All the life and vibrance sucked out of her and leaving her collapsed like a broken doll.

Voodoo had popped forward and caught her head against his palm even as Lunchbox sent the table away. Bones grabbed her coffee cup as it pitched forward, launched by the force of the shove.

His sigh seemed both aggrieved and worried. The worried was the only thing that had me fisting my temper. Goblin had sounded a warning but she had already fainted.

“You could have done that with a lighter touch, Captain,” Voodoo chided Bones before he picked up Grace. She seemed even smaller now than she had before. The fierce, larger-than-life personality she radiated was such a contrast to the rest of her.

“Wouldn’t have mattered,” Bones said, setting the coffee cup down on another table. “Hearing someone you cared about has died is never easy even if they are expecting to hear it.”

“She thought we were going to tell her that she’d lost her sister.” Lunchbox raked a hand through his hair as Voodoo set Grace down on the sofa.

“I saw that too,” I murmured. “She didn’t have any idea about her agent.”

“Before you three lose your collective shit,” Bones said, folding his arms. “I needed to be sure. Too many things aren’t adding up. I spent the night on the phone with Fletcher and Cash.” The two men were part of the committee overseeing the Network these days. Not that committee was the right word for them.

“What did they say?” I managed to pull my gaze from Grace to find Bones studying her with the same concern in his expression that rippled through my gut.

“That my gut is right,” Bones said with a shrug. “I asked a lot of questions without mentioning Grace directly, they confirmed that these operations are far bigger than a model and her attorney sister. Traffickers typically avoid taking people who are connected. Granted, they were trying to get her out of the country, so that gives them more options.”

“But how does an attorney get on that radar?” Voodoo may have asked the question but we were all thinking it.

“They are identical twins,” I answered. It kept coming back to that, right. “That’s the only angle that makes sense. Grace is out there, there’s literally gigabytes of her photographs out there?—”

“You said something about yachting?” Lunchbox folded his arms where he stood like a guardian hovering over Grace and Voodoo. Not that Voodoo had surrendered his spot. He was on one knee next to her with his fingers against her pulse.

His concern hadn’t shifted or turned graver, so I could hope that she would open those eyes again soon.

“Apparently, there’s a lot of money in models and actors—aspiring or otherwise—are invited to their private yachts for sex, drugs, and rock and roll.” I grimaced. “I’ve been digging down on it. Most of the information is only found through rumors and innuendo, go figure, they call it yachting cause it’s basically dressing up escorts in jewels and furs so you can take them home to Mom without judgment.”

The doubting looks on all three of them would be funny if it weren’t so serious.

With a shrug, I spread my hands and then dropped one to stroke Goblin’s head. He was still focused on Grace and I could practically feel the concern shimmering around him.

“So, they basically hire them out like whores?” Lunchbox frowned. “How the hell do you hire a model to be a whore?”

“Her agent?” Yes, the woman was dead now. So had she known something that could point people in the right direction? I hadn’t finished pulling the background on anyone around her. I was working out from the center—I needed a wider scatter shot.

“Cash suggested that a lot of agents can be looped in to arrange introductions, even to broach possible invitations with the clients. The upside is a cut of the money and these people can afford to do whatever they want with whomever they want.” Bones shook his head. “It’s another form of networking.”

Lunchbox scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced at Grace. “So… what? They are hired to go be pretty arm candy and entertain some wealthy fat fuck? Do they get extra if they fuck him or his friends?”

“Probably. Whether they are paid directly or not, these are wealthy men who like to be seen with beautiful women and to be appreciated by them. It can secure funding for a film or a company or an idea. So what is a few hundred thousand to invest in a project? Or get a business opportunity off the ground?”

Hate swelled through me at the idea. We were all whores after a fashion. We did what we were asked to do and took payment for it. Now? We used the skills we’d gained and put them to work for us, but we still took money. If not cash, then we worked on an exchange for influence and favors.

“The problem with all of this,” I said as I tried to make the various puzzle pieces fit into the picture we’d been trying to fill in. “What would yachting have to do with the people trying to take her? That group the Vandals found her with was heading south. Toward Mexico? South America? A port so they could ship them to Asia? The Middle East? The middle of nowhere? We don’t have that information. The others on that truck were not the looker she is nor were any of them influential or recognizable.”

Because that was another key. Grace Black may not be a household name, but she had a very well - known face. I hadn’t been able to place her, not at first. Lunchbox had though, and at some point, I needed to give him shit for being dialed in that tight to not only recognize her, but knew enough to name her.

“They weren’t the first people to take her,” Voodoo said into the blanket of silence that fell after my question. “It’s not just one group.”

That gave me food for thought. “Fact,” I said, holding up one finger. “She was taken outside of her sister’s place. Fact, she woke up somewhere there were multiple other prisoners?—”

“Did she say if there were men and children too, or only women?” Good question from Bones.

“She didn’t want to discuss it at all.” A detail here or there slipped out, but she’d been guarding herself and who could blame her? Certainly not me. I raised a third finger. “Fact, the first group that took her suffered a raid. During that raid, Gracie was taken from the first group and woke up on the truck.”

I wanted the names of these groups. I didn’t like nebulous vague fucking details.

“Fact,” Lunchbox said. “There are no reports that Grace Black is missing.”

“Fact,” Bones added. “There is none about her sister either, except that her law office is telling everyone she no longer works there. They can’t believe something is wrong or there would be reports. Even a thin FBI file to indicate suspected kidnapping.”

Yeah. FBI and Homeland handled a lot of human trafficking. Particularly since it went across state and national lines.

“Cash verified there are no hidden reports being buried currently?” If they had an open investigation, the last thing they’d want to do is loop in the public, even accidentally.

“As far as he can tell. Fletcher said he’d deep dive the Feds to make sure there isn’t something hidden. Right now, however, what open investigations they have don’t appear related.”

I snorted.

“Didn’t say it wasn’t bullshit,” Bones gave me a look. “Just said what they told me. None of this tackles our issues with the Rojas.”

Shaking my head, I pushed up from the chair. “Why isn’t she awake yet?” I focused on Voodoo who still had two fingers against her pulse point.

“Because her mind might be shielding her.” Voodoo’s patient explanation seemed reasonable.

“I don’t like it,” I admitted and then began to pace. The stiffness in my right leg served as a reminder that I’d been overdoing it, combining long stretches of activity with equally long stretches of inactivity.

Thankfully, no one commented on my complaint. Goblin didn’t rush after me as I walked the length of the room and back. He was as used to me as I was to him. The agitation and unsettled feeling in my gut wasn’t about my leg or the damage or the phantom feelings that came and went.

“We shouldn’t keep her here,” I said, finally, giving voice to the voice turning circles in the back of my head. It had been growing gradually louder day after day. It finally clarified the argument when we were in Mexico. “She doesn’t belong in this life.”

“We can’t let her go,” Bones countered and while I’d expected the argument, it seemed to catch both Lunchbox and Voodoo off-guard. They whipped their gazes from me to Bones and then back. “I’m sorry…”

“You’re really not,” I interrupted, slicing a hand through the air. “You already have an argument for why we can’t let her go?” Because can’t was different from shouldn’t and wouldn’t.

“Fine, I’m not. You like her, I get it.”

Did he now?

“All three of you like her and Voodoo is already fucking her. At the rate you two are going, I suspect it won’t be that much longer.”

“Really?” Lunchbox’s tone hit a distinctly derisive note. Was he talking to Bones or Voodoo? Fuck, I didn’t care.

“You want to have a problem with our sex lives or lack thereof,” I said, before Lunchbox could keep going. “That’s a you problem, Bones. I have no problem following orders in the field or on a mission, everything else? You can go fuck yourself.”

A faint smile touched Bones’ mouth and he shook his head. “Fine, let’s put it this way. Not one of you can think clearly where she is concerned. You want to protect her. You want to keep her safe. You want to make things right for her. The problem is, all of those may be at odds with our current mission.”

“We don’t have a current mission,” Voodoo stepped right into the fight, his deadpan delivery sucking some of the oxygen out of Bones’ argument.

“Yes, we do. You made her the current mission.”

That put a period on my argument. “Fuck.” Rubbing both palms against my face, I savored the prickle of the stubble scraping my palms. “We made promises.”

The harsh exhale from Lunchbox said he grasped it too. We’d made promises to Grace.

“Then we brought her here,” Bones said, and before I could tackle that nugget, he raised a hand.

The gesture cast a bit of shadow over his face and highlighted the bruises littering his face. There was a cut at the corner of his mouth that kept reopening. The petty little part of me that had enjoyed the idea of Voodoo and him going a few rounds swallowed back some regret. As fucking irritating as the captain was being, he was captain for a reason .

“It was my call to bring her here, no matter who suggested it.” That shut off that line of argument. “I debated it. Debated finding us another safe house, especially after we proved that she was being tracked.”

Lunchbox let out a low curse of his own. “I forgot about that damn thing.”

“You’re compromised.” For the first time, Bones didn’t make it sound like an insult. He just shrugged. “It happens. We’ve attempted to take her home and a group tried to reacquire her. They pursued her. You dealt with them. We dangled her like bait to test a theory and sure enough they came for her again. Whoever these assholes are—whether it’s group one, group two, or some mysterious fucking third party—they aren’t giving up.”

“Bones is right,” Voodoo said. “We can’t let her go. With us, she stands a chance. The upside of here is no one knows where we are.”

Not even Doc. Not that he had to say that. Doc was welcome at any time and he could call us. He had a number that could reach us no matter where we were in the world. But we’d built this place ourselves. Brought in the materials, did the labor, and the wiring—everything.

No one came up here that wasn’t us .

“Exactly. Now her agent is dead and her sister is definitely missing. We have the Rojas situation. We have a lot of questions and not enough answers.” One way to put it. “Fighting over her or who is in her bed is only going to get her killed.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Captain,” Lunchbox damn near drawled the words, exaggerating them for emphasis. “The only one bitching about who is in her bed is you.”

A snort of laughter escaped me. It popped the tension, and a soft gasp of sound filled me with relief. Grace’s blue eyes were open.

“Hey there, Firecracker,” Voodoo greeted her. “How we doing?”

“Eleanor is dead?” She was already pushing up on her elbows despite the harrowed look on her face. “You said she was dead. I didn’t imagine that?”

The lost note in her voice made me want to assure her it was all a bad dream. Except it wasn’t…

“No,” Bones answered her in a firm, if even tone. “You didn’t. But you also passed out so let’s take it easy, shall we? Then we can go over more of what happened, compare notes—that’s what a real debriefing should be.”

The really weird thing about the whole argument, he wasn’t wrong. Grace wanted to be involved, and she should be. It was her life. Shielding her seemed as natural as breathing. Goblin was already moving over to rest his chin on the sofa next to her and she lifted a hand to pet him, though Voodoo didn’t abandon his position.

“What does she need?” Bones directed the question to Voodoo.

“Electrolytes. Water.” He studied her and raised his brows. “And do you have any history of fainting or low blood pressure we need to know about?”

Fuck. Medical issues. I looked at Lunchbox but he already had a hand up like, hang on. He had it. How badly had we fucked this whole thing up?

“No, and no. Water is fine.” She was already sitting up. I really didn’t like how ashen-faced she was. Based on Voodoo’s nearness, neither did he.

“We can call Doc later,” I said, and yes, I was calling whether they agreed or not. “If anything else comes up, we can take her to see him.”

We had others we could use—like the guy at the clinic. The Network allowed us lots of resources. Doc, however, was one of us. Him we trusted.

“I’ll be fine,” she said to me, still petting Goblin. “I Just—I can’t believe Eleanor is dead.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her.

“Me too.” The sadness in those eyes cut me. But she didn’t embrace the sympathy or the sadness, she focused on Bones and raised her chin. “What do you need to know?”

“Everything.” He wasn’t wrong. “Every single detail and start with at least a week before you were supposed to meet your sister.”

“Why a week?” It wasn’t a denial from her, just curiosity. Lunchbox motioned to the door and I lifted my chin. He was going to get her fluids.

“To make sure we don’t miss anything,” I answered for Bones. Because taking her and her sister hadn’t been an impulse. The more info she gave me, the better chance I had of teasing the data out of surveillance somewhere .

Yes, I liked this plan.

“Bones is right,” I said. “We need to know everything and I need my tablet…”