Page 4 of Never Lost (The Unchained #3)

“It’s the microchips, isn’t it?” I asked. “That’s what you’re doing.”

He nodded. “She didn’t think we should tell you. I told her you’d probably already figured it out. I was overruled.”

“Look, you know as well as I do that removing someone’s chip doesn’t make them not a slave. It just makes them a slave who’s breaking the law.”

“If it means they can’t be tracked down by their owners or the government—at least long enough for them to disappear and forge a new identity—then for all intents and purposes, it does make them not a slave. And that’s the point.”

“So you’re figuring out how to remove the chips, using the girls as guinea pigs. That’s the research.”

“Essentially, yes,” he said. “You know the trick is locating them, so the goal is to find a chemical formula that can be injected, react with the chip, and bring it quickly and painlessly to the surface from wherever it is in the body.”

Now he was speaking my language. My mind started turning immediately. “Are they performed humanely? The experiments, I mean?”

Langer paused. “Resi sees to that. I trust her. And in exchange, they’re not only going to get freedom, but a new life,” he went on.

“And a better life than most free people, at that. Help with housing, transportation, tuition, capital to start a business, whatever they need. I have the resources to do it. I can’t free every slave, not yet. But this is a start.”

“Wait,” I said in wonder. “You really are anti-slavery, aren’t you?”

He turned. He looked incredulous. “Wait. Did you think I was lying about that?”

“I thought you were lying about everything . I still do, mostly.”

“So it’s only ‘mostly’ now? Wow. All right, I’ll take it.”

Under the terracotta bowl of this desert sky, the world had toppled. Max Langer—a good person? Okay, a not-evil person? And what it meant for my sister, or Lemaya, or myself, or the whole enterprise, I still wasn’t sure.

“So… what if a miracle happens and this works? Do you actually think you can make money off this?”

“Maybe, but believe it or not, it’s about more than just my making money. To me, disrupting slavery is about making it economically unfeasible to enslave people and forcing the development of other business models. And that, in time, will transform how we all make money. That’s the idea, anyway.”

Economics. Along with finance, another field of study I was somewhat deficient in. But it made sense to me.

“How many girls have you worked with?”

“I’d have to ask Resi, but five, maybe? Six?”

“All accounted for?”

“As far as I know.”

Or maybe they were dead and their bodies were dumped out in the desert. Or maybe Langer had no way of knowing either way.

“If you care so much, why don’t you just buy slaves and then buy their freedom?”

“I have. Quite a few, over the years. But that’s just working within the system. It’s fueling the machine, not disrupting it. I had to find another way.”

“What about the hot tub?” I suddenly remembered. “The champagne? What about Lemaya? Who disappeared mysteriously after the tour today, by the way.”

“Disappeared?” he asked, somewhat alarmed. “I don’t know anything about that.”

Probably true but not reassuring.

“She’s completely infatuated with you, you know.” I paused. “And she’s not the first, is she?”

Langer rolled his eyes, confirming what I needed to know. “She’s an adult, like the others I’ve had over, and she came there willingly. And you can’t argue that I don’t treat them like royalty when they’re with me, which is something they deserve after everything they’ve been through.”

“Must be nice,” I remarked. “A bunch of willing young fucktoys you can call up day or night.”

“Hey, let’s put it this way: I haven’t had any complaints.”

“You’re a real knight in shining armor, Max.”

He smirked. “I’ve always thought so.”

“I don’t know how all this works, but you’d think at the very least you could get them to sign, like, a release agreement or something.”

“They can’t. They’re slaves.”

“Fuck, you’re right.” I sighed. “But wasn’t one of them born free?”

He raised his eyebrows—alarmed, but only slightly. “What gave you that idea?”

Maeve. Maeve gave me that idea. But then again, Maeve also didn’t speak English, and as he said, there was a chance that the language barrier had caused her to misconstrue the situation, or even misconstrue several situations.

“And no one else has access to the girls? It’s just you and Resi?” I asked, thinking of the note in Corey’s desk drawer with the two passcodes, which seemed to give him access to the house at any hour.

“I don’t control who has access to them. Resi does. You can always ask her.”

“Oh, right. Except that, as any idiot should have noticed—except for you, apparently—she doesn’t like me. Or maybe she likes me too much. Either way, it hasn’t exactly been conducive to a collegial work environment.”

“Believe me, I noticed,” he said dryly. “And I talked to her about it.”

“ Talked to her about it?!” I exclaimed. “Come on, man. Are you trying to make the situation worse?”

He thought for a second. “Okay, point taken. But you know, you can tell her to get fucked. She’s supposed to be mine to deal with, not yours.”

“Noted,” I said, though I’d already tried that.

But now that I knew she didn’t have Maeve anymore…

but what about Lemaya? My head was frankly tired of swimming in all the possibilities.

Actually, I realized I’d been holding my breath, and I was the one always telling people not to do that.

I knocked back the rest of the wine in my glass and turned to my drinking companion.

“This atmosphere is better than our first ‘date,’ I’ll give you that. ”

Langer smirked. “Yeah, you’re not covered in pig shit.”

“Fuck you.”

But we both laughed as we started back down the hill.

Outside the Porsche, Langer hit the button to unlock the doors, but when he approached the car, he didn’t head immediately for the driver’s side.

My heart immediately sped up, responding to some elemental male connection with steel, rubber, and octane.

“Anyway, here’s what I know you really don’t want to hear,” Langer said, “which is why I’m yet again going for the extremely responsible technique of plying you with alcohol and a fast car. But I need you to please, for the love of God, stop all the poking around you’ve been doing.”

I ran my hand rapturously over the console. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Langer opened the passenger side door. “Bullshit. At least give me a little credit.”

Actually, I had done so much poking around I wasn’t exactly sure which particular poking around he was referring to, but I decided not to ask for clarification. “Is that an order?”

“No, it’s not an order. I can’t order you to do anything.

I’m not your master. But I will say that if you think Resi has a problem with you now, you don’t want to see her when you’ve really pissed her off.

And now that I’ve told you what White Cedar is—what we’re working on—I trust that you can appreciate the gravity of what we’re doing here.

Everything is wrapped up in it. I’ve put my shares in Orbital Dynamics—and my other companies—up as collateral on that lab. ”

I swallowed.

“And if something fucks this up—if you fuck it up—all of this”—he gestured to the sprawling mansion, the grounds, and the folly in the mountains beyond—“goes with it. Including you. Back to Keith. And wherever he sends you, you know it won’t be back to Curly Sue’s chemistry homework.”

I bent my head and closed my eyes against the thought. “You’re threatening me.”

“No. I’m not threatening you any more than I’m threatening myself, although unlike me, you have more to lose than money.

And let me be clear: I’ll help you find your sister.

And I’ll figure out what the deal is with Lemaya, too.

Maybe Resi sent her to a meditation retreat for a week.

I don’t fucking know. Either way, just let me handle it, okay? ”

“I’m not promising anything,” I said, breathlessly opening the driver’s side door and sliding into the buttery-smooth leather seat with its intoxicating smell, knowing that I was being shamelessly bribed.

But couldn’t I have a minute—okay, a few minutes—in which I didn’t have to care?

I looked up into the icy blue eyes staring down at me.

“You’ll get a chance. And my personal guarantee that if you’re still up to something, I will find out. ”

“God, you’re fucking impossible.”

“Hey, you wanted me. Remember, I’m just a poor, innocent, oppressed slave, dragged here against my will. Keys.” I beckoned for them with exaggerated boredom.

“Ever driven a manual?” Langer asked, raising an eyebrow.

“All the time.” Well, twice. Four years ago. For ten minutes. Illicitly. But hell, I would have lied and said I knew how to fly a helicopter if I’d been offered the chance to fly one like this .

“I’m buying it for you, you know. I mean, if you like it.”

“Yeah. I figured that out.” Only about three seconds ago, but still.

Langer shook his head and tossed the keys into my waiting hand. “You know, in another life, you would have made a damn good rich kid.”

I laughed as I started the engine.

“Happy early birthday. It’s next week, right?”

Startled, I asked, “How did you—never mind.” I’d forgotten about it myself, as I did most years.

I slammed the clutch to the floor and shifted into first gear with every scrap of muscle memory I could conjure up.

I tore out of the driveway, guiding the convertible along the dirt road, down the highway, into the twilight, and toward the lights of the city, awash in such adrenaline that I almost didn’t mind when Max gave me a few well-curated tips about when to release the clutch.

“By the way, if the girls can’t go out, why did Lemaya get to go shopping with me?” I shouted over the wind and engine noise.

“Because we’re pretty sure her owner’s dead,” Langer shouted back.

“How do you know?”

But I couldn’t hear the response.

That night, “the girls” came over to the penthouse again.

Only in place of Lemaya, a willowy redhead calling herself Sloane was the one sitting out on the terrace, eating panko-crusted swordfish courtesy of Langer’s personal chef, guzzling champagne and raspberry liqueur, and climbing all over her “boss” in the hot tub as I stood on the other side, staring past the city lights at the distant mountains with a heating pad on my shoulder, sucking down bourbon like water and trying not to be sick.

And for once, Resi made no threats, no insults, no constant reminders of what I—and Langer—were trying to pretend I wasn’t. From the other side of the marble bar, glass in hand, she just smiled sweetly.