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“I didn’t sell to anyone, Vernon. These are just a few security adjustments, with my husband missing and all. But other than that, it’s just business as usual.”
A few girls from housekeeping giggle in a corner. I turn around in time to watch one of them cup her mouth to the other’s ear, eyes on the athletic men working on cameras by the elevators. The moment my eyes land on them, they snap to attention. Behind the girls, a man is putting away his phone. He’s been clearly recording. One of Thorngren’s spies, probably one of the guys who caught my hookup attempts on camera and sent them to Thorngren.
I shake my head, trying to ignore the embarrassment pooling in my belly.
Someone grabs my arm, and Mia’s eyes meet mine, urgency written all over her face.
“Sirenna, we need to talk. Alone. Now.”
I give Vernon’s shoulder a tiny squeeze.
“I need to scrub the hard day off,” I tell him. “I’m leaving you in charge. Do whatever these bastards want, but make sure everyone picks up after themselves when they’re done. There’s no reason why you and the girls should clean up their mess.”
Vernon nods, new purpose infusing his irises. I love seeing him happy. It used to be one of my natural highs. I give him the special warm smile that only he can bring to my lips.
“I know I can rely on you.”
“Always,” he declares, squaring his shoulders like a hero on a mission.
He turns toward the men as soon as Mia and I start toward the elevators. First, I need to get this crushing attention off of me. My body is so drained after what Thorngren did to me that I can barely keep my spine straight, let alone my head high when everybody is staring at me like it’s a contest.
Once inside the elevator, I breathe out in relief, my shoulders sagging. Ten minutes later, I’m soaking in the bathtub, sunk up to my chin in bubbles. Mia makes herself comfortable on the closed toilet seat, typing away on her large phone.
“So, why do you look like the Empire State Building just came crashing down on you?”
She glances up from the screen of her phone, biting her lower lip as if she’s refraining from blurting out some awful news. She’s been tense ever since we left the lobby, but apparently, she can’t decide on the right moment to start talking.
“Spit it out, Rogers,” I tell her.
Her eyes settle on mine. “I know you said don’t involve Declan, and I promise I didn’t. Not directly. But I did ask him to let me use some of his intel network. I also asked him the favor of not asking questions, so your secret is safe.”
Of course he’d do that for her. The love that Mia and Declan have for each other is out of this world, something only few people get to live out. Both she and Addie were lucky to find men who put them on a pedestal and worship at their feet. No matter how kinky things get behind closed doors and how their beasts ravish them, they are goddesses to these men.
“The things I discovered about Zayne Thorngren in the short time that you were inside his office–” she chews on her bottom lip, and my pulse fires up, my fingers curling.
“I already know he’s a monster, Mia,” I remind her. “We know that his drugs are engineered in labs to specifically target certain parts of the brain to make people a controllable mess.” I swallow the huge lump in my throat at the next thought. “We know there might be human trafficking involved for experiments.”
She sucks in a shaky breath, and my mouth snaps shut, the reality of what I’ve done hitting me. I might have just let a man who trafficks people for experiments come inside my mouth.
“It’s about that, isn’t it?” My voice is so faint I can barely even hear myself. The water feels as heavy as a rock on my chest.
“The human trafficking might be just a myth,” she replies. “But he does have connections with an old orphanage in Detroit.”
A trickle of dread runs down my spine. Looking at Mia’s grim face, I think I know where this is going.
“The drugs that he distributes in clubs,” she says, her lips thinning. “The clinical trials lead back to the orphanage.”
The news strikes me like a fucking hammer.
“You mean he’s testing them on kids?” I breathe, but the words feel alien. “No, you must have gotten it wrong.” Or I’m in denial, unwilling to accept that I came face to face with Machiavelli incarnate.
“Maybe. But what if I haven’t?”
“The guy is deranged and capable of seriously evil shit, but not this.” I shake my head, but maybe, I’m just letting a pretty face fool me. Even though, in my defense, his face is much more than just pretty.
“I trust your instincts,” she says. “You’re the best judge of character that I know. But I think we should look into this one before Zayne Thorngren amasses even more power by adding Joseph’s empire to his portfolio.”
I think back to the promise Zayne made me.
