Page 81 of Sinful Lord

As far as I know, no one else from the Kilpatrick family is in Berlin yet. But If there are others out there—other hunters from other families—I need to know.

I can’t risk another surprise like this.

“Everyone back home is after her,” Maksim says. “The good , the bad…”

“And the ugly,” I add. “Luckily, it doesn’t sound like she’s been caught by anyone from back home. If what I’ve learned is true, no one in this city has any clue who the fuck Melina is. We can use that to our advantage. But only if we hurry. Because the Germans might not be the only ones here.”

“Who took her?” Slowly, the old man starts to stiffen again. His focus returns. But now, he doesn’t seem nearly as disgusted by me.

Good. I can work with that.

“Apparently, she was taken in by a group that trades in a certain kind of sexual slavery. Do you know what a cam girl is, old man?”

My words might as well be a hammer.

“Did you just say sexual slavery?” he gapes.

I can’t imagine the shock. Melina is his perfect innocent little niece, after all. This should get his blood pumping.

“The modern-day equivalent of gold-chalice pimps,” I explain. “But there’s no point in standing around explaining that whole mess to you right now, because I have everything recorded in a hard drive. It’s yours. You can study it, and hopefully, you’ll find something that I missed. Maybe then we’ll know who Melina is with now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those pathetic pimps lost her,” I update him. “They don’t have Melina. Not anymore.”

I’m thinking on my feet and practically making up my plan as I speak. But I think I just found my footing. I know where this lie is heading now.

It’s the only path forward.

“What the fuck is going on?” I can nearly see Maksim double take at the twist.

He’s so worried about Melina that I could tell him nearly anything at this point and he might believe it. Still, I take a second to get my story straight before I continue. There needs to be enough truth to make it believable, but not enough to clue him in on what’s really happening.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I assure him.

“No, I want to know right fucking now. If those pimps don’t have her, then who does?” His frustration is rising again, but his focus is being spread thin.

I’m confusing the old man. Even his gun begins to drop as he tries to make sense of my twisted web. Hell, it’s barely even pointed at me anymore.

“I’m not sure,” I sigh, letting the lie take over me. “But whoever it is, he stole her directly from those digital pimps. There was a big car crash. A massacre. And…”

I stop myself before I can reveal too much. But part of me wants to keep talking.

Should I tell Maksim about the message?

My stomach drops as I think about the implications of that fucking message.

For Drago.

Maybe Maksim will know something I don’t. And even if he doesn’t, at least I won’t be the only one chewing over that mystery anymore.

The idea offers me a smidgen of relief, and my mind settles.

“And what?” Maksim asks, slowly regaining his senses again.

I can’t pussyfoot around it anymore.

“The person who took her from the pimps left a message at the scene,” I explain. “I didn’t see it, but those crooks I slaughtered in the warehouse district? They did. And there’s no way they could have faked what they told me.”