“Neither of us knew it was anything more than poker games, Liam. She mentioned some men turn into sugar daddies, but that was the extent of the suspicion,” she insists, her eyes wide and pleading.
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. My hands are shaking with rage. “But how did she have access?”
I close my eyes for a moment, counting backward from ten in my head, a trick I learned years ago to manage my temper.
“I don’t know, Liam, please,” she whispers, her fingers still gripping my arm. “I think it’s your turn to explain to me what you and Joe are into.”
“Joe, Mateo and I have been taking down trafficking rings in different parts of Europe, and then we started raiding some of the yachts when we realized it was a front to lure girls in with the promise of luxurious parties, only to make them disappear by moving them from one place to another. We’ve been trying to find who’s behind the operation, but all I’ve found so far is a company name.”
“And Joe must’ve found another connection…” She computes.
“Yes, he must have. Did you see any pink poker chips in the briefcase?” I inquire, bringing her closer, and kissing her softly.
“I can’t remember, I was in the middle of a panic attack.”
“We just found out what the pink chips buy.They buy the girls.” And I regret telling her, as she instantly looks like she’s going to be sick.
“Liam,” she pleads, her voice firmer now. “We have to find out what happened to Joe.”
I nod, because I agree with her. Whatever Joe started to uncover, we need to finish it off.
“There's an actual poker game coming up,” I tell her, and her fingers tighten slightly against my skin at that information. I see those wheels in that head of hers.
“If I go…It's our chance to gather information.” She takes my face between her hands, forcing me to look directly into those determined brown eyes.
“No fucking way,” I growl, shaking my head vehemently. “I can’t, Sara. You don’t understand.” I wrap my hands behind my head, aching from the grief that holds me hostage. The searing fear of losing someone… I realize that what I feel for her is more than what I’m capable of admitting.
“You’ll keep me safe. I know you will,” she says with certitude, a trust I’ve somehow earned. Not sure I even deserve her.
“Fuck, baby. I don’t like this.” I tense, determined to look past my fears, but I’m blinded by my need for her to always be by my side.
The sliding glass door opens, bringing me back from my intrusive thoughts. Damien and Mateo step back onto the patio, their expressions telling me they've heard everything through the thin glass. Damien's practically vibrating with anticipation, while Mateo maintains his typical composed facade.
“I’m Mateo, you must be Sara.” He politely nods, and Sara waves awkwardly.
“So, let’s cut through the pleasantries.” Damien blurts, his eyes darting between Sara and me. “What's the verdict?”
Sara turns to face them, her chin lifting with a determination that makes my chest ache with equal parts pride and fear. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with a strength that belies her slender frame.
“We’re in.”
I barely hear her words, blinding like a blade across flesh, because somehow, she’s embedded herself under my ribs, my skin, into the pit of my fucking existence. The problem with getting attached to someone without your consent, when it’s something you’ve tried to avoid— the pure agony of ever losing them without your permission is relentless. Especially when letting go is now, not an option.
“I don’t think she should go alone though,” I immediately add.
Damien’s eyes crinkle with an amused dark glint. “I think I know exactly who could go with her, but you’re not going to like it.”
Thirty-Two
Sara
There’s always a point in your life where you confront this question: What is your why?
I was asking myself why I needed to find out what had happened to Joe, and though the reasoning is purely emotional, it doesn’t make it any less capable of consuming me. I needed to know, devoid of logic.
Love doesn't die. It doesn’t dissipate into thin air like the soul that was taken from you—the one you would desperately claw at just to keep alive. Even though he wasn’t here anymore, theheart, mind, and body can’t rationalize with the missing pieces. His love still pulsed within me.
Perhaps if I knew what happened to him as his motorcycle accident felt less like an accident, I’d be able to leave a lot more behind and truly start a life with Liam. My irrational need to control fate was purely a reaction to how many times an unwelcome path had shattered my world.
