Page 11 of Brutal Truths

But why take her there? Everything suggests these men aren’t working for Trent—but someone named Mr. Cygan.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Pauly’s always had a knack for that. “But they aren’t heading in the right direction. They’ve already passed Kirtlington, where Soulcombe is.”

“It crossed my mind.” My gaze lifts to Cort, locking with his. A silent warning passes between us before he gives a small nod. “I’ve got something else. See if you can find any property owned by a Mr. Cygan.”

“You have a first name?” Pauly ask, the rapid click of keys echoing in the background.

“Not yet.” I debate about saying this in front of Cort, but right now I have no other choice. Not if I want to get to Isabel before something happens. “Check anyone who has ties to the Del Markovs.”

Pauly whistles. “That helps some, but so far I’m not seeing anything. I’ll keep digging.”

“What about Alma? Have you found out where that piece of shit is taking her?” I can’t believe someone got to her so easily.

“With everything else going on, I forgot to tell you. Fifteen minutes ago, they stopped. They’re in East Ham. I did my thing. If the car moves again, it’ll alert me.”

Pauly grunts. “Can’t confirm which stack of homes he’s taken her in. CCTV’s patchy in the area and it’s dark. But I have him pinned, and a team’s moving in. Figured it was smarter to put someone else on her while we deal with this shitshow. You remember Holster? He’s on-site with two other men he trusts.”

Holster’s someone Pauly works with regularly, so I trust him.

While Pauly talks, Silas comes back into the office and takes his seat again. His attention stays fixed on me. He’s not about to let this conversation remain private.

So I turn my back on him and plant my arse against my desk. It’s a risky move. Silas could stab me or pull a gun and end it right here.

But he’s not here for that. He wants the same thing I do.

Find Isabel. Then figure out what the hell we’re up against.

“I trust you. Tell the others to hold tight. After I wrap shit up here, I’m heading that way. If there’s movement I need to know about, ring me. Otherwise, let’s regroup and see who shows their hand first.” I hang up, drop my phone into my shirt pocket, before turning around.

“I don’t know what that was all about, and right now I don’t give a fuck.” Silas rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward—open, but not weak. “We’ll deal with that later. For now, let’s agree this is a fucking mess. I’m in. Whatever you need.”

His gaze holds mine. “You’ve always had my back. Time I return the favor.”

I nod, giving him the floor.

“All I ask is that you let me handle my father. Whatever he’s hiding, that ends now. I don’t care that he’s the captain.” He picks up the brooch and flips it lightly in the air. “I want to hear it from him. There’s no way he doesn’t know who gave Sofia this. And if it’s what I think it is…” He leaves that hanging in the air.

Lowering into my chair, I consider that. He’s taken in a lot tonight, heard enough to know things aren’t what they seem. There’s still a fuckload of shit I’ve not shared, nor do I plan to.

The documents I found in Rico’s office hint at a hidden truth, fueling my suspicions. If I were in Silas’s shoes, I’d want to be the one to confront the man hiding it. Especially if it involved someone I once cared about.

“We have a deal. But you don’t get in my way where Isabel’s concerned.” I lean forward slightly, my gaze dropping to the brooch. “No matter what you learn. Understand?”

His eyes stay on the brooch, a flash of fury cutting across his face before he pushes to his feet and heads for the door. “Get your arse up and let’s go. You too, Cort. Don’t make me wait.”

Chapter 4

Isabel

The first time I wake up, we’re still on the road.

My head throbs as I focus on the two men in the front seat speaking Russian. A language I wish I understood. Guess I should’ve taken that instead of Mandarin.

Sucks to be me.

I must make a noise, attracting unwanted attention. The prick in the passenger seat turns, eyes locking on me as he shakes his head. He mutters something to the driver, and the car slows before pulling over.

Too bad my limbs aren’t awake yet. If they were, this would be my chance to make a run for it—or at least fight back.