Page 120 of Declan

“There’s always something you should know about. With Strotherby gone, we finished dismantling Omni. But the task force Tom built should still watch to make sure they don’t try to rebuild. Timor-Leste is a tinderbox and the rebels are gaining momentum. You need to have a care because the Russians are supplying the guns and they don’t do anything out of the goodness of their hearts. Australia might not like it much the Russians get a stronghold on an island across the Timor Sea from them.”

“Still hard to believe Madeleine Strotherby was behind the largest human trafficking ring in the world,” Graham noted.

“The level of depravity doesn’t surprise me,” I told him. “People don’t surprise me.”

“A cynic?”

“A realist.”

Graham offered me his hand, and when I took it, he gave me an assessing stare.

“I think I almost like you, too, Zane Lewis. I think this is gonna be good.”

“Can’t say I’m happy to see Tom leave the White House, but I am pleased to see you taking his spot.”

“I appreciate that. I take it I had your vote?”

“Well, I wasn’t gonna vote for that douchebag Winston.”

Graham’s hand in mine tightened and his body shook with laughter. Tom wasn’t far behind Graham and my chest burned.

I was gonna miss the old son-of-a-bitch.

* * *

Owen

I ignored the men walking down the stairs from Zane’s office and continued to read the report Garrett had emailed me.

Sarah Pollaski.

It had been months and I still couldn’t get down with the name. She was Natasha to me—always would be. But she wasn’t Natasha, she was Sarah.

Sarah Jane Pollaski, daughter of Barny Pollaski, niece of Wilco Pollaski.

The more details I read—details that should’ve come direct from Nat—the angrier I became. The woman had been living in my house for months, yet she didn’t trust me, still wouldn’t offer up a single piece of personal information.

“That Garrett’s report?” Myles asked, and I looked up at my team leader.

“Yep.”

“Fucked-up,” he noted.

“That’s an understatement.”

And it was—the understatement of the century.

Nat’s life read like a Dateline NBC special.

It all started in a multi-million dollar graystone in East Lincoln Park. Behind the hand-carved front door and leaded glass windows lived pure evil…

“I take it she still hasn’t told you any of this?” Myles pulled me from my thoughts.

“Nope. Before Maloof took her, Nat was starting to open up but now we’re back to square one.”

It didn’t escape my notice that my friend’s jaw clenched when I called Sarah, Nat. My team had started using her real name, I however had not. I hated the name Sarah, not because it was a bad name, it just didn’t match the image of the woman who’d been living with me since we’d found her in Alaska.

“Brother, you need to—”