Page 20 of Volatile Waters

Mr. Summers then said over his phone, “He’s fine. In the water with Tim and Whit.”

Sitting back against the seat, I pondered. “Another boy was in the water with Timothy. I believe Whitney called him Reether.”

There are parents who would die for their children. There are parents who will unknowingly teach their children horrible cycles, such as abuse. There are parents who let their child become a human trafficker. And there are parents who will do nothing if threatened.

Timothy had the latter.

Timothy’s parents chose not to protect him. It appeared that they had sent Whitney away right after we left their home. That gave me no choice but to add heat and abduct Mr. Summers’ son, but someone had beat me to it. According to the newspapers, Timothy supposedly had a drug addiction the ‘perfect’ family had hidden from the public in an attempt to shield his privacy, and had been placed in a facility for treatment. The false portrayal of a family at their wit's end had an outpouring of public sympathy. Mr. Summers was correct. He had quite the PR firm behind him, and his money was well spent.

To make matters worse, I wasn’t able to find this facility or any trace of Timothy.

“Yury, why are you calling me?” I hadn’t heard her voice in days.

Back at the hotel room, I rubbed my tired eyes. I had yet to adjust to the time difference and was frustrated that Mr. Summers was already covering his tracks. “You never texted. Does that mean the American behaved?”

I could almost hear Mrs. Thompson’s smile. “Yes. In fact, I got the opposite treatment.”

Jealousy snaked into my ego. “He fucked you?”

She moaned, “Brutally.”

“I can help cause another vigorous session with your husband.”

As if happy for the first time in a while, she giggled. “Aren’t you here on business?”

“Business with no play makes Yury pent-up and frustrated.”

“Although a young stallion taking out his frustrations on me sounds delicious, I better not. I have my husband’s full attention now. Don’t you have slaves stored in your hotel room?”

“No. They have already been delivered.”

“Yury, I was joking.”

“I don’t see the humor.”

“That is sick.”

“You’re the one trying to find my line of work as a laughing matter.”

“A mistake I won’t repeat.”

My father was growing impatient. I needed answers and was running out of time and options. Mrs. Thompson was my only other inside connection to this situation. Desperate women will do desperate actions, so I decided to cut deep and use what tools I had at my disposal. “So that you will not lose your husband’s attention again, I will teach you why he craved Marina.”

Her breath caught over the phone, but she said nothing.

“I train them. I train in her specialty.”

“Her… s-specialty?”

“Everyone has an itch. Learn what to scratch, and he will always be yours.”

After a pause, I heard Mrs. Thompson sniffle. “I would be using you.”

Not wanting to admit that I was somewhat also craving her touch, I only said, “That’s okay, as long as you do it in my bed.”

Silence…

I wondered how her mind was trying to convince herself not to do this and how her ego was begging for the secret to her husband’s deepest desires.