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My mother.
I push Lucy for as much as I think she can give me, managing to get an exact cross-street where the warehouse is located. She tells me about how many men she could see on guard duty at any given time, and I file every bit of information away.
“Like I said, the first group and then us, we were the first ones to leave,” she finishes, looking exhausted but determined. I can only imagine how much reliving all of this has taken out of her. “I heard one of the guys say we were like a test run or something. They were about to go into full production soon, whatever that means.”
It means they were about to ramp up their sales of women to whatever buyers they had lined up. About to push more “merchandise” out into the world. But I don’t tell her that. Lucy doesn’t need to know how very little my mother valued her life.
“Thank you for telling me all of this,” I say sincerely. “It’s exactly what we needed. And I promise you, Lucy, those people will pay for what they did to you.”
She nods, but there’s no real conviction in it. I know she doesn’t believe it.
It doesn’t matter though. I do believe it, and I have a contact at the FBI who can make sure what I just told Lucy wasn’t a lie.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” I ask.
She nods again, and I push away from the kitchen counter and cut through the living room toward the front door.
Stepping out of the house, I nod to the two guards stationed outside as I pull my phone out. I walk a short distance away before I text Agent Brady. I’m not using the burner he gave me in the grocery store, so I know I’m risking the guys finding out about my connection to an FBI agent. But this is too important to wait until I get home.
; I memorized the number that was programmed into the phone, and I’m glad as hell right now that I did. My thumbs fly across the screen as I tap out the text, giving him every bit of information I just learned.
Everything he needs to take down Camilla. To expose her crimes.
To win the victory he needs to back off the Novak Syndicate.
As I hit send on the text, I glance at the time on my phone. It’s almost seven, later than I realized. The men should be here to pick me up soon. They never let me drive myself over to the safe house, either sending me with a few mafia foot soldiers or dropping me off themselves.
I turn back to the guards at the door, about to ask them if they’ve heard from Hale when something catches my eye.
A bright red dot glows on the man’s chest, moving around just slightly like a butterfly searching for a place to land.
My stomach seems to drop out of my body.
“Look ou—”
I surge forward, my arm outstretched. But I’m too fucking late.
Two bullets pierce his chest, and another hits the guard on the other side of the door in the throat. They both go down, their bodies hitting the ground before I can even reach them.
My heart lodges in my throat as tires screech and a van careens up the driveway.
It skids to a stop as several men in black leap out. I’m already running for the safe house door, but strong arms wrap around me from behind, and a cold, wet cloth smothers my mouth and nose.
I’m still trying to fight as darkness drags me under.
20
Lucas
For the second time, Grace’s phone rings out before instructing me to leave a message. Fuck. Even though I know she’s probably just busy with one of the girls, an unpleasant knot forms in my stomach.
An instinct.
Something isn’t right.
“She’s not picking up,” I growl after trying a third time, fighting the urge to throw the phone out the window in frustration. “I don’t like it.”
