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She flinches, but doesn’t pull away. I’m an asshole for saying his name so nonchalantly, like it doesn’t effect her. Like he’s not the sick fuck who tortured her…nearly killed her. A real man would be livid that he didn’t kill the fucker himself.
Am I less than a real man? Because I haven’t thanked Sadie for wiping his fucking sadistic existence off the face of the planet? If so, I guess it’s one more thing I’ll have to come to terms with in my later years.
“Exactly,” she finally says. “And I’m not worried, Quinn. I know you’ll have to do the right thing, and I’m ready to face that.”
Her letter rests heavily in my inseam pocket, pressed like a weight against my chest. “Let’s get through tonight first,” is all I can say.
She’s quick to nod. “Okay. But there’s something else you need to know.”
My stomach rocks at her words. I’m not sure I can handle any more confessions.
“We discovered a print on the fifth victim today,” she says, jumping straight in. “The print was sent to the techs to run a search, but I knew…I just knew.” She releases a strained breath and steals her hand away from mine. “It’s Price Wells’ fingerprint. I’m not sure how the Alpha got it, but it was planted on the body.”
I’m correlating too many theories at once, none of them obvious as to why the Alpha would bring Wells into the picture. Except one: “The Alpha knows.”
Her eyes glisten with the reflection of low monitor light. “The masked man who took me. Yes. He knew. I now believe he was the same person who contacted me on the forum…but I didn’t do what he demanded. I changed the COD reports on the vics, stating they weren’t accidents. I was told if I didn’t cooperate, that they’d make it known what I did…” She trails off.
And that’s ultimately why she’s putting herself at risk. She feels responsible for those women—that her actions somehow resulted in their fate. I’m no damn psychologist, but I’m sure it’s some form of misplaced guilt; her darknet activity was not the catalyst. And her doctoring Wells’ COD report is not to blame.
The people behind the crimes are.
Piecing together how this criminal network has any connection to Wells will take time. More time than I have this instant. There’s too many questions that need answers. But I only have one for Avery. “Is this why you’re doing this tonight?” I hold her gaze. “To silence the Alpha.”
Her features twist into an incensed expression. “No. Of course not. If that were the case, I’d have left the COD reports alone. I’d have never told you the truth.”
The vise compressing my chest loosens a fraction. “All right.”
She blinks, a stunned expression wiping away her anger.
For what it’s worth, I believe her. Until Avery was abducted and her whole world consumed with fear and pain, she was the most professional, moral person I knew. She still is... Only I’m not sure how much of Sadie’s influence is responsible for her actions.
Fuck it all to hell. I’ve come this far—I’ll see this through. I have no other choice.
“Don’t think about the fingerprint or Wells or anything else while you’re in there.” I clasp her face, stare into her dark gaze. “Just focus on keeping yourself safe.”
She swallows, and I feel the force of it pulse against my fingers. Her lips part, her breath hot against my skin, but before she’s able to voice her thoughts, we’re interrupted.
With effort, I pull back as Carson and Larkin enter the conference room. Carson is decked out in an expensive suit, with a label I doubt I’d recognize. Larkin looks smug, proud of his transformation of the rookie into an entrepreneur of human slave acquiring.
“Real nice,” I say as Carson adjusts his tie. “You’ll fit right in—” I eye Larkin “—with the rest of the deviant pervs.”
The lawyer’s not thrown by my comment. He actually smiles, brushing off my sarcasm like he brushes off his designer suit. “Your detective cleans up well. And I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Alexis reenters and begins briefing both Carson and Avery on more of the nuances and etiquette of the club, and I find Sadie and Colton checking the surveillance equipment. Seems to me they should be in on the prep work.
When Carson steps away from the group, I’m there to intercept him. I brace a hand on the back of his neck and pull him in close. “It should go without saying, but I’m going to make it real fucking clear.” I grip his neck. “Avery doesn’t get hurt. Not a scratch. Not a bruise. Not one finger—from anyone—touches her. Are we clear?”
He gives his head a nod against my hold. “Crystal, boss.”
I smack the back of his head. “I know you’ll keep her safe,” I say, leaving the rest unsaid of what will happen if he doesn’t. I think we’re on the same page.
I’ve about got myself composed when a blond man enters the room, and my hackles rise. “This op was supposed to be strictly confidential. Who’s that?”
Colton steps forward. “My roommate.”
“And my personal driver,” Larkin follows up. “Who I trust to keep this secret. We need another ally to make this work, and I can vouch for Jefferson.”
Vouch. One snake vouching for another. Mother fuckers. Of course they’d all be connected. The underground world of BDSM and fetishes…swapping out partners and roommates and drivers. I glance at Sadie with raised eyebrows. This stinks of something foul, and I don’t like it.
