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And pecan pie!
* * *
“When areyou going to tell me what the plan is?” I slide my feet into a pair of flip-flops that Vincent’s mom left in his mudroom, definitely inappropriate for a forest walk, but I don’t have anything else, and it’s far too hot and sticky anyway, then follow him out the back door. We walk down the deck steps, through his back garden, toward a path I can see through the trees.
“A lot has happened, so it’s probably the right time.”
Now that I spoke with Lulu, my head has some clarity, because no matter Vincent’s word… I needed to hear for myself that she’s all good. She agreed that a couple of days in hiding might not be the worst idea. And she has his number if she needs to reach me.
The sun begins to set just as we enter the forest.
“I hope nothing has changed about my plan for Ryan. And at this point, I don’t even fucking care if my father goes down with him.”
He looks at me as we stroll side by side. I’m using this walk to get some distance, clear my head a bit. Being in that house with him will just drive us to fuck the whole time, and as much as I enjoy that, I would like to also enjoy him beyond the feel of his gorgeous cock stretching me.
“I’m not going to lie, that’s where this is headed.”
My steps falter for a moment at his words, but I keep going as he takes in a deep, dragged breath.
He eases me in, telling me about Boseman, his connection with Ryan and the stupid shit he did. The threats on him and their business, failed attacks on them and even his mother, and it’s all so frustrating. Even when I am not involved. I get it. I understand why the man needs to be found.
Then he tells me a story about the trafficking business my father is building with Ryan. About the drugs, the ammunition, about docks and transport, and the whole thing just baffles me.
I always made it my business to keep tabs on what my father was doing for work. More out of stubbornness, because that man’s opinion of women is that we’re not worth much more than cattle. The only difference would be that he expects women to always be made up and dressed to a certain standard. But since women have no place in business, and couldn’t possibly understand it, both my mother and I were always kept in the dark. So I found my own way in. I had to. Something never really felt right with him and his organization. I knew they skirted at the edge of the law, but I couldn’t see beyond that. And when I went to university, I couldn’t keep a proper foot in, and I had no way of knowing if the man crossed the line into crime or if he was already there this whole time.
Is that really who he is? A man building his own organized crime empire?
Or is he just adding on?
The story crosses the line of insanity when Vincent tells me he traffics much more than that… and I can’t help but wonder if my trust in this man that’s supposed to help me take them down is blind. Children?! Really?! The man raised me!
I’m struggling to fathom it. Yet the events of the last few months certainly help make it more believable, especially where Ryan is involved.
“One of the girls we saved, she wants to stay here with her sister. We’ve kept everything under wraps, haven’t alerted the police, kept it all between us, because neither Holt nor O’Rourke… sorry, Liam…” He skirts around that one, since we share that godforsaken last name. “… know who rescued all the people they trafficked. And we intend to keep it that way. Our cards will be laid out all at once. But we’ve managed to find the families for almost all the kids, with a few exceptions that have gone to a good children’s home. We paid everyone off to ensure it’s all kept under lock and key.”
“How… how many were there?”
“One hundred and twenty-three.”
I stop dead in my tracks, my hand on my stomach as I process those words, bile violently rising, burning my throat, and no matter how much I swallow, the image of all those faceless children, the horrible things they must have gone through… they’re haunting.
“But I thought… I thought they only just started.” My voice trembles.
“A few of them were Holt’s doing before he joined forces with your father and had the access he has from the Ghost. Not many, though…”
We’re on a wide path, maybe a road, and the moonlight hits us here, not a bright light, but enough that I can see the disdain in his eyes. Visceral disgust, his features heavy with everything he’s been through since I’ve been kept at the Holt’s house. The Sanctum organized pretty much a covert rescue operation in the span of three days. And it’s those deep lines on his forehead, and that haunted look in his eyes, that drives me to believe the unthinkable—my father and my future ex are human traffickers. The scum of the fucking earth.
But one thing’s for sure—the conflicted feelings that have plagued my violent need for retribution, are gone. Vengeance will be so much sweeter now.
* * *
We walkedin silence for a while and I’m grateful for it. I needed to let the information sink in. To let the darkness that lurks in my soul feed on the horrors my vivid imagination cannot unsee, fuel for the revenge that will soon come.
“And there is a plan?” As the forest thickens and the moon glows brighter in the sky, the dust settles, and I can think with a clearer head.
“I need the information from Holt first, and we need to ensure he doesn’t suspect our involvement in the break-ins. It’s a massive financial loss for them. But also loss of trust with theirsuppliers. Rumor has it that they’re quite… let’s say angry.”
I realize something, and I turn to him, grabbing his hand. “You kept him away from me. Indirectly, but all those nights he got pulled away because of phone calls. He left the manor, and I was… safe. My captivity and your rescue mission came at a most opportune time…” My eyes are fixed on him as we keep walking through the darkness. The fact that he and The Sanctum are the reason for my safety in there, even unintentionally, makes me feel something indescribable.
