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“Not if we get out of here before they have a chance to send in another team,” Gray spoke up before I could.
Using their routes wasn’t exactly an ideal situation, but our options were limited with how many people were currently hunting us, not to mention the resources they would have at their disposal to track us.
“And even if they do find us, I like our odds,” Gray tacked on a moment later.
“And what happens after that?” Charley reached for my free hand, and I swallowed her palm with my own and squeezed. “Don’t you still have a kidnapper to catch?”
Or was the kidnapper also Brant Luther? I still needed to reveal that important detail, that I now knew who hired the cartel.
“With the show being cut short, how the hell will we, or Camila, for that matter, figure out who the insider is?” Point to Mya for the million-dollar question.
“Well, there’s nothing on the phone or laptop that’ll help us answer that,” Gwen shared, shaking her head in frustration. “But if there is a connection between the kidnapper and who sent the cartel after us, maybe we should meet up with Camila and her team in Peru and work this case from a new angle?”
“Camila doesn’t even know who—” Carter abandoned his words the second the dead man’s phone began ringing. “Answer it,” he directed, climbing the two steps up to join us on the porch.
Gwen set aside the laptop and promptly answered the call.
“I need a status update,” a woman said, skipping a greeting. An American accent from what I could tell. “The tracker hasn’t moved in thirty minutes. Do you have the packages?”
Charley stumbled back, taking me with her since I had a tight hold of her hand.
Carter spun his finger in the air, motioning for Gwen to end the call.
“Is that who I think it is?” Gwen asked, eyes wide. “Shannon?”
Damn, you’re right. “The polygrapher. She’s the one working with Brant Luther and the cartel?” At Charley’s eyes widening, I realized I’d accidentally revealed the name. Well, it needed to happen, but shit.
“Wait, Brant Luther is involved?” Lucy stepped back, and Mason quickly swooped his arm behind her, stopping her from falling off the porch. “No, that can’t be.” She began frantically shaking her head. “This is all my fault. You were right, Charley. We never should have come here. I’m so sorry.”
“You’re saying Brant Luther is the one who hired the cartel?” Mason snapped out as Charley pulled her hand from mine to go to her sister. “The Brant Luther?”
Yeah, welcome to my world of what the fuck.
Carter lifted his phone, a reminder of the time-sensitive situation we were dealing with and that we needed to give Camila a heads-up about Shannon. “I need to call Camila.”
“I’ll do it while you wrap up the shocking Brant news,” Mya offered, stepping forward and opening her palm. “Divide and conquer.”
“Fine.” Carter handed over his phone, then drove both hands through his black hair. The situation was frustrating, but seeing it get to Carter made it seem just that much more dire. “Let her know to be careful. Shannon might be working with someone else at the lodge, too.”
“Roger that,” Mya said, and I stepped aside when I realized she planned to make the call from inside the house.
“So, you’re saying the man after you is the tech guru and businessman turned philanthropist?” Gwen rose from the rocking chair as the cell phone rang again. Carter waved a hand, an order to ignore the call.
Tech guru? Right. I vaguely remembered something about him making his fortune by inventing something techy, and he sold the IP to one of the titans of the industry. When was that?
“That’s probably why the Feds were undercover back then,” Charley spoke up, still hugging her sister. “I think the FBI suspected Brant was stealing intellectual property, among other things, and they were trying to . . .” She paused for a moment, took a steadying inhale, and I spied a nervous swallow. This had to be killing her, and I wanted nothing more than to hold her while she spilled her darkest secrets. But she needed to do this for Lucy. Well, for both of them. And if she’d let me, I’d be here for her when the dust settled. “My mom, she worked for him back then. Brant’s the one who killed the FBI agent eleven years ago. He framed me for it. We’ve been running ever since.”
“That’s a plot twist I didn’t see coming,” Gwen murmured. “He became who he is because of that IP deal, and if you’re a loose string in terms of exposing how he really became rich, his house of sainthood cards will fall. I can see why he’d want you dead.”
“That’s one reason, sure,” Charley whispered. The rest of my team didn’t know about her mom yet. But on the porch of the cartel’s home wasn’t the best place to get into those details. They now knew Charley was an innocent and in need of our help, though. We’d deal with the rest once this mess was resolved and she and Lucy were safe.
“But is he the one collecting women like they’re game show trophies?” Gwen grimaced as if disgusted by her own comment. “It has to be him, though, right? And somehow, bad luck brought you right into his line of sight.”
“The women are blonde. Our age. Badasses somehow. They’re all like you. Maybe he—”
“No,” Charley cut Lucy off. “He didn’t take them hoping they were me.” She shook her head, and I agreed with her on that.
“The second he realized and confirmed you two were at the lodge, he changed his MO. Sent people after you, but used the cartel to make it look accidental,” I theorized. “If Brant thought any of those other contestants from past shows were Charley, he would’ve done the same then. Found a way to snatch them straight from the show. No, taking them was about something else. An obsession of some kind?” Whatever his intentions, he was one sick fuck. And far away from being the saint the media had painted him out to be in the last few years.
