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“Swerve plays his hand close to his chest. He shows up and disappears as he pleases. Does Silvio’s most important work, for the right price. But he’s not housebroken, baby, he’s not the type of guy who sits at a table to eat. He doesn’t do small talk.”
Small talk in the Manzani house. What would that look like? Kill anyone special today? Rip off anyone cool?
“You don’t sound sure of him. I mean, I believe everything you’re saying, but—”
“Everyone should watch their ass around him. Sometimes he’s like a coiled snake, and his fire is worse than the dragon’s, that’s for sure. Only people I’d trust less are the Huntsmen.”
“Who are—”
“That’s a story for another day, baby. You’re wading in deep. Let’s go home. Bryan’s not gonna show up.”
“Maybe we try tomorrow?”
“We’ll get some rest and check out those videos tomorrow. My guy should have something for us by then, if there’s something to get.”
“Okay,” she said, going with the plan.
They could sit there all night, but if they didn’t get some rest, tomorrow would be a washout. Yvonne Ingham did not have that kind of time to play with. A day could be the difference between life and death.
TWENTY-THREE
“THANK YOU,” she murmured to Jagg as she passed him to go into the garage.
The workshop was spooky in the night. Cast in only the dull blue light of a couple of bug traps on either wall, the vast space was cavernous. Who knew what could lurk in the dark corners?
Spooky was relative. What did she have to be afraid of? Nothing. Not there. Not anywhere so long as the men in her life paid attention.
“You okay?”
Startled by Jagg just a few feet away, she’d been gazing into nothing. “Yeah.”
“Wanna tell your face?” he asked, coming back to take her hand. “You pissed we came back?”
“No, we need to be fresh for tomorrow. I…” She swallowed. “We’re safe.”
“Yeah, I locked the door. We have alarms—”
“No, I mean, we’re not just here and safe, we’re happy. We’re happy, right?”
His concern deepened. “Yeah.”
“And wherever she is, Yvonne…” As the name came out, his form relaxed in understanding. “She could be chained up; someone might be torturing her and—”
“You’re torturing yourself with this. What’s going on out there isn’t on you. And we’re gonna figure this out. We’ll find out who’s doing this.”
Such confidence. “You’re saying that to make me feel better.”
“If I wanted to do that, I’d back you up against the wall and fuck you.”
Her hormones took notice, but her guilt spiked too. Going to him, wrapping both arms around his torso, she sank against him. For comfort. For heat. For something sure and solid to hold her up.
“Wherever she is, they could be—”
“You think that’s the same thing?”
“No,” she whispered, closing her eyes, pulling herself against him. “What if she never knows this again? What if she never knows it can feel like this?”
“You’re the only one who gives a shit. The only one who saw this and went out there to help these women. The risks you’ve taken, the danger you’ve put yourself in—”
