“It’s empty.” Henrik climbed up the plank.
Hammond’s eyes widened. “No, it’s not.”
Henrik followed him inside, giving his eyes a second to adjust to the darkness. Shapes formed before him. Five women huddled together in the corner. The fear became palpable as Henrik advanced toward them.
“No,” one of them moaned.
“Susanna, hush,” another hissed.
“Get a fucking light on in here,” Henrik snapped at Hammond. “Girls, come forward.” He gestured for them, but they remained frozen in the corner. Five sets of wide eyes stared at him, yet no one moved.
“Here.” Hammond rushed back in with a bright spotlight.
“Fucking hell.” Henrik grabbed it from him and adjusted it to keep from blinding the girls.
“Sorry.” Hammond screwed the tripod lock in place.
“Girls, stop huddling together,” Henrik ordered. Slowly, they untangled themselves and spread out, giving him a better look at them. Pretty, even with dirt marring faces. They wore pants and long-sleeved shirts, but he could still make out their tempting shapes.
“What’s that?” Hammond advanced on the girls, sending them scattering to the other corner. “Fuck.”
A girl slouched in the corner, her eyes open and vacant, her skin already gray.
“Fuck,” Henrik repeated Hammond’s response.
“She’s dead,” Hammond announced after pressing two fingers to her neck.
“That must have been what you heard, the girls crying.” Henrik turned his attention to the remaining passengers. “How long have you girls been in here?”
“What day is it?” one asked in a quiet voice.
“Tuesday,” Hammond answered.
“Four days.”
Days? Henrik glanced around the car. Three camping toilets were bolted to the floor. Two coolers and a pile of blankets were in the corner.
“You ran out of food and water?” Henrik asked, pointing to the cooler.
“Water yesterday,” the quiet voice came again.
“Food?” Hammond shoved off the lid to one of the coolers, then the other.
“We still have bread.”
Hammond pulled out the loaf she referred to. Mold already grew on the pieces. Henrik’s stomach twisted.
Castor knew better than this.
Fucking hell.
“Hammond, take them to the estate. Get them cleaned and clothed. Feed them.” Henrik already had his phone out.
“Put them in the barracks?” Hammond asked.
Henrik glanced over at the dead girl. Young, maybe the same age as Megara.
“No. Have the doctor check them over and put them in the guest rooms on the third floor,” Henrik ordered, then stalked down the plank, dialing Castor.
“What’s up?” Castor answered on the second ring.
“You’re moving product through my fucking warehouse?” Henrik kept this voice down, but didn’t shelter his anger. If Jackson found out about this, he’d lose his fucking mind.
“You opened the car.” Castor sighed. “I warned you not to do that.”
Henrik paused in his step. “That’s your response? I shouldn’t have opened the fucking car?” He wiped his hand across his upper lip. “One of your girls fucking died, Castor. The others were crying, and Hammond heard them.”
“Shit.” Now, Castor’s attention was focused. “Which one?”
“Which one?”
“Which girl?”
“I don’t fucking know! I didn’t take an inventory.” Henrik pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your girls or Haden’s? Because if they are Haden’s, I swear—”
“That’s why I told you not to open it,” Castor shot back. “Where are they now?”
“Hammond’s taking them back to the house.”
“No, just keep them there at the warehouse. I’ll get in touch with my guy. He should have been there already. I’ll find out where he is.”
“You aren’t moving these girls through my fucking territory.” Henrik kicked the warehouse door open and stepped outside. “If Jackson finds out…”
“I know,” Castor said harshly. “You’ll move back to the end of the fucking line for his admiration.”
“Don’t start that shit with me right now.” Henrik climbed into the back of the town car and waved for the driver to get going. “He’s already paranoid about Haden’s intentions to try to gain more control of the Network. If he finds out about this, your involvement, that I let it go through…no, those girls are staying with me. You can get your ass up here and take possession, but I’m not handing them over to some asshole who works for Haden.”
“Can you for one fucking second see things through Haden’s eyes?” Castor’s voice rose. “He was given a tiny piece of a huge ass pie. He deserved more. He was as much a son to our grandfather as our father was. He shouldn’t have been shafted the way he was!”
“I’m not having this argument with you. This isn’t our fight.” They’d never involved themselves in the battle between their uncle and father, and he wouldn’t start now. Not when he was so fucking close to finally getting the legitimacy he deserved.
“So, what are you going to do? Take them and sell them yourself?”
“I have my own shit to deal with. I’ll babysit these girls until you come get them, then you can take them back down to Haden.”
Silence stretched out on the other end of the phone line.
“It’s going to take a day or two. I have to wrap up a deal down here first,” Castor finally conceded.
“Fine.”
“The one who died…did she have red hair?” A hint of worry laced his words.
“No. Black hair,” Henrik stated.
A relieved sigh hit the receiver.
“Three days at the most.”
“Castor.” Henrik stopped him from hanging up. “The girl with the red hair, what’s special about her? Big buyer?”
“Something like that. I’ll see you in a few days,” Castor said just before cutting off the call.
As Henrik leaned back into the cushions of the car, his phone vibrated. A text from Oliver.
Your wife wants her phone.
I’ll handle it when I get home. Fifteen minutes.
Henrik turned off the phone and tossed it on the seat beside him. He pulled her phone out of his back pocket and swiped it to life. Her cousins had texted twice, asking to meet her for lunch. He flicked the messages into the virtual trash can. A message from Celeste inviting her to brunch. He left the message for her to deal with. Having her occupied during the day would be an easy way to keep her from finding out about the girls upstairs.
Her friends could take the day shifts.
He would take the night shifts.
16
Megara found Celeste sitting at a table in the far corner of the coffee shop and hurried over to her.
“Finally!” Celeste jumped up and wrapped her arms around Megara, hugging her tight. “I was so fucking worried.”
Megara tugged off her coat and threw it over the back of the chair.
“What should I get you?” Oliver asked, stepping into her one brief moment of normalcy.
“I can get it. Why don’t you go sit over there, far away from here?” Megara waved toward an empty table on the other side of the cafe.
He grinned. “Sorry. Can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Celeste asked with a slight tilt of her head. Megara knew that look. She’d been watching Celeste perfect her flirtatious smile their whole lives.
“Because his master has told him to heel at my feet,” Megara answered, not caring how sour her tone was. “Oliver, just give me the afternoon. Please.” She tempered her tone. He may have been Henrik’s lapdog, but it wasn’t entirely his fault he’d been given the horrible assignment of acting as her babysitter.
“I won’t whisk her away, I promise.” Celeste smiled wider and swished her fingers over her chest. “Cross my heart.”
Oliver flicked h
is gaze between them and sighed. “I’ll be right there.” He pointed to a table along the same wall, but in the opposite corner.
“Thank you,” Megara said sincerely. Time away from Henrik and anything related to him would settle her soul. Even if it was just for one cup of coffee.
“First, let me get your coffee.” He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice. “You don’t have any money.”
Megara tensed. “My cards won’t work?”
He gave a small shake of his head. Of course her father had cut her off from the family finances. She wasn’t his problem anymore. She would have to ask Henrik for money from now on.
“Just tea,” Megara said and sat at the table.
“If he’s buying, I’ll have a caramel latte with extra whipped cream,” Celeste added.
“They don’t put whipped cream on a latte,” Megara corrected her.
“Oh…right.” She smiled up at Oliver. “Can you please ask them to add it?”
He laughed softly. “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
“Celeste, don’t.” Megara leaned forward across the table.
“What? He’s really cute.”
Megara shook her head with a laugh. “He’s okay, yeah.” He had nothing on Henrik, though she wouldn’t say that. Not out loud. Just saying them in her mind twisted her stomach. She shouldn’t find him attractive. She should be repulsed by the very thought of him. Especially after what happened in that locked room.
Oliver reappeared with the drinks, then dutifully took his own seat at the far table.
“Your cousin called me,” Celeste whispered. “Tristan said he’s been trying to get a hold of you.”
Megara pulled her phone from her purse. Henrik had been eager to get her out of the house when he returned from his meeting and had given her phone back without complaint.
“I don’t have any missed calls or texts.” Megara scrolled through the phone. “But Henrik probably deleted them.” She dropped the phone on the table. “Such an asshole.”
Celeste played with the cardboard sleeve around her cup. “Is he…I mean, he hasn’t hurt you, has he?” she asked quietly.
Megara took a sip of her tea. She’d never kept a secret from Celeste before, but confessing to the belting, the way he touched her, the fucking…she couldn’t. Not yet anyway. She still needed to process everything, because something was definitely not firing correctly in her brain. Where there should have been fear, there was annoyance. She wasn’t frightened of him. Not like she should be. It was wrong.
“Not like you’re thinking,” she said instead of giving all the sordid details. It sounded better than he whipped me with his belt, and when it was all over, my pussy was dripping for him. Can you imagine, Celeste? I went back to my room and fingered myself I was so turned on by his raw, animalistic behavior.
True as it was, she wasn’t divulging that much truth yet.
“Megara,” Celeste deadpanned. “Henrietta—”
Megara held up her hand to cut her off. “I know what he did to her. It’s because of her I’m stuck in this situation. If she’d been less selfish, less revenge-hungry, she would have avoided her death, and I could still be on my way to owning my own restaurant.”
Celeste’s smile fell. “You don’t really believe that, do you? Your father was never going to let that happen.”
The heaviness of her delusions rolled off her. “No. I guess not.” She took another sip of the hot tea. “I just wanted it so badly, to be more than a pawn in his games, I let myself believe it.”
“I know.” Celeste nodded. “He shouldn’t have let you dream so big when he had no plans to let you touch it. It’s like he dangled the world before you and yanked it away right when you were going to grab it.”
Emotion bubbled in Megara’s throat. “I was stupid and should have listened to Henrietta. She always told me we were just women and would be used however our families saw fit to benefit them.”
Celeste frowned. “That’s probably the most honest thing Henrietta ever said.”
“It’s not nice to talk bad about the dead,” Megara said, covering her smile with her coffee cup.
“It’s not talking bad if it’s true.”
Megara nodded. “I suppose.”
After checking over Megara’s shoulder, Celeste asked, “What about Tristan and Marco? They aren’t going to let this go, you know them.”
Oliver was far enough back, he couldn’t hear their conversation over the crowded cafe. At least Megara hoped.
“I know. I have to figure out something. If they make any sort of move on Henrik, he’ll kill them.” She paused. “How can I be married to a man who would kill my own family?”
Celeste eyed her silently for a long moment. “I heard once he killed a man with a single punch.”
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?” Megara chastised. She’d heard the same story. Henrik had delivered one single punch to a man’s face and killed him. A single punch! The man had a strength that knew no rival.
Celeste shrugged. “It’s not. I just want you to be careful. If your cousins cause trouble, it’s their trouble, Megara. Don’t interfere.”
“You think Henrik would kill me?” Megara asked with surprise. She already had evidence he’d hurt her if she didn’t behave how he wanted, but she hadn’t really considered he’d kill her.
“I think he’s strong enough and powerful enough to do whatever pleases him.”
Megara leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think he’d ever go that far,” she said. She couldn’t explain it, this certainty she had about it, but in her gut, she knew he wouldn’t do something like that. Not to her anyway.
“Just promise me you’ll be careful, okay? Don’t do anything…well, Megara-like.” Celeste’s lips twisted into a forced grin.
“Megara-like?” Megara laughed. “Like what?”
“Like try to run away again.” Celeste lowered her voice.
Megara sighed. “I won’t,” she promised. “That was foolish. I hadn’t thought it all the way through. I let Tristan and Marco get inside my head, and that won’t happen again.”
Celeste’s phone danced on the table. “I have to go soon. Franco’s coming for dinner tonight with his new girlfriend. He actually thinks Franco is going to marry this one.” She rolled her eyes. Celeste had been the highest graded student in the pastry classes.
“You don’t like her?”
“I haven’t met her, so I can’t really say. But Franco has kept her away for a while, so I think he likes her a lot.” Celeste’s shoulders fell. “Daddy’s also invited Benson Cardone to dinner.”
“Franco’s been friends with him forever, what makes you frown about it?”
She brought her gaze up to Megara’s. “Because I’m done with school now.” Celeste graduated alongside Megara with her business degree.
“He thinks Benson would make a good husband for you?” Megara chuckled.
Celeste checked her phone again and tucked it away in her purse. “Probably. The sooner I find a job and move out on my own, the better chance I have of avoiding his meddling.”
Megara tilted her head. “Now who’s chasing unrealistic dreams?”
Celeste’s father didn’t have as much power as Megara’s, but he played in the same circles. Celeste would have little say in the match made for her marriage if her father found someone who would boost his status. Living on her own or in his house wouldn’t change anything.
“When can I come over and meet your husband for real?” Celeste changed the subject, plastering on a smile.
“We’re supposed to have a celebration for our marriage since we didn’t have a real wedding. He hasn’t told me when, though.”
“He hasn’t told…Megara. I know I said not to do anything Megara-like, but I didn’t mean for you to roll over and let him walk all over you. If it’s your wedding celebration, you should plan it. Besides, he’s a guy. Men don’t care about stuff like that.” Celeste pulled her purse from the chair
beside her. “I have to get going, but call me tomorrow. We’ll start planning the party, okay?”
Megara hugged her tight. “Okay.”
“Good.” Celeste leaned to the side and wiggled her fingers at Oliver. “Will he be babysitting you every time?”
Megara laughed. “It’s possible. Henrik probably still thinks I’m going to bolt.”
Celeste tucked her purse strap over her shoulder. “Be careful, and be smart, Megara.” Celeste pressed a kiss to her cheek.
Megara watched her wiggle through the crowd and out of the café, then sank back into her chair.
Oliver slid into Celeste’s vacated seat.
“You don’t have to go back to the house for another hour. Do you want to do anything else this afternoon? There are a few shops on this street.”
Megara picked up her phone and tapped out a message to her cousins.
“I’d like to visit my cousins. They don’t live far from here,” she said after the quick response from Tristan hit her phone.
Oliver’s brow raised. “You’re sure?”
“Am I not allowed to see my family?”
“I wasn’t given that instruction,” Oliver conceded.
“Then, yes. I’m sure.”
“All right,” Oliver said, but it didn’t sound like it was all right. He sounded like she was about to make a mistake. But Celeste was right. She couldn’t just roll over and let Henrik walk all over her. She wouldn’t make things difficult for Henrik, but she wasn’t going to play the docile little wife either.
He wanted her.
And now, he had her.
All of her.
* * *
“You don’t have to come in,” Megara said to Oliver when she climbed out of the car. He shut the door behind her.
“Of course I do.” He smiled. “Henrik would be pissed if I let you go inside all alone.”
“They’re my cousins.” She waved her hand in frustration. “They won’t hurt me.” That was a job for her husband apparently.
“And they tried to help you run away once. You think he’ll be happy you’re even here?” Oliver buttoned his jacket. “I go with you, or you don’t go at all.”
Finding His Strength: The Dirty Heroes Collection Page 10
