The FBI guy both criminals had leverage on was free and clear of them now. But if they’d had one, could they have another? Jaxon was pretty certain he’d seen a few cops in the VIP area, which meant their personal interests were in keeping attention away from the Swan Palace.
Jaxon hated the idea of skirting the law, but the way he saw things, Yuri had too much to lose if there was a bust on the Swan Palace. He had to have a contingency plan, and whatever that was, it would kill people. Shelby was right. They had to be better than Yuri at his own game.
“All right, what can you tell us about our guy, Shelby?” Ian finished his beer and set the glass on the bar.
Shelby blew out a breath and pushed a hand back, over her hair, and tugged on her ponytail. “Yuri Gabor, he was born in the Ukraine—”
“Wait—Yuri Gabor?” Ian’s eyes widened.
“I hope there’s not another one. Why? You heard of him?” Shelby asked.
“Fuck. Yeah. Go on.” Ian shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest.
Jaxon had a bad feeling about this. Ian’s background before he came to the US was working for the UN as a sort of international detective.
“He was part of a Ukraine crime syndicate. He sweet talked his way into being the top guy’s go-to person for supplying whatever his current taste was. Yuri outgrew him.” Shelby glanced at Ian. “What do you know?”
“We’re talkin’ about what I remember.” Ian scrubbed his hand across his jaw. “I was workin’ this case and we arrested this guy in Germany. Ukrainian gangster. Old timer. Used to be somebody. He was real bitter about a young upstart who ruined them.”
“It was Yuri?” Jaxon asked.
“Yeah, seems like he was some sort of gofer, then they turned him into a business and he took it over from the old guys. That’s all I knew about him until now. I didn’t even realize it was the same guy.” Ian shrugged.
“I’ve heard of him, too,” Aunt Liv said. She braced her forearms on the bar and stared at nothing, her expression haunted. “When I was working in Amsterdam, we’d warn the red-light girls about a man hiring them for jobs no one came back from.”
“When was that?” Shelby asked.
“Maybe...fifteen, twenty years ago?” Aunt Liv shrugged.
“That would be about the right time. He’s spread out since then.” Shelby sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “He moved from the eastern bloc into Europe, but there were too many already-established people for him to set up shop there. Gabor came to the US and has been the go-to guy for all of North America. If you want something badly enough, if you want someone to clean up after you, Gabor is your guy.”
Kade hugged Shelby to him, kissing her temple.
“It sounds like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” Ian said.
“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just ignore what’s going on.” Owen paced back and forth.
“Dude.” Blake turned, addressing Owen directly. “What’s more important? Following the rules? Or getting these girls back safely?”
“I want Yuri to pay,” Jaxon blurted out.
“We get Freya and her sister, then Owen can make the call.” Shelby glanced at the detective. “We aren’t asking you to let him get away, just...let us work a little before you do. If Jaxon can find out what Gabor’s exit strategy is, maybe we could really get him.”
“Yuri has a private elevator,” Jaxon said. Besides Yuri’s office, that was the only off limits area in the club.
“This isn’t an FBI sting, it’s a couple of people being vigilantes.” Owen put his hands on his hips. Even without his badge, he still breathed cop.
“Then maybe you need to leave, man,” Blake said.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.
Owen and Blake stared at each other, some sort of nonverbal communication going back and forth.
Jaxon didn’t want to further fracture the friends, but his priority had to be Freya and Michelle. In this situation, he agreed with Shelby. A whiff of the feds and Yuri would be gone, likely with both girls.
“I see how it is.” Owen smiled, but it wasn’t a happy gesture. It was tight, strained. Someday very soon that powder keg was going to blow, and it wouldn’t be pretty.
No one spoke a word as Owen saw himself out.
The back door banged shut.
“Sorry, guys.” Blake glanced around.
“You were right.” Ian lifted a shoulder. “Sometimes you get more done workin’ outside the lines. Not always.”
“What do we do now?” Jaxon asked.
“I’ll make some calls. I bet Rusty will be willing to talk to me. Off the record, of course.” Shelby glanced at Jaxon then Kade. Her former FBI handler had become caught in a similar bind. His lover held hostage to manipulate the federal agent. He’d been Ogden’s inside guy.
“I’ll get you a burner with bells and whistles.” Ian stood and stretched. “I’ll see what I can find out about Michelle, get with Zach to fill in what holes we have.”
“What should I be doing?” Jaxon wanted to go straight back to the Swan Palace and sit outside.
“Get some rest.” Ian slipped his coat on. “I doubt we’ll get much sleep once we find out more about her sister. Everyone else, stay on call. It’s late, so check in tomorrow.”
“I wish I could go in there with you.” Shelby’s face was a mask of pain.
“Gabor knows your face,” Kade said.
“Yeah, I know. I just...wish she wasn’t alone in there, you know?” She blew out a breath and stared at Jaxon. “It’s good you’ll be on the inside with her.”
Aunt Liv circled the bar and squeezed Jaxon without offering further comment. One by one they trickled out, until Jaxon couldn’t think of a reason to stick around.
He needed to go home. Sleep. Study. Something. But his head was buzzing.
He’d found Freya and he couldn’t help her.
Jaxon headed out to his car, only to find Zach waiting for him.
Besides Erik’s Jeep, they were all that was left.
“What? Find something?” Jaxon could hope.
“No, I was just...” Zach hefted his laptop back higher up on his shoulder.
“If you learn something let me know.”
“Do you want to come over?” Zach scrubbed his hand across his face. They used to do that. Hang out at Zach’s place with his crazy cats. Without the others and the noise. “I mean, I imagine this is stressful and you might want to... I don’t know... Talk?”
“Would I be in the way?” Jaxon asked. It was time to put his hang-ups about what he didn’t know about Zach’s past to rest.
“No.” Zach glanced over his shoulder, frowning
“I need to pick up some things. Be over in an hour?”
“Sure thing.”
Zach had—was—risking more than anyone realized to help. That was the kind of loyalty Jaxon understood. Maybe Zach would trust Jaxon with the truth someday. All of it. But tonight, it would be nice to have his friend back.
5.
Freya belted the robe around her waist and shuffled toward the windows. The passage of time was hard to gauge. No clocks. Tinted windows. Little outside interaction. She couldn’t tell time by looking at the sky, and even if she could, today was cloudy and overcast. At best guess, it was sometime around mid-morning. They didn’t even allow her pen or paper so she could mark the days.
She hated being cooped up. Not knowing when or where she was. Even during the last year, working at clubs, she’d kept something of a schedule. She didn’t lounge around all day until it was time to go to work. She’d done things. Jogging. Yoga. She’d volunteered a few times at a shelter. Anything to keep her from getting mired inside her head.
Jaxon was out there somewhere.
He knew where she was.
And if she were lucky, he’d be back tonight.
She’d have to survive another meeting with Charles at the very least.
Last night, after Yuri showed her
the live video of Michelle, Freya had pretty much accepted she was done for. That she’d tell Charles she’d marry him, and then...her life would become hell. She’d never see her family again, Jaxon, her friends. She might as well be dead. But now? Now, she had a chance. If Jaxon could find Michelle, then maybe everything would work out. Freya had to believe. She needed to see things working out all right for her sister, even if it was terrifying just being here.
Before Freya had honed in on forensic anthropology as her education focus, she’d filled her head with cultural studies. From an academic standpoint, she understood that what was happening to her was the same thing that’d been going on for centuries. It wasn’t until recently that women had begun to be viewed as more than property. She was simply a commodity. It was the law of supply and demand that put her here.
She didn’t have to like it, but she understood. Powerful men wanted what they wanted.
Yuri Gabor was just the delivery system.
People like Charles would get what they wanted, one way or another, or at least that’s what he’d like to think.
The entry door beeped in the next room.
Every morning, the same woman brought Freya breakfast. Sometimes it was cooked downstairs, other times it was some fast food fare. The woman never stuck around and didn’t speak—or look—at Freya. She had to wonder who the woman was, why she did what she did. If it was willingly, or if Yuri had something on her, too.
“Your breakfast is getting cold. Come.”
Freya whirled around at that voice.
Yuri stood in the doorway, that awful smirk on his face.
She bit her lip to keep from saying anything. From here on out, she had to be incredibly careful what she said and did around him.
“I must be coming up in the world, if you’re delivering my meals yourself.” Freya pushed her shoulders back and forced herself to walk toward Yuri.
He turned and preceded her to the small, two-person table in the main room.
A tray bearing two breakfast omelets, fruit and coffee waited for them.
Freya’s stomach growled, betraying her resolve to keep her distance.
She had to eat, and knowing Yuri as she’d come to, he’d probably take the whole spread with him out of spite if she didn’t.
Yuri pulled out her seat, playing the gentleman.
Why was he here? There had to be a reason. It wasn’t as if he sought her out because he enjoyed her company. She was pretty sure Yuri didn’t like people, that he saw everyone with two legs as either a commodity or a customer. Those who didn’t fit either category were useless to him.
She picked up the fork while Yuri sat. He didn’t touch the silverware. He merely leaned back, observing her. She rolled the fork in her hand.
Was it the food? Had he done something to it?
It wouldn’t make sense to poison her, at least not to kill her. He’d expended too much money to keep her alive. Then what was it?
Had Michelle done something? Was she okay?
No, if his leverage on her was harmed in any way it would be detrimental to his power over her to tell her. Michelle must be fine.
Jaxon.
Did Yuri know?
She swallowed, and sweat broke out along her spine and under her arms.
No, she couldn’t think about Jaxon. If she did, then Yuri would begin to suspect her if he already didn’t.
“To what do I owe this honor?” She cut off a bite and proceeded to eat. If she was going to fight back or escape, she needed to eat.
“Charles called this morning. He was exceedingly pleased with your performance last night.”
“He—what?” She stared at Yuri. Performance?
Yuri poured them both coffee, as if by breaking the silence she’d flipped some sort of switch.
“Charles likes a challenge. You are what he’s looking for. Spirited. Beautiful. Educated. Well-bred.”
“What am I, a race horse, now?”
Yuri chuckled and picked up his silverware.
She wanted to chunk the pot of coffee at him, but experience had taught her that Yuri could be cruel.
“You may have endeared yourself to Charles last night with your defiance, but I would not recommend an encore.” Yuri ended the statement with a bite, leaving Freya on pins and needles.
“Oh?” She hadn’t acted, it wasn’t like she was pretending, she’d simply been herself.
“Charles will return tonight. You have six more chances, but I would not advise you to wait much longer. This is the man who holds your future in his hands. How long that is, now that’s up to him. He seems to think you’re special to him. My advice? Hold onto that. Make that your truth. Be special to him, and you’ll live. Piss him off, and you’ll likely die.”
Freya opened and closed her mouth. As a modern woman, it was nearly impossible to wrap her head around this fate, that she was a prisoner to be passed from person to person. She wasn’t unaware that her treatment so far wasn’t precisely bad, and it could be worse. In her gut, she knew Charles was worse.
“What about my sister?” Freya asked.
“Michelle is being taken care of.”
“Where is she? What are you doing to her?”
“Nothing. That’s the beauty of it.” Yuri pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “Michelle believes that she has found a new sugar daddy, someone who will pamper her, put her up, buy her things.”
Freya peered at the image of her twin sister cocooned in a white, fluffy bed by herself. They were being kept in nearly the same style, it seemed, but for vastly different purposes.
Michelle was unhurt. She was safe. For now.
But where was she?
The balcony blinds were drawn back, and outside she could see a bit of the beach. Water. Somewhere near the coast? Close by?
Yuri pulled the phone back before she could pick out anything unusual about the landscape.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Freya asked.
“You don’t, but if you want to try me, be my guest. Your sister is rather...irritating.” Yuri’s lips twisted up in a not altogether pleasant fashion.
Yeah, he must have spent some time with Michelle.
Freya cared about her sister. She was hard-wired that way, but she wasn’t sure she loved the person Michelle had grown up to be. They were twins. For so much of their lives, all they’d had was each other. At some point during their adolescences, Michelle had made a choice, a willful decision about herself. She wanted to let other people do the heavy lifting for her. To always be the victim. It was at that fork that they’d parted in a fundamental way, but they would always be sisters.
The door beeped again.
Yuri glanced up, frowning, as a man Freya hadn’t seen before stepped in.
“What happened?” Yuri asked.
“Sorry, sir.” The man never glanced her way. “The guys found Donny, but they can’t get to him yet.”
“Then why are you here? Tell me when you have actual news to share.”
“It’s just—sir? A word?” The man gestured at the door.
“Fine.” Yuri pushed to his feet and buttoned his jacket.
Who was Donny?
Why did Yuri want him?
What was going on out there?
Freya cut up several more bites of food, wolfing her meal down while her mind turned the problem over.
It stood to reason that an organization like Yuri’s would have issues. They were criminals, making a buck off others. Loyalty wouldn’t be the strongest.
Her gaze fell onto Yuri’s barely-touched plate.
She licked a bit of the omelet off her finger.
What the hell?
Freya leaned over, and channeling that part of her that would always be a mirror image of Michelle, spat on Yuri’s omelet. She used the spoon to smear the saliva around. It was petty and childish, but she had to fight back in whatever manner she could.
Jaxon would be there tonight. Maybe they’d find Michelle soon? An
d then this could all be a dream. A bad dream, but a dream nonetheless.
“It looks like a normal prepaid phone.” Jaxon rolled the block of a phone over in his hand.
“Good.” Ian leaned against the bar. “It has a passive trackin’ device, so even if she turns it off—which I’d recommend in case they do sweeps—it should keep us appraised of where she’s at so long as she can keep it on her.”
“How much is this going to cost me?” Jaxon braced himself for a number.
“Nothin’. Consider it part of the friends and family package.”
“Ian, man, come on. I can’t take this. It’s worth—what? Couple hundred?”
“An’ I’m tellin’ you, nothin’.” Ian tossed a couple bills onto the bar for his lunch and stood. “Gotta get back to the office. I’m runnin’ down leads on where your girl’s sister might be, but it’s a needle in a fuckin’ haystack.”
“Were you able to do a background check on her? Or Freya?”
“I was, but you ain’t goin’ to like it.”
“Just tell me.”
“Michelle’s a bit of a freeloader.”
“How?”
“Judgin’ by what I was able to come up with, she’s a fan of living off her boyfriends.”
Jaxon frowned. That couldn’t be more dissimilar from Freya. Even when she’d mentioned hard times, it was always in the frame of what she was doing about it. To change things.
“Trackin’ Michelle’s difficult because she uses resources not tied to her own name. Best I can figure out from her social media footprint, she was in Orlando, then Chicago, until about a week ago. She’s still postin’ things, or someone’s doin’ it for her, but there aren’t any more location tags. Could be she got smart, turned off her GPS. Pretty girl like that usually has some unwanted attention. If you can talk to Freya at all, get us somethin’ more to go on, that’d be useful.”
“Freya’s been gone for almost six weeks. What’s she going to know about where her sister is?”
“Maybe Gabor mentioned something?” Ian shrugged and zipped up his coat. “He doesn’t know she has a line to the outside world now. He could have said too much.”
Jaxon nodded, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. Freya was a fighter. People noticed when she left. When she wasn’t there. Wouldn’t Michelle be the easier sister to make disappear?
Bad Boy Prince: A Modern Fairy Tale (Twisted Royals Book 3) Page 6
