by Autumn Reed
I turned the page, not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when the girl pictured wasn’t Haley. It felt wrong, viewing such intimate photos—there were no statistics, no names, and no information beyond an item number and a photograph or two.
The subtleties of her body language, the flat look in her eyes and rigid posture, told me everything I needed to know. While most viewers probably wouldn’t pick up on it, or worse still, they’d get off on it, it was all I could see.
My fingers itched to hasten my progress and be done with this odious task, but I resisted. As I flipped through image after image, there was a sour taste in my mouth, and it wasn’t from the forty-year-old Scotch.
Nearing the end of the catalog, I turned the page and stopped cold. Haley was staring back at me, only it wasn’t the Haley I knew and loved. Dressed in a sheer white babydoll, her eyes were filled with anger, determination, and . . . fear.
I ground my teeth, forcing myself to take deep breaths and remain seated instead of ripping the portfolio to shreds. I wouldn’t get the answers I needed if I mauled the man across the room for daring to look at her in his own album. Closing my eyes, I swallowed hard, knowing I had to bide my time and play my cards right, not kill everyone in this room.
How had this happened? There were five of us looking after her, not to mention the fact that Haley was more than capable of defending herself. Yet, we had failed her. I had failed her.
Fuck. I wanted to smash something, someone. When a second man in black appeared, and the bouncer moved to leave, I waited a few moments before seizing my opportunity. Despite his head start, I followed the bouncer down a series of corridors, careful to keep my distance, even as he slipped through an unmarked door. His footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and I was grateful he hadn’t taken the lift, which was more likely to be monitored by camera. Still, it was a risk, and I crept down after him, hoping my recollection of the blueprints was correct.
When I emerged into a back alley, I wondered where he’d gone, until I noticed wisps of smoke from behind the dumpsters. After he’d stubbed out his cigarette, I snuck up behind him, locking my arm around his neck and holding the other behind his back. He struggled against me, but I tightened my hold and he eventually relented.
“What do you want?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“Answers,” I spat. “The girls in the auction, where are they?”
“Fuck if I know, man. Why do you care? Judging from your fancy accent, you have the money to buy whichever one you want come Friday.”
“I’m only going to ask this one more time,” I said in a tone I didn’t recognize. “Where the fuck are they?”
When he didn’t immediately respond, I twisted his arm to the point that he let out a pained yelp. “All right, shit. There’s a house outside the city where the girls are held. But, I don’t know where it is,” he hastened to add.
“You sure about that?”
“Yeah, man, I’m sure. I don’t know anything else. I swear.”
Convinced he was telling the truth, I loosened my hold and shoved him toward the dumpster. I straightened my suit and tie before striding off in the direction of my car, certain he wouldn’t report me. What would he have to gain in doing so? At the very least, he’d get sacked. At worst, well, knowing the kind of organization DuBois ran, I could only guess.
I pulled a second fob from my pocket and slid into my car. The valet could keep my spare key, for all I cared; Chase would just program another.
I sped away from Rendezvous, even though I was in no rush to update the guys . . . and Haley’s father. I cringed. I still didn’t think he cared for me, for any of us. If we couldn’t guarantee her safety, how would he ever trust us with her heart?
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel as I sped down the highway toward Uncle’s. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A house outside the city? That could be anywhere.
The one good thing to come from the evening was that Haley’s photograph confirmed she was alive. Alive, but what horrors had she been subjected to?
Although I could certainly “win” her at the auction, it was too far away. Basically, we were back at square one. Only now, I was going to be haunted by the image of Haley in that bloody negligee. More than ever, I regretted not telling her I loved her when I had the opportunity. I just hoped I’d be granted another chance.
25
Unraveling
Chase
I cupped my hands over my ears as I attempted to tune out the chaos around me. Jackson was deep in conversation with Stephen, his polite demeanor belying the hostility beneath the surface. Patrick stood between them, clearly trying to defuse the situation before it got completely out of hand. Theo was sulking in an armchair, staring blankly ahead. Did none of them realize I was trying to concentrate?
“And you believed him?” Knox growled as he entered the room with Liam on his heels. “Maybe if you hadn’t downed so much Scotch, we would have more to go on than ‘a house outside the city.’”
“First of all.” Liam jabbed Knox’s chest with his finger. “It’s called playing the part. And, secondly,” he said with another jab, “if you had seen the bloody photo, you would have been doing a hell of a lot more than downing Scotch.”
Sick and tired of the bickering, the finger-pointing, I shoved my chair back, nearly knocking it over in the process. Without a word, I stalked out of the room and headed for the backyard. Lit from beneath the water, the pool glowed in the dark, and I paced the grass beside it.
The guys could play the blame game all they wanted, but when it came down to it, I was the one who had failed Haley. I could hack into federal databases or reprogram emergency alert systems, but I’d been unable to ascertain her location.
DuBois was remarkably clever, and I had underestimated him. Trying to parse through all the various corporations and entities of his empire was like hitting my head against a brick wall. I should have expected it; it wasn’t possible to operate at that level and evade being caught without some degree of evil genius.
Evil genius. I laughed to myself, crazed from little sleep and long hours spent scanning page after page of information—property records, business holdings, anything I could get my hands on. It was like trying to unravel a ball of yarn with no end.
I scrubbed my hands over my head, tugging on my hair. I was missing something. I had to be.
My mind kept circling back to Grant Perrin, especially his abrupt career change. By all accounts, he was a model employee. Then, after six years of working for Zenith, he up and quit. He wasn’t fired, he didn’t request medical leave, and I sure as heck wouldn’t consider working as a henchman for DuBois a promotion.
Perrin seemed to have left the company on good terms, so why did he and Kenneth elect to meet in a park? Why not catch up over dinner, or at the very least, drinks? Probably because they had something to hide.
When questioned about their meeting, Kenneth feigned innocence, sticking to his story that they were merely “catching up.” His responses were defensive, inconsistent. He denied knowing that Perrin was working for DuBois. Yet, he seemed convinced that if Haley was taken by DuBois’s organization, she would end up at Rendezvous. Why?
Kenneth had never even visited the club, as far as I could tell, and he’d had plenty of opportunities during this stay and others. He was also quick to tell Patrick that DuBois owned it through a shell corporation. It had taken me considerable effort to discover that link, and yet, Kenneth stated it like it was common knowledge.
In my mind, it was all connected, and it all circled back to Rendezvous. A bouncer from Rendezvous was linked to Perrin. Perrin knew Kenneth. Kenneth told us about Rendezvous. Rendezvous had a picture of Haley in the auction catalog, just as Kenneth predicted. It was almost as if he’d known she’d be there. My gut churned.
Nothing added up, including the circumstances surrounding her disappearance. I’d dusted the Jeep for prints inside and out, and the only ones I found belonged to Haley or one of us. There had bee
n no signs of forced entry, no vandalism. Although we couldn’t rule out the possibility that she had driven there under duress, or that the kidnappers had moved the car, it seemed unlikely.
According to Kenneth, she was assigned a building across town from where the Jeep was found. We’d accepted his statement at face value, not stopping to question why Haley would end up at a completely different address. Because we’ve been scrambling to find her, I thought.
Although I couldn’t prove it, I was beginning to suspect she’d gone there willingly. There was no way she’d intentionally sabotage her own assignment, especially not after she’d worked so hard. Which left only one conclusion: Kenneth was lying.
We’d been so focused on the DuBois angle, infiltrating Rendezvous and culling through his property records for an address, that we’d discounted Kenneth’s role. No more.
My first instinct was to communicate my suspicions to Jackson and wait for further instructions. But just this one time, I needed to take control of the situation without asking for permission or even forgiveness.
I marched back into the house and swiped my keys from the desk. Liam and Knox were still arguing, and Jackson’s voice had joined the fray. Patrick and Stephen had disappeared, and Theo remained catatonic.
“Where are you going?” Knox called.
“To press Kenneth. He’s lying,” I said on my way out the door. They could follow me or not.
I rushed out to my SUV, speeding toward the training center. My tires screeched as I took a corner in the parking garage, pulling into the first spot I saw and not caring if I was straight. I jogged through the labyrinth of halls to the hidden “panic room” where Kenneth was being held, only slowing as I approached Logan.
Sitting in a chair outside the door, he set his book aside when he heard me coming. “What’s up?”
“I need to speak with Kenneth.” I punched in the code to unlock the door, not waiting for his response. His voice was muffled as the door sealed behind me.
Kenneth turned to face me from across the room; his eyes were tired, his expression guarded. After three days of being holed up in a steel box with no sunlight, he was a wrinkled, unshaven mess. Good.
I took the room in two strides, nearly lunging for him. He let out a satisfying oomph as I pinned him to the concrete wall. He smelled like shit, and it wasn’t because he hadn’t showered in days.
“To what do I owe this pleasure?” he sneered. He tried to shove me off, but I held firm.
“Why did you have Haley kidnapped?” I was acting on a hunch, and if I hadn’t been inches from his face, I probably would have missed the rapid flutter of his eyelashes.
“You know, I wouldn’t have expected this from you, Chase. Knox, definitely, but not you.” He put on a brave front, but I saw the flash of fear in his eyes.
“Talk.” I tightened my grip around his neck, fighting the urge to squeeze. The more he stalled, the angrier I became. “Now.”
“I wanted to take down DuBois’s human trafficking ring, and I needed someone on the inside.” Well, that was . . . not what I expected.
“Are you saying Haley agreed to this?”
He looked away, his tone genuinely remorseful when he said, “No.”
“Do you know where she is?” I ground my teeth.
“No,” he said in a softer voice. “Perrin was supposed to figure that out by now.”
“Ahhh.” I lifted my chin. “So, your meeting in the park was a little more than you let on.”
“We’ve been working together to infiltrate DuBois’s organization, but his progress had stalled.”
“You decided to use Haley as bait.” It wasn’t a question, and I was seconds away from strangling him with my bare hands. “Knowing they wouldn’t be able to resist including her in the auction.”
“Yes.”
“You sick fuck,” Knox roared as he and Jackson came barreling into the room.
I dropped my hands from Kenneth’s neck just in time for Knox to rear his arm back and punch the bastard. Kenneth fell to the floor, blood gushing from his nose. Knox forced Kenneth to his feet, pinning his arms behind his back.
“Good work, Chase,” Jackson said, his eyes on Kenneth the entire time.
“I’d just like to say that I wouldn’t have sent Haley in if I didn’t think she was capable of rising to the challenge.”
“Isn’t that nice. We’ll tell her that once we, you know, find her. I’m sure it will make up for everything she’s had to endure thanks to you.” Jackson was seething. I’d never seen him so incensed. If Knox hadn’t already gotten a punch in, I was sure Jackson would have. Even now, he was struggling to rein in his temper.
Jackson smoothed his hair away from his face and straightened, his authoritative mask sliding back into place. “You’re going to tell us everything,” he said calmly.
Kenneth hung his head, blood dripping down his face and onto the floor. “About a year ago, I reached out to Perrin about working undercover. He was interested in the assignment, and we agreed it would be best for him to resign from Zenith. I would pay his salary, plus a generous bonus, off-the-books.
“I gave him information I knew would be attractive to DuBois, thus giving Perrin an ‘in’ and buying him some loyalty.” Now that the dam had broken, Kenneth’s secrets seemed to be spilling out of him.
“What was the information?”
He wouldn’t meet any of our eyes. “That Brian Taylor was still alive.”
Son of a bitch. I clenched my fists, gratified when Kenneth let out a yelp. I gave Knox an appreciative nod.
Even though we’d gone to great lengths to remove any references to Haley in her father’s file, I still wondered if Kenneth was aware of their relationship. I waited for Jackson to ask the questions, deferring to his judgment of how to handle such a delicate matter. Based on the fact that Haley was included in the catalog, I didn’t think DuBois was holding her hostage to lure her father out of hiding, but we couldn’t rule it out.
“Did you or Perrin give DuBois any other ‘useful’ information?” Jackson’s jaw ticked. “Any other classified Zenith documents?”
“No. This wasn’t about damaging Zenith. It was about seeing justice done.”
“Justice on your terms. Hmm, that sounds familiar.” He glanced at both me and Knox, and I was certain we were all thinking the same thing—The Elites.
“Was Perrin the only off-the-books operative?”
Kenneth hesitated before answering, and Knox tightened his grip, producing another pained yelp. “No.”
“Were The Elites also conducting extracurricular activities on your orders?”
“Yes.”
“Are any of the other regional directors aware of, or involved in, any of these vigilante assignments?”
“No.”
It went that way, back and forth, Jackson asking questions and Kenneth answering them. The fight had gone out of him long ago, and Kenneth told us everything we wanted to know, from how he’d started The Elites to Perrin’s efforts to take down DuBois. The discovery of The Elites had been shocking, but this new development would rock Zenith to its core.
“One more question,” Jackson said, clearly exhausted. We all were. “Why?”
“For Amelia.”
We all knew the story of Kenneth’s sister and her kidnapping and subsequent murder, even if it wasn’t widely shared. Despite his flaws, I grudgingly admired his dedication to her memory. It didn’t excuse what he’d done, but it made him more . . . human.
Knox, Jackson, and I were silent as we walked to the parking lot. This entire situation was a blow—to the company, and more importantly, to Patrick. Suddenly, Ethan’s betrayal didn’t seem so bad.
Yet, we still didn’t know Haley’s location. While I could empathize with Kenneth’s desire to seek retribution for his sister, I vowed that, unlike him, I would not let the tragedies of my past control my future. I would find Haley, and I would ensure that DuBois got what was coming to him. The right way.
> 26
Determined
Haley
Leaning against the wall next to the window, I subtly put my finger to my lips, hoping to signal Carmen to stay quiet without being too obvious. I had no idea if the guards monitored us regularly through the video cameras, but I didn’t want to risk it.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires alerted me that a vehicle was coming up the driveway, or what I assumed was a driveway. About a minute later, I heard what I’d come to recognize as a manual garage door opening then closing once another minute had passed. Since the sounds seemed to echo from quite a distance away, I was almost positive it was a detached garage.
Ever since my hellish photo shoot yesterday, I was determined to come up with a concrete escape plan. I couldn’t take the chance that something worse would happen to me or the other women if we waited for a rescue that may never happen. It wasn’t that I’d lost faith in the guys—I knew they would never give up—but I had to get out, especially now that I suspected DuBois was behind everything.
Wishing I could put it all to pen and paper, I made a mental list of my observations since the beginning of my captivity. Apart from the man who’d seemed vaguely familiar and Javier, the photographer, I’d still only encountered the same three guards. However, I’d never seen more than two of them at a time. Considering that two vehicles arrived around 8:00 AM every day and one left shortly after, that had to be their morning shift change. The same thing happened at 8:00 PM, except one vehicle arrived and two departed.
It was reasonable to infer that two guards were on duty during the day and one each night. All of our meals and bathroom breaks occurred between 8:00 AM and 8:00 PM, which meant the lone guard never had to deal with his prisoners. It was a crappy system for the guards, since it meant they often had to work twenty-four hours straight. Of course, they probably slept while on duty, so I wasn’t exactly feeling sorry for them. Not to mention the whole holding me captive issue.
