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"They're like millionaires or something," James said.
I bit down hard on my lip.
"They get together and they – " he paused with the word fuck clearly lined up to exit but thought the better of it. "They have like orgies and stuff."
And now he sounded ten again.
"Wait, what?" I asked. Because how many of these things could there be?
He spat out details then, about a bunch of rich guys who met in different houses around the valley and hired hookers – "Prostitutes," Jenna corrected; she was going to make someone a truly irritating wife someday – and had sex auctions and everything.
Shit.
"If they're all consenting, who the hell cares?" I asked. "Is there money changing hands for services or are they all in it for the fun?"
That won me a curious look from Julie, who seemed rather offended by the whole thing. I ignored it.
"It's not all consenting," James said, sitting back, satisfied. "Some of the girls are being sold."
"Then it is trafficking," someone said.
"No, but it's illegal. They're not selling them outside their own group."
There was silence for a moment, then two people said at the same time, "That doesn't make any sense."
Tell me about it, I thought. And then, Oh, Cole, damn it.
It took very little work to get the details out of James, all that he had. Which were all of them. When the raid was going to take place (in about a week). And why (because it's illegal to sell people, of course, weren't you listening, Brooke?). And because someone had gotten inside and knew where they were meeting next.
Some crazy compound out in the middle of the fucking southern Nevada desert, all rural and nowhere and super high tech anyway. Amazing, right?
Damn it, Cole.
I had a number for him but he didn't pick up. Of course he didn't. He was the billionaire CEO of an international pharma company. But I hadn't picked up his calls, so he wasn't going to pick up mine.
Because the billionaire CEO of the big pharma company was apparently twelve.
I didn't know how to get there. It wasn't like I could get a cab and tell it to take me to his house. I'd been taken there in a variety of ways, none of them convenient.
I'd been taken there blindfolded in a black SUV.
I'd been taken out of there blindfolded in a black SUV, unaware because I'd been drugged unconscious.
I'd been taken there from Seattle by helicopter because Kie wanted me to get there fast so I could watch her decide whether or not to kill St. Martin. Or me. Or both of us.
I'd run there once from Vegas itself.
Looked like I was going to have to do that again. It made me feel silly. But I could drive around the desert for some time without finding him. Those people not from Nevada have no idea how vast the state is and how much of it is unpopulated, beautiful and barren. I could run the distance in a couple hours and find the compound. I couldn't drive there or I'd have rented a car. But the area was completely rural, undeveloped and beautiful. I loved running there. I couldn't bear to be the person driving over the native plants. And maybe a tiny bit of me was stalling on getting there and asking in person, What the fuck, Cole?
What the fuck, Cole.
Sir.
10
Cole
There are two ways to deal with failure.
