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Thing is, I do have them lined up.
The Collectors have Dakota.
That’s the only fucking fact worth anything.
I sit opposite him on the Black Ops stealth boat I’ve gotten my hands on. Malone doesn’t know it, but he’s about to get the fuck off.
My life? I don’t give a shit. His? Better he knows nothing of the plan in my head. We’ve spent hours from the moment we got on the boat working magic.
Well, he’s been working his Malone magic. I’ve just been making threats, smashing jaws, waving a gun around.
Whatever gets results.
“Got anything?” he asks. He keeps checking his phone since he’s waiting for a call.
Smith’s already given me the go-ahead to do whatever it takes to save Dakota from those depraved fuckers. He had to. I’m doing it with or without his agreement, anyway. But he’s going to give Malone a bogus tip, and as soon as he’s off the fucking boat, I’m out of here.
I’m half convinced Malone’s worked that out and isn’t saying a word. There’s something in how he looks at me. But I don’t have much left to give in the arena of caring beyond getting my girl back.
“Island is shuttered according to satellite footage, and no boats are getting in or out. They did get a shipment of men with guns, though.” I look out at the water as we wait for the sun to sink. “So something’s going on. Or will be.”
“Shit.”
“Any word on the art guy?” I ask.
“Brutus?”
“No. The other one.”
“The one in LA? I’ll make sure someone’s on him?—”
He stops as his phone rings. He answers, listens silently, then hangs up.
Malone looks up at me, his eyebrows knitted together. “Two things. First, they’re definitely watching the water. So your approach needs to be strategic. Second, apparently the social media world is consumed with her disappearance. Someone leaked it. And not Smith. He was just on the phone and not happy about it at all.”
“It’ll be her little friend,” I mutter, checking my high-powered gun. I checked the smaller weapons on me earlier.
He holds out his phone. “See? There’s an auction. There’s one tonight, too, but this one listed? For tomorrow? It’s big.”
He doesn’t have to fucking say it.
We’re both thinking the same thing: Dakota.
And right or wrong, she’ll be up there, sold to the highest bidder.
The dark fury licks flames up in my guts.
“Is that the second thing?” I ask.
“No. But I know you’re bolting the minute I leave. So let’s cut the crap and take me with you. I can stay with the boat.”
I stand. “Not on your fucking life.”
“And if something happens to you? She’s as good as dead.” He doesn’t move.
Gritting my teeth, I give a stiff nod. “Fine. But you’re staying on the boat.”
“Deal.”
