Page 8 of Untamed Sinner

That's cop-speak for "we don't know what the fuck happened." Good. The less they know, the better. I wiped everything down, left no prints, no DNA. Pemberton's house is isolated enough that nobody heard anything. By the time they piece together his connection to Turner's network, I'll be long gone.

Assuming I live that long.

My phone vibrates. Swallowing the mouthful of donut, I glance at the screen and see Gabriel's name. I answer on the second ring.

"It's Thomas Ashford looking for you," he says without preamble.

I pause, coffee cup halfway to my lips. For years I’ve been trying to connect Ashford to Cole Turner’s trafficking ring. There’s been whispers of his activity and complicity but no evidence and no way to get close enough to him to get proof. Look up “elusive billionaire” in the dictionary and there’s a shadowed silhouette of Thomas Ashford.

I’ve spent the past ten years since Gabriel pulled me out of that nightmare hunting down anyone associated with Turner and his business. We got Turner finally five weeks ago—the man is currently a guest in one of Gabriel’s dungeons, hopefully pissing himself and cursing his existence—and I haven’t managed to tie Ashford to anything.

My pulse kicks up at the thought that this could be my break. Setting the coffee cup down, I lower my voice, careful not to repeat the Ashford name out loud. He’s based on the East Coast, but I’m not fool enough to think a man that rich and connected doesn’t have his dirty fingers in pots all over the country. "What does he want with me?"

"I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

God, I hope it’s because I’ve finally gotten too close to ignore. I’ve spent years trying to find a way into Ashford’s world, and now that arrogant bastard hires someone to deliver me to his front door. It’s like my birthday and Christmas all wrapped in one. "Does it matter? He won't find me.”

"Don't be too sure." Gabriel's voice is calm, measured. "He hired Hendricks."

My stomach drops. The café tilts sideways for a second, and I grip the edge of the table, trying to breathe while my brain attempts to process what Gabriel just said.

Hendricks.

Fuck.

I think about him chasing me, and my thighs clench. Then I think about what Hendricks does when he catches what he’s hunting, and they clench harder.

Fuck.

"Mandy?"

"I'm here." My voice comes out steady. Professional. Like my pulse isn't hammering and my hands aren't trembling. Like I don’t need to stick my fingers into my pants and relieve the sudden throbbing ache thinking about Hendricks coming after me.

"Why would Ashford want you, Mandy?" Gabriel asks point blank.

“Beats me.” It’s either because of someone I just took out, the questions I’ve been asking, or the notebook; otherwise, he’d have come after me long ago. I’ll need to go over the photos in there again. I’ll also have to check into Ashford’s social circle to see if I can find the girl there. I feel a jolt of hopeful energy.

“Why don’t I believe you?” Gabriel asks dryly.

“Because you’re suspicious,” I say. Really, it’s because he’s smart and he knows me.

Gabriel sighs heavily. "You aren’t hunting him, are you?"

"Should I be?" I ask carefully.

“You are. I knew it.”

I hear his expensive shoes clacking on tile and then a muffled command to someone before he returns his attention to me. “Well, it was nice knowing you, Mandy. See you in the next life.”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

“What kind of flowers would you like me to send to your funeral?”

“You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

"I’m a realist,” he said with uncharacteristic gravity. “You stepped into something bigger than you can handle. We're talking Thomas Ashford here." Gabriel exhales the way he does when he’s trying to keep his cool. "Mandy, my brother gives Ashford a wide berth, that's how scary the fucker is. And Ashford's hired Hendricks. He’s going to find you."

I mentally run through my options. There aren’t too many. "So what are you saying? That I should run?"