Page 6 of Ash Storm

Ash’s eyes burned. His nails curled into his palms.

“What do you want us to do?” Dark said, stepping in smoothly.

“I’ve exercised as much political pressure as I dared, hoping the women would be returned unharmed,” Reynolds said. “If I keep pushing, I’m worried it might have the opposite …”

He didn’t need to finish that sentence.

“You want us to get your niece back,” Ash said.

“I want you to get Reka back,” Reynolds confirmed, “and I want you to kill Afsan.”

No euphemisms this time.

“What if he doesn’t have the women?”

Thorne shrugged. “He’s still a monster. The kind of man who should be on our list. The kind of man you’ve been tasked with bringing down.” He paused, his expression solemn. “But if Reka and her friend are alive, getting to them is the priority.”

Ash’s body tingled with an urgency that was unexpected but welcome. As far as he was concerned, they couldn’t leave soon enough.

In his mind, he saw a move he hadn’t previously considered, a way to force black to capture the white bishop, thereby opening the black king up for a new wave of attack. It was a truly beautiful endgame idea.

Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made.

“How do we find him?” he asked.

* * *

Ash

"Reynolds went back to D.C.,” Thorne said, walking back into the conference room.

“Jesus,” Rogue said. “Poor man.”

Ash wondered at Reynold’s control, that he’d trusted them to get this done—to get his niece back. Perhaps he’d realized he would only be in the way if he stayed.

“What have you found?” Thorne asked, sitting down. He’d rolled up his shirt sleeves, which for him was the height of informality, as far as Ash could tell. Thorne always looked like he was ready to dine with royalty.

“Pascale and Carrie shared the intel you and Reynolds had on Ahmet Afsan, and Rogue did some additional research,” Dark began. “Afsan travels a lot, but every year around this time spends several weeks in one of his palaces on the Bosphorous. That’s where he is now.”

“Do you think that’s significant?”

Dark nodded. “We do. Credit card invoices from the last several years show a spike in top shelf alcohol and gourmet food purchases delivered to this address.”

“You hacked into his bank account?” Thorne asked.

“Do you really want to know?” Rogue countered.

Thorne shook his head quickly.

“Please go on.”

“The things he’s ordering are the sorts of things one would order for a grand party, except there’s no record of such a party happening. No mention of it in the press, or on social media. Nothing. Which makes me think this isn’t a normal party.”

“You think it has something to do with the women?”

“It’s all conjecture at this point. But if Afsan is making a name for himself in the human trafficking market, maybe this is part of how he’s doing it. Maybe once a year he invites some special friends over, and maybe he shares some women with them, to cement the relationship.” Rogue shrugged. “Or it could be something a lot more prosaic.”

Thorne scrunched his face and pulled something out of his pocket, bringing it quickly to his mouth and chewing fiercely.

If that’s antacid, I’d like some too.

Ash’s own stomach had been churning ever since he had seen Reka Evans’ picture.

“If this is happening, we need to know who attends these parties, and when the next one is going to happen.”

“I’m on it with Carrie and Pascale,” Rogue said.

“I’ve also called in a few favors with people who might know something,” Griffin said enigmatically.

Ash rolled his thick shoulders. It did nothing to relieve the tension he was feeling.

“In the meantime,” Dark said. “We’re going to need that private jet, Thorne.”

“Istanbul, here we come,” Slate said, cracking his knuckles.

Ash smiled dangerously. Afsan might not realize it yet, but in taking those women, he’d made the biggest mistake of his life.