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I don’t need a damn exam, but I’m not going to argue with Giana—not over this. “Thank you,” I tell her, sincerely.
7
RAFAEL
When I get back upstairs, it’s like nothing happened. Drinks are flowing and the dance floor is jam-packed. As I skim over the crowd, their naivety or lack of concern, whichever, is almost unsettling.
“Even corralling flesh traders among them didn’t spoil the party,” I mutter to Xavier, who’s been hovering around me since Zé left.
“Fortunately for our coffers, nothing spoils a party.”
“Are our friends ready?” I ask, right after the bartender places a bourbon in front of me.
“They will be soon. I understand they might try to escape.”
“Pity,” I drawl, excitement skittering through my veins. It never ends well for men who attempt escape.
He nods, fidgeting, like he has something to say that he knows he probably shouldn’t. Fidgeting is a hot look on a woman who’s naked and needy, but on a burly man in a suit? Not so much. It’s making me edgy.
“Say it, Xavier. Whatever it is, just spit it out.”
“Rafael, we all want a piece of them. But—”
“Don’t worry. The bastards will be breathing when we hand them over to the authorities.”
I’d prefer to mete out justice myself, but the Portuguese Intelligence Service will be able to get the most comprehensive list of victims from Interpol, and they’ll be relentless until these fuckers talk. I want the families to at least have some measure of closure—even if their loved ones are gone forever.
No one knows better than me the horror it is to wake up every day wondering if someone you love is alive or dead. Or if they’re living a tortured existence in the clutches of the worst kind of evil. We owe it to those families.
“You don’t need to get your hands dirty with that scum,” Zé says from behind me.
Their concern is starting to get old. They both know me well enough, especially Zé, that there’s no fucking way I’m taking a pass on this.
“You’re back already?”
He nods. “No traffic at this time of night. The ambassador was waiting at the curb for her, and he didn’t invite me in for a nightcap.”
I glance at Xavier, who’s scanning the room impatiently. Now that Zé’s back, I’m sure he wants to be doing something besides guarding me. “Why don’t you check on our friends? Let us know when you’re ready for me.”
“Did you get anything from her?” I ask Zé even before Xavier has time to move.
“She was in Porto to meet her boyfriend. He didn’t show up—or at least he hadn’t. She told her bodyguard she had cramps and sent him to get some feminine hygiene products and a hot-water bottle, which apparently isn’t easy to find. That’s how she was able to sneak out of the hotel alone.”
Jesus Christ.
“They must be teaching courses at Saint Philomena’s on how to ditch your security,” Zé mutters.
“She went to Saint Phil’s?”
He nods.
Saint Philomena’s is an exclusive girls’ school outside of London, where Lexie was a student too. The security is unparalleled, and it’s a favorite of uber-wealthy parents, from all over the world, who have formidable enemies. Valentina spent a few years there as well, but Francesca is significantly younger.
“Did she say anything of any importance?”
“She said it was Alexis’s idea to come to Sirena.”
“What?” My head’s throbbing, again.
