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“I think it’s outlived its usefulness,” Rafael quips dryly.
“For now.”
“Dad,” I admonish, even though there’s something about their interaction that seems a bit light. I don’t quite get it. Did he actually think Rafael was going to say, No, keep the shoot order; it makes life more interesting?
“My daughter’s safety is your greatest concern while she’s in Porto, Huntsman. Don’t fuck it up. Lexie, get in touch with me right away if there are any problems.”
“Tyler Worthington,” I murmur after my father is off. “I’m dumbfounded. Imagine if—” I don’t finish my thought because it’s too painful to think about. I might have died, or my mother. We’ll never know. But the one thing I do know for certain is that for Tyler to take the reins, my father would have to be dead. I wrap my arms around myself to ward off the chill.
“Fucking psychopath,” says the man who’s transporting a prisoner in the belly of the plane.
“What’s the story with the guy in the cargo hold?”
“We think he might be involved with the flesh traders. But we’re not sure.”
My stomach does somersaults. “In what way?”
He pins me with his gaze. “I think you’ve asked enough questions, Angel. Now it’s my turn. Tell me why you went to Quimper. Save the wedding present story for someone who isn’t accustomed to making online purchases.”
Here we go. I snatch a piece of paper from the pad he was doodling on and fold it in half, for no other reason than to buy myself some time to think. “It wasn’t a lie.”
“But it wasn’t the entire truth.”
No, it wasn’t. I have nothing to lose by coming clean with him. There will never be a relationship between us. It no longer matters if he thinks I’m reckless. What do I care what he thinks, anyway?
There’s nothing to lose, but everything to gain. I lost my chance to warn the authorities in Quimper. Rafael has much more clout in the European world than I do, and he can help—if he chooses too. He will. Rafael won’t say it’s outside his purview, like my father might. He won’t.
I study his unshaven face, etching the details onto my brain, until I can almost feel the prickle of scruff on my fingertips. Once I tell him, there’s no going back. I will forever be the reckless girl he believed me to be. Always.
It doesn’t matter anymore, Lexie.
No, it doesn’t.
With a heavy heart, I begin to form words. “There was more to the story than wedding presents.”
“I’m listening,” he murmurs, his tone no different from when we were in bed with his mouth grazing my temple. “That’s it. Let go, Angel. I’ve got you.”
I draw a jagged breath and hear the faint echoes of a tragic whimper. But somehow I find the courage to share the secret I’ve held so close for so long—with the man who will judge me in the harshest light possible.
“The traffickers are going to strike in Quimper soon. I went to warn the authorities in hopes of disrupting their plan and saving an unsuspecting woman from a life of hell.”
His expression is unreadable—almost blank. For a moment, I’m not sure he understands what I’m trying to tell him. It’s not until he squeezes his eyes shut and lets his head fall back, with a feral growl, that I know he understood every word.
13
RAFAEL
The traffickers are going to strike in Quimper soon. I went to warn the authorities in hopes of disrupting their plan.
She did not just fucking say that she went to disrupt the traffickers’ plans. I must have misunderstood. She couldn’t possibly have so little regard for her life.
I take a moment to pull myself together before I go on a rampage and destroy everything on this plane. When I’m breathing again, I replay her words. The traffickers are going to strike in Quimper soon.
How can she know this?
“What makes you think the flesh traders are going to Quimper next?” The words come out with an eerie calm that belies the drumbeat in my soul.
“They follow an alphabetical pattern,” she explains, like she’s teaching a word problem to a kid.
