“I’ll need time to consider the logistics. This isn’t a simple clean-up job.”
“Time?” Ano’s voice rises. “I’ll double the offer.”
“And I just told you I need time.” I turn back, letting ice creep into my tone. “Unless you’d prefer I decline outright?”
He stands abruptly, frustration radiating from every pore. “Twenty-four hours. After that, I’m reaching out to my European contacts.”
“Forty-eight,” I counter.
Ano’s jaw works as he weighs his options. Finally, he gives a sharp nod. “Fine. Forty-eight hours. But don’t make me wait longer than that, Remy.”
The threat in his voice would be more effective if his hands weren’t shaking. He retrieves his coat, pausing at the door. “Twenty million. Think about it.”
I stare at the closed door, Ano’s expensive cologne lingering like a toxic cloud. My hands grip the edge of my desk until my knuckles turn white. The mask I’ve worn through his visit cracks, and nausea rises in my throat.
In three quick strides, I reach my private bathroom. The cold water I splash on my face does little to wash away the disgust. My reflection shows what I’ve tried to hide—the tension in my jaw, the darkness in my eyes. Eight years of maintaining control, of being the untouchable fixer, and now Eve’s investigation threatens to unravel everything.
“Damn you, Eve,” I mutter, raking my fingers through my hair. The memory of her beneath my hands just hours ago clashes violently with the knowledge of what she’s truly pursuing.Human trafficking. The words echo in my mind, making my stomach turn again.
Every scenario I consider leads to disaster. If I help Ano, I become complicit in his crimes and betray Eve. If I refuse, he’ll send killers after her. If I warn her, I expose my own position. There’s no clean solution, no way to maintain the careful balance I’ve built.
Back at my desk, I pull up her file on my laptop. The photographs scatter across my screen—Liv in war zones, Liv infiltrating criminal enterprises, Liv documenting atrocities. I’ve been a fool. What I saw as her manipulation to gain my protection was actually a calculated risk, placing herself close to someone who might expose her investigation.
My admiration for her strategy wars with fury at her recklessness. Twenty million dollars. That’s the price Ano put on her head, and he’ll find someone willing to collect. She must have found something devastating in those shipping manifests to provoke such desperation.
My phone buzzes again—another client demanding immediate attention. I silence it without looking. Their petty scandals and corporate crimes seem meaningless compared to what’s coming. Liv is upstairs right now, probably adding to the evidence that could get her killed while I sit here wrestling with choices I never wanted to make.
I close her file, but the images stay burned in my mind. The determined set of her jaw as she photographed evidence. The careful way she built trust with her targets. The steel in her eyes when she exposed their crimes. I’ve never seen her work before and never allowed myself to look too closely. Now I understand why.
I’m about to call Marcus back when he knocks and enters my office, his usually stoic expression marred by tension.
“Sir, we have a situation.”
I raise an eyebrow, gesturing for him to continue.
“Liv went on an errand with two of our men. And as I needed to supervise some repairs done at the security system…” Marcus’s jaw tightens. “They’ve lost her.”
A laugh threatens to escape my throat. Of course she managed to slip away from my men. “Lost her how?”
“She said she needed tampons from the drugstore. Somehow, she—”
“Lost them.” I can’t help but smile. Of course she used that excuse. Men always get awkward about feminine hygiene.
Marcus shifts uncomfortably. “She vanished. They’ve searched the entire block.”
“And the penthouse?”
“Everything’s gone from her room except our phone. She cleared out completely.”
I lean back in my chair, turning this information over in my mind. She asked for my protection, begging for help. Now, she runs as if I’m the threat she needs to escape.
“Sir?” Marcus’s voice carries a note of concern at my measured reaction. “Should I mobilize—”
“Fire them.”
“Sir?”
“Torres and Richards. Fire them immediately.” I stand, straightening my cuffs. “Their incompetence is disappointing. Now follow me.”
