The Aussie glances at Suds. “So, this bleedin’ arsehole buys a fuckin’ mansion, pays cash, and thinks no one will notice?”
“A Saudi national bought the property. He says he’s just staying there.”
“Wankah.” He pulls off the expressway and onto local roads.
When the Google lady indicates we’re about to arrive, I hand them their comm units and adjust my mike. “Test, test.”
“Good onya.”
“Copy that.” My tough guy nods, jumps out, and opens the door for me. “Stay safe.”
While waiting for Pershing to answer the bell, I finger my holster and try to recall the man who announced the singer onto the stage. That Friday night seems more like weeks ago rather than days.
I can’t screw up. Sienna is counting on me. And, if truth be told, so are Suds and the guys. God knows what they’ll do to this guy if he doesn’t talk.
“Hello? Can I help you?” The man’s mouth drops so wide, I’m surprised his jaw doesn’t break.
He pretends not to recognize me as I flash him a fake badge. “FBI. Special Agent Sam Sutcliff. Can I come in?”
“I didn’t do anything. You can’t just barge into my-”
“I’m afraid I can.” I push past him and enter a foyer covered in Italian marble. “Nice place. Yours?”
“N-n-no. A-actually it belongs to a friend of m-mine.” His stammer emboldens me.
“Tell me. What, exactly, does thisfrienddo for a living?”
Fear, in the form of body odor, reeks from him. He glances out the door, his muscles tense, and he runs directly into Suds’ hard chest. The impact sends him stumbling back and he falls on his ass.
“Going somewhere, mate?” My fiancé’s pal helps the douchebag to his feet.
“I-I want a lawyer.” When the band manager lowers his lids with his arms crossed, Suds and Lucky grab him by the elbows and sit him down in a chair.
Then, my partner shakes a fist in front of his face. “Not feelin’ all that kindly toward you at this moment. Y’all got my woman kidnapped by sex traffickers.”
He swings but Lucky juts out his hand. “Give the bloke a chance, mate.”
The acrid smell of urine wafts as a wet spot appears on our suspect’s silk pants. “D-Don’t kill me.”
“Who gave you this fucking house? Sebastian leans in, nose to nose with the shaking man.
“I don’t know his name. I swear.”
I detect some truth in what he says, but there’s also deception so I add my two cents. “But you think you know who it might be, right?”
Bingo! His right eye flinches.“No.”
“Oh, but you do.” Swiveling on my heel, I turn, and wave. “Have at ’em boys. Let me know when he’s ready to talk.”
“Wait!” Pershing jumps up but the big Aussie pushes him back down.
“Hmm? Remember something?”Paybacks are a bitch, dude.
“This woman contacted me. Dahlyla. She has a place in Pennsylvania. A cabin. She might be there.”
“Address?”
“I swear I don’t know.” The tears that run down his cheeks tug at my conscience until I recall how he betrayed Sienna which ultimately caused us to be kidnapped.
