“No, I’m going to make a deal with the devil.” Rex touched the number, initiating the call.
He fully expected the call to go to voicemail; however, a familiar voice sounded in his ear. “Who the hell is this, and how did you get this number?”
“Lucien Vaughan, Rex Johnson here. You have something I want. I have something you want. You’re a man used to making deals. I have one for you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t make deals over the phone. If you’d like to meet in person, I’ll listen.”
Rex’s hand tightened on the phone, anger simmering just beneath the surface. He wished he could reach through the phone and strangle the man for all the girls he’d trafficked, abused or killed. Rex couldn’t let Vaughan hurt or kill Kimo. If he wasn’t already in love with the beautiful photographer, he was well on his way.
It was as if he’d waited all his life for someone like Kimo. He’d be damned if he let a douche bag like Lucien Vaughan make her disappear.
“Oh, you’ll listen,” Rex said. “You may think you have the lid on the case of the missing shipping container and its contents. You have Alana, now Kimo and Kimo’s camera.” He paused for effect. “What you don’t have is the SD card with the images of the shipping container and the bodies of the people you sentenced to death when you dropped it into the ocean.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Who would dump a container full of girls into the ocean?”
“A monster,” Rex said. “You.” He noted that he hadn’t told Vaughan that the bodies inside had been girls. Yet the man appeared to know. Because he’d ordered them put there and dropped into ocean.”
“That’s a serious allegation,” he said. “One you can’t prove because it isn’t true.”
“When I release the SD to the FBI, CIA, Interpol and every news station in the world, it will have your name on it. The owner of that container will go to court. To save his own skin, they’ll cut him a deal to name the man behind the abuse and trafficking of young girls. Your billionaire friends will turn their backs on you and pretend they never knew you or what you were up to. Your days of princes giving you yachts will be over. Are you willing to trade your gold and freedom for iron and an orange jumpsuit?”
“I can’t have you spreading lies about me. It’s slander. I won’t stand for it. You’ll be the one to go to jail. Not me.”
“Your network of snitches and stooges inside law enforcement and government entities won’t be able to save you,” Rex promised.
“You have something to show me, bring it to me. I’ll be the judge of it.”
“I’ll bring the disk, but if anything happens to Alana or Kimo, the deal’s off.”
“Again, I have nothing to hide. I don’t know anything about these Alana and Kimo persons, but I take pride in protecting my reputation and that of the people with whom I associate. If you come after me, I’ll make sure you go to jail for a very long time. This conversation is over.”
“Vaughan, don’t you hang up?—”
The call ended.
Rex cocked his arm, ready to throw his phone into the ocean.
A hand caught his wrist. Angel stepped in front of him, holding up his own phone. On it was a screen with a crooked line and a dot at one end, making the line even longer.
“Your tracking device is on the move. Did you put it on Kimo?” Angel asked.
Rex frowned at the image. “No. I dropped it into Vaughan’s boat, the La Petite Lolita. His version of a dinghy.” He stared at the image.
“It left Lahaina Harbor about the time Kimo disappeared,” Angel said.
Rex frowned down at the dot moving further and further away. “Is it headed toward Maalaea Bay?”
Angel shook his head. “No.”
“I just got off the phone with the harbor master,” Leilani said. “The Dancing Lolita left Maalaea Bay this morning.”
“Destination?” Rex barked.
“Hong Kong,” Leilani responded.
Rex glanced around. “I need a boat. A fast one.”
“Give me a minute,” Leilani said. “I have a friend I can call.”
