“Where the fuck is that journal, Caroline?”
Her cracked lips pressed into a tight line.
With a frustrated curse, I shoved her back, her head clipping a portion of the uneven wall from the force.
Not only did I need that journal to keep my operation safe, but I was curious about the contents too. Had she really put two and two together somehow, confirming her suspicions about her mom not running off but being one of Dad’s early success stories? And if shehadtied her mom’s disappearance all those years ago to my operation, how the hell did she put it all together when no one else had?
If she didn’t tell me where it was, I would never know, and that annoyed the shit out of me. I had thought that fucker Jasper might have a clue where she hid the journal, but he was a bigger idiot than I realized. Either way, if he knew anything, it all died with him.
Standing over her frail frame, I scanned the scrapes and bruises marking her pale skin, the layers of dirt and blood fromher tumble all those weeks ago. I should’ve bathed her at some point, but it wasn’t like I needed her face or body to be clean to use her the way I liked.
“Did you know your so-called friends are still looking for you?” Her lashes fluttered as she attempted to open her lids, a barely there moan escaping her parted, dry lips. “And unfortunately, after finding that bitch’s body in the woods before I could get rid of it, they’re getting too close.” Reaching out, I ran my fingers through her ratty hair, tugging carelessly at the tangles and clumps of mud. “Which means it might be time for me to use you as a distraction.”
Caroline’s lips moved, but only ragged breaths escaped.
“Don’t worry, pet. I’ll make good use of what little time we have left together.”
I smacked my palms against the sides of my thighs to rid them of the dust and grime. Snatching the glowing lantern off the floor, I exited the makeshift cell, closing the ill-fitted door behind me. Dirt clouded the air and bits of rock rained down from the carved-out doorframe as I secured the latch as best I could. The stench of mold, body odor, and piss flooded my nose, tainting the inside of my lungs as I shuffled along the worn path made by miners years prior.
Pausing outside a deep divot along the rocky wall that I’d turned into the first holding pen, I peered through the rusted metal bars to check on the first of the current batch. Holding the lantern up high, it took a moment with the low light to catch the slight rise and fall of her chest. She’d been held the longest, and it showed. If I didn’t get this batch sold soon, she might be a waste, putting me down two instead of just the one.
A soft chime echoed through the narrow tunnel, alerting me to an incoming call on my satellite phone. Knowing the signal sucked inside, I continued toward the mine entrance, not bothering to look in on the others in their cells as I passed.Pushing open the heavy wooden door, I stepped out into the fresh air. Blinding sunlight cut into my eyes, making me squeeze them shut, leaving me to blindly secure the door behind me.
Dad had mentioned this place in his journals, more than once appreciating the happy accident of stumbling on the long-forgotten, abandoned mine as a child roaming the wilds of Alaska alone. It was the perfect place to keep both his stock and now my own hidden until the exchange with the buyers. While I mostly followed Dad’s road map and tips, I’d made a few adjustments, maximizing today’s available technology to make it easier on myself.
Tugging the satellite phone free from the side pocket of my cargo pants, I took a second to inhale a deep breath, allowing the crisp mountain air to cleanse the cave stench from my lungs. Tapping the button to accept the incoming call, I held the ancient device that the Russians insisted I use to my ear as I scanned the dense trees surrounding me.
“I’m here,” I stated. The fuckers who bought from me didn’t believe in pleasantries.
“Is the exchange still a go?” The deep rumble of his voice and thick accent made it difficult to understand him, but thankfully this conversation was basically a repeat of the ones before.
“Yes—same place, same time.”
“And the special one? You get her for the boss?”
The phone slid in my sweaty palm as I tightened my grip around the device. “I told you,” I gritted out, “it’s too risky to take her. What about the money and drugs? Like always?”
His raspy, condescending chuckle added to my growing agitation. “Da.You bring girls; we bring money and drugs.”
The following stretch of silence signaled he had hung up.
“Fucking typical,” I grumbled as I pocketed the phone.
Scrubbing a calloused palm over my face, I sighed, knowing they wouldn’t let that “special one” shit drop until they had her.Which complicated things, since she was basically untouchable. Ever since their boss saw her picture on the updated Uplift Adventure and Rescue website, there hadn’t been a single call where they didn’t ask about her. He wanted her badly for his personal collection and was intent on getting her.
Good fucking luck with thatwas what I wanted to tell him but mouthing off to a Russian mobster was a quick way to die a slow, painful death. It was too great of a risk to even consider it, though. There was no way in hell I could sneak into their compound and take her without anyone noticing.
The insistent burning throb pulsing from the damn dog bite had me spinning on my heels toward the mine. I needed to feed and water the stock before heading to Anchor Bay. Everyone was a suspect, their actions and whereabouts monitored now that the asshole detective Brandon brought from LA was sniffing around. Everything was easy to cover and hide until he showed up and started asking too many damn questions, being a little too observant and rallying that whole fucked-up community together to stop my lucrative business.
Maybe he needed to be taught a lesson. Needed someone he loved, like his wife or kid, to be threatened because he was here. That would send him running back to California, and he would leave me the fuck alone.
Yes, that was a great idea.
Now to figure out what, how, and when. Which would be easy. It took me all of a few hours to come up with Jasper’s “suicide” and execute the perfect plan, after all.
That detective would regret the day he moved to Anchor Bay.
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