"I'll have my associate access it. Hopefully, she'll find intel on Wilson's partners and where the girls are being held."
"He has partners?"
"Evidence points to Wilson as the money man who lines up clients and conducts transactions. We think others procure and transport the girls."
"Do you …" Tristan began, gulped, and then tried again. "Do you know what they do to the girls they take?" His voice sounded small like a child's, and he shivered again.
Cade's eyes remained on the road, and he didn't speak for several heartbeats. "Do you really want to know?" he finally asked without the earlier edge to his voice.
Tristan peered into the darkness as shadows flew past. Did he want to know? He suspected, hoped he was wrong.
But he knew he wasn't.
And he wasn't a coward.
"Yes," he answered, proud that his voice didn't waver.
Cade paused before he confirmed Tristan's nightmare scenario. "We think they're kept locally as sex slaves and then sold after a while."
The words ripped a gasp from Tristan's mouth. Bile rose in his throat, and he started to hyperventilate. He dropped his head into his hands and tried to suck air into his paralyzed lungs.
"Gonna be sick," he mumbled, thankful when he felt the car jerk to the side. He clumsily unbuckled the seat belt, threw the door open and vomited. He crouched while his head throbbed, and his thoughts swirled like thunder clouds.
His sister. His baby sister.
Oh, god.
He didn't know how long he sat there fighting the nausea, but when the need to throw up passed, he returned to the car.
"Sorry," he murmured, not even sure Cade could hear him over the purr of the engine.
"Don't be. I'm sorry, but you asked."
"I know. It's not your fault."
Cade studied him for a moment, then pulled onto the road.
Tristan nervously wrung his hands in his lap as he tried to process the revelation. The night's events and distressing news had twisted him in knots. He needed to think, to come up with a plan. He would find her. He had no experience or expertise in this area, but he would figure it out, would do whatever it took, with or without help.
Lost in his thoughts, Tristan jerked back to the present when Cade parked in a darkened lot under a neon 'Motel' sign with a broken "O" and reached into the glove box to pull out a wad of cash.
"When we go in there, we're a couple, okay?"
Tristan balked. "What?"
"Until we get to the safe house, that's our story. We're together. Got it?"
"Is that really necessary?"
"Yes. We don't want anyone to remember us."
"They won't remember a gay couple?"
"They're less likely to remember a couple than two men traveling together in the middle of the night who aren't a couple."
"But why can't I stay here?"
"I don't want to leave you alone in the car."
