“So, what are they doing drinking twenty-dollar-a-pour whiskey, multiple times a week, around midnight? Keith was ordering his second drink within five minutes. He told Bobby he’d had a hard week.”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” he grunted, his fingers on my butt digging in.
Heat washed through me, and I tried to focus. “Then let’s talk about Buddy. What did you find out?”
“I’d rather show you how much I need you to be safe,” he said before his mouth crashed into mine.
I lost myself in the kiss, pouring just as much of my fear and passion into him.
He backed me up then pushed me onto the bed, already working on the button of his jeans.
I knew he was exhausted, but he didn’t act like it as he showed me how much he wanted me to stick around.
Afterward, I lay in his arms, and I realized he smelled like a different soap than the one we had in the hotel, and he’d been wearing a different shirt. “You took a shower before you came back.”
“I couldn’t walk into the hotel looking like I’d beaten the shit out of someone.”
I’d noticed the scrapes and bruises on his knuckles. “You wore a different shirt back.”
“I got a change of clothes.”
I didn’t want to focus on why. I’d have to at some point, but not now. “What did you find?”
“Buddy’s a talker when he’s given the right motivation,” he said. “He doesn’t deal with Knox. Nixon is his contact, but he knows Knox’s name. His job is to handle the girls—recruitment, keeping them in line, making sure they bring in money. He was told if he did well, he’d move up to what Nixon does.”
“Which is?”
“Nixon moves the girls from city to city. But he also moves more than just girls.”
I looked up at him in confusion. “What does he move?”
“Still people, but think domestic help—nannies, housekeepers, gardeners.”
“Immigrants?”
He nodded. “Desperate illegals. The people who buy them want cheap help and they’re tired of the turnover. This way, they make sure they can keep them for as long as they want.” He shifted slightly toward me. “Believe it or not, the domestic help is bringing them more money than the girls right now.”
Fury ignited in my chest. “I bet. Rich assholes eager to be slave owners.”
He grunted. “Sounds like Nixon has a big mouth, because there’s a shipment from Texas coming tomorrow night. He even told Buddy they’re using a warehouse in the commercial district. But supposedly Knox is gettin’ nervous and might postpone it.”
“Emily said Nixon came to the house and told Buddy the same thing,” I said. “What about the house where Emily was staying? Did you get that address?”
“Yep. Already sent it to Carter so he can trace to the owner.”
I glared at him. “I could have done that, James.”
He pulled me closer. “I know, but I’d planned to keep you busy when I got back. So he got a head start.” He gave me a slow kiss to prove his point.
I settled into him. “You know the house won’t be registered to him.”
“Maybe it’s owned by one of his blind LLCs. If not, once we find out who owns it, there’s a chance we can backtrack it to Knox.”
I definitely planned to try.
“If we can intercept that truck and tie him to a house that holds the girls,” I said, “would that be enough for your HSI contact?”
He studied me for a moment. “Maybe, but I want the accountant.”
