“What’s the timeline?”Corinne asks, picking up on the game quicker than I would have liked.There is no good reason for my baby sister to understand things like timelines for girls being shipped to other countries as sex slaves.
But I’ll deal with making new rules for her later.
“Three days, and that’s just the group we know about.”
“Based on?”she asks.
“A certain high-level kidnapping from New York,” I say.Then, in my own defense: “The one Brooks is investigating.”
This gets a sly smile from my sister, a raised eyebrow, and a nod.
“And find some shipping manifests,” I demand.“Ones that can actually tell us something.”
“Right,” she murmurs.She shuffles through the papers for a second, then looks at me again.“But we’re not going to find enough here to stop it.”
I nod, glad for once that her mind works so quickly.“Exactly.I need…” I think about it for a moment, but the answer is obvious.“I need a man on the inside.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Corinne says, “And what are you going to do when Brooks comes to the same conclusion and puts herself in their hands?”
I close my eyes, having already thought of the possibility myself, and knowing exactly what I’ll do.“Then I burn New Orleans down to get her out.”
This brings up a realization, though, and I look around the room, suddenly concerned.Speaking of Brooks, where the hell is that girl?I’ve been home for hours now, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her.I would have expected her to be down here forcing me to include her in the planning.
No, she doesn’t know about this room, but details like that have never stopped Brooks Landry.
“Where the fuckisBrooks?”I ask, suddenly very nervous.“Have we seen her since we got back?Where’s she been all day?”
No one answers, and I’m striding for the door before I can think, my mind on nothing but the red-haired beauty and the fact that she comes up with so-called plans so fast it makes your head spin.
And that they’re almost always dangerous or stupid.Or both.
Brooks
Ilean down over the Ducati, my stomach to the casing around the tank and my eyes on the road ahead as I shoot through the dark night.It’s past full dark now and the city around me is starting to put on its night-time face.Street lamps and lights flash above me as I drive, and I can hear music starting to play from the houses around me.People are on the sidewalks making their way to the clubs and restaurants, if they’re looking for legal entertainment, and the dance halls and gambling dens if they’re not.Everyone is chatting and laughing as if they don’t have a care in the world.
Because they don’t know that the world is falling apart around them.
Or maybe that’s just me.
I go through what I know again, collecting all the information I managed to store in my brain.Most of the details are on my phone, thanks to the pictures I took, but I can remember a few things.The name of the girl.Anastasia Brayden.The time for the operation: 10PM.The location where they’re either picking her up or dropping her off.
For that, I only have an address, and I wonder suddenly what I’m going to find there.It’s near the port, almost on top of the water, though I know that only because Lucien used to take me to that area to get into the catacombs through some secret entrance he thought only he knew about.My mind snags on that and I suddenly remember those days, when we were newly engaged and learning each other in a whole new way.We’d been friends for years–or at least acquaintances who spent as much time together as we could whenever I was in town–and had kissed several times already.
When we found out we were going to be married, courtesy of the contract between our fathers, we’d both been giddy with excitement.We’d run through the city every night like a couple of kids with all the money in the world to spend, and I thought at the time that I would never be happier.I thought I’d found the love of my life, and my partner in crime.
I never thought I’d find out that my father was sending me to the Boudreaux house as a plant, or that I’d come to the conclusion that Lucien had to be in on it.
I also didn’t think Lucien would let me go.Which was why I left in the middle of the night without telling anyone but Camille.I thought Lucien would try to stop me, and even after I left, I thought he’d come after me.
News flash: He didn’t.He never even called.Didn’t write or send carrier pigeons, and when I asked, Camille told me he’d never approached her, asking for my location.Instead, he’d gone right into the city and started dating every girl he could get his hands on.
“Asshole,” I breathe.
I bend down further and push the bike to go even faster.I don’t have a lot of time between now and whatever’s happening at 10.I want to get to the address and find a place to hide before anyone else arrives.This is the best intel I’ve found so far, and I’m going to make it count.
The plan: Get to the drop-off (or pick-up) point and get my eyes on the girl in question.Then watch.I want to see who takes her and whether they have any identifying marks.If I can figure out who they’re working for, it’ll be perfect.
If I can stick with them and see where they take her, even better.
