“Trafficking?What makes you think so?Do you have any proof?”
I don’t answer him.Because his response means he either doesn’t know anything...or he’s covering for my father.And if it’s the latter, I can’t afford to give him anything, on the off chance he passes it to Dad.I may have a plan, but I don’t know where it’s going to go yet, and I can’t afford for my father to get wind of what I’m doing before I’m ready.
I already know how that would go, and it wouldn’t be pretty.Daddy Dearest doesn’t take well to what he considers betrayal, especially from family members who spent last night telling him they wanted to come back into the fold.
Beau stares at me for several intense moments before his face clears and he lets his mouth relax.He leans toward me, drops his voice, and says, “I love you, kid, and I don’t want to see you get hurt.I’m not sure it’s a good idea to keep looking for your friend.I’d rather see you get out while you still can.”
He turns and leaves without saying anything else, and I watch him for a moment, left speechless at what he just said.Is he saying what I think he’s saying?
Namely, that he knows exactly what I’m asking and is warning me to stop digging because it might not be good for my health.
Which would mean he knows what my father is doing.
And, if I’m not mistaken, thinks I might be a target.
I let that sink in for a moment, trying to wrap my head around it.I never would have imagined that Beau would be part of something like human trafficking, and I don’t want to believe it.My brother is a good man and a hero, or at least he was when I knew him better.There’s no way he’d stand by while something like this is happening.
Unless he’s not supposed to know, and is working to undermine my father.
Like I am.
That thought brings a rush of excitement to my veins and I gasp, wondering if that’s it.Beau’s the heir to the organization, but that doesn’t mean my father tells him everything.I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that my father had certain rackets that he didn’t tell Beau about, and sex trafficking is so illegal that I’m betting my father would hold it close to his chest.But what if Beau found out about it anyhow?
What if he saw or heard something like I did when I was young, and started doing research?
I haven’t spoken to him since I left for New York, so he may have been working on this for years.And I like that version a whole lot better, because it matches with the man I want to think my brother is.
I let my eyes rove across the room, still thinking, but stop, surprised.I turn my eyes back to the girl I just passed over and stare at her, confused.I know that girl.I’m sure I do.But I can’t think of where I know herfrom.Not school; I haven’t attended school here since I was ten, and I doubt many of those girls are still in the area.Certainly not from any of my social circles; those consist of Camille, Camille, and Camille.
But she’s familiar, and I feel like I just saw her yesterday.
Wait.
I did see her yesterday.Because she’s one of the girls from the files Lucien gave me.She’s one of the missing girls, and now that I’ve realized it, I see all the markers.She’s young, probably only seventeen or so, blonde, and very pretty.Green eyes and a face full of freckles, though they come off as a charm rather than a flaw.
She’s also the only person in the room not wearing a mask.And she looks miserable and very frightened.
I’m moving before I can think about it, my fancy dress swishing around my legs with my speed, and within moments I’m at her side.“Are you okay?”I ask, threading my arm through hers.
The girl looks up at me with a dazed, vacant look, and I add one more thing to the list of characteristics.She’s been drugged.I don’t know what they’ve given her but her pupils are blown and she looks like she doesn’t know where she is.She does glance behind me, though, and I turn to see who she’s looking at.An older gentleman–and I use the term loosely–who looks like Colonel Sanders.White suit, very southern, and a bushy mustache.Gray hair and glasses.He looks like he belongs in antebellum Georgia, and I immediately hate him.No one dresses like that anymore unless they believe in antiquated society and ideas.
Just looking at him makes me feel like a film of grease has been smeared over my skin.
I don’t have to ask.I don’twantto ask.The girl is shaking, now, and that can only mean one thing: That man hurt her in one way or another, and she’s terrified of going back to him.
I know what I have to do.
I came here with a plan to get inside my father’s operation and figure out what’s going on, but I wasn’t expecting to have a victim fall into my lap.Now that I have her, I’m not going to let her go again.I’ll just have to find another way into the smuggling ring.I tighten my grip on the girl and turn toward the main doors of the house, praying we can get away before Colonel Sanders sees us.I tug gently on the girl–God, why can’t I remember her name?–and start walking toward the exit.She resists at first, but once she sees where we’re going she starts to walk faster, as if she just realized I might be taking her to freedom.The shaking stops and her breath becomes quicker, and I’m sure that if I looked at her, I’d see her eyes clearing.
She wants to get out of here, and that increases my need to do just that.
Before we’ve taken five steps, though, another man cuts right in front of us and stops, glaring down at us like he’s just caught us trying to escape from jail.
Given what I suspect this girl is going through, he’s not far off.
I look up at him, scowling and ready to tell him who I am and that he can fuck off, but stop when I see his eyes.
If the girl’s eyes were hazy and unfocused, his are absolutely evil.Small and black, beady and glaring, they look like they belong on some sort of hateful animal rather than a human being.He looks at the girl like she’s nothing more than a cockroach, and then turns his eyes to me.I narrow my own and shoot daggers at him with my eyeballs, but those daggers bounce right off what I’m sure must be lizard skin.
