“That’s our hunting ground,” Dev stated, clearly gleaning insight into what it all meant before she did.
Gaby could make out dates, email addresses, and a few phone numbers, but no names. The first column was all numbers. If she were to guess, it was the customer designation Callan had mentioned. When she got to the last column, letters and numbers, it clicked. They were bank codes, over twenty digits with letter prefixes. AE-United Arab Emirates, AL-Albania, CR-Costa Rica. The list went on.
“They’re all foreign buyers,” Gaby whispered, feeling sick.
She’d known there was a possibility but had prayed it wouldn’t be the case. Tracking Natalie globally made it harder than it already was.
“We move. Now,” she said, thinking and planning aloud. “We trace every email, every phone number, each dollar in every foreign bank—”
“No.”
Rhys’s response landed hard and inflexible.
Gaby stared at him. “Excuse me?”
“We’re not shutting down the ring anymore,” Rhys said evenly. “This is a search and recovery mission. Enzo is dead, and several key players are in custody. Other clients will know. They’ll be watching for any ripple of suspicion and hide the proof of their complicity.” His eyes met hers and he warned, not pulling any punches. “We rush this, and Natalie disappears again. Permanently.”
“So your plan is to wait while they just keep her?” Her voice cracked despite her efforts to control it.
“My plan,” he replied calmly, “is to get her back alive.”
“That is also my priority, but I can’t agree to just wait and see.”
Dev leaned forward. “We discussed this, Gaby. To find Natalie, you want the best. And that’s Rhys. He’s running this op.”
Her fingers curled into fists. “This is my sister.”
“We all understand that,” Dev returned without heat. “We also understand how being close to an investigation can impact judgment. Further, you’re newly licensed and still very green when it comes to procedures, jurisdiction, honing your instincts. All of that means you work under supervision, or you don’t work at all.”
“You walked into a situation alone last time,” Rhys reminded her. “No backup. No escape plan. And got taken. That’s not happening on my watch.”
The pointed calm and the harsh truth from both of them stung worse than shouting.
“So, tell me,” Rhys pressed, “can you follow my lead, or does Dev reassign you?”
She wanted to scream, slam her fists on the table, to wipe that look of control off his face. But that would get her fired—and it wouldn’t help bring Natalie home.
Devlin’s team, including Rhys, was her best chance. Her only one.
“Yes,” she bit out at last, “I can follow your lead.”
He nodded. Not smug or superior, but all business.
“Quiet vetting,” he said. “No contact until we know which of these bastards holds her.”
“Some of these men are ghosts,” Callan interjected. “Running their illegal sales through shell corporations, living on private islands, on off-grid estates.”
Rhys nodded, studying the list. “One of them will break pattern,” he said. “They always do.”
Dev cleared his throat. “Assignments?”
“The six of us take two to three accounts and follow the money. We move slow and quiet. And we don’t spook the bastards.”
Gaby owned up to her weaknesses and admitted, “I’m out of my league when it comes to international investigations.”
“You’re working with me,” Rhys said, tone final.
“Doing what?”
