Page 57 of In the Dark

I chewed on my cheek. It was a definite fork in the path. I wanted to rage but didn’t know who I could really rage at, so I took a deep breath, cracked my neck, and murmured, “How can I trust you?”

“How can you not after I shared all that about your uncle trafficking women with you?”

“I don’t know if that’s real.”

“You know just as well as I do it is. You think I planted all that, that it’s easy getting the precinct to divulge that intel? Or you still think he’s innocent even with the way he was?”

He was taunting me, baiting me. He wanted me to break, but I wasn’t going to. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I stared at him, my expression a blank mask of indifference. “Easy to get that woman to give you anything you want? I think so, actually.”

He hummed like he was figuring out something about me. “You’re jealous.”

“Of what? Her? I’m absolutely not … Not at all.” I stuttered like a complete imbecile. I had other things to worry about, like how the hell I was going to make it right if my family truly was embroiled in the trafficking business. I needed a plan. I needed a moment. I needed to talk to my family. So I tried to get rid of him. “You can leave. I can plan the wedding by myself.”

Without asking, he pulled the velvet chair from my vanity and sat, claiming the center of my prison as his own.

He motioned for one of his guys to hand me a phone before he had them all exit.

Then, Callahan said, “I could leave, but instead, I’ll stay.”

15

Callahan

I WATCHED HER RESOLVE flicker. She looked shaken, her fingers twitching as if she were looking for a crochet hook or a knife to ground her. Seeing her like this was uncomfortable for me. She was too exposed and questioning the only life she’d ever known. It made me want to help her piece it back together even if she was pissed at me.

But then she squared her shoulders, because if Jasmina was anything, it was strong.

“Fine.” She snatched up the phone and dialed a number, sitting down with a terrifying, cold purpose. She looked at me, her chin tilted up. “I’m keeping this laptop for planning.”

“Of course you are.” I motioned to the phone Jas was holding. “Speaker.”

She rolled her eyes and pressed a button before setting it down. “I also need a new credit card.”

“Sounds about right,” I grumbled, but there was no heat in it. I pulled out my wallet and tossed it onto the desk. “Do your worst, Viper.”

She didn’t hesitate. She rifled through my wallet with clinical efficiency, pulling out a black card as the call connected. “Maribel? Yes, I’m fine. I need to talk to Perla. Put her on.”

I watched her face as she waited. And it was almost like watching a wall of protection be built. She took deep breaths and her eyes turned stonier and stonier. There wasn’t even a smile there when Perla picked up. Jasmina didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Tía,” Jasmina said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “I need the truth. Paolo … the girls he brought in. The ones who never left the warehouse. Did you know?”

The silence on the other end was long enough that I could hear the static. Then came Perla’s voice, sounding small and hollow. “Mija … who have you been talking to?”

“Me,” I announced for Jasmina. “Evidence is in her hands now, Perla.”

More silence ballooned before Perla responded, “Mija, Paolo handled the logistics. He said they were just workers. Migrants looking for a start. Why?”

“The precinct’s files, Tía. Those files say that they weren’t workers. They were girls. Like Maribel. Like Annarose.” Jasmina’s voice broke for a split second before she hammered it back into iron. “Did you know he was trafficking them?”

“No,” Perla whispered, and for once, she sounded genuinely devastated. “I … I knew he wasn’t a good man, Jasmina. I knew there was blood. But that? Never.”

“Monte?”

“Your tío would never, mija.”

Jasmina waited and waited like she wanted to make sure Perla wouldn’t crack and admit something more. “Okay.” Jasmina closed her eyes, a single shuddering breath escaping her. “We’ll have to make it right.”

“Of course,” Perla responded a bit too quickly for my liking, but Jasmina seemed to believe her. “I know nothing of it today. What year is this—”