CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
JONAH ANDERSON
“Are you ready for this?” I ask Hugo. He agreed to accompany me on this recon trip to the warehouse Rafe found deep in Fabian’s books.
The building sits on the edge of the city, buried between a dozen other structures and shipping containers.
Salt and oil mix in the air as the clanking of metal-on-metal echoes from the moored ships further down the waterline.
Hugo gives a small nod, never one to waste a breath on sentences if it can be helped, and we creep forward.
Fabian’s security is shit—two men relaxing in front of the metal entrance. Surely, if Luca’s half-brother kept anything of importance here, like trafficked women, he’d invest in better protection, right?
Swift shots to the forehead and heart down each man with a thump to the ground. Hugo and I step over the corpses to test the door. Unlocked.
“What the fuck?” I mutter under my breath. This feels too easy, which has my hackles rising. Nothing in our world runs this smoothly.
A quick search of the building reveals it’s empty, which explains the lack of security detail, but the three rooms decked out like a spa retreat makes me think Eden’s hunch about women being forced to film is right.
“What is all this?” Hugo asks, picking up a bottle of eucalyptus oil, sniffing it, then setting it down with a wrinkle of his nose.
“Not sure yet. Let’s check out the back by the docks.”
As soon as we’re outside again, the sound of voices cracks the air, becoming louder the closer we get. So, this is where all of Fabian’s men are—guarding two shipping containers that I can only imagine has the missing women.
“Fuck,” Hugo breathes.
“My sentiments exactly.” Reaching into my pocket, I text Dmitri that we need backup from Blackthorn. Hugo and I are good, deadly , but there’s no way we can take out a contingent of men and rescue whoever’s in those containers. Luca is next on my list to notify of this new development.
Despite being happily ensconced in his newlywed bubble, he’ll want to know about this. He’ll want a chance to disrupt his half-brother’s disgusting operation, even if he and Eden only landed back in Boston mere hours ago from their honeymoon trip to Italy.
My phone lights up with a message, but instead of Dmitri’s or Luca’s confirmation, it’s a text from Valerie—the curvy journalist intent on exposing my politician father for the fraud he is.
She’s also the woman you shouldn’t have kissed.
I’ve been blaming high emotions after she was almost killed during a meeting with me, Mathias, and Allie, but the excuse is flimsy at best. Emotions have never clouded my judgment before, even in ambush situations like what happened at that cafe with Valerie.
VALERIE: The article will go to print in a month. My editor wants to wait until we’re closer to the election date to really screw with your dad. Can’t say I’m excited to wait, though.
ME: Join the club, tiger, but patience is key. He’ll get what’s coming to him.
VALERIE: So bloodthirsty. LOL
My little tiger has no idea…