Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
LEON - PRESENT DAY
I get off the tube and duck down a dimly lit cobbled side street covered with years worth of graffiti.
The smell of spilled beer mixes with the industrial scent of the railway above me.
There it is. The Arch. Just looking at its run down sign brings me back in time.
We’d head here to get pissed since it stays open past midnight and they never minded a few kids taking up a table in the back so long as we kept quiet.
We learned a lot here. Me, Cruz, Abel, and a few others.
Had our first pints. Played our first poker matches.
Got into our first fist fight. Same night, coincidentally.
It was at The Arch that I landed my first paid hacking gig.
Where Cruz mixed up with a dodgy crew. Where I know I’ll find some answers about Bailey.
Bailey.
Just thinking her name makes my chest ache. It’s hard to stay focused, keep my emotions in check, when every spare moment, my thoughts drift to her. Her smile. The gleam in her blue eyes when she’d say something embarrassing about Jasper. Those lips that would bring me to my knees.
She’s not just some missing person to me. She never was.
As I step inside, the whole place vibrates from a train passing overhead.
Dust unavoidably lands in drinks and sprinkles people’s hair.
Through the haze of particles in the air, I spot Cruz hunched in our old corner booth, wearing the same faded backwards ball cap he’s worn for years.
He’s ganglier than when I last saw him—lost some weight maybe?
Either that or I never really noticed how long his limbs were, but from here, his legs barely fit under the booth.
He spots me and nods, holding up a pint. “The prodigal son returns.”
I clap a hand on his shoulder and offer a small smile. “Cruz. Alright? You still getting into trouble?”
“Got myself a wife. Last year. She’s a real firecracker, would rip my balls off if I got into trouble,” Cruz says with a chuckle as I slide into the booth across from him. “Nearly took my head off last time I stumbled in at three in the morning.”
“Is that right?” I ask, picturing the Cruz I know as a proper family man.
His phone vibrates against the table and he holds it up, laughing. “Like we summoned the devil herself.”
“You better get that,” I say.
“Ah, she can wait.” He leans forward, looking me over. “America’s done you well, hasn’t it? You’ve filled out. Got that expensive haircut. Teeth look suspiciously white. Look a bit tired though, around the eyes.”
Tired doesn’t begin to cover it. Can he tell that I haven’t slept properly in a year?
That my life has been endless nights spent at my computer, drinking too much caffeine, searching for any trace of her.
And God, the nightmares. Bailey’s cries in the dark, her hand reaching for mine before she’s yanked away, just out of my grasp.
“Just order me a pint, will you?” I laugh under my breath. “I’ll need one if this is how the night’s heading.”
“Next one’s on you,” he says before sliding out and heading to the bar. I take a moment to check my phone, reading over a few unopened messages in the group chat. Mostly pics of the cats being cute… which I hate to admit make me smile.
I miss them all more than I expected. Jasper with his incessant jokes, Damon’s quiet strength, Blake’s kindness, Falin’s fierce intelligence. They’re my family. And Bailey is the missing piece.
When I look up, blinking back the wave of emotion, Cruz is right there, full pint in hand. “Bottoms up.”
I take a long swig, feeling my shoulders loosen already. “Thanks. Needed that.”
Cruz stretches his legs so they’re sticking out from under the table. “So, what brings you back? Last I heard, you were finishing up uni in New York?”
“Gathering some information,” I say. Cruz raises his brows and gestures for me to go on. I lower my voice. “On a missing person. Trafficking victim. All my intel points to her being here in London.”
“Trafficking victim, eh?” Cruz leans back, resting his arm on the booth. His jaw clenches as he fusses with his cap. “That’s some heavy stuff.”
“Keep your voice down.” I take another sip of my beer, watching his face carefully. Cruz may be a few years older and married, but I can tell that he hasn’t changed much. “It’s important.”
“Right, sorry.” He scans the area around us before adding, “What’s this got to do with me? I’m just a bloke with a mortgage and a wife who thinks I work in IT support.”
“Come off it. You still know people. You’ve always had your ear to the ground.”
Cruz scratches his chin, taps the side of his glass. I’m reeling him in. “Look, I don’t mess with that sort of thing. Never have. And especially not now.”
“I’m not suggesting you do,” I say quietly. “I know you better than that.” His face softens, and I know just how to get him to talk. “It’s for someone I know well. Someone I care for.”
He sighs, looks over his shoulder again, and finishes his beer in one swig. “What do you need?”
“Information about a business called Mech Express. Anything connecting them to London operations.”
And just like that, Cruz turns white as a sheet. “You come back here and want to poke the hornet’s nest day one? I’ve heard of them. Bad news. Not something you want to get mixed up in.”
I’m getting impatient, but bite back the harsh words that are bursting to come out. “I know, trust me on that. I need something, Cruz. Anything.”
Another train rumbles overhead, and dust falls from the ceiling, landing on the sticky table.
“I haven’t heard much but I know they’re not what they say.
The company has some bad dealings. The owner, Orlov, has ties in East London.
Might’ve had a client not too long ago that got stiffed and asked me to do a little digging. Problem is, he keeps it air tight.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “Bastard’s been hard to crack.”
“There’s his charity organization. Office is in some posh building in Canary Wharf. I’d start there. I’ve heard they host parties. I bet your father—”
I put my hand up to stop him. “I’m not involving my father.”
He shrugs. “Just a suggestion. Anyway, last I heard, he’s got this group of rich blokes from all over the world involved in this charity. All of them squeaky clean when I dug in, but there must be more to it.”
My fist clenches around my glass. The Brotherhood. That must be what he’s talking about. “What kind of charity?”
“Tell me more about this missing girl,” he asks. “She’s American?” I ignore his question.
“Any names of people who might be more directly involved? Someone who would know more details?” He rubs his chin, like he’s thinking of a measured response.
“Like I said, there’s the charity office. Might try there.” Cruz leans forward, lowering his voice again. “I don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but whatever it is, be careful. These trafficking networks have connections everywhere. Police, government, you name it.”
You have no idea.
“I can handle myself,” I say instead.
Cruz laughs. “Yeah, I bet America’s made you hard, hasn’t it? I remember when you were just a skinny hacker afraid of your own shadow. Now look at you. I bet you could win some real money at The Irons.”
I shake my head. “Haven’t heard that name for a long time.”
“I can get you in. I know a guy.” His eyes gleam and he looks exactly like the teenage mischief maker I’ve known for years. He gestures to the bartender for another round.
“You mean Tank? Pretty sure she remembers me.” I scratch my chin, giving him a hard time before adding, “I’ll think about it.
” Fighting at The Irons didn’t work out too well for me last time, but Cruz is right.
I have gotten stronger. Plus, I’ve got a good deal of pent up rage to release being back here.
Physical pain to overpower the guilt of failing her may be what I need.
The bartender puts two fresh pints on the table and Cruz immediately grabs his. “I know who I’ve got my money on.” He sips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You. I see that look in your eyes… Scary, man. Like a killer.”
He laughs at his joke, not knowing how true his words are.
“I need to go,” I say, placing my full beer on the table and standing up.
“I mean it, Colter. Be careful. And if you need backup—”
I grab a few bills out of my wallet and drop them on the table. “I’ve got backup, but thanks for the offer.”
He nods, and drops his gaze to the bills. “Still a vault, huh? Some things never change.”
“Take care of your wife,” I say, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “I’ll be in touch.”
I can feel his eyes on my back as I walk out of the pub. I feel bad for being an ass, but I refuse to get Cruz tangled up in this mess. At least I got something out of him. Less than I’d hoped for, but it’s a start.
A light drizzle falls from the sky as I make my way back to the tube.
I pull the collar of my leather jacket up to ward off the chill in the air.
My mind is already working on a plan. Check out this charity, see where it leads me.
It’s not much, but anything helps. In the meantime, I’ll continue to monitor everything on Mech Express.
If Ivan Orlov is here, I’ll find out, and emptying his accounts will be the least of his worries.
Tilting my face to the dark sky, I make a silent promise to her. Soon, Firefly. I’m coming for you.