Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Archer swore as he looked at the amount of paperwork still on his desk. It was going to take him the rest of the day, and he had a few meetings scheduled on top of it. There was a problem in the Kuala Lumpur Society space that needed his attention again. And more real estate deals.
At least Tatum was safe. It was the one thing that gave him any comfort at all right now, which was itself a problem he was choosing not to examine too closely.
He had Flynn following her. She'd gone to work that morning, but Flynn couldn't go inside without attracting too much attention, and too much attention was the last thing they needed.
Tatum should be safe enough at the office.
He also knew she would be furious if she spotted Flynn, and explaining it to her parents would only give Bunny and Stuart more ammunition.
From everything he'd seen, they needed no help on that front.
He'd checked on her last night after they got back from the club. She'd been shaken but was trying very hard to hide it. He'd almost picked up where they'd left off.
Stupid.
He needed to be more careful. Needed to stop letting thoughts of Tatum bleed into every quiet moment and start doing his job.
I can't lose you.
Those words had just slipped out. He didn't let things slip. Ever. He'd known Tatum for a while, admired her longer than he'd admitted even to himself, but the feelings those words carried were something different. Something he had no business having in this job. In any version of this life.
And yet.
I can't lose you.
That had been the truth. Pure and unfiltered and completely unlike him.
He pushed it down, picked up his pen, and started in on the paperwork.
An hour later, Ryker walked in. "Still nothing on Lebowitz," he said, dropping into the chair across from Archer's desk. "We can't find the body anywhere."
"Whoever took it knew what they were doing," Archer said.
"I'm not surprised, but it's still frustrating." Ryker crossed his arms. "It was an avenue we had to explore."
Archer set down his pen. "What do you know about the Curator?"
"Not very much. I imagine the same thing you do. Whoever it is, they're very secretive. Keep everything on the down low. Only a few people actually know they exist."
"That's what I've heard as well. As a matter of fact, I don't think I know anyone who knows the Curator directly. I've only ever heard whispers."
"Do you think the Curator is the one behind the Ponzi scheme?"
Archer leaned back in his chair. "I've been thinking about it all night, and it makes sense.
The Curator is known for supplying girls, drugs, whatever it is people want.
Like the Society on one level, but darker.
They're known for human trafficking above all else.
To do that takes serious capital upfront.
What better way to generate it than through a Ponzi scheme? "
He continued. "They pay each investor a small amount to make it look legitimate, then take more and more over time.
My guess is that the first group of investors knows who the Curator is.
They're probably existing clients, so they didn't need to be paid back at all.
The rest of the wealthy investors were brought in by that first group.
Referrals. They paid their fees, got a little money back to keep them quiet, and never knew who was really running the show.
They know someone who knows the Curator, but they'll never meet the Curator directly. That's how you keep it airtight."
"Very clever," Ryker said.
"Getting rich while hiding in plain sight."
"Could be Davis," Ryker offered.
Archer shook his head. "I don't think he's the Curator, but I think he knows who the Curator is. Maybe works with them."
"Should we talk to him?"
"Not yet. The moment we do, we tip our hand, and we can't afford that.
We also don't know where Fisher fits in.
Again, I don't think he's the Curator, but does he work for them?
Is he manipulating Davis as part of that arrangement, or is he operating separately, building influence over the Society for his own reasons, or because someone is paying him to? There are too many unknowns right now."
Archer tapped his fingers on the desk. "First thing we have to do is talk to Kelly again. We need to squeeze him." He blew out a breath. "And how is our guest?"
Ryker shrugged. "Fine. Holed up in the apartment. All his food is being brought in. A considerable amount of booze. He's been drunk since he arrived. His wife and children are out in the Hamptons with her mother. I have people watching her and the kids just in case."
"Good. Watching her keeps them safe but also gives us leverage with him. The drinking is unfortunate but at least it keeps him out of trouble. Make sure no one gets access to him. I want to know the moment that door opens."
"I have Rush running security, so we see everything. He added a doorbell camera outside the door. I told Kelly it was for his protection, just an extra layer."
Archer smiled. "Good thinking. Remind me to give Rush a bonus for that one."
"He'll be thrilled."
Ryker stood. "Anything else?"
"Not right now. Keep me updated on Kelly. And keep digging into the Curator. There has to be a trail somewhere."
"Will do." Ryker headed for the door, then paused and looked back. "How's Tatum doing?"
Archer's jaw tightened. "She's fine."
Ryker gave him a look that said he knew perfectly well she wasn't the only reason that jaw had tightened, but he didn't push. "Right. I'll check in later." The door closed behind him, leaving Archer alone.
He stared at the paperwork on his desk without seeing it. Instead, he was seeing Tatum. The way she'd looked last night after they got back from the club. Shaken. Angry. Beautiful in a way that made it hard to think clearly. The way she'd felt in his arms when he kissed her.
I can't lose you.
He'd said it out loud. Let it slip. And the moment the words left his mouth, he'd known two things simultaneously. That it was a mistake. And that it was true.
He couldn't lose her. The thought of something happening to Tatum, of her being hurt, being taken, settled in his chest like a stone that had no interest in moving. His hands clenched on the desk.
This was the problem. He was getting too close.
Too invested. His judgment was compromised, and compromised judgment in this job got people killed.
He needed distance. Needed to focus on the Society, on the very real threats closing in from multiple directions.
Not on the way Tatum's mouth had tasted or the sound she'd made when he touched her.
He pushed back from his desk and crossed to the window. The city stretched out below him, vast and indifferent. He needed to get his head straight.
His phone buzzed. Marcus. One of his ghost team. He answered immediately. "What do you have?"
"Possible connection between Davis and human trafficking," Marcus said without preamble. "Nothing concrete yet, but there are whispers. Money moving through shell corporations linked back to him. Payments to people known for moving girls across borders."
Archer's pulse kicked. "How solid is this?"
"Solid enough to keep digging. But it's buried deep. Whoever set this up knew what they were doing."
"The Curator," Archer said.
"I've heard that name whispered. I believe the Curator is behind what I'm finding, and there is a connection to Davis."
"Part of the Ponzi scheme that North, Lebowitz, and Kelly were involved in?"
"That is my thinking. I'm gathering everything I can on that now."
Archer swore silently. Marcus was well on his way to confirming his worst fears. "I need you to find out everything you can about the Curator. Who it is. How they operate. Who they work with. I don't care what it takes or how long it takes. I need answers."
"Understood."
"And, Marcus." Archer paused. "Be careful. Whoever the Curator is, they're dangerous. They've already killed two people that we know of."
"Copy that."
The line went dead.
Archer stared out the window, his mind working through it. Davis and human trafficking. The Curator. The Ponzi scheme. All of it connected, woven together in a web so complex it was hard to see where one thread ended and another began. But he'd find it. He always did.
His phone rang again. Flynn.
"I lost her." Flynn's voice was tight. "She went into the office this morning, and you said not to follow her inside, so I waited. She didn't come out again, and I got antsy. I called her assistant. Turns out she left a while ago."
Archer's stomach dropped. "Where is she now?"
"I checked her apartment. She's not there. But according to the doorman, she was there earlier. Came in, stayed about three hours, then left again."
"And you have no idea where she went."
"No, sir. I'm sorry. I—"
"Hold on," Archer said as he pulled up the tracking app on his phone. He'd had a discreet tracker installed on Tatum's phone after the break-in at her apartment. She didn't know about it, and he felt a genuine twinge of guilt about that. But right now, he didn't give a shit.
The app loaded. A blue dot appeared on the map.
“Found her. Get back her now,” he instructed Flynn, then disconnected before the man could respond.
She was here at the Society.
Relief flooded through him, so intense it left him momentarily still. She was safe. She was here. And the fact that that relief hit him as hard as it did told him considerably more than he wanted to know about where things stood between them.
He grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.
He took the stairs two at a time, his pulse hammering. She was safe, but the relief was already giving way to something else. She'd left without security. Left her apartment alone. Put herself in danger. Again. The anger sat easier inside than the fear that had preceded it, so he let it build.
He pounded on the door. A brief pause, then he heard her undoing the chain and then the lock. She opened the door, and his heart hit his knees.