Chapter 1 #2
Just the thought of that took her breath away, but Gaby forced the memory aside—something she was becoming an expert at—and focused on the screen. She’d deal with the emotional fallout later.
First, she had to find her sister.
She scanned the extensive list, the ugliness of it staring at her in sterile black and white. But she quickly filled in the blanks for Callan: blue-eyed, blonde, petite, only 5’3” and 110 pounds.
“You two are sisters?” Mateo asked.
When she looked at him, she sensed the others’ eyes on her too. Understandably. Natalie looked nothing like her—the exact opposite, actually. Fair and delicate, where Gaby was darker, with discreet strength beneath her curves.
“We’re half-sisters with different fathers,” she explained before continuing.
“You know about her tattoo. Just pierced ears, as far as I know. She’s healthy.
I’ve never known her to have more than a cold her whole life.
She’s a sweet girl who befriended everyone, which is na?ve and dangerous in retrospect, and she looks much younger than her age. ”
“Which is probably why they targeted her,” Leland said in disgust.
The last item on the list gave Gaby pause. Virginity status.
At her hesitation, Callan’s eyes rose and met hers.
Gaby’s voice came out barely louder than a breath. “I don’t know.”
The tension in the room increased tenfold as she explained, “I’m nine years older. Natalie was ten when I went away to college. After I got a job in the city. She dated, had crushes, but I don’t know if she ever…” Her throat worked. “If she was still…”
Unable to finish, she stopped and cleared her throat.
“In either case, I doubt she is now.”
No one contradicted her.
With compassion shining behind his blue-blockers, Callan nodded. “I’ll include both in the parameters. This should only take a minute.”
Rhys moved then. He rolled his chair closer and rested his hand lightly on Gaby’s arm. “I know that wasn’t easy. Do you need a minute?”
The question caught her off guard. So did the gentleness in it.
Her gaze locked with his, truly connecting. For a fleeting instant, their conflict subsided, like when they were just Gaby and Rhys, not a victim’s sister, not coworkers, or investigators hunting down the dregs of humanity, when they had trust between them—at least on his side.
Wishing for what might have been was a waste of time, however.
She inhaled deeply and shook her head once. “I’ve already lost enough minutes,” she said. “I can’t afford more, and neither can Natalie.”
His hand tightened almost imperceptibly before it fell away.
“Here we go,” Callan murmured as columns of data populated the screen.
“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?”
“Profiles. Patterning. Reconstruction.” His gaze didn’t waver.
“So you can keep an eye on me?” she asked, echoing Dev.
“Exactly.” He closed his folder. “Meeting adjourned.”
Gaby shoved back her chair and walked out before she said something she couldn’t take back.
The door clicked shut behind her. The sound hit her like a blow. So did their argument, his hand on her arm, the quiet steadiness in his eyes—disciplined and too familiar.
She pressed a hand against the wall to steady herself, but it failed. Memory overtook her with ruthless force.
The cool mist on her overheated skin, his breath warm against her lips, and his hands sure on her body. Then Rhys uttered that low, unyielding command that resonated all the way to her bones.
Without hesitation, she parted her thighs, and his fingers found the damp, aching place between them, stroking the swollen bud of her clit with unerring precision. She gripped the ropes and whimpered, wanting more, wanting him, knowing he set the pace, the edge, the fall.
His mouth claimed hers, searching, hungry, while his fingers worked slowly, ceaselessly. He murmured against her lips, his accent a soft, dangerous purr, “You’re warm and wet, Gaby. But hold on tight. You’re about to get wetter.”
With a firm push, he sent the swing arcing beneath the falls. The cascade exploded over her burning skin. If steam had risen from her body, she wouldn’t have been surprised.
When she swung back, he caught her, claimed another kiss as he stripped off his fitted black shirt.
The urge to rake her hands over the smooth planes of muscle he’d revealed burned through her, but that wasn’t her choice to make. Not with her wrists bound and his control wrapped so tightly around her.
He moved between her thighs, pushing them wider as his hard length pressed against her heat. His mouth claimed hers. Instantly, she arched into him, dragging her nipples over his bare chest. She could have stayed there all night, lost in the kiss and the sensation, but he had other plans.
His palm flattened against her belly, sending her swinging again. This time, he followed, catching her and twisting the ropes until her back fit flush to his chest, his hands roaming over slick, sensitive skin.
The brush of his lips along her neck made her tilt her head in silent offering. The thick ridge in his trousers pressed into the cleft of her ass.
“You’re mine tonight, lovely Gaby.” His fingers returned to her clit as his other hand rolled her nipple, his body pressing closer. “All of you.”
Outside of him, she’d never considered herself submissive. This was a role. A part of her cover. But she was prepared to yield to his dominance—to surrender whatever he chose to take.
Gaby took a deep breath, pushing the past to the back of her mind where it belonged. Now wasn’t the time or place.
She straightened, wiped her palms on her thighs, and continued toward the front desk.
Greta looked up from behind the reception desk, sympathy softening her features. “Rough going, huh?”
Gaby managed a tight nod. “I need air. I’m taking an early lunch.”
Greta studied her a moment, the look in her eyes more understanding than surprise. “Working with Devlin men takes patience. Choose your battles. At the club, they expect you to submit. Here, they admire it when you don’t—especially when you’re right.”
“I’m not submissive,” Gaby muttered.
Greta’s brows lifted, her smile warm and knowing. “We all deny it at first, hon. The smart ones learn to accept who they are and embrace it. Within limits, of course.”
She left feeling unsettled, more thoughtful than angry. And, as dozens of possibilities of where Natalie could be crowded her thoughts, more terrified than ever.