Chapter 6
The adrenaline faded, leaving Gaby drained but still able to function.
She pushed through like she always did. She’d been through worse.
Hell, she’d survived being held at gunpoint while traffickers debated her market value.
But this was her first firefight since then, and the comedown hit her hard.
She forced herself to focus on Big Tex, even though she never wanted to see his blotchy, tear-stained face again. Did he really think sobbing like a four-year-old after a bad dream would earn him sympathy? His nightmare was real, and entirely of his own making.
Gaby stood in front of the observation window, watching through the one-way glass.
Inside, harsh fluorescent lights glared down on Tex, hunched at a metal table, cuffed, and sweating through his shirt.
His attorney sat next to him, a sharp-dressed man in a Brooks Brothers suit and gleaming Italian shoes.
The lawyer had already advised his client not to say another word and deepen the hole he’d already dug.
His warnings didn’t matter. They had Tex on video.
More than a dozen witnesses placed him with Leonovich.
His briefcase of cash, which only opened with his thumbprint, was counted and logged as evidence. And they had Lyssa.
No attorney in the world could magic that away. His shot at avoiding a life sentence was cooperation. Everyone in both rooms knew it.
Special Agent Keene sat across from Tex, posture relaxed but laser focused. Agent Price remained standing, arms crossed, expression fixed as if carved from stone.
“How am I supposed to think with you all yellin’ at me?” the older man whined, sounding nothing like an oil tycoon.
“No one’s yelling,” Keene replied calmly. “Start talking.”
Tex’s gaze cut nervously to the one-way glass, straight to where he knew they were watching. He had no idea who was behind it, and that made him sweat even more.
Gaby’s nails dug into her palms. Come on. Give us something.
“I already told you,” Tex rasped. “Viktor was Enzo Denali’s right hand.”
Price didn’t blink. “We know Viktor was a facilitator. We’re asking who he works for now.”
Gaby nearly stopped breathing. They’d suspected Viktor’s role, but Tex had just confirmed it. He didn’t need to know that, however. The agents were playing him perfectly, letting him think they had it all figured out.
He swallowed, the sound thick with fear and resignation. “Enzo ran his mouth too much. If he hadn’t, maybe he’d still be alive, and I wouldn’t be sittin’ here running mine to stay out of prison.”
“So far, you haven’t given us anything. So, don’t plan on it,” Price drawled. He turned to his partner. “We’ve been at this for over an hour. Let him try his luck with the federal prosecutor.”
The attorney frowned. “I’d like to have a minute alone with my client.”
“Fine by me,” Price said, heading for the door.
“It’s been a long day. I’m ready to go home after I catalog into evidence the video where your client turns over $250,000 in cash for an eighteen-year-old girl.
” To Keene, he added, “I’ll notify the marshals we’ve got a transport to the federal detention center. ”
“No, wait,” Tex blurted. In his panic, he tried to stand, but his cuffs clattered against the metal tabletop, reminding him he couldn’t.
Price paused and skewered him with an impatient look. “You’ve got five minutes to convince me you’re worth a deal.”
The big man nodded, while his attorney squirmed.
Keene slid the photo of Natalie toward him. “This girl. Where was she taken?”
Tex looked at it. Too long. Too carefully. Finally, he muttered, “Never seen her.”
“He’s lying,” Gaby hissed at the same time Price growled, “Now you’ve got four minutes.”
Keene leaned forward. “The rescued girl mentioned an island.”
Tex froze. Actually froze. Like someone had yanked the plug on his power source.
“You know something,” Keene accused. “This is your chance to tell us.”
“Are you going to cut me a deal?” he asked as a drop of sweat dripped off his chin and onto the table. He didn’t move or wipe it away. That was the least of his problems.
“I think we’ve established that depends on you,” Price countered. “I’m leaning toward no unless you give us intel we don’t already know.”
His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’ve never been there. Just… heard things.”
“Where is this island?” Keene pressed.
“Don’t know. Other than it’s off the coast of Costa Rica.” Tex’s voice cracked. “Private. Locked down tight. Access is by boat or chopper. No phones allowed. No paper trails. Folks who talk too much… disappear.”
“Who owns it?” Price asked.
Tex lifted his chin an inch, both defiant and desperate. “Not without immunity.”
“Agreed,” his attorney stated. “You want him to give up his Fifth Amendment rights without guarantees. That’s hardly a deal.”
Keene leaned back, unimpressed. “You’re in no position to negotiate.”
Tex bristled. “I’m not stupid. Y’all already took out Enzo Denali. He was the big fish. I’m small potatoes. Hell, most of the men at them auctions make me look middle-class.” His breath shook. “You want the real money? The real customers Enzo supplied. Then you need what I know.”
“We need everything you know,” Keene corrected, voice like ice. “Give us the network. Then we’ll talk about protection.”
Tex’s eyes went wide. “What do you think I have, a master ledger?”
“No,” Price said calmly. “But you have a memory. Start using it.”
Tex licked his lips, caught between fear and whatever scrap of leverage he believed he still held.
“And just so we’re clear,” Keene added, lowering his voice, “right now, we have you on a host of trafficking charges. That’s fifteen years minimum.
Add aggravators like conspiracy, the interstate component, and pattern of conduct since you were at Coral Gables.
..” He paused as though doing the math then shook his head.
“You’re not a young man, Tex. How’s your health these days? ”
Tex flinched hard.
Price delivered the final push. “You want a deal? Give us names, or we don’t owe you a damn thing.”
Tex sagged, defeated, but not broken. Not yet. He still thought he could bargain.
“Fine,” he muttered, breath shaking. “But when I start talkin’, y’all better keep me alive long enough to finish.”
Beside her, Gaby felt Rhys go still, every muscle tightening as if bracing for impact.
Finally, Tex whispered, “Sebastián álvarez. It’s his island.”
The air in the observation room grew heavy. Dev stilled, Leland muttered a curse, and Rhys didn’t breathe.
The name meant nothing to Gaby. “Who is Sebastián álvarez?”
“He’s been on our radar,” Dev admitted. “But he’s not exactly a small fish—”
“He’s a fucking whale,” Leland finished for him.
On the other side of the glass, Keene didn’t let up. “Tell us about álvarez.”
Tex sagged deeper into his seat. “He ain’t like the others,” he whispered. “Most of them are buyers. They use the girls for a while then sell ’em off like horses.” He swallowed hard. “álvarez collects. Calls ’em his muses.”
Gaby tasted bile.
“And the girl in the photo?” Keene pressed.
Tex didn’t hesitate this time. “Enzo didn’t call the girls by name.
He gave ’em labels based on traits or unique marks.
Ran through the English ones, so he started using Italian.
That one…” He pointed a shaking finger at Natalie’s picture.
“Farfalla Rossa. The red butterfly. She was procured special for álvarez, his richest customer.”
Gaby’s vision tunneled, and her breath left her entirely. She thought she contained it, but Rhys’s hand curled around her shoulder and squeezed.
Keene’s final question was barely a whisper. “Is she alive?”
The longest second of her life ticked by before Tex shook his head helplessly. “I don’t know.”
His words offered no comfort. No hope. Just a different flavor of horror.
All along, Gaby thought Keene was playing good cop in this scenario, but he slammed his fist on the table. “Don’t lie,” he snapped. “You expect us to believe you know all the details except that one?”
Tex cracked, words tumbling out in a panicked rush.
“I ain’t talked to nobody but Viktor since we arranged the sale!
The girl was meant for álvarez. That’s all I know!
” He suddenly crumpled, dropping his head on his cuffed hands, shoulders shaking.
“My God, what have I done? I’m no better than them. ”
“Accurate,” Price said coldly as he tossed a notepad and pen in front of him. “Start writing. Names. Dates. Locations. Eye color of anyone who so much as parked a damn car at one of those events.” He headed for the door. “I need air. The stench in here is getting to me.”
As soon as the agents cleared the room, Tex’s attorney exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ, Raymond.” His voice fell to a whisper stretched thin. “You didn’t tell me you were this deep in it.”
Tex sniffed, blotchy and miserable.
The attorney straightened, his tone flat and unforgiving, “They’re right about one thing. You’re not getting out of this clean.” He gathered his files and closed his briefcase with a decisive click. “And for the record?” He slanted a disgusted look at Tex. “You don’t pay me enough for this shit.”
When his attorney left, too, Tex collapsed into loud, wet, pathetic sobs. Fear and self-pity poured out of him, but Gaby saw no true remorse. Not for the girl he tried to buy. Only for himself, for getting caught. He deserved and received not a speck of her sympathy.
She stared through the glass, trying to process everything she’d just learned. It wasn’t the confirmation she’d hoped for, that Natalie was alive, but deep down, Gaby believed it.
Rhys stayed close, his gaze locked on the live feed monitor, preserving every word in unforgiving detail. His touch was reassuring, but, like her, his tension was palpable.
“It may not feel like it now,” he murmured, solid as bedrock, “but this is good news. We have a name now, and a place to start.”