Chapter 24 #3
The tears I hear in his voice split the last of my resistance into splinters. “Nikau Palms Hotel. Room 406.”
There’s a sound I’d swear was Jake slapping the dash in victory. “Fuck yeah.”
I try not to smile. “Are you coming right now?”
“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you, Renaldo,” he says, and I hear a screech of tyres. “We’ll be there in five.”
I know I should stand, wash my face or at least brush my red-wine teeth. Instead I sit on the bathroom floor, crying softly until my hotel room phone rings. I stumble to my feet, wrapping my robe around myself as I answer. “Hello?”
“Ms. Renaldo,” a woman asks in a judgmental tone. “There’s, uh, two men here to see you? Jake Graves-Holland and a Mr. Davis Sanderson?”
She definitely thinks I’ve put together a Friday night threesome with two rugby players, but there’s no way to deny it without sounding even guiltier.
“Uh, yeah… Can you send them up, please?”
The receptionist agrees, and as I rush to the bathroom to clean myself, I realise I’m drunk.
Like, super drunk. I stagger to the sink, suck Colgate from the tube and shove my busted toothbrush into my mouth.
The door buzzes while I’m scrubbing frantically, and I spit into the sink and go to open it.
I find Davis braced in the doorway. He scans my heels, robe and smudged face with a world-weary expression.
“Sure. Hi, Ada. Why wouldn’t this be happening? ”
“Cheers,” I say, trying to look around him. “Where’s—”
Before I can finish my sentence, Jake elbows Davis aside and sweeps me into his massive, gorgeous-smelling arms. “Baby…”
“Hi,” I breathe as Jake spins me around, peppering my face with kisses.
“Ada,” he murmurs between each one. “Ada, Ada, Ada.”
I press my face into his neck, feeling safe for the first time in forever. My shield is back, bright and burnished, shining at ten times its usual strength, and I know whatever happens next, I’m going to be fine. Jake is here. He won’t let anyone hurt me.
As we spin, Davis coughs into his fist and starts pacing the room.
“He’s scanning the perimeter,” I whisper into Jake’s throat. “Or is he hunting for clues?”
Jake kisses me full on the mouth, then groans. “Let him do his thing. Lord, I’ve missed you, woman.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
Davis clears his throat. “Not to interrupt, but we’re either gonna talk about this farm thing, or I’m gonna… give you guys some privacy.”
I squirm out of Jake’s arms. “I wanna tell you guys about the farm thing.”
Jake looks torn but drops onto the couch and Davis follows suit, both watching me expectantly.
I wince as they study me. “I don’t know where to start…”
“The beginning,” they say together.
It takes an hour to go over everything. I chug sparkling water to keep my mouth from drying out as I explain what Thrasher let slip about his workers, what Betty and I found online, what I saw on the farm and at the pub. Then I play the recordings; Grace, Shannon, Henry.
When I’m done, Davis is ashen, and Jake looks like he wants to kill something.
“Those fucking dogs. I’ll—”
“I appreciate your homicidal instincts, but we need evidence more than we need you to kick the shit out of anyone,” I interrupt. “Thrasher and his boys are gonna be trashing records at that farm. Shredder city. I’d be surprised if they’re not already offloading the illegal workers—”
“That’ll take time,” Davis says. “They can’t just turf a bunch of undocumented immigrants onto the street. They need transport, new housing, that kind of thing. Fake docs if they wanna pretend everyone’s been paid the right way all along.”
I nod frantically. “That’s why we need more details. Betty’s trying to dig on the back end, but she can’t get into their system, and we don’t have any official names of the workers to follow up.”
“We will.” Jake stands, pressing his fingers to his temples. “Colin. Nan. Betty. Betty’s mum…”
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He turns to me. “Can I talk to Betty? I know her. Her mum and my nan are in Rural Women NZ together. But I don’t have her number, and I’ve got an idea, but we have to move fast. Can you ring Betty and put her on speaker?”
“I… Sure.” I call Betty, who answers on the first ring.
“Jesus, Ada, I was so worried—”
“Hi,” Jake cuts in. “Sorry, Betty, this is Jake Graves-Holland. Me and my mate Davis are with Ada. We’re keeping her safe. I know how we might be able to get concrete evidence on the farm, if you’ve got a minute?”
There’s a brief pause but if Betty’s weirded out she hides it like a pro. “Sure, go right ahead.”
Jake’s plan seems both laughably simple and stupidly complicated. When he’s done explaining, I expect Betty to hang up. Instead she gives a thoughtful hmm.
“I like it. Let’s Trojan Horse this thing.”
“The fuck?” I look at Davis. “You can’t seriously think this will work?”
He shrugs. “It’s worth a shot. Jake’s a different kind of fish, no offence, Ada. They’ll let him go where you can’t.”
“I’ll ask mum if she’s keen,” Betty says, her fingers flying across an unseen keyboard. “But if you have to go it alone, just find anything that might be enough to get me inside. Names. Passport photos. Anything halfway decent about their operating system. One crumb and I’ll have him.”
“Betty,” I say, fear rising in my chest. “Aren’t you worried about getting busted? Anything you leak could get traced back to you.”
“That was when you were running around town on your own acting like Dirty Harry. This plan might actually work.”
I’m too grateful to be offended. “As long as you think it’s worth it?”
“After what Thrasher did to Rhys, they can all swing.”
“Fair,” I say.
“Call Colin,” Betty says. “I’m gonna go talk to Mum. Get back to me in five.”
She hangs up, and Jake wanders onto the balcony to ring Colin, which leaves Davis and me alone on the couch.
“So…” I say as he looks morosely out the window. “How’s things, buddy?”
“Please don’t tell Cece I’m in Pukekohe,” he mutters. “She doesn’t know, and I don’t want her to think I’m overstepping again.”
The resignation in his voice, combined with the purple shadows under his eyes, makes my heart ache. “Davy...”
“Don’t. I’m not your charity case.”
“You kinda are, though.” I reach across and pat his shoulder. “There, there, charity case.”
Davis makes a face and pulls away. “Stop, Demon.”
“Suit yourself.” I wander over to the minibar. “Want a tiny, overpriced bourbon?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “On the phone, you said you drink too much.”
“True. But we’re right in the thick of things, and if I may misquote Archer, ‘If I stop drinking right now, the collective hangover will literally kill me.’”
He gives a small smile. “Well, for what it’s worth. I like you better sober. So does Cece. So will everyone who matters.”
His eyes are sadder than any human’s have a right to look and the ache in my heart becomes full blown pain. “You’re a good dude, Davis.”
He inclines his head.
“And as much as I want to call you a parody cop name because emotions make me uncomfortable as balls…” I swallow. “I really appreciate you saying all that about being my friend and not drinking and stuff. And I think you should know Cece’s bonkers about you.”
He shakes his head like a swarm of sandflies are landing on it.
“She is. She’s scared because you’re hot and young and you genuinely want to help her, but from the moment she first mentioned you were working at Stabbies, I knew how she felt.”
He drops his gaze to his knees. “I’ve never felt about anyone the way I do about her.”
“Well, I know a lot about waiting on the impossible, Mall-Chops. That’s not you and Cece.
It’s not your fault she expects so little from the world she can’t accept a good thing.
She just needs time to realise you’re what she wants and come to you herself.
And I know you’re going to respect that, because, as I said, you’re a good dude. ”
“I just don’t know if she’ll ever see me the way she sees him,” he says, looking up at me. “Will fucking whatever his name is.”
I laugh. “Then I’ve got some good news for you, Davy-D. Not only is Will Sharpe about to catch some extremely nasty charges, but Cece does see you that way. More than that way. She might have spent her life idolising bell-ends, but she’s never let a man get close to her the way you have.”
A smile curls his lips. “Yeah?”
“Oh yeah.”
We grin at each other like idiots. “Thanks Ada—”
“It’s fuckin’ go time,” Jake says, bursting back in like the Kool-Aid Man. “Colin’s meeting me outside the farm in an hour.”
“Isn’t he at the cocktail party?” I ask.
“Nah, he bailed when I told him what’s happening with you and the farm. Can you call Betty back, please?”
“Sure.”
Jake’s eyes flick between me and Davis. “I miss something?”
“Nothing relevant to our mission, 007.” Davis get to his feet. “Mind if I grab a Coke Zero, Ada?”
“Knock yourself out,” I say, already calling Betty and putting her on speaker.
“Big news,” Betty says without so much as a hello. “Mum wants to go with you to the farm.”
“Shit,” Jake says. “She doesn’t have to—”
“She’s got the punch code to Thrasher’s office,” Betty cuts in. “She’s had to go in there a bunch of times to get lanyards and crap. She reckons no one gives a damn what some old lady knows. More fool them. I’ve got a camera and a wire mic ready for you, Jake.”
I laugh. “Do you actually work in tech, or are you MI5, Betty?”
“I wish. It’s old gaming stuff. Long story, but it’ll do the job.”
“And if Thrasher’s at the farm?” Davis calls, cracking open his Coke Zero.
“He’s not. I’ve seen posts he’s at the cocktail party, along with half of Pukekohe. Got a pen, Jake? I’ll give you Mum’s address so you can come around and we’ll get you mic-d up.”
Jake snatches up some hotel stationery and scrawls down Betty’s address, a muscle flicking in his right cheek. “Fuck, I hope this comes off.”
“You sure you’re up for this?” Davis asks. “Your neck’s all red.”
Jake snorts. “What? You think you could do better ’cos you work the door at Stabbies?”