Chapter Seven
CADE
“What do you think?” I don’t look up from my computers in the basement work room.
He snorts.
After a lot of sex with Vi, on that balcony, in my room, I met Enzo down here for a deep dive exploration. Whiskey for me, rum for him, and now? It’s the early hours of the following day, so it’s coffee and energy drinks.
I rub my eyes beneath my glasses as I try not to think of Vi in that big bed.
Knowing Vi, she’ll be awake, but I left her a note telling her to help herself to whatever in the kitchen along with the password for the internet.
It’s not the one that we use down here, but up there it’s the real world and even Enzo has family, guests, probably people he fucks here on occasion.
I push my glasses to the top of my head, raising both brows. “I said what do you think?”
“That’s a question, not a statement.”
I roll my eyes at him. “And…?”
“And what do you care what I think? Because I’d have told you the little firecracker your idiot brother dated is trouble and not just because she’s your brother’s ex, man. I mean, dude. Also, she worked for that shithole of a human. And…”
“And?” Might as well let him get it all off his chest, whatever it is.
“And you like her. Too much.”
“So?”
He sighs. “Liking a shorty—”
“What year is this? And you’re Italian, aren’t you?”
“My point is, liking a babe like her is gonna be trouble when you like them too much.”
“You mean, the way you love your mirror too much?”
He points a finger at me. “You leave my mirror out of this.” He sighs once more and picks up his can of wake-up juice. “There’s a difference with love and having the hots for someone, Cade. The bad dudes sniff out vulnerabilities.”
“I’m aware. But we’ll keep her safe.” I pause, tap over to the next screen. “I’ll keep her safe. We’ve got the power to destroy anyone.”
“But we have to use it wisely or…” He makes his fingers like a gun. “Pop, pop, pop.”
He’s got a point, I know he does. And I also know why he’s bringing it up.
Ivan getting away very likely means trouble for us, and possibly trouble for some of our clients. And our clients aren’t the nicest or the smartest. They’re likely to hit us first and ask questions never.
“I know that.” I look at him. “I didn’t mean to like her.”
Now he rolls his eyes at me. “Anyone could see you liked her ages ago. The only idiots missing that were you and Jack. And Jack… Well, he’s an idiot and doesn’t deserve her, or maybe he’s just not ready for a girlfriend at this point in his life but…he’s your little brother.”
“Point taken.”
“Just wanted it out there. Now, what did you want?”
Apart from maiming Enzo? I shake my head. “What do you think of this mysterious girl?”
He shrugs. “What I always thought. Andronski’s into some kind of shit. And he had her for a reason, enough of a reason he took her when he ran.”
Those are my thoughts, but I throw him some shade. “You let Vi think she made it up.”
“I tried to dissuade her from wasting time by checking out the sub-basement. One girl? One? Come on. If there were more, she’d have heard them. Chicks.” He laughs at his own joke. “I believed her, but you had to go thinking with your dick. Or was that your heart? Which is so much worse.”
“So, he’s into trafficking?”
Now he throws me a dark look. “We’re both thinking the same thing. It’s not about him being a trafficker, it’s the type.”
I nod. “High end, the sickos who want a well-bred girl. And revenge trafficking.”
“Fuck.”
“Take someone of importance, hide them. And if whatever Andronski wants isn’t done or handed over, the girl is sold to the highest bidder.”
“Well, I’ve been looking into it like you, in between work, and I’ve got nothing. Just rumors.” He types something on his computer then has another sip of his energy drink.
I take a swallow of coffee. “Andronski does elite trafficking. And, of course, if a girl’s been taken, Daddy, or Mommy, is in shit so deep they aren’t going to the cops. They pay up or…”
“If it’s too late, he’ll sell her to a buyer he’ll have lined up. High end.”
“If you can call trafficking high end.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, but I’m betting men like Andronski do.”
But we both know the reality of the underworld where high end means bespoke, exclusive, requested. And it all ties up prettily.
Would that have been Vi’s fate? To be sold?
I shudder because I can’t allow myself down that crazy path.
“Cade?” Enzo says quietly. “Don’t go there.”
I swallow. “I’ll try.”
“We’ll find this girl. Looking into missing-not missing girls right now. When did your flower say? Nine months ago?”
“Eight.”
We both get to work on it. Hitting up various contacts, on the dark web, in the hacker community, in our own syndicate, and cops we know.
I pick up my phone after a while and check it. “Gonna see how Vi’s doing.”
“I’ll keep up down here.”
I frown.” And I’ll do a regular check upstairs on the laptop. Maybe I’ll see something on Facebook or Insta or old articles. Who’s a man like Ivan going to hit up? Work over? Someone in the same field as our friend Isaac?”
“Low hanging mafia fruit?”
“High up business guys. They all break laws, all sit on secrets, and most have money.” I close my laptop and unplug it.
“Maybe not the mafia, if they’re low hanging.”
I shrug as I stand. “We both know some families are loaded but they lack the power the big names have. They all play a part.”
“Or we’re overthinking it.” He picks up his second can of energy drink and cracks it. “Which is what we do. Look at all the pieces, find the puzzle, and solve it.”
I grab my mug and head for the door. “We’ll find this one, too. Along with whatever I might have stumbled upon.”
Enzo takes a swig of his drink. “Fucking hate traffickers. They make my skin crawl.”
“Mine, too.”
Heading up to the kitchen, I sit at the table, pouring another coffee. I lose myself in my work.
I’m just casting a wide net, one that scoops up whatever’s bobbing along just below the surface.
It’s either nothing or mostly junk.
Jean. That’s what Violet called the girl. She says she didn’t hear it, but I wonder…
Not that the girl’s named Jean, but something with a similar feel.
Of course, that doesn’t narrow anything down.
Trying to pick out tiny needles in the haystack of social media is a thankless task and ‘missing not missing’ is a nonstarter.
I stop.
Or is it?
Maybe it’s people who abruptly went away and stayed ‘wherever’ or post generic photos.
I quickly set up two programs to trawl that net.
I’m honestly not sure I’ll find anything, but young people do sometimes like to take off for reasons they don’t tell the general public, and friends talk online.
So, I pick some words to watch for and feed those in, too.
Then I check my messages.
There are a few leads from some sources I follow.
Right now, I’m going for identities by name. Anything that starts with a consonant. That has an ee sound in the name.
One of my contacts pings me. A new school PI who mixes old school style in. Computers and leather to the pavement kind of man. I know Harry’s real name. I know everything about him, but it took me a while because Harry’s good.
And Harry feeds some of the cops with information when it’s important, but his clients come first and most of his clients are rich and get him to track down people. Often those he tracks are their kids.
Me: What do you have, Harry?
Harry: I’m sending some files to you. But not sure they fit someone who went missing 8 months ago. But I have an interest in our diplomatic bratva fool, who turned up with a ‘broken’ arm that rumor says is a gunshot. Any knowledge on that?
Me: I couldn’t possibly confirm or deny.
Harry: Andronski’s name is known in the elite trafficking circles. Not something that happens to the innocent.
Me: Fuck.
I open one of the files sent to me.
Pretty, young, rich, and important parents linked to politics. No report on her missing yet. They’d hired a lot of people until Harry.
He found her, but the man who’d bought her had been killed.
Lucky? Unlucky? I really don’t know. But there’s no trail back to Andronski.
I open another.
The girl managed to get free a few years ago. Not Harry’s client, but he seems to have amassed some in his search for the girls he has been hired to find. Which makes sense. Learn as much as possible to make each job faster.
Not one word in any of these about Ivan.
Me: You have contacts?
Harry: Of course, I do. Suspected that piece of shit Andronski of trafficking but can’t get anything to stick. Or I’d have handed him to you.
Me: Thanks. Keep me posted.
I go through it all again.
Why do these fuckers always get away with it? Bathing in Teflon?
The Ghost would annihilate Ivan in an instant, but to do that, I need evidence. And the tiny poke around on the computer at Ivan’s told me Ivan is completely old school.
He would do things by calls. In person. Word of fucking mouth.
Sure, it only takes one person to spill, but who is going to risk Ivan Andronski’s wrath?
If we hadn’t killed Isaac, Ivan would have.
Elite and bespoke trafficker, one I suspect deals with the regular kind behind other names. But it makes sense because, why have one girl kept prisoner for so long?
He’s using her parents for money, power, information, and then…he’ll sell her on.
Keeping her that long usually means the girl won’t see the light of freedom when a deal is finally done.
I feel her before I hear her or see her.
Vi.
And I can’t help the smile, or the uptick in the beat of my heart. Just like I can’t help that thing inside which makes me somehow complete.
She does that.
Fuck. Is Enzo actually right about her? That I liked her before I even realized it?
Probably. Yeah.
Her sweet scent of fresh flowers on a summer eve weaves around me, and she touches the back of my neck with her soft, warm fingers. “What are you doing?”
“Work,” I say, teasing her.