Chapter 17
Juniper
Mr. Loxland sets up his laptop. It’s not connected to the internet, he explains, as I lie on my stomach across the front of him on the large bed, while he types in instructions.
He’s using me as a pillow, kinda. I’m tucked under him, and he lies over me like the cross of a T, except I’m surely the top section of the letter.
It’s heaven being cuddled. I twist so I can see the screen and prop my head on my hand.
Tomás comes over to sit on the edge of the bed, then starts to play with my hair. I smile up at him, reach over, and lay my hand on his bare thigh.
No internet. Or not for this laptop. Another one stands beside the suitcase on the floor. Apparently, he’s worried he might get hacked, and our possession of that video could be discovered by people who shouldn’t know.
Because the only people who should have a copy are those Karsten authorized, and we still have no idea how Riley came by it.
She didn’t hack into anyone’s phone to do it—her doing that is as likely as a wombat being elected Prime Minister of Australia.
So, was it leaked or was it sent to her as some sort of threat?
It’s now that I recall the audio file I sent to Rebecca.
I grimace. How do I tell them? I should tell them.
What if she’s looked already? It’s not the video, but it does incriminate all of us in a murder.
I admitted it in that conversation, I think?
I think I did? I scramble to remember and curse myself because I can’t remember the precise words anyone said.
So much has happened since then, and I was quick, under duress, and was being screwed around with by two alarmingly dominant men.
Dammit.
What if I tell them? It might break apart this whole relationship, when I only just decided I want to be here, with them.
And I have Mr. Loxland camped on top of my waist, tapping away diligently, and unaware I may have doomed us.
I want to be with them. This feels like we’re a team. A very kinky team.
Shit, shit, shit.
If she has listened to it already, she might be going to the cops, and that would be an absolute disaster. What do I do?
I am so fucked, and sadly I’m not talking about how sore I am below.
“Here is the video and the things that were picked up as possible clues that might ID someone. I ruled out a couple. The AI doesn’t really understand our needs or when things are being seen incorrectly.”
Our needs. My stomach sinks. When do I tell them?
“Here is a button it thought was from someone’s clothing, thought it had a skull emblem on it.
” He freezes a frame. “I checked and it’s just a river-worn pebble with odd coloring.
This is more interesting. This gesture. Where the man in the balaclava puts his thumb to his mouth and flicks it out.
It’s highly probable that’s a gesture known to only a few countries—give a tooth is how it comes up on search.
Russian if the drone shot is accurate. We don’t know what was being said, but it’s supposed to be a promise or guarantee. ”
From above, the camera pans in on that man’s head as he arrives next to Riley where she lies in the creek being held down by Nathan. Another figure walks beside him. Trees get in the way. All I really see is tragedy.
“A guarantee?” I murmur. A chill runs down my spine. Considering what they were doing to Riley, it was probably an awful promise. Promising to kill her?
“Russian…” Tomás says quietly. “There are some. As in members.”
“I have checked. And cross-checked with who was in Australia at the time. There is only one.”
Only one. “This is it?” I squeak out. “Has to be? Who?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions. We need more to be sure. Zasha Morosov. He’s here, at this party.”
Oh my.
“So…”
“No, you’re not going to run up to him and look at his dick.”
“I was not quite asking that, but now that I know what sort of people Nathan associated with, and how powerful and famous some of them are…” My mind is churning. “What if Riley upset one of them?”
“How would she?” Tomás asks.
Mr. Loxland has been typing, fast. “Oh shit. I never checked what Riley does. Stupid omission. We may have a link?” He exhales. “What was her last assignment?”
“I don’t know. That’s two years ago.” I twist some more to see his face, but Tomás taps my arm.
“What did she do?”
“She was a journalist,” Mr. Loxland snaps.
“And she has covered some touchy people. Small blogs, mostly. One article in HuffPost. She has…had a YouTube channel too. This has to be it. Just one problem. Zasha has no fame, no anything you could tear apart in a report. He’s rich and it probably came from crime, but I don’t see how she would have unearthed anything. Juniper?”
I shrug. “I don’t know either. You must have known about this being Russian, days ago?” Silence. “Yes?”
“I was in no hurry before. The sooner I told you things, the quicker you’d be to leave.”
“That wasn’t very— ”
“Nice? I never said I was nice all the time. I am the opposite, no?”
He is a fucking sadist, though I can see that as a positive. I’m sure I’m looking thoroughly disappointed. I am trying to see things from his perspective.
“But now I have you,” he adds quietly.
I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad confession. Which is why I decide I should say my own piece of awful information, because if I ever have him wrong-footed, it is now.
“I did something wrong too.” I suck in my bottom lip, sink my teeth into it.
“Go on.”
“Yes, do tell us,” Tomás screws his hand into my hair until it pulls at my scalp.
“Ouch.” I’ve never before been more aware of my hair being a way to control me. If I didn’t like it…
I’m struck by how Mr. Loxland’s awful act gets glossed over while I’m put under a microscope.
I glance from one man to the other, worrying again. I chose to do this. “I sent a copy of a conversation to a friend the first time we showed Tomás the video. Told her not to look unless I was missing.”
Which…I want to smack my own head now…was dumb because I have been that already.
“Sorry?” I say meekly. “I can text her and say delete it?”
“Hmmm. What should we do to her, Tomás?”
“Tie her to that tree tonight, like you said. Leave her there for the sharks?”
“Yep. Okay, this is the next suspicious thing.”
He’s changed subject in a flash. What is this? Why? He’s running another short sequence of the video, and my stomach churns again, only because I can see part of Riley there too.
Something is off here, and I jump on the best explanation and blurt it out. “You knew!”
“Of course we did.” That hand in my hair directs me to look at Tomás. The man is grinning. “He deleted it before it was read, within minutes of you handing back the phone.”
“You think I wouldn’t check, knowing you?”
“Fuck. You are both assholes.”
“The tree, tonight, definitely. Now, this video.” He runs it again. “There’s the dick with the scar. And there is nothing else. We need to find out who is close friends with Zasha.”
I’m exasperated. Whatever the tree punishment is, it won’t involve sharks, but they let me worry for days. Hitting them both with something is, unfortunately, fraught with danger.
I settle for mulling over what was said. “How do we find out what her last assignments were? And…” Lightning hits, or is it a lightbulb? “The travel stuff. There’s something about that bugging me. You cross-checked where Zasha was at the time. What if we—”
“I have it!” Tomás springs off the bed, freeing my hair so I swish it around and glare at him. “What about we do that for all the members and see where they and Nathan and Zasha have been at the same time?”
“Because?” Loxland asks.
“Because,” I finish the logic train. “Because maybe they did this again. Isn’t this often a series of crimes?”
Tomás jabs his finger toward me. “Exactly.”
“That”—Loxland has frozen and is staring at the screen—“is really brilliant? It will take some doing. Even figuring where to begin is diabolical. Lots of countries. Lots of secretive people. Though if their names are correct when they travel, and they should be, it’s probably doable.”
“Big bada-boom.” I make the Fifth Element quote and the explosion hand sign, splaying my fingers.
“Bada-boom?” Loxland clears his throat. “No booms yet. We will try.”
“Be very careful. You know why. If the wrong people get to thinking we are chasing them, Aaron, it’s dangerous. Either way…” The bed sinks then Tomás drops back onto it and grabs my face and kisses me. “We are getting there.”
When he releases me, I nod. “So, I was brilliant? No tree bondage then. Phew.”
They both laugh, and a second later, Tomás hauls me to the edge of the bed, where he flips up my dress and feels my ass, for no reason except horniness, as far as I can tell.
“More of this butt of yours, later, at the tree.”
“So. Much. More. Go away, you two, while I use the other laptop.” He flicks emphatically at us with his fingers.
“Shoo. Need to think. I’ll have to look at hiring someone I can trust to collate this travel info.
” Tomás makes a disgruntled sound, and he waves his fingers at us again. “I know. Be careful. I will.”
“Good.”
“Before we go, can I see what this man looks like? This Zasha Morosoya? Uhh, whatever he is?”
“There. Morosova.” Mr. Loxland pushes the laptop closer. “Him.”
A big bald, square-faced man with a mean expression. His black eyebrows slash in above deep-set eyes. “He looks like he waterboards puppies for a living.”
“Made his money inside Russia, from what I can surmise. Crime, bribery, and sucking up to the government.”
“Zasha Morosova. Okay.” I memorize his appearance.
“Now that you see him, no going to him and doing stupid things.” Tomás steps in, bends over so I must notice him. “Hear me.”
“I do. Sure.”
“Let’s leave Aaron in peace.” I’m taken by the hand and pulled from the bed, before Tomás stops and turns. “Tomorrow is the swimming pool party. Are we going?”
“All that jizz in the pool?” he says absentmindedly as he slides off the bed and goes to the laptop on the floor. “I guess so? No costumes needed, so that’s good.”
Costumes…for some reason that word has set my mind to churning, but I cannot figure out why.