CHAPTER FOUR
Drew had been lied to by professionals before.
Police. Solicitors. Accountants. Doctors. Men wearing suits who could empty a company faster than a gang with guns.
Leah's lie felt different because he had wanted it not to be one.
He stared at the photograph on Gareth's phone.
The man beside Amy looked half dead but conscious. His wrists were bound behind him. One eye swollen shut.
"Who is he?" Gareth asked.
Leah said nothing.
Owen stood so fast his chair hit the floor.
"I fucking knew it."
Drew caught him by the throat before he reached her.
Not hard enough to crush. Hard enough to stop.
"Back."
Owen grabbed Drew's wrist.
"She's police."
"Maybe."
"Maybe? Look at her."
Drew shoved him away.
"And if she is, killing her before we know who has Amy is stupid."
That landed.
Not because Owen agreed. Because Gareth did.
The president pointed at Leah.
"Talk."
Leah's face had become very still.
Drew recognised the trick. He used it himself when anger became too big to show.
"His name is Ben Harker," she said.
Owen laughed without humour. "And?"
"He's police."
The room erupted.
Drew slammed a fist against the table.
"Shut up."
Noise died.
He looked at Leah.
"And you?"
She met his eyes.
"Detective Sergeant Leah Quinn. Regional Organised Crime Unit."
Drew felt the words physically.
Four months of conversations rearranged themselves inside his head.
The questions she asked without sounding like questions. The way she remembered routes. The way she avoided cocaine but not whisky. The way she watched hands instead of faces during arguments.
He should have known.
Worse, some part of him had.
"How long?" Gareth asked.
"Four months."
"What have you given them?"
"Enough."
Owen made a sound like an animal.
Leah did not look away from Gareth.
"But not what tonight's attackers have. My operation didn't know about the changed pickup time. It didn't know Amy would be there to take. And Ben Harker has been missing for eleven weeks."
Drew understood first.
"Someone inside the police is feeding them."
Leah nodded.
"Ben thought so before he disappeared."
"Who knew you were undercover?"
"Small group."
"Names."
"No."
Owen reached for her again.
Drew stepped between them.
Leah's gaze flicked to him.
Not gratitude.
Assessment.
Still working.
Still police.
That annoyed him more than it should have.
"You don't get to protect them," Drew said.
"I don't know which one it is."
"Then give me all of them."
"So your club can start kidnapping detectives?"
Gareth leaned across the table. "My daughter is already kidnapped."
Leah's expression cracked.
Only slightly.
"I know."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
Drew studied her.
He believed that part.
Gareth paced away, then turned.
"Can the police find her?"
Leah hesitated.
That was the answer.
"Not if the operation is compromised," Drew said.
She looked at him. "No. Not safely."
Owen laughed. "So now we trust the copper."
"No," Drew said. "We use her."
Leah folded her arms.
"I'm standing here."
"I know."
"Good. Then use better words."
Despite everything, Drew felt the corner of his mouth pull.
She saw it and looked furious.
Good.
He preferred her angry to afraid.
Gareth made the decision.
"She stays."
Owen stared at his brother.
"Gareth—"
"She stays alive until Amy is home. After that, we'll discuss what four months of spying costs."
Leah's eyes shifted to Drew.
He did not like the second half of that sentence.
He liked even less that she knew it.
"We need to inspect the photograph," she said.
"Why?"
"Shipping container interior. Rust patterns. Floor. Light source. Anything reflected. Ben's clothes. Amy's injuries. There may be location clues."
Drew nodded. "Do it."
Owen swore.
"Are you vice president now?" Drew asked him.
"Fuck you."
"Noted."
They moved into the office.
Leah sat at Gareth's computer while Drew stood behind her. She enlarged the image and adjusted brightness.
"Container isn't at the docks," she said.
"How do you know?"
"No sodium light bleed through the vent. Light outside is white. Could be industrial LEDs. Floor is dry. If it was sitting exposed at the docks tonight, it'd be wet at the threshold."
Drew leaned closer.
"Anything else?"
"The container number."
Only three digits were visible behind Ben's shoulder.
782.
"Could be thousands of them."
"Yes. But look."
She zoomed in on the corner.
A small red triangle had been painted beside the number.
Drew knew it.
His stomach dropped.
"That's not Redmile."
Leah turned. "What is it?"
"North End. Old mark. We used it on storage we owned before Gareth bought proper yards."
"Where?"
Drew already knew.
"Paull."
Gareth appeared in the doorway. "What about Paull?"
"Old container field by the river. Your dad used it."
Gareth's face changed.
"Sold ten years ago."
"To who?"
"Shell company."
Leah stood. "We go now."
Owen laughed from behind Gareth. "We?"
"If Ben's there, I know how police hostage teams operate. If he's moved, I may recognise what they leave behind."
Drew looked at her.
"And if this is a trap?"
"It is a trap."
"Comforting."
"You asked."
Drew took his jacket from the chair.
"You're with me."
She raised an eyebrow. "Again?"
"Again."
As he passed her, she caught his arm.
Drew looked down at her hand.
Leah lowered her voice.
"If Owen comes, someone dies."
"Probably."
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
She let go.
Drew stepped closer, quiet enough that only she could hear.
"You lied to me for four months. Don't mistake me keeping you alive for trust."
Leah's eyes were level with his chest. She tilted her head up.
"And don't mistake me helping Amy for loyalty to your club."
There she was.
The real woman finally standing where Leah Trent had been.
Drew should have hated her.
Instead he wanted to know her.
That was much more dangerous.