Chapter 2 Underground
Tristan
Tristan stood unmoving on the porch, struggling to think logically. His brain was still fractured from the events of the last few minutes, but he needed to make a decision. Now.
This stranger had saved his life and said he would keep him safe, but Tristan had no reason to believe that.
He could just want Wilson's laptop, or maybe to kidnap him to …
what? He couldn't have known Tristan would be in the house, and if he wanted him dead, he could have easily done it after taking Wilson down, leaving two bodies for the cleaners instead of one. No one would even know he was there.
He could follow the guy to his car and take his chances, or he could bring the laptop to Kenny, who he knew could get past any security on the machine. He had ruled out help from the police several days ago when they gave him the runaround about Natalie's disappearance.
But the truth of the man's words echoed in his mind.
These people, these human traffickers, wanted him dead because he was onto them. They knew what he looked like and where he worked. How easy would it be to find out other things about him? Would he even make it to Kenny's? And if he did, would they find Kenny and kill him too?
Tristan gulped.
He could go with this guy now and find a way to escape later if he didn't keep his word, but if he did make that choice, there was still the issue of the information on the laptop.
"I need to find out what's on this laptop."
"We have people who can do that."
"Why would you help me?"
"We want the same thing. Info on Wilson."
Tristan debated another several heartbeats, knowing he didn't have much time. His gut told him he was safe with this stranger who had killed to save him.
He decided to go with his instincts.
For now.
He stepped off the porch and up to the man, who nodded curtly and headed toward the street. Tristan followed silently, hoping his gut hadn't sealed his death warrant.
His rescuer's head was on swivel as they approached a black SUV. Seeing and hearing nothing, they both got inside. Tristan buckled his seatbelt, and his companion leisurely drove off as if he hadn't just murdered a man.
Tristan sat in the passenger seat and stared straight ahead, holding the laptop in a vice grip.
Now that the immediate danger was over, he registered that his heart hammered in his chest and his stomach churned.
He supposed his reaction made sense, given he'd just been on the business end of a gun before a gorgeous stranger materialized out of nowhere to save him like some freaking action movie.
A stranger who acted entirely too casual about putting a bullet in someone's head.
Tristan's emotions were all over the place.
He felt relief mixed with gratitude to the man who had saved him.
He was glad Kenny's hacking had been useful and was satisfied that they had successfully tied Wilson to Natalie's disappearance.
He wasn't so sure how he felt about Wilson's death, but the laptop gave him hope that he hadn't felt in days, and he prayed something on the computer would help him find her.
On the other hand, he was currently trapped in a moving car with a murderer and started to question his decision.
Maybe he should try to escape as soon as possible, but with Wilson's associates looking for him, where would he go?
Maybe he was safer with this guy. He didn't know why he had killed Wilson, and it was perfectly plausible that Tristan could be next.
But if he wanted him dead, why intervene to save him?
His thoughts ricocheted like pinballs in his brain, and agitation overwhelmed him as he tried to process it all.
He bounced his knee in a nervous habit until his companion glared at his face, then his leg with a pronounced scowl.
The daggers that shot from his eyes made him seem grumpy rather than menacing, but Tristan stilled his leg and pressed the computer to his thighs for added insurance.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
The stranger glanced at him and nodded curtly before picking up his phone, tapping it a few times, then holding it to his ear. Tristan cringed at the unsafe driving behavior, but considering everything else, he supposed that was the least of his worries.
"Hey, so it all went sideways. The target's dead, but I didn't get any intel."
The man paused, then shifted his eyes toward Tristan. "I can't explain now, but I'll call soon with details."
He dropped the phone onto the center console and looked back at the road.
Uncomfortable in the silence, Tristan cleared his throat and said, "Thank you, by the way. For, um, saving my life."
His rescuer glanced at him briefly, then returned his focus to the road. "You're welcome," he answered, his voice a little gruff, a little sultry.
The car rumbled along the road while Tristan's mind swirled with images from the scene he witnessed.
He didn't think he'd ever get over the terror of having a gun pointed at his head or the feeling of ice in his veins when he thought he would die.
He also watched, up close and personal, as a man took a bullet to the brain.
He shuddered at the recollection, then blurted out, more loudly than he intended, "You killed that guy."
His rescuer didn't even flinch. "Yep. And I don't feel bad about it. He was a predator."
"But aren't you afraid the police will find you and arrest you?"
He shrugged. "Haven't caught me yet."
His cavalier admission sent a shiver down Tristan's spine. "You've done it before? Killed someone?"
"Yeah. It's my job."
"What?"
"You heard me."
Tristan studied the man's profile as he wondered what the hell he'd gotten himself into. "So, is that why you were there? To kill Wilson?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
The stranger looked over with an annoyed expression. "You ask a lot of questions."
"Yeah, so? Why did you kill Wilson?"
"He deserved it."
Tristan's brain whirred again, struggling to put together the pieces. "Because of the missing girls?"
"Yeah."
That could mean a couple of things. Warily, Tristan asked, "Were you, like, taking out the competition or something?"
His companion scoffed. "No."
"Then why?"
"To stop him."
Some part of Tristan was relieved. "I only suspected Wilson was involved with their disappearance. Do you have proof?"
"Yeah. My associates found financial transactions that prove Wilson received money in exchange for girls. We're trying to shut down his operation."
Tristan's stomach lurched as the truth sank in, and his worst fears were confirmed.
Wilson and his people probably took his sister.
God, what were they doing to her? He wanted to vomit, to scream, to punch through the window, maybe even go back and blast another round into Wilson's skull, but he forced vengeful thoughts aside and instead tried to focus on how to get her back.
If this guy could be trusted, if he was investigating the operation, maybe he could help find Natalie.
"I didn't have evidence he was involved. I was looking for it."
"I heard you back there. You think they have your sister?"
Tristan felt lightheaded from hearing the words out loud. He choked out a quiet, "Yeah."
"Fuck, I'm sorry. How did you connect him to her?"
Setting aside his conflicting emotions, Tristan shifted in his seat and angled his body toward the driver.
He didn't know the man's name or where they were going.
Logically, he should have been scared, but for some reason, he wasn't. Tristan recognized that this attitude oozed horror-movie victim, but he wouldn't think about that now, not if this guy could help save his sister.
"Okay, so Natalie went missing six days ago.
She was walking home from a friend's at around nine at night.
It was only a few blocks to our apartment, but she never made it home.
The cops found her phone in the gutter but couldn't find any witnesses.
After a couple of days with no leads, the case wasn't given priority, which was suspicious, but that's a whole other story.
I was desperate and started investigating myself.
I knocked on doors along the route and talked to anyone who might have seen her.
When I came up empty, I figured I would look for similar cases that might provide clues, and I found three other teen girls who went missing recently.
Not a lot to go on for two of them, but the other was a seventeen-year-old who disappeared three days before my sister.
She was last seen leaving a bar with a guy just a couple of miles from our place. "
"What was a seventeen-year-old doing in a bar?"
"The bartender said she had a fake ID. Anyway, so she leaves with this guy. Her friends walk off in one direction, and she walks with him in the other direction."
The man scoffed. "What kind of friends let a girl go off with a strange guy?"
"They're kids. They do stupid things. Didn't you ever do stupid shit when you were young?"
His rescuer snorted but didn't respond, so Tristan continued.
"So, there's not much except warehouses in the direction they went.
I watched all the buildings, and most seemed normal, trucks going in and out, you know?
But one warehouse had no activity at all, even though I watched for a couple of days. So I broke in and …"
The man snorted again.
Tristan already felt annoyed with the sound, and he'd only spent twenty minutes with the guy.
"You broke into a warehouse?"
"Yes. Why do you say it like that?" Tristan asked, his hackles rising at his companion's skeptical tone.
The stranger's eyes scanned him, sizing him up. "You don't seem like the type, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised given where I found you."
Tristan set his jaw and declared, "My sister is missing. I'll do whatever it takes."
The man stared at him for another second, then dipped his head slightly, and Tristan took that as a sign to continue.