Chapter 16 Risk
Tristan
Tristan rolled over in the empty bed, blinking sleepy eyes at the small alarm clock and noting it was almost eleven o'clock. It took a few seconds for his sluggish brain to kick into gear, and panic spiked as he realized he had missed the conference call.
"Shit," he cursed, scrambling out of bed and toward the living area. He only managed a couple of steps before skidding to a halt in front of a barefoot, shirtless Cade doing pushups, the tattooed muscles of his back flexing and rippling with exertion.
"What happened? With the call?" he rushed to ask.
"It's been pushed back to one o'clock."
"Why?"
Cade finished his workout and got to his feet, grabbing his shirt from the back of the sofa and sliding it on.
"Hamm called earlier. Annabeth found the other nine holding sites."
Tristan digested the information and its implications. "So we can get my sister now?"
"Hopefully, but Hamm wants to hit all ten targets at once, and we don't have the manpower, so he's calling in some favors."
"When?" Tristan asked, hope bubbling in his chest.
"Tonight, I hope."
The word 'tonight' rattled around in Tristan's brain, and he nodded several times as he tried to process it, to convince himself that after twelve long, horrific days, he would have Natalie back within a matter of hours.
"Tonight," he mumbled, running a hand over his face.
"She's going to be okay, Tris. Just a little while longer." Cade's earnest expression and reassuring words banished his lingering doubt, and he finally let himself believe the end was in sight.
"Okay, wow. That's great. Amazing. Thank you, Cade."
"Thank Annabeth. She's the one who found them."
One side of Tristan's mouth tilted up. "I will."
"You hungry? I can make some breakfast."
"Yeah, that'd be great. I'm going to shower."
Cade nodded curtly, and as he turned toward the kitchen, Tristan headed to the bathroom, feeling lighter than he had since this whole nightmare began.
After a quick shower, he again inspected his bruises, now ranging from red to purple to yellow and dotting his skin like some kinky rainbow.
He realized with a tinge of embarrassment that they would be conspicuous when he returned to civilization, that people would see them, draw conclusions, make assumptions about him and his sexual habits.
While he didn't really care what most people thought, it hit him that this would be a problem at work. He absolutely could not go in front of a camera looking like this.
And what about Natalie? What would she think?
Studying his reflection with a grimace, he imagined her eyes zoning in on the marks and physically cringed. Maybe when she saw him, she'd be too relieved about being rescued to notice them, but he knew they'd have to discuss them sooner or later.
Psychologically unprepared to contemplate that conversation with his sister or how the welts would affect his career as an on-air reporter, he filed the problem under "deal with later," and made a mental note to search the internet for how long hickeys last.
Hopefully less time than it took to find the leaders of a sex trafficking ring.
Despite the trouble they were bound to cause, Tristan admitted that part of him loved what the bruises represented: that Cade desired him, wanted to own him, to claim him.
A week ago, he would have balked at the idea of a man marking him like territory, warning others off, but with Cade, it was different. Despite how he treated him in bed, he knew Cade respected him, and, given his concern about Tristan's well-being, maybe even cared about him.
He really needed to broach the subject of what would happen between them when this was all over, to see if Cade really did have feelings for him, or if he'd misread the other man's actions and words.
If Cade thought he was just a short-term distraction, a way to pass the time while they were sequestered here, Tristan was sure he'd be devastated.
It was crazy, but he was pretty sure he was falling for the other man, maybe had fallen the moment he set eyes on him.
Cade made him feel safe and special, and he enjoyed being with him, teasing and bickering.
And Cade had been right about the sex; he had forever ruined Tristan for everyone else, had obliterated his ability to even imagine being with someone different.
How could anyone ever satisfy him? Take him apart and put him back together like this man did?
They couldn't, he was sure.
So yeah, he was determined to have the conversation, even if he got his heart broken, even if he ended up the fool.
Because walking away from this thing between them wasn't an option. Not without a fight. Not without shooting his shot.
Resolved to address the issue when the conference call was over, he left the bathroom and followed the scent of food. At the kitchen table, Cade served him coffee and a plate of eggs, along with a large glass of water and two ibuprofen.
"I hope eggs are okay. Drink all that water. You need to stay hydrated."
There was attentiveness again. God, this man could be so sweet without even trying.
He ate a little, too agitated to stomach the whole meal, and then paced and fidgeted while he watched the time tick by at a glacial pace.
When it was finally time, Cade pulled up documents on the laptop, and they sat at the kitchen table with the phone centered between them.
It buzzed shortly after one, and Annabeth's voice came through all business this time, without her usual playful greetings.
"King, I've got you on speaker. Our team is all here, and the guests are participating remotely."
Hamm spoke next. "Okay, now that we're all here, let's get right to the plan. We've got ten teams on standby, so we can extract victims from all sites simultaneously. Assignments of teams to locations are in the briefing materials. Let's get to the details."
As the group discussed coordinates, schematics and strategies, Tristan listened carefully, impressed by the amount of data Cade's team had gathered in a few short hours.
He occasionally glanced at Cade to gauge his reaction, but the other man was engrossed in the conference call, his brow knit in concentration.
After more than ninety minutes, Hamm finally announced, "Okay, then, I think that's everything. We're a go for twenty-two hundred. Thanks, everyone." After that, Tristan assumed the guests had disconnected their remote sessions because Hamm's voice sounded closer to the speaker.
"Okay, just for us, one more time. Our A and B teams have been assigned, with Annabeth and me on comms. Teams will meet at twenty-one hundred at the specified coordinates.
Kate and Lei will stay at the rendezvous points until they get the all-clear to pick up the girls and bring them to safety.
We've got cleaners on standby to wipe the sites after extraction.
Both teams will check in with main comms at T-minus ten minutes to ensure all is a go and for any last-minute intel or updates.
You've seen the blueprints, and we've discussed the approach, entry strategy and backup plans. Any questions?"
"Cade?" Tristan whispered. "Will I come with you?"
The other man scowled slightly, but agreed, "Yeah, I guess you'll have to. You can't stay here alone. You'll be safe with Annabeth at the rendezvous point."
Hamm continued addressing the group. "Okay, Annabeth, update us on what we have on the Handler."
"Once we get the girls out of these locations, we're fairly certain we'll have shut down this operation locally, but we obviously need to take out the ringleaders as well.
We've already eliminated the Broker, who we believe was the Number One, but we still don't have much intel on the Handler, the Number Two. "
Catching Cade's gaze, Tristan whispered, "You think that's who's looking for me?"
"Probably."
Tristan sucked in a breath, nodded and focused on Hamm's voice through the phone.
"What are we doing to find this Handler?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
"I've had spiders deployed on the dark web for weeks, but he's elusive, and I haven't found anything to establish or trace his location yet," Annabeth answered.
Hamm added, "Last night, the driver who transported the girl to location one was followed home, where Rodriguez and Taylor questioned him.
He doesn't know who the Handler is and has never seen him.
The Handler calls and gives him an assignment, and others pay him when he delivers. That's all he knows.
"We're holding him here and are monitoring his phone. If the Handler contacts him, we'll see if we can get to him through the driver."
"But if the operation is sunk, the Handler has no reason to call," someone observed.
"That's true, but he's our only connection to the Handler right now. We'll keep looking."
The silence that followed was telling, and Tristan's heart sank. Chancing a look at Cade and seeing him frown confirmed his fear that finding this Handler was not going to be easy or quick.
"Anything else we haven't covered?"
When no one spoke, Hamm continued, "Okay then. You know what to do. Don't mess this up. We've got a lot of scared kids in there."
"Understood," said several voices.
Cade disconnected the phone, and Tristan stared at the grains running through the wooden table, his worry swelling once more.
"So your team, they're all good? They'll get Natalie out, and not, like, accidentally shoot her or something?"
"Yes, they're the best. Rodriguez is a weapons expert who's been shooting guns since he was a toddler.
He's smart, fast and efficient. Taylor is ex-military, tough as nails, nerves of steel.
You can count on him to be calm under any circumstances.
And Tag, even though he's a huge asshole, is a smart tactician who can assess any situation and adjust on a dime.
They're a solid, highly trained team, Tris, so no, no one's going to accidentally shoot her or the other girls. "