Chapter 18 Search #2
"It's complicated." Pausing, he debated how much to share.
If he told her how he met Tristan, he'd need to divulge why he was at Wilson's house.
He was sure that once she knew he was an assassin, she wouldn't respect him, would consider him unworthy of her brother, and she'd be right.
But he didn't want to lie or mislead; she didn't deserve that.
Cade blew out a breath and began, "First, I guess you should know I kill people. Bad people, I mean."
"What, like, for money?"
"No, for justice."
For a long moment, Natalie studied him, probing, assessing. "Okay. So what does that have to do with my brother? How did you meet Tristan?"
It flustered him that she hadn't reacted with revulsion and disgust like he expected, that she'd glossed over that to get at what she really wanted to know.
"Doesn't that bother you?"
Under the porch lights, Cade could see some emotion flash in Natalie's eyes, but he wasn't sure how to interpret it.
"Guys like them?" she asked, nodding toward the house. "Guys like the ones bidding on me?"
"Yes."
She shrugged. "I'm not sure, honestly."
He got that.
Natalie asked again, "So how did you and Tristan meet?"
Cade could tell she was curious, maybe even wary of him. Clearing his throat, he told her, "I went to a house to get information from a man named Wilson, who was the money man for this trafficking operation."
"And then kill him?"
"Yes."
Natalie seemed to take a moment to digest that, but he couldn't tell what she was thinking.
When she didn't answer, he continued, "Tristan found a warehouse near where you disappeared and traced it to Wilson. He was at Wilson's house at the same time I was, looking for information about you or where you were."
"They brought me to a warehouse after they took me off the street."
Cade managed a weak smile. "Tristan figured that out based on a blonde girl who went missing a few days before you were taken."
"That was Amy. She's had it bad," Natalie said sadly as her hands clenched in her lap.
"I was in a room with her at first. She was freaking out, having panic attacks.
I did what I could to help her, but they put her alone in a separate room.
I heard someone come after they moved her, then screams and banging.
It was horrible," she added, her sparks of outrage reminding Cade again of her brother.
Remembering the blonde girl's dissociative state, Cade's stomach twisted with renewed fury. All these assholes deserved to die. If they found the Handler and anyone else associated with this operation — when they found them — Cade vowed he would make sure they all suffered before he ended them.
"How did Tris get into the house?"
"He broke in. He broke into the warehouse, too. Like I said, he did dangerous things for you. He loves you a lot. He would do anything for you."
"Wow, that's... I don't know. Brave, I guess. I'd do anything for him, too. So what happened at the house?"
Not wanting to divulge that her brother almost died twice that night, Cade skipped over that part and said, "I had to kill Wilson, but he had already told his associates that Tristan was there, called him 'the red-headed reporter.' He was in danger, so I took him to a safe house to protect him."
"And you were at the safe house for six days? That's when you two became... close?"
"Yeah."
Natalie absorbed the news, then scrutinized Cade as if he were a lab experiment. "How close?"
He had no doubt she already knew the answer, and that she'd sense if he lied.
"Very close."
"Like... friends?"
"More than friends," Cade confessed.
Natalie's eyebrows shot up as if she hadn't expected him to admit it. "So, I guess you're really worried about him too."
"Yeah, you could say that," Cade muttered, even though 'worry' seemed a comically tame way to describe this suffocating, frantic desperation to find Tristan.
Natalie reached over and laid her hand on top of his, a gesture of comfort he hadn't known he needed. "You and your friends, you're all assassins?"
"Well, not Annabeth, but yeah." Wanting to make sure she understood their code, Cade clarified, "We take out rapists, murderers, traffickers, but I promise we don't kill innocents."
"I believe you. Are you good at that? Finding people and then, you know, killing them?"
"Yeah, we're good."
"Then you'll find Tristan."
Natalie's declaration, the faith she seemed to put in him and his associates, both encouraged and frightened Cade. The responsibility of finding Tristan settled like an enormous weight on his shoulders.
"I promise you I will do everything in my power to get him back safely," Cade vowed, meaning every word.
"I know you will," Natalie answered, squeezing his hand, and while the sweet gesture soothed his aching heart for a moment, it was soon drowned out by a crushing fear that he might let her down.
During the ride back to the city, Cade sat silent and brooding in the passenger seat, oblivious to voices and conversation around him.
Though his eyes locked on the road ahead, the blur of streetlights and shadows barely registered.
The world outside seemed irrelevant when all he could feel was relentless guilt coiling around him, squeezing his chest like a vise.
As his fingers curled into fists, then released, over and over, Cade's mind replayed the scene when he'd given in to Tristan's request. Despite his instincts, he'd told himself it would be fine, that it would make Tristan happy, but now everything had gone to shit.
And it was all his fault.
By the time they arrived at Hamm's house, Cade was wound so tightly, he feared the tiniest provocation might set him off. He knew he needed to relax, to focus on solutions, but his emotions were swirling, crowding out any rational thoughts.
The group trudged down to the large, open room in the basement that held a boardroom-sized conference table, several monitors and computers on one side, and a brown leather sofa, two recliners and a big-screen TV on the other.
Along one white wall were two open doors leading to a bathroom and a home gym, and a third closed door.
The other team members were already seated at the table when the newcomers entered and settled into empty chairs. Hamm paced nearby, face steely and focused, sleeves rolled up, dark hair mussed as if he'd run his hands through it too many times.
Too agitated to sit, Cade leaned against the back wall with arms crossed, trying to wrangle the worry and anger that plagued him. He knew they had no leads on Tristan's location, and even if their theory about the Handler having Tristan was right, they didn't know how to find the crime boss either.
What if he never saw Tristan again? The idea made him feel sick, enraged, and insane all at once.
Natalie paused before she got to the table, her eyes scanning the room as if unsure where to sit. When Annabeth invited her to settle onto the sofa and relax, Cade watched Natalie throw her shoulders back. "I want to listen."
Annabeth nervously glanced at Hamm, and he approached the girl. "You must be Natalie. I'm Hamm. I know you're worried about Tristan, but I'm not sure you want to listen in."
"I do. I can handle it," Natalie insisted.
"Some of this stuff can be a little... unsettling."
"Hearing it can't be worse than living it," she countered confidently.
Cade saw Hamm's jaw clench as Natalie continued, "I want to know what's going on. He's my brother." Her voice was steady, and she clearly wasn't going to back down.
Just like Tristan.
After a few beats, Hamm relented, "Okay, fine. Have a seat."
After Hamm resumed his position at the front of the room and Cade's team related the details of Tristan's disappearance, Hamm announced, "Assuming he's been taken, we need ideas on how to find him. What have you got?"
Cade listened in stony silence, trying to stifle screams of frustration as his colleagues bounced around suggestions.
"The theory is someone from the operation found him and took him to the boss, right?"
"That's our leading theory, yes, so we have to find the Handler."
"But we've been searching for him for weeks with no luck."
"And we have no leads."
"We have one — the driver," Taylor pointed out.
"Yeah, we've got him here," Hamm said, motioning to the closed door. "I've got his phone, and if it rings, we'll have him answer. With any luck, it will be the Handler calling."
"But again," Tag warned, "With the girls rescued and the houses empty, he's not going to call the driver for any pickups."
The room was quiet for several seconds, and Cade bit his lip hard, hoping the sharp pain would prevent his emotions from spiraling out of control. He had nothing to add, couldn't think of any other angle they'd missed.
"What else? Anyone?" Hamm prompted.
"Maybe try to access street cams around the location? See if we can identify any vehicles that might have gone to the house?"
"Good idea. Annabeth, can you do that?"
"Yeah. There aren't many cams in the area, but I'll try."
"Good. Any other ideas?"
"If the girls are gone and the auction is off, there's sure to be chatter about it, right? Like, people will be mad, asking why. If Annabeth can scan for communications about that, maybe one will give us a clue."
"Good point," Annabeth answered. "I can put out a spider, see what turns up about the auction and sudden shutdown. There will be unhappy customers. Maybe they'll try to contact the Handler, and we can find him that way."
"Do it. Anyone else?"
No one spoke. They had so little to go on, Cade realized, his mind buzzing with disbelief. There had to be some clue, some intel, something they were missing.
"If anyone thinks of anything, let me know. Head home and get some shuteye. I'll call if I need you."