Chapter Three #3
She leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek and Arlo’s brother growled.
Arlo huffed a laugh.
Mates.
His shark had been restless all night, but as he stood there, watching his mother fuss over the grandkids, watching Jesse pull his mate in for a kiss, watching the easy flow of family life move around him…
For a moment, he let himself forget about the case, but what he couldn’t forget about, not even for a moment, was Violet, because as much as he tried to deny it, to tell himself that he didn’t want what his brother had, he had to acknowledge that deep down there was a part of him that did want it. That needed it.
Yes, find mate, his shark said triumphantly. Bite her. Claim her.
Arlo heaved a sigh.
*
The bar was loud, crowded, and smelled like cheap liquor and desperation. Some things never changed.
Arlo barely noticed.
He hadn’t been able to shake her from his thoughts all day.
He’d spent the morning at his parents’ house, dodging his mother’s questions about his mate, watching his brother dote on his wife and kids, all while trying not to wonder what it would feel like to have something like that for himself.
And now, standing here in the dimly lit bar, nursing a whiskey that was only for show, he made a decision.
After this meeting, he was going to find Violet.
Whether she liked it or not.
The mate bond wasn’t going away. He could ignore it, could fight against it with every ounce of stubbornness in his body, but that didn’t change the fact that she was his.
And after what happened at the docks, they needed to talk.
Arlo sighed and rolled his shoulders, eyes scanning the bar before heading toward the outdoor seating area where Luis Ortega was already waiting.
The informant was lounging in his chair, a half-empty beer bottle in front of him, his sharp, weathered eyes tracking Arlo’s approach.
Luis was the kind of man who survived by keeping his ear to the ground, always knowing just enough to keep himself useful, but never enough to make himself a target.
Other than a few extra lines on his face, he looked the same as Arlo remembered from his days in the Miami PD: lean, wiry, and wound tight like a man who always had one foot out the door.
Arlo slid into the seat across from him, setting his glass down with a soft clink.
“You look older,” Luis observed. “What’s it been, four years?”
“Five.”
“No shit.”
“Let’s cut to the chase,” Arlo said, leaning forward. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk. “You told me you had information on the trafficking ring.”
Luis hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He shook his head slowly. “Not yet.”
Arlo narrowed his eyes. Not yet?
Something shifted in the air, the primal instincts deep in his gut flaring with warning. Luis wasn’t the type to play games. He didn’t call people out for a meet unless he had something to offer.
“Luis,” Arlo said, voice low. “What the hell are we waiting for?”
Luis didn’t answer. Instead, his gaze flicked over Arlo’s shoulder.
And then Arlo felt it.
A presence.
Her.
His pulse kicked up before he even turned around, the mate bond flaring to life like an electrical current surging through his veins.
Violet.
She stepped into the outdoor seating area, her gaze locking onto his with the kind of force that stole his breath.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Arlo’s shark became frantic, circling happily at the sight of her.
The bar faded into the background. The voices, the music, the city beyond the walls, it was all dulled, leaving nothing but the charged space between them.
She looked… damn good.
Her dark hair was loose tonight, framing her sharp cheekbones, and the button-down blouse she wore hugged her form just enough to make his brain short-circuit for a second.
He’d already decided to seek her out tonight. Seeing her walk toward him, suspicion burning behind her gorgeous eyes, only made him more certain that decision had been the right one.
Violet slowed as she approached the table, her posture stiff, guarded. Her attention flicked to Luis, then back to Arlo.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked him.
Arlo cursed under his breath. Of course, she’d come to see Luis. His personal and professional worlds were colliding way too fast, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. So, he rolled with it.
“We’re after the same thing,” he said, nodding toward Luis. “Might as well stop pretending otherwise.”
Violet let out a slow breath, studying him like she was debating whether or not to take a seat. Then, with a tight jaw, she pulled out a chair and lowered herself into it.
Arlo tried not to focus on the way his shark thrummed with approval, circling lazily now beneath his skin.
Luis watched the interaction closely, his gaze darting between them like he was catching on to something unspoken. His fingers tapped against the side of his beer bottle, a nervous energy radiating off him.
“Alright,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I’ll tell you what I know, but I think this goes without saying, you didn’t hear this from me.”
Arlo leaned in slightly, his instincts flaring. “We’re listening.”
Luis exhaled sharply, eyes flicking back toward the crowded bar before settling back on them. “The auctions,” he said, voice low. “That’s where it’s happening. The kids, the ones that go missing? They’re not just disappearing into thin air. They’re being sold.”
A cold weight settled in Arlo’s chest.
Violet went rigid beside him. “What auctions?” she asked, her voice tight.
Luis glanced at her, then back at Arlo. “The charity auctions held on the luxury yacht The Solara. They’re a front. Rich assholes come in, bid on overpriced art, jewelry, whatever, but that’s not the real business. The real business happens below deck. That’s where the negotiations happen.”
Arlo’s grip on his glass tightened.
Violet looked pale, her fingers curling into fists on the tabletop. “Who runs it?” she demanded.
Luis hesitated, but then muttered, “Damien Voss.”
Arlo exchanged a glance with Violet. The name wasn’t familiar to him, but the way her jaw tightened told him she knew exactly who the hell that was.
“He’s the one running all this?” Violet asked, voice sharp with disbelief. “The businessman and philanthropist?”
Luis nodded. “He’s not the Good Samaritan he pretends to be.
He’s been using the charity circuit as a front for years.
The auctions are how he launders his money and moves his ‘merchandise.’ These events are invite-only, strictly controlled.
They’re for Miami’s elite. If you don’t have the right connections, you don’t even get on the list. I think the auctions are legit, and most of the guests have no idea what goes on behind closed doors there.
They believe they’re supporting good causes. ”
Arlo frowned. That made things difficult because it wasn’t like you could just bust in there and arrest everyone, especially not when the perps were mixed in with innocent people.
Violet met his gaze. “Our best bet is to try to get onboard somehow and try to gather evidence.”
“Agreed,” Arlo said. “When’s the next auction?”
Luis gave him a grim look. “Saturday night. A big one. All the top buyers will be there.”
That gave them four days to prepare.
Arlo’s brain clicked into action. If Voss was gathering his biggest clients in one place, this could be their best chance to bring the operation down.
“There’s one other thing,” Luis said, taking a long hard look at Violet. Arlo didn’t like it and barely controlled the growl that was threatening to slip free from his lips.
“What is it?” Violet asked.
Luis glanced between them again, looking like he was about to say something else. Something important.
His lips parted, but before the words could leave his mouth, a crack split through the air.
Sharp. Distant. A gunshot.
Luis stiffened, his body jerking forward violently before slumping onto the table, blood spreading across the cheap wood.
Violet sucked in a sharp breath.
Arlo’s heart kicked into overdrive.
Sniper.
His instincts roared to life, his body moving before his brain could catch up.
“Get down!” Arlo barked, grabbing Violet’s arm and yanking her off her chair.
They hit the ground hard, and he barely managed to cover her body with his before chaos erupted around them.
Patrons screaming, chairs crashing, glass shattering.
Arlo pulled out his gun and tried to shove Violet behind the cover of the table as he scanned the area for any indication of where the shot had come from, but she batted his hands away and drew out her own weapon.
“FBI! Everyone get down on the ground!” she shouted to the panicked patrons.
Some followed her instructions, while others kept on moving in an attempt to flee the scene and find cover. But it appeared that the threat was over. The shooter was nowhere to be seen, evidently ducking out after accomplishing their task.
Luis had talked.
And someone had just made sure he’d never say anything again.