Thirty-One
Liam
The harsh ringing of the doorbell pulls me from sleep.
Sara's warm body still curled against mine, and my first instinct is to ignore it, to sink back into the cocoon we've created. But the second ring is more insistent, a rapid-fire assault that can only be Damien's impatient finger glued to the button. It’s too bad my blender broke two days ago with Sara’s need to put a hundred and ten ingredients for her disgusting skin smoothie, because that’s where his finger would end up right about now.
“Fuck,” I mutter, carefully extracting myself from her. I brush a strand of hair from her face, allowing myself one extra moment to take in the sight of her sleeping and softly kissing her lips.
I pull on sweats and a t-shirt as I move toward the door, my mind shifting gears from the peaceful bubble of last night to the shitstorm waiting outside and the yacht, the photos, the girls, and the poker games, the trafficking and finding who runs the show.
The goddamn mess we're in. When I swing open the door, Damien and Mateo stand there with shit-eating grins on their faces.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice rough with sleep. “It’s—” I glance back at the clock on the oven, “—six forty-five in the fucking morning.”
Damien doesn't wait for an invitation. He pushes past me as he takes a bite of a croissant, practically vibrating with energy, while Mateo follows with a slightly apologetic look.
“We got something from the raid,” Damien says between chews, already making himself at home in my living room as he sits on the couch, one arm resting on the edge. He drops a thick folder on my coffee table with a heavy thud. “And it couldn't wait.”
“Keep your voice down,” I hiss, glancing toward the bedroom where Sara is still sleeping. “What's so important that it couldn't wait until a decent hour?”
Damien's eyes widen slightly as he follows my gaze toward the bedroom, then a knowing smirk spreads across his face. “Oh. You have company.” He doesn't bother hiding his amusement. “So, getting rid of the bed worked, then?”
I shoot him a warning glare. “Just—” I gesture toward the patio. “Outside. Now.”
I lead them through the living room toward the sliding glass doors that open onto the pool area, keeping my movements quiet. The last thing I need is for Sara to wake up and find Damien and Mateo in my house. She deserves a few more hours of peace.
The morning air is crisp, the surface of the pool is still and reflecting the early sunlight. I drop into one lounger, running a hand through my sleep-mussed hair.
“Go ahead, spit it out?” I ask, keeping my voice low despite being outside. Damien leans forward, his excitement palpable.
“Remember our little friend on the boat who you blew his kneecap off? Fun times. We got him to chat a bit. After some persuasive attempts, he gave us some intel that I think is a good lead.” He hands me the folder. “The next poker game is in three days. Invitation only, and there’s a list.”
“Let me guess…” I say, knowing where this is going, and I already don’t like it at all.
“Sara’s on it,” Mateo cuts in.
“Here’s the kicker, that pig explained that the pink poker chips have numbers assigned to special wins.” Damien explains.
“What kind of special prize— girls?” I widen my eyes.
“Yup, he confirmed girls are the prize, and then I punched his teeth out.” Mateo’s jaw tenses.
“Fuck, Joe must’ve found out about this… but how did we miss this when we raided the boats in the past?” I connect the dots.
“Because the games don’t take place on the boats. That’s how we missed it,” Mateo responds.
“We think Sara should…” Damien starts, but I cut him off right away.
“Absolutely not. Are you out of your damn mind?” I retort.
Damien and Mateo exchange glances, and I can already see the argument forming on their lips.
“There's no way she's going to that game,” I continue, my voice dropping to a dangerous level. “Not after what we've seen. Not after what those bastards are capable of.”
Mateo leans forward, his expression serious. “Liam, we need someone on the inside. The feds have been trying to crack this ring for months. We can help.”
“The feds haven’t done shit, for years. Don’t talk to me about the fucking feds— send in one of your undercover agents. Not her.” I stand up, the angst of this ill-conceived scheme running my blood hot. “Anyone, but her.”
“Liam, It's not that simple,” Damien says, and I look over to what’s in his hands and opens it. "These people are careful. They've vetted everyone on this list. Sara already has a foot in that we can't fabricate even if we tried. She’s on their radar, Liam.”
A list of guests, pictures of a building in the old village near the lighthouse, and the man I met who put his hands on my girl when he clasped that necklace around her neck. I could’ve cut his hands right then and there and fed them to the sharks.
Damien nods again. “That’s Charles Wayne.”
And Mateo cuts in, “That business card I had shown you in Marbella. That’s him. He’s a host, but something tells me he’s protected and knows a whole lot more. I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to lead the operation, but Sara could find out for us who he works for.”
I run my hands through my hair, pacing along the edge of the pool. I've just found her, truly found her, and the idea of her being in danger tears me.
“How the hell did she even get on their list?” I ask, my voice dangerously low.
Mateo flips open the folder, revealing several photographs.
“From what we can tell, they scout at exclusive events.
Remember the new club opening she attended with her friends a few weeks ago?
The sex club one we attended with you? Well Charles is the owner.
I'm guessing that's how they spotted her. "
“She already had a stalker long before that event, and she grew up here. Everyone knows her and her friends in the village, especially in the night life, they're practically famous… that’s not how she got on their list. It’s something else.” I close my eyes, massaging my temples.
“There's something she's not telling me.” The realization hits me with the force of a physical blow. The timeline doesn't add up. The stalker, the club, the invitation—it's all connected in ways I haven't pieced together yet. And Sara's at the center of it.
“What exactly am I hiding from you, Liam?” Sara steps outside. I hadn’t even heard her slide the patio doors open, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
I whip around to see her barefoot on the grass wearing nothing but my shirt from last night. The sight of her would normally send heat through my veins, but right now, all I can register is the look on her face of a mixture of determination, and everything that I want to keep as mine.
“Sara,” I start, but she holds up her hand, silencing me.
She looks over Damien and Mateo and back to me. “You do realize that I’m the one who told you about the briefcase I found in Joe’s room.”
“Sara,” I say, softer this time, taking a step toward her. “Come here.”
She hesitates, her fingers gripping the hem of my shirt she’s wearing. I can see the conflict in her eyes to keep her distance. “Please.” I add, extending my hand to her.
After what feels like an eternity, she moves toward me. I close the distance between us in two strides, pulling her against my chest, my arms wrapping around her protectively.
“Whatever this is,” I murmur against her hair, “we'll figure it out together. I promise.”
She stays stiff in my arms for a moment, her breathing shallow against my chest. I'm aware of Damien and Mateo watching us, but my focus narrows to the woman in my arms, the tremor in her body betraying her outward composure.
“I need a minute with her,” I say without looking at them. “Alone.”
I hear Damien shift, probably ready to argue about the urgency of the situation, but Mateo murmurs something to him and they retreat inside as the glass door slides shut behind them.
I ease back to look at her face, keeping her within the circle of my arms. The morning light catches in her eyes, turning them a brighter brown than usual. They're guarded now, wary in a way that makes my chest ache.
“Baby,” I say, keeping my voice gentle, “I need you to be honest with me. If there’s anything you know, anything at all. Now’s the time to tell me.”
Her lips part but no sound comes out of them.
“Starting with how you got on that boat.”
Her eyes meet mine, and she takes a deep breath. “It was Mimi,” she finally says, her voice barely above a whisper. “She got an invitation through some people she knows, and she said she had played once.”
I keep my face carefully neutral, though my heart is hammering against my ribs at the reckless idea. “Go on.”
“I asked her if she knew about poker games in town, after I found Joe’s briefcase. Liam, I knew something wasn’t right,” her words tumble out faster now, like she's been holding them back too long. “She warned me, but I insisted, and she put me down under her name.”
“You went as Mimi?” I clarify, my mind already racing.
Sara nods, then shakes her head in frustration. “That was the plan, but then she wrote my name down on the list.”
My entire body goes rigid, I feel my jaw locking, teeth grinding as I imagine getting my hands around her throat. “Why the hell would she do that?” I growl.
“I don’t know why! Maybe she realized it was pointless and they’d know who I was, anyway.” She grabs my arm, her fingers digging into my skin with surprising strength. “Please, she doesn’t know that some of the girls are being trafficked!”
I turn to her, incredulous. “Are you sure she didn’t know? She took you to a trafficking operation, Sara. She introduced you by your real name and then left you there?”
“Neither of us knew it was anything more than poker games, Liam. She mentioned some men turn into sugar daddies, but that was the extent of the suspicion,” she insists, her eyes wide and pleading.
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger. My hands are shaking with rage. “But how did she have access?”
I close my eyes for a moment, counting backward from ten in my head, a trick I learned years ago to manage my temper.
“I don’t know, Liam, please,” she whispers, her fingers still gripping my arm. “I think it’s your turn to explain to me what you and Joe are into.”
“Joe, Mateo and I have been taking down trafficking rings in different parts of Europe, and then we started raiding some of the yachts when we realized it was a front to lure girls in with the promise of luxurious parties, only to make them disappear by moving them from one place to another. We’ve been trying to find who’s behind the operation, but all I’ve found so far is a company name. ”
“And Joe must’ve found another connection…” She computes.
“Yes, he must have. Did you see any pink poker chips in the briefcase?” I inquire, bringing her closer, and kissing her softly.
“I can’t remember, I was in the middle of a panic attack.”
“We just found out what the pink chips buy. They buy the girls.” And I regret telling her, as she instantly looks like she’s going to be sick.
“Liam,” she pleads, her voice firmer now. “We have to find out what happened to Joe.”
I nod, because I agree with her. Whatever Joe started to uncover, we need to finish it off.
“There's an actual poker game coming up,” I tell her, and her fingers tighten slightly against my skin at that information. I see those wheels in that head of hers.
“If I go…It's our chance to gather information.” She takes my face between her hands, forcing me to look directly into those determined brown eyes.
“No fucking way,” I growl, shaking my head vehemently. “I can’t, Sara. You don’t understand.” I wrap my hands behind my head, aching from the grief that holds me hostage. The searing fear of losing someone… I realize that what I feel for her is more than what I’m capable of admitting.
“You’ll keep me safe. I know you will,” she says with certitude, a trust I’ve somehow earned. Not sure I even deserve her.
“Fuck, baby. I don’t like this.” I tense, determined to look past my fears, but I’m blinded by my need for her to always be by my side.
The sliding glass door opens, bringing me back from my intrusive thoughts. Damien and Mateo step back onto the patio, their expressions telling me they've heard everything through the thin glass. Damien's practically vibrating with anticipation, while Mateo maintains his typical composed facade.
“I’m Mateo, you must be Sara.” He politely nods, and Sara waves awkwardly.
“So, let’s cut through the pleasantries.” Damien blurts, his eyes darting between Sara and me. “What's the verdict?”
Sara turns to face them, her chin lifting with a determination that makes my chest ache with equal parts pride and fear. Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining with a strength that belies her slender frame.
“We’re in.”
I barely hear her words, blinding like a blade across flesh, because somehow, she’s embedded herself under my ribs, my skin, into the pit of my fucking existence.
The problem with getting attached to someone without your consent, when it’s something you’ve tried to avoid— the pure agony of ever losing them without your permission is relentless.
Especially when letting go is now, not an option.
“I don’t think she should go alone though,” I immediately add.
Damien’s eyes crinkle with an amused dark glint. “I think I know exactly who could go with her, but you’re not going to like it.”