Page 59 of A Captive Situation

She went into the foster system when she was six. She bounced around a bunch of houses until entering one when she was eight. She stayed until she was sixteen, then again bouncing until she aged out of the system.

There was no information where she crossed Lane’s path. The rest of the information gave the list of schools she attended. She kept her grades up, so she was smart.

No arrests.

No alcohol or drug history.

There were other pictures of her, but I skimmed over them to the end of the file.

Her latest location was listed in the city,thiscity. She was attending school at one of the city colleges. The file listed her dorm, and a job at—I cursed before texting Ashton.

Me: Are you kidding me with her employment? I just told you about this problem today.

He didn’t take long to reply. I could feel his mocking tone.

Ashton: It was a happy coincidence to find a neighbor of hers was already employed at my club.

Me: And you didn’t drop her a line to get the girl to apply at your place?

Ashton: There might’ve been an incentive given, but we can thank you for bringing Creighton Lane to our awareness earlier than we might’ve otherwise known. Having eyes on his oneweakness is smart business. She starts in two days. Would you like her schedule? All this was finalized an hour ago.

I gritted my teeth, hating this. Hating everything about this life, but I replied to him. He moved fast.

Me: Yes, but if I can take her before then, I will.

Ashton: You’ll need help setting up the meet with Lane when he reaches out.

I knew he was right. I probably would, but I really wanted to tell him to stick it. There was a smugness Ashton shoved down your throat when he was “helping out.” In this situation, the truth was that I was doing him a favor. Lane would more likely kill me for taking his woman, but I had no other options. He was too insulated for any other meet.

Me: Yeah. I’ll be in contact.

Ashton: One last thing, your cousin’s been showing up in our club lately. She’s usually high.

There was only one cousin he could be referring to. Vivianna.

This was also how she and I were both entangled with the West and Walden families.

She knew Ashton from when they were younger. Both were on the modeling circuit for a short time. I wasn’t sure when she started hanging out with Trace West’s sister, but at some point their paths crossed.

Ashton: Trace kicked her out the last time she came back with his sister. She’s becoming a problem. We can handle Remmi, but how do you want your cousin handled?

Me: Already handled. She’s in rehab.

Ashton: She’s out then, because she was in Katya last night.

I froze, staring at my phone, because there was no fucking way I was reading that right. She was out—but of course she was out. She would’ve walked in. Waited maybe six hours before signing herself right back out. She did it to avoid a drug charge.

I was going to murder her myself.

Actually. No. I had a better idea. Cousin Viv was officially no longer my problem.

Me: You do whatever you want with her, short of killing her.

Ashton: Are you sure you want to do that?

I knew the twisted delight he was going to take from this gift I was giving him. Just because they might have known each other at some point in their lives, that would not give Vivianna any safety if Ashton deemed someone a problem that needed to be handled.

I almost didn’t want to know what he’d do, but I had no doubt my cousin would not be a problem at any point in the future.

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