Page 44 of The Hitman's Omega Priest
“Of course, it is!” King put the bottle down and rounded so fast Bishop expected his fist to fly, more furious than Bishop had seen King in his life. “I’d have emptied every off-shore account, sold every building I own, you know that. But the time was so short. Someone put in more at the last second, and I lost.”
Bishop had an idea of what King’s net worth was, and for some unknown person to bid more than that? No one did thatout of the kindness of their heart. They did it for evil. Pure and simple evil. “What’s Ziggy doing?”
“Everything he can with my phone and that link. Whoever set this up has likely done it before. I have no problem breaking the law to get what I want, but human trafficking is my hard limit, and I have a gut feeling that’s who took Kensley. Not necessarily someone who wanted to target me, but someone who knew Kensley was an omega living outside the protection of the church.”
“So the people who tried to take him at the spaghetti dinner aren’t the same people who stole him from me?”
“It’s still possible, since no one has taken responsibility for that yet.”
“But I saw the Castle family tattoo on one of them.”
“He could have defected, I don’t know.” And King hated not knowing almost as much as Bishop. “My enemies want my territory and my power. I don’t believe Castle has the resources to pay what this monster paid. These disgusting wastes of life who traffic in human beings only want money.”
“Which means Kensley could be sent anywhere in the country.”
“Or even outside the country, depending on how wide this ring’s reach is.”
“Then we have to find him before he’s moved again.”
“Trust me, that’s what Ziggy is working on. He’s even called in a few favors.”
“Okay.” Bishop was somewhat hopeless when it came to technology, which was why they had Ziggy to do that shit for them. And Ziggy was the best computer wizard and hacker money could buy loyalty from. The man was paid very, very well for his services. If anyone could break into what was probably a highly-protected cyber system for a human trafficking ring, it was Ziggy.
He had to believe it.
For as much as Bishop wanted to be furious at King for not winning the bid and bringing Kensley home, he couldn’t. Not right now. He had to channel his rage into the same place as his fear: a box buried deep-down that would contain his emotions until the job at hand was complete.
Now that they had a quasi-lead on Kensley, he had something more specific to focus on: finding and destroying a human trafficking organization. The scum of the earth.
Bishop palmed his cell phone and made a call.
Kensley did not wear boredom well, and after what he believed to be three days in that stupid room (based on the way meals were spaced out, and not because he’d seen a ray of sunshine since Sunday), he’d made it his mission to dismantle his bed. He didn’t have any tools, and Marta’s disembodied voice never told him to stop, so his captors must not have thought he was smart enough to use the bed pieces in any useful way.
He’d told Marta he’d never stop fighting, and he meant it.
He also spent a lot of time reciting scriptures out loud. Not because he thought they would save him, or because he believed in the Holy Scriptures. He needed to hear someone’s voice in that chilly, lonely room, or he’d go insane. No one visited him. He had no idea when the empty saline bag had been removed and his IV taken out, but he suspected one of his meals had been drugged. He’d slept extra heavily one night.
So he talked to himself and made an art project out of his bed, peed in a bottle, and slept on his thin mattress on the floor. He still wasn’t entirely sure he believed he was pregnant,but what motive did Marta have to lie? This entire scenario was insane and a plot out of a terrible suspense film.
He’d never liked those kinds of movies, even as a young, pre-Order teen, when he was allowed to watch movies and television.
The only reason he didn’t do something to actively harm himself and force human interaction was because hemightbe carrying Bishop’s child. And if Bishop was dead…no. Until Kensley was presented with a body, Bishop was alive and searching for him. Bishop and King would never stop. They’d pay anything to get him home.
Right?
When his dinner tray slid under the door, Kensley tried to peek, but the opening was small. Maybe two inches off the ground, and only about six wide, exactly enough space to get his small tray and flat food inside before it shut again. He sniffed at what looked like a slab of gray turkey and gravy next to mashed potatoes, with a side of carrot rounds. As boring as his other meals, but it was food. Fuel. For him and his maybe-baby.
He ate while it was hot, and within thirty minutes he was yawning. He’d been drugged again, and it hit him too quickly to try and throw up. All he could do, as his mind drifted away, was hope that when he woke up, Bishop would be smiling down at him.
TWELVE
Kensley did wakeup to a face looking down at him, but it was not Bishop’s, and the man was not smiling. He was…well, not crying, but he had a face full of grief that instantly made Kensley’s heart ache. Kensley’s mouth was dry, his arms and legs a little stiff, and he tried to get his bearings. To understand he was in a bed somewhere. A much softer bed than the hospital-like one of his last prison.
“Where am I?” he asked, unsure if he’d managed to verbalize the question or not when the stranger didn’t speak for a long time.
“Your new life,” the other man replied, his voice as broken as his expression. “I’m so sorry.”
Kensley started to sit up, and the stranger moved back a few steps, not trying to discourage him or help him. He simply watched. Kensley was wearing a pair of simple linen pajamas, which meant someone had changed his clothes. Someone had touched him, seen him naked, and that lit a spark of fury behind his breastbone.
