Page 70 of Lethal Torture
She takes a mouthful of her drink, eyes still avoiding mine.
“I agree with you.” I keep my tone calm and easy. “I know your team is experienced in these types of operations, and you’re right about how frightened those women will be.” I sip my Scotch. “But I still need to be there.”
Her head jerks up, eyes narrowing as she studies me. It’s the same expression she wore when I first drove her home. Like she’s not entirely certain what kind of animal I am, or how to treat me.
I feel an edge of frustration.
It always takes time for clients to develop trust. But I’ve rarely had to work so damn hard for it. And never under quite these circumstances.
“Come on, Zinaida.” I do my best to keep my voice level. “You must have known I’d insist on that, at least.”
Her mouth tightens. “I don’t want you interfering in the way I run Sophie’s House or my rescue operations.”
“I understand that.”
Her eyes narrow. “But?”
“ButI think we both know that whoever is trying to kill you is likely connected to the human trafficking trade you are working to disrupt. Which means that every time you do one of these rescue operations, you put yourself, and your people, at risk. If I’m going to keep you safe, then I don’t just need to be there, Zinaida. I need to be all over every detail.”
She frowns. “None of the attempts on my life have happened during rescue missions.”
Not yet, they haven’t.I suppress a serious urge to shake her until her teeth rattle.
“That doesn’t mean it won’t be dangerous.” I don’t miss the rather stubborn set to her jaw. I can tell we’re headed to a standoff that is unlikely to end well.
Time to change tack, Luke.
“Look.” I lean forward so my forearms rest on the table. “I realize it might be difficult for you to trust me. But when it comes to dealing with abused women, this definitely isn’t my first rodeo.”
“This isn’t like Myanmar—” she begins.
I shake my head. “I’m not talking about Myanmar.”
She looks up, actually meeting my eyes.
“My stepfather was a piece of shit bikie,” I say. “He dealt heroin, and he got my mother hooked on it when my sister, Liana, and I were just kids. He also liked to knock us around.Particularly my mother and Liana, and particularly when I wasn’t there.”
Her eyes widen. “Luke. I’m so sorry—”
“I’m not looking for sympathy.” Realizing how harsh I sound, I force myself to smile. “My point is that I grew up with a front-row seat to abuse. I know how terrifying it is to be powerless at the hands of people who are bigger and stronger. I want you to know that I understand how vulnerable the women coming out of that container will be.”
I turn back to the bottles on the shelf, more to regain my own composure than because I really need another drink.
I’ve never been comfortable talking about my past.
“What happened to her?”
“To Liana?” I smile, turning back and topping up our drinks. “She’s great. Happily married in Perth, Australia, with two kids who are probably smearing chocolate all over my boat as we speak.”
“That’s nice.” Zinaida is watching me closely, with just a little too much perception for my liking. “But I meant what happened to your mother?”
Yeah. I figured.
I was just hoping we might be able to skim over that part.
I take a measured mouthful of my drink. “She died of an overdose. A year after I left with Liana.”
Zinaida nods slowly. “You weren’t there when she died?”
