Page 113 of Darcy
“I figured it was you who got into contact with Man.” She’s so fiercely protective of her brother, that it had to be her.
“You hired anassassin?” Arlo’s voice has dropped an octave in disapproval as he hands her the ice pack. Sighing, she presses it to her face.
Dodger, however, slaps her on the back. “Ems, you are the best.”
It’s clear, from Arlo’s conflicted expression, that he doesn’t agree.
“Hey, don’t give me that look,” Emma says. “It wasn’t just my idea. Sully and I did it together when it became painfully obvious you needed a woman to come and sort out this mess. My decision meant you finally got to bone your nerdy virtual girlfriend,andshe saved Sully.”
The four men exchange exasperated looks, and I chuckle. “She’s got you there.”
“How the fuck can you afford an assassin?” Dodger chokes. “I thought you weren’t touching your trust fund.”
“I’m not,” Emma insists. “Because it’s not my money.” Arlo sighs in exasperation, and she pokes her tongue out at him. “The Belladonnas took your case on for free.”
The four men look at me, silently asking if that’s even possible.
I shrug. “Man takes on more pro bono cases than you’d expect. Especially when it comes to scum like Miguel.” And cases that Man knows are important to us. “Sometimes he’ll assign one of us a mark that he knows we have a vendetta against.” Like my sister, Ivory, who was assigned to end her childhood abuser. “Or he’ll give us a case that allows us to protect those we care about.”
Man will never confirm it, but I’m certain he gave Raven the marks which were most likely to coincide with the infamous Loxley Crew’s whereabouts, because heknewabout her connection to their leader, Otto. I have no idea how he located them, let alone uncovered their identities—I spent months hacking various government and criminal databases yet uncovered nothing about the thieves—but hemusthave.
I don’t believe in coincidences.
Which is why I believe he took Emma’s case. Man knew about my connection to Hazardous and gave me their file knowing I would never let one of the others touch it. He cares, though he’d never admit it.
“Did Miguel do that?” I ask, waving at Emma’s bruised face to distract myself from my sappy thoughts.
She swallows, and nods. “He hit me when I tried to stop him taking my assistant.” She pauses, breath hitching. “He was just dragging her out, but I managed to distract him long enough for her to run.”
“Your assistant?” I ask, confused.
Slate crumples slightly in his seat. “His brothers traffic girls by giving them jobs in the crew as a cover,” he admits, squeezing his eyes shut as he scrubs a hand down his face. “They usually end up in wardrobe, because Miguel thinks they won’t draw too much attention there, and it fits with the lie they tell the girls—that they’re coming to work. Then when he finds a buyer, they’re taken and handed over.”
“Marianne was picked up on the European leg of the tour,” Emma whispers, dabbing the ice pack against her cheekbone. “In London. She was sweet, if a little awkward. I think she managed to get away…”
“I’m sure she did,” I mumble, though I don’t have too much hope, given how tight security was.
“You know Gabrielle was almost free of them, right?” Emma adds, still in shock. “She just had another year of work before her agreement with the cartel was up. They were paying for her little brother’s medical bills. I caught her crying about it during her first week.”
That makes a disturbing amount of sense, but I say nothing. In the hills above El Paso, I weighed her life and decided she was acceptable collateral damage because of her association. Guilt prickles across my shoulders until I have to physically shrug the sensation off. In the end, I didn’t kill her. That blame lies at Miguel’s feet, along with the destruction of so many other lives. At least her death was quick.
“Miguel won’t have a chance to take any more girls,” I finally say. “I’ll make sure of it.”
I drop my gaze to my laptop and quickly access the brothers’ shared calendar.
“It looks like he’s got a meeting set up with his brothers after the concert ends,” I mutter. “Then they’re heading for a yacht out on the bay.”
I like boats. Boats are nice and easy to blow up with all that fuel on board, and they have the benefit of being far away from any innocent bystanders. Then there are helpful currents that will carry away bodies before they can become evidence.
Yup. That’s my best bet. Blow up the boat.
I hum as I work, drawing up schematics. I’ll need eyes on the meeting, and a backup plan in case their schedule changes, and—
A pair of hands land on my shoulders, massaging the tension from them. “It’s late,” Prophet grumbles in that deep voice of his. “I know you want to get started, but you have the whole of tomorrow to do this, and Emma needs to get some rest.”
Oh. I forgot she was sleeping on the couch. “Sorry.” I blush. “I got into the zone. I’ll just…”
Before I can say anything else, he lifts me from the sofa and throws me over his shoulder.
