Her gaze ping-ponged between the side mirror and the road. “He started this horrific operation. I think he owned slaves before he brought in Van and me. I mean, he taught Van how to train slaves. Why would he know that?” She tugged at her ear, her expression pensive in the passing headlights. “Now he just sits on his greedy ass and collects money while Van and I scramble beneath his blackmailing thumb.”
Nausea rolled through his gut. What would’ve happened if he’d been the obedient slave she’d intended him to be? His own delivery would’ve played out. Traquero would’ve been gutted. Then what?
“I’m not like the others.” His chest tightened. “My parents are searching for me. I would’ve wanted to go back.”
She flinched. “I know. I chose you anyway, without a clue on how to deal with the aftermath.”
The whole operation was risky. So damned risky. One misstep, one slipped word from the buyer to Mr. E, and the whole thing would fall apart with Liv at the center. Yet they’d pulled it off six times.
“Where does Mr. E think these referrals come from?” he asked.
“Why would he care as long as he has his next paycheck lined up? Van makes the initial call, gathers the buyer’s requirements, and establishes Mr. E’s rules on anonymity. Mr. E never deals with any of them.”
“It takes months to hunt and capture a new slave? Ten weeks to train him? And you’re doing this, knowing the slave will never see the inside of a buyer’s prison?”
“Hoping.” Her voice wavered. “Never knowing. Van was banned to tag along after Camila’s intro meeting. That ban could’ve been lifted. Or I could’ve been overpowered during a delivery. Or my freedom fighters could’ve been delayed…like tonight.” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye.
“Freedom fighters.” His lips twitched. “I like that.”
“I’ve been thinking.” She glanced at him and back to the road. “Van knows who Mr. E is. What if he also knows where my family is? Maybe we could tie him up and torture him until he tells us everything he knows? We’d keep him alive so the contract isn’t triggered.”
Wow, that was the thinnest idea he’d ever heard. “You’re serious?”
She shrugged. “I’ve got muscle now.” She gave his arm a pointed once-over. “What would Jesus do if he was built like you?”
“Cast the first stone?” Honestly, he didn’t know. “What if Van doesn’t know anything?”
“Then we’re fucked either way.”
For the next two hours, she answered his questions about Camila’s operation, and he still wasn’t sure he understood all the intricacies of the process. When she turned into the Two Trails Crossing subdivision, she stopped the van a block from the house. “Meet me on the front porch. He’s not due back for a few days, but we’re running out of luck. If he’s there, I’ll find a way to sneak you in.” She left him on the curb with a heart-pounding kiss and trust in her eyes.
The walk was quick, but the wait on the porch dragged ten minutes too long. Drapes blacked out the windows. There was no light peeking through the creases. No sounds coming from within. What if Van was in there? Hurting her? His nerves stretched by the second until he finally snapped.
Down the driveway, past the garage, he stopped at the back door, found the keypad, and punched in 0054. She’d said all the doors but hers opened with multiple codes. Van and Mr. E had their own.
The door opened into the kitchen, lit by the lamp over the sink. Soft sobs crept from behind the bar and tore through his chest.
He sprinted around the counter and found her curled up on the floor, clutching a photo and a newspaper clipping. “Liv? Liv, what happened?” His pulse roared in his ears. “Are we alone?”
She nodded, expression pallid, voice empty. “Mr. E was here.” When he jerked back, she grabbed his t-shirt, her face twisted in horror. “Oh God, Josh. It’s…it’s…” Her gaze was lost to the papers shaking violently in her hand.
Stomach plummeting, he pulled her into his lap and wrenched the pages free. The photo showed a small smiling girl, her dark brown hair the color and length of Liv’s. Same milky complexion. Same delicate chin. The date and time printed on the bottom indicated it was six hours old. On the back, neat cursive scrawled, Do not fail again.
Liv coiled her arms around his ribs, her body trembling. “Mom got married.” Her voice was hoarse, desolate. “That’s why I couldn’t find her.”
He kissed her head, his lips numb with dread, and dragged his eyes to the news article printed by the Key West Examiner, dated today.
Local woman killed in plane crash
The pilot killed in a plane crash near Key West is being described as a skydiving adventurer and a generous volunteer in the community.
“It’s devastating,” said Wyatt Keleen, husband and co-owner of her skydiving school. “Jill was a warm-hearted woman and well-known in the Keys for her charitable efforts with families of homicide victims and missing persons.”
Keleen said Jill’s only child was kidnapped and murdered seven years earlier.
Jill’s body was discovered off the coast of Lois Key in a swampy area. The wide cavity surrounding the wreckage indicates her life came to an end after a high-speed impact.
The Transportation Safety Board is investigating the crash. Officials have yet to confirm the cause. Memorial services were held today at 2:00 PM at Summerland Key Cove Airport.
CHAPTER 37
Liv lay on her side on the mattress, showered, fed, and depleted. Josh had kept her talking through the night, prompting her to share memories of Mom and preventing her from crawling inside herself. Eyes itchy and sore, she’d cried more than she had in seven years. If she didn’t stop, she would find herself ass-up in the prison of her own self-pity.
Mom had survived Liv’s death. She could survive Mom’s. And she would. With
