by Eva Ashwood
Lucas and Zaid take their roles as head chefs of our little household very seriously, and if their cooking wasn’t proof enough that they know what they’re doing in the kitchen, this list would be. It’s organized by flow and section of the grocery store, which items come first on the aisles, top to bottom. It’s insane.
“I never knew you were so type A,” I joke, elbowing Zaid in the side.
He chuckles. “Only when it comes to food.”
“That’s a lie,” Lucas puts in. “You should see his closet. It’s the most organized fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You should talk, Mister Organizes-His-Ties-by-Length-and-Color.”
Lucas punches his brother lightly on the arm as they trade verbal jabs back and forth. It kind of cracks me up, honestly. They’re both so laid-back in some ways, but obviously not in all ways.
I chuckle, glancing down at the list of things we still need to get. “I’ll go get the pasta. I think I can handle that.”
Leaving the cart with them, I duck down a separate aisle in search of angel hair pasta. My gaze scans the shelves, looking for the particular brand they want, and I’m not watching where I’m going—until I run smack into a solid form.
“Oh my God, I’m so—”
“It’s fine. It’s fine.”
The man I bumped into is an older guy with a dark complexion and salt-and-pepper hair. He grasps my upper arms to steady me. Then, so quickly and smoothly I don’t even realize what he’s doing until it’s done, he slides one hand down and presses something into my palm.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, giving me an affable smile before stepping around me and continuing down the aisle.
Heart racing, my hand clenches around the small object he just placed in it. It’s a piece of paper, and my mind immediately jumps to the last note I received.
Is he working for Camilla?
My stomach seems to drop into my shoes, dread pumping through my veins. But when I open the crumpled paper with shaking hands, I realize it’s not on the same expensive card stock as Camilla’s message. The handwriting isn’t her flowing script. Instead, it’s a hastily scribbled message on a piece of paper that looks like it was torn out of a small notebook.
FBI. I can help you. I know you’ve been taken prisoner.
14
Grace
I stare down at the note in shock.
FBI?
Shit.
I didn’t realize things were this big. The FBI got involved in the search for me? Brian was just in the city police force, but somehow I’m certain he wasn’t sharing tips about my location with the FBI. Not if he was working with Leland and Camilla on the side.
So how does this agent know who I am? How did he find out I’m in Chicago?
My first impulse as the shock fades is to go find Zaid and Lucas, to grab them both and get the fuck out of here.
But what if there are other FBI agents in the store? If we run, would there be a shootout? Each of the twins would die trying to protect me, I have no doubt about that. They wouldn’t let the FBI drag me away.
My heart crawls into my throat at the thought, and I shove down my rising panic. Zaid and Lucas are both trained mafia warriors. I can’t fucking risk them putting their lives in danger to protect me, not if there’s any other way of eliminating the threat.
I have to go talk to that man. Explain to him that I don’t need rescuing. Find out what the fuck he wants.
Hardly breathing, hardly even seeing where I’m going, I move in the direction the older man went, rounding the corner and heading down another aisle.
The FBI agent is lingering at the end of the aisle, looking at the array of ice cream set out neatly on shelves behind the glass doors. When he sees that I’ve followed him, he nods, his gaze catching mine for just a second before he turns and heads toward the back of the store, his stride relaxed and easy. I try to keep mine the same, darting a quick glance around as my pulse thunders in my ears.
A moment later, he pushes open a door marked Employees Only and ducks inside. I follow him.
“Thank you, Grace,” he says, turning to face me and keeping his voice low. “You made the right choice. We don’t have much time, so I’ll speak quickly.”
A chill washes over my skin. I don’t like the way he calls me Grace, as if we’re old friends who’ve known each other for years. I’m sure it’s part of his training, a tactic to try to build trust and familiarity, but it sets my nerves on edge. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned through the course of all this insanity, it’s that I can’t trust anyone.
“What do you want?” I ask, licking my suddenly dry lips.
“My name is Agent Miles Brady.” He flashes me his badge quickly as proof. “I know about your past with the Novak syndicate—your father’s involvement in the organization. I also know about your present position as well, and I think I can help you, if you help me. Do you think you can do that?”
I’m silent. I’m not agreeing to anything until I read the fucking fine print. The woman I was a few months ago, the one who was so dead set on building the perfect all-American, suburban life in Washington? She would’ve jumped at the chance to return to that life. But now I don’t ever want to go back.
I care about the men who stole me too much to ever want to leave them.
And maybe this man would insist all I’m feeling is Stockholm Syndrome or something, but I know that’s not true.
I also know enough not to trust anyone who says they’re on my side, especially not just because they have a badge.
This man is dangerous, even if he’s trying to help by doing the right thing. This man will always be my enemy, no matter how much he’s trying to help me, because he’s the enemy of the four men I’m slowly falling in love with. Instead of seeing this man as a savior, I see him as a threat. I’m terrified of what his presence means, and I’m already bracing myself for the worst.
Noticing that I haven’t spoken, Agent Brady gives a nod, as if accepting my silence as a part of our negotiation.
“I’ll explain myself,” he continues. “We’ve been investigating your late fiancé for years. Some of his under the table dealings finally sent up a red flag, but too late for us to put him behind bars. Still, it led us to a man named Leland Bennett, and then of course, to you.”
“I’m not a prisoner,” I say stiffly. I don’t know how much he knows, and I’m not going to give him anything he could use against me or the men. But I won’t let him drag me away thinking he’s rescuing me. “I’m not. So you don’t have to—”
“Grace.” Agent Brady cuts me off, his voice dropping. “You have to listen to me. I know that your position within the Novak Syndicate is… intricate. But believe me when I say, these are not people you want to associate with. They’re into some bad things. Some awful, awful stuff.”
I grit my teeth. I know they’re mafia men. I don’t need him to tell me that. If he’s trying to spook me into running from them again, he’s gonna need to try harder than this.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say shortly. “I’m not—”
His eyes go hard. “They’re running a human trafficking ring.”
What?
I’m not sure if I actually say the word or just think it, but I’m sure shock is written plainly across my face.
No… that can’t be true.
I don’t want to believe that. I refuse to believe that.
“No, they aren’t.”
It’s a stupid fucking thing to say. The kind of thing a first-grader says to try to win an argument. The equivalent of just stuffing my fingers in my ears and screaming “nuh-uh.” But I don’t know what else to say.
Because if he’s telling the truth, then I truly can’t trust anyone.
Agent Brady’s expression softens a little, an expression almost like pity crossing his features. I hate it. It’s like he feels sorry for me for getting duped, and it makes my stomach churn, bile rising into my throat.
“Grace,
I know it’s hard to hear,” he says quietly. “But this is why I need your help. What these men are doing is unconscionable. They need to be stopped. And you’re in a position to possibly help me do that—to save innocent lives. To help me take down their operation.”
“No. You’re wrong.” Without even realizing it, I’m shaking my head.
I’m not stupid.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the men I’m falling in love with are dangerous and ruthless. Violence and crime are part of their world, part of my world now.
But there are lines I know even Hale wouldn’t cross. I know each of my men well enough to know that despite their willingness to break the law, to do what needs to be done to strengthen their syndicate, they have a certain sense of honor. They may not live by the same moral code as everyone else, but they do have a moral code. They would never get involved in selling other people.
Would they?
I hate those two little words even as they creep through my head. I haven’t been back in Chicago long. The men and I haven’t been back in each other’s lives all that long, but so much has happened so fast that it feels like we’ve made up for the six years we were apart.
I know them.
Don’t I?
Fuck.
As if sensing the chaos whirling in my head, Agent Brady quickly outlines what they know about the operation. It’s women, mostly—young women, sometimes barely even teenagers, snatched off the street or brought in from other cities. He doesn’t have enough to take down the operation, he tells me, or he wouldn’t need me. But there are enough details that he does know to make me feel queasy all over again.
Why would he make this up? Why would he lie about this?
“You could help me, Grace,” he finishes. “If you want to. You’re in a position to see things. Hear things. You could help us put a stop to this.”
My throat is so dry that I can barely speak. I want to tell him to fuck off, but something keeps me from speaking the words.
If he’s telling the truth…
“I’ll consider it,” I tell Agent Brady. “I’m not promising anything.”
“Good.” He nods sharply. He seems relieved that he’s gotten this far, as if he didn’t think he would get anywhere with me. He takes something out of his pocket and hands it to me. “Here, take this. Use it if you need it. My number is the only one programmed into it. When you make your choice, let me know.”
He puts the burner phone in my hand. The second it touches my skin, I want to shove it away. It’s an older cell phone, nearly identical to the one I stole from that woman while the men were transporting me across the country—the one I lost when I was trying to escape last time. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.
Still, I take it, shoving it into the waistband of my jeans where it can’t be seen under my sweater. I already feel like a traitor, and I hate it.
Agent Brady gives me one more assessing look, as if he’s trying to determine what the odds are that I’ll actually prove to be a useful contact. Then he nods and holds the door open to let me step out of the back room.
I practically run away from the employees only area, but I slow my steps as I approach the main part of the store. I can feel the stressed out look on my face, and I work to relax the pinched knot between my brows and the stiff set of my lips.
Lucas finds me first, stepping up behind me as I pretend to study two different types of pasta on the shelf.
“Hey. There you are.”
He kisses the back of my neck, wrapping his arms around me. I lean back into his touch, closing my eyes for a second to help keep my shit together. There’s worry in his voice, and I know it’s because he lost sight of me for a few minutes. Even in a store protected by backup guards, even though it was only a short time, he worried.
Because he cares about me.
My heart seems to tighten into a hard knot, sending an ache spreading through my chest.
I care about him too. I care about all the men who, whether they realized it at the time or not, rescued me from a horrible mistake when they stole me from my wedding.
But as I consider what Agent Brady told me, the certainty in his voice as he informed me that the Novaks traffic in human lives, a sick feeling fills my stomach.
I was wrong about someone once before.
I trusted Brian, almost right up until the moment he drugged me and tried to kill me.
And as Zaid and Lucas finish their shopping, bantering lightly in that way that usually makes me smile, I can’t help but wonder if somehow, I’ve been wrong again. If I’ve let the chemistry that burns so hot and bright between all of us blind me to what I should’ve seen all along.
I thought I’d escaped the monsters.
That I knew who the monsters were.
But are these men the worst of them all?
15
Grace
I glance at the clock next to my bed. It’s nearly one in the morning, but I know that Hale is here for the night, not working for once. I should probably let him sleep, considering he rarely has nights off…
But I can’t stop thinking about what Miles Brady told me.
Is it true?
Can it possibly be true?
There’s one possible way to find out, and that’s to just fucking ask.
So much has changed between me and the men who captured me over the past several weeks. They treat me like an equal now, like a part of their world—not a prisoner on the outside fringes. So if I ask Hale directly about what kind of businesses the Novak Syndicate is into, maybe he’ll tell me.
Throwing on a thin cardigan over my tank top, I slip out of the bedroom and quickly make my way down the hall. When we first came here, I never thought I would become so familiar with the layout of this massive house—I didn’t think I’d want to.
When I knock on Hale’s door, a quiet noise answers from the other side. He opens it a few seconds later. His hair is tousled from sleep, and he’s shirtless, a pair of shorts hanging low on his hips and exposing the sexy V at his waist.
Hale’s face immediately softens at the sight of me, and he pulls me into the room, wrapping his arms around me.
“Grace,” he murmurs, his deep voice a rumble against my skin. “What’s up?”
I let him hold me. I let myself relax in his arms and pretend nothing is wrong, pretend nothing strange happened today. When he exhales against my body, all the tension leaving his, I almost feel like I can believe that lie.
He pulls back a little, his gaze falling to my lips. But before he can kiss me, I stop him.
“I need to talk to you about something.”
His brows raise at the serious tone of my voice. Frowning, he asks, “Is everything all right?”
I try to assure him with a smile, but it comes out more like a grimace. “Yeah. Everything is fine… I think. There’s just something I’ve been thinking about lately.”
He nods, still watching me intently. He takes my hand and leads me over to the bed, gesturing for me to lie down. I do, and he climbs onto the mattress beside me, drawing my body closer to his.
This seems too comfortable and intimate for the conversation we’re about to have, but when he braces himself on one elbow and gazes down at me, I can’t quite bring myself to move. His blue eyes are soft and open, and it’s hard to look away.
The phone Agent Brady gave me is hidden in a roll of toilet paper underneath the bathroom sink, just like the phone I once stole from an old woman. If Hale knew about that, would he still look at me the same way? Would he still willingly invite me into his bed?
And if what Brady told me is true, would I willingly come to his bed? Could I love a man who trades in human lives?
I cringe, shoving away the thought. “It’s something… it’s something that Camilla told me about,” I murmur. As soon as the words come out, I know I picked the right lie. It’s plausible that my mother would’ve told me something like this about the Novaks in an attempt to convince me to join her side.
“What did she tell you?”
There’s a hard edge to Hale’s voice, the same tone that always creeps in any time we talk about my mother.
“She said that the Novak Syndicate is running a human trafficking ring.” The words stick in the back of my throat, and my stomach twists.
It sounds like I’m accusing him of it. I’m not. I just need to know the truth. I desperately need to know if he’s… a monster. If each of the men that I’m living with are hiding the true extent of their darkness.
It scares the shit out of me.
He stares at me for a second, a line appearing between his brows. “What?”
“I know how mafia business works. I understand you trade in illegal shit, that sometimes things get messy and violent.” I force myself to keep looking at him, even though my eyes keep wanting to dart away. “I just need to know what kind of stuff you’re into. So I can make a choice about whether I want to be involved in any of this.”
He’s still looking at me like I’m crazy. “Camilla told you that?”
Fuck. “Yes.”
His jaw clenches. He blows out a breath, shaking his head angrily. “Well, she fucking lied. I don’t know if she got bad intel or if she was just trying to fuck with your head, but she lied to you, Grace. And I can say that with total confidence because since my father’s death, I’ve had a hand in every piece of business the Novak Syndicate is into. I’ve looked at the books. I’ve seen the contracts. Yeah, we trade illegal shit all the time. But never—”
“—people?”
“No.” His voice is firm. “Never people. The Novak syndicate has never done anything like that. Not me, not my father, not my grandfather. There are lines we don’t cross, shit we don’t play around with. The family has never and will never trade in humans.”