by Amber Bardan
He unlocked the phone and handed it to me.
“Thanks.” I looked at the screen. He’d already dialed her number. I held the phone to my ear. There really was such thing as too helpful. The line continued to ring. Not that I’d tell him so. He was helpful and considerate. Two things I’d decided to accept into my life.
“Avner,” Haithem’s voice blasted down the phone.
“No, it’s me, Emma.” I glanced at Avner. “I’m using Avner’s phone because mine doesn’t seem to agree with India.”
“You’re in India?”
Avner leaned against the desk. He couldn’t hear Haithem, not possibly. Yet he stood stock still, watching me talk to him as though he could.
“Yeah, Avner said he’d tell you guys we were going away?”
Avner didn’t blink—at all, reminding me of his sentinel standing on the other side of the doors.
“He informed us you were with him.” There was a caution to his words, a formality I’d seen him use on TV but never in person. Not with me. We were friends.
And he’d answered Angelina’s phone.
“Is Angelina alright? I’d like to speak to her.”
“She’s napping.”
My pulse skipped. Angelina was the anti-napper. She used to literally need to be medicated to sleep. Unless she was having an entire litter then I struggled to picture her napping.
Haithem knew what happened at the mall. Surely, Avner had cleared that up? I hadn’t had a chance to discuss it with Angelina—not that I wanted to worry her.
Fucking hell. No one, not anyone, would feel that way or be more over the top about it than Haithem. Well, if he was trying to keep me from her, he had a lot to learn.
“I’ll let her know you called when she wakes up.”
Would he? Would he really? If he’d already decided I wasn’t good for her to be around, he’d block me at every turn...
“I promise, okay?”
I blinked. Apparently silence can speak volumes. I released my breath. “Thanks, Haithem.”
I really hadn’t wanted to fight him for my best friend, but I would. Except, if he wasn’t blocking me, then that meant she really was napping...
“I’m not convinced she’s on the best prenatal vitamins if she’s napping and fainting.” I frowned and sat up straighter. “Do you know some don’t contain enough folic acid to actually prevent spina bifida? And iron, most of them don’t even come close to adequate dosages.”
“Really?” Haithem’s voice went an octave higher. “How do we know if it’s the right one?”
“Find the packet, and read me the dosages.”
“Okay, hold on.”
I smirked. In this case I’d forgive Haithem for being a giant overprotective handmaiden—because the health of an unborn child, and of my best bosom friend, could not be taken seriously enough.
“Found it.” Haithem read out the back of the packet.
“No. No.” I sighed. “She’d have to take an extra iron supplement with that one. And what about vitamin D? That’s a rubbish supplement, Haithem.”
He made a rumbling sound. “Then tell me the right one.”
I gave him three I’d already looked into. “What about prohibited foods? Has anyone given you the list of those?”
“You mean not drinking alcohol or eating raw seafood?”
“Not just raw seafood—soft cheeses, cold meats, raw egg. Then there’s premade anything—best avoid it. And bean shoots, that stuff is a bacterial playground.”
“Beans shoots, really?”
Avner squinted at me. What are you doing? I waved him off. He didn’t get it, not like Haithem did. One hospital visit was enough for us. No more risks, please and thank you.
“Bean shoots are the fucking worst, Haithem. The worst.”
“She hates them.”
“You still need to know all of this. Pregnancy cravings can be weird. You know her as well as I do. The woman makes questionable food choices, and I’m not talking about ketchup on mac and cheese, she calls use-by dates ‘guidelines’.”
“You’re right...”
He was supposed to be on this. Clearly, there were some jobs only a best friend could do.
“Why don’t I just head home now?” I shut the book I’d left open. “I’ll clean out the fridge, sort out the supplements, and you know what, I’ll order new bloods just to be sure.”
“Er—”
“Relax, it’s fine. I’ll just stay at your place for a while.” I stacked two books on top of each other. “Just until she’s feeling better.” But they’d moved to the country...what if she had the baby and felt isolated? What if she got depressed again with all the hormones? “But if I need to stick around for the baby’s first year—” The phone departed my fingers. “Hey—”
Avner held the phone to his ear, speaking to Haithem, and walked to the French doors, staring out of them.
“It doesn’t matter what language you speak, I do know when I’m being talked about,” I muttered.
Avner hung up the phone.
“Well, that was uncalled for.”
He turned. “Uncalled for was preying on the fear and concern of a love-sick man.”
Preying? Was he crazy? That was helping. “I was being a friend.”
“Yet you seem eager to forget promises made to this friend.” He came toward me. “You swore you’d give me a week, and disregarded that without cause.”
“This is ridiculous, she needs me.” I stood.
He stepped over a book. “It’s only ridiculous if you really believe Angelina is incapable of managing herself.”
I dropped my gaze to where I’d sat a moment ago. Of course she wasn’t. We might be different, she may not have fanatically consumed the data I had, but she’d be as excellent at pregnancy as I knew she’d be at mothering.
“Are you so desperate to get away from me?” His voice grew quieter.
“No.” I took his hand. Dammit. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt his feelings. “That’s not it.”
His fingers curled around mine. “Then, what is this?”
My lower lip tugged between my teeth. “Maybe seeing her in hospital reminded me a bit too much of when I thought she was gone.”
“Ah,” he said, and pulled me in. I rested my cheek on his chest. His arms, his scent, his strength engulfed me, and it was so freaking right. “There’s nothing that can harm her that Haithem won’t protect her from.”
Yeah, Haithem would stop the earth’s rotation Superman style for Angelina.
I took a breath. “I know.”
He eased me back from him, with his palm against my ear. “Your loyalty is commendable, Emma. But Angelina will be fine.” He watched me, and his eyes flickered. “And so will you.”
My breath shuddered. He knew what I hadn’t wanted to admit to myself. I’d panicked. Not only for my friend but for myself.
Panicked over how serious things had become so fast.
Panicked over how against my will I’d taken the fantasies he’d whispered to me to heart. So deeply to heart, I no longer knew how I’d survive not having them come true.
His thumb moved high on my cheek. I turned my face into his palm and kissed it.
What would he do if he knew about my mother, and how her death related to me?
Pain shivered through me—a rivulet of grief for the future I wanted but could never have.
Would he leave me?
I took a breath that was like a knife to my lungs. Or would he stay out of duty? Would he, like my father, resent every day that he did until that resentment became toxic?
I opened my eyes, drew back then froze. My gaze fixed on his sleeve. The very edge of his cuff was rimmed in red. He lowered his hand.
I blinked and tried t
o appear normal. Tried not to look again when I wouldn’t be able to see it with his hand by his side.
“I’m going to shower if you’d like to join me?”
My pulse raced faster, then faster again. Raced with the temptation of him naked and wet. Raced with the memories of his soapy hands washing me.
Raced with what I’d just seen. I’d spent enough time working with that particular bodily substance that it was unmistakable.
“I think I’ll finish up here.”
His brow tightened. I’d never resisted this kind of invitation from him. Did he guess I’d noticed something?
“Okay.” He tugged his sleeve. That same sleeve.
My chest tightened.
He left the room.
I sank to the floor and blindly reached for books. He’d said he had a meeting.
But who was bleeding at his meeting?
I always knew he was dangerous. I never thought he might be bad.
We both had our secrets. Likelihood suggested his would put mine to shame.
My head went back to that cuff. Not spattered or sprayed—rimmed in blood. As though the edge had dipped in a puddle of it.
Or a remnant from washing his blood-soaked hands.
Chapter Twenty-One
Emma
It’s not like the sheets went cold. Even with the fan turning overhead, the night air provided an inescapable muggy film. No, there was nothing—no chill, no sound other the rhythmic fan whirl.
Yet, I came awake in a rush. The space beside me was empty. The room pitch black.
I scrambled upright. “Avner?”
Silence radiated in a way that was almost dreamlike. My heart thumped. I reached over and flicked on the lamp.
Light spilled across the rambling bedroom.
I was alone.
My gaze scuttled around. I threw back the sheet and checked the bathroom and wardrobe, then tore a dress off a hanger, put it on and headed downstairs.
There wasn’t a light on.
There wasn’t anyone else here.
He wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night without saying something, would he?
I ran back to the bedroom and checked the time on my phone since that was about all it was good for. 2 a.m. There was no note by the bed or message left. Where the hell would he go at this time?
My stomach twisted. I put on shoes, and went to check the garage building for the car. The garage lights were off, but there was enough light to make out the structure a few short meters from the house. I stalked the length of the veranda.
My steps echoed on the tiles. I sped up as I reached the driveway, and ran to the garage, then cupped my hands around my eyes against the window pane. The black town car that had collected us from the airport sat parked in front of the window. I squinted, attempting to make out the other car—the one Avner’s assistant drove us shopping in.
I lifted my phone and tapped the torch, shining it in the widow.
His car was gone.
A hand clamped on my shoulder. The phone fell. My heart lurched. I seized the hand, spun and twisted. A man dropped to his knee, his arm locked in my grip. He shouted. A shadow lunged toward us. Adrenaline spurted under my skin.
“What are you doing, Miss Emma?”
The shadow slowed. Rohan. Figures moved in around us.
I released the arm I held, and helped the man on his knee to stand. “Sorry, guys, he startled me.”
I collected my phone.
“What are you doing out here?” Rohan asked.
The night patrol surrounded us. Fucking night patrol. Because this place was a freaking compound.
“I came to look for Avner. I woke up and he was gone.”
Rohan stepped closer, his features coming into shadowed focus. “You must return inside.”
Pardon me?
I blinked. Possibly Rohan was already clued in to my mad armlock skills, so I’d assume something in that statement was lost in translation, and make tomorrow’s first priority English etiquette—starting with Miss Emma must whatever she damn well pleases.
“I’m looking for Avner. Where’d he go?”
Rohan took my upper arm. “He went out. It’s time to return indoors.”
I glanced at my arm slowly, then tracked my gaze back to his face.
What were the chances I could take Rohan?
His fingers locked around my biceps.
Shit.
His training was apparent not only in his grip, but in the way he’d moved. That and he had three friends for backup.
My pulse dropped, sinking suspicions plunging through me like little anvils.
I yanked my arm free. “What if I want to go out too?”
In the middle of the night with no bra and flip flops.
“You are not to leave without Mr. Malfacini.”
“In my fantasy I’m holding you here, in this house... I’m keeping you all for myself, where nothing can touch you but me.”
The sweat on my back suddenly seemed cool. “What do you mean, I’m not to leave?”
“It’s time to return inside.” He took my arm again, and this time I let him lead me toward the front door. I swallowed shaky breaths, glancing toward the front gate. The front gate and unscalable fences...
The cameras mounted at every angle—to keep people out.
Or so I’d thought.
The front door opened.
I went inside.
“Goodnight, Miss Emma.” Rohan nodded.
The door shut.
A thunk sounded—the bolt. The bolt being locked from the outside.
My chest muscles constricted.
This wasn’t a house—it was a motherfucking prison.
Avner
I met Marcus in our old headquarters. The grim press of his mouth shut down the protest I’d been about to give him over the necessity of dragging me from my woman in the middle of the night.
“Please don’t tell me that I’m back for three days and there’s another we missed in all the years we were right here?”
“No, it’s not another one.” Marcus glanced up from the computer he’d stationed himself behind.
We’d tracked this particular sex trafficking ring all around the world. India, Russia, Albania, and most recently and most unsuccessfully, England and Australia.
Yet, within days of landing back at the place that had been our headquarters for half a decade, we found a small but exclusive illegal brothel not three hours from here.
“Is it Libby?” My shoulders braced. After chasing our tails in England, this morning’s raid turned up an original. Not any original—Libby.
One of the six female American aid workers that boarded a tourist bus in Agra six years ago, never to be seen again—except for one.
“Libby is okay.” His jaw pulsed, then he looked at me. “Well, as okay as we could hope.”
I nodded, even as my guts curdled. Libby wouldn’t be the girlfriend Marcus remembered. The girlfriend he’d defected from the marines to help find. But perhaps miracles existed after all, because that’s what discovering Libby had been—a fucking miracle.
Pretty, educated white girls almost always vanished into private harems.
“You want the good news or the bad?”
I approached Marcus like an old man, with short, wary steps. We’d been doing this too long. This morning’s discovery should have resulted in jubilation, but the condition we’d found Libby in left little to celebrate.
“The good.”
This ring had a particular specialty.
Trained girls.
As close to human robots as you’ll ever find. Girls who will do anything—endure anything. A kind of service trade made easie
r by hidden online marketplaces.
“I got a hit on Emma’s stalker.” He flipped the laptop around. “You won’t believe it.”
I grabbed the edge of the laptop and dragged it in, the grainy CCT footage coming into focus. A hiss slid between my teeth. The bald man from the shopping center glanced up from conversation, revealing his companion.
Narek Vanlian.
“He’s Arman Cazian, one of Narek’s men.”
“What the fuck does he want with Emma?” But the answer hit before I could finish speaking. Her research. Narek was deep enough in scientific circles, he’d have heard whispers of it long before papers could be published.
“I’ve already put feelers out.”
Our usual contacts, the constant presence we maintained in darknet forums where one could buy anything from drugs, to guns, to children, would take too long to turn up a lead so specific without flagging interest.
“I think it’s time we set up another meeting with Narek.”
“Are you sure you want to do that? We’ve only just broken the ice.”
I shook my head. “Then I’ll have to come up with something too tempting to refuse.”
“Avner, if we do this, then once you return to Australia, you must keep your distance from her.”
My gaze snapped up.
“You can’t draw attention to that connection. If they’re watching her, they may already have made it.”
“Perhaps she’d be better to simply stay here indefinitely.”
A wrinkle lined his brow. “What are you going to do, hold her prisoner?”
“You forget, Marcus, I can be persuasive.” I glanced at my watch. 3 a.m. “Which reminds me, I’d best return before this situation becomes complicated by her noticing my absence.”
His mouth regained that solemn line. “But I haven’t given you the news I called you here for.”
The bad news.
“That wasn’t it?”
“I wish it were.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
Apprehension made a creeping descent down my back.
In the time Marcus and I had worked together, we’d traded drugs to monsters in exchange for people, busted pedophile rings, found smuggled girls dead in containers and uncovered mass graves. He’d never looked so nervous to me.