Quicksilver

by Elise Noble

  I wasn’t sure how to broach that subject, but I didn’t get a chance to because Dr. Chen came back to check Lee over.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Weirdly happy.”

  “Did the nurse adjust your painkillers?”

  Lee flicked his gaze in my direction. “I think that’s part of it. Somebody mentioned a possibility of me being moved to Richmond?”

  “When you’re ready. You had laparoscopic surgery on your spleen, but the incision was tiny, so the recovery time isn’t as long as it could be. In fact, I bet your ribs hurt more.”

  “Right.”

  “Your vitals are as they should be, and if there aren’t any setbacks, you should be able to travel tomorrow. I take it you don’t want me to mention your improvement to the gentleman haranguing the staff in reception?”

  “I’d appreciate if you didn’t.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  Our plane took off for a private airfield near Richmond just before nine o’clock the next morning. Rafael had materialised in Lee’s hospital room two hours previously, along with a man I recognised from Nevin’s place.

  “Cora, this is Nate Wood. We’ve been working together.” Another person from Blackwood? “Are you ready to go?”

  “Go where? To Virginia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Merrick Childs is getting twitchy,” Nate said. “He’s on his way through here as we speak.”

  Dr. Chen himself accompanied us to the airport. A fully equipped air ambulance waited on the tarmac, and as we boarded, it felt like the beginning of a new chapter. I had no idea what awaited me in Virginia, or even why Rafael wanted to go there rather than back to Colombia, but as long as I was with Lee, I bit back any difficult questions. At the moment, I was a passenger in my own life, hanging on by my fingertips until the ride slowed down.

  Rafe’s confidence held my nerves together as the plane roared along the runway, and he flashed a smile as the wheels lifted off the ground. What did Virginia have in store for us?

  “I want to stay here with Leander.”

  I’d stayed overnight with him at the hospital in North Carolina. Why was it such a problem in Richmond?

  “Cora, we need to talk.”

  I froze at Rafe’s tone. He always sounded serious, but now he sounded intense.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…big.”

  Lee squeezed my hand, ignoring Rafe’s glower, and because Rafe needed to lighten up and also because I wanted to, I leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of Lee’s lips.

  “I’ll come back first thing tomorrow morning.”

  “Not going anywhere, bee.”

  Rafe hadn’t been kidding about big. When we pulled up outside Riverley Hall, I thought we’d arrived on a movie set. The massive building looked like an English stately home, complete with stone columns flanking the front door and hideous gargoyles staring down from the roofline.

  “Is this a freaking house?”

  “Yes.”

  “Whose house?” I asked, but I didn’t wait for an answer because Grandma appeared in the doorway. I nearly tripped over my feet in my haste to get to her. Words escaped me, so I just hugged her as tight as I could, burying my face in her hair the way I had my whole life whenever I needed comfort.

  “What are you doing here?” I mumbled.

  A nose pressed against my leg, damp even through my jeans, and I found Justie, Rafe’s dog, staring up at me. Then I looked around properly and saw Dores and Vicente too. And Hallie. I wanted to hug them all, but I didn’t have enough arms.

  “Why is everybody here? The dog?”

  “We have news, Cora,” Grandma said.

  “What news? Did you find Izzy?”

  “Not yet. No, this is about family.”

  What about family? They were all here.

  Ohmigosh. “Are you sick? Tell me you’re not sick.”

  “No, I’m not sick. This is good news.” She turned me around so I was facing Black. “Meet your Uncle Mathias.”

  “Huh?” I looked from Black to Rafael, and now I saw what Grandma did. The way they stood. The same stoic expression. The identical freaking eyes. How could I have missed it? This must have been what Emmy was talking about to that brunette at the hospital.

  Still, I struggled to believe the truth. “Are you serious? One of the twins is alive?”

  Grandma just smiled.

  My screech would probably have woken the dead, and when I ran at Black, it was like hitting a wall. He hugged me back, and I didn’t ever want to let go in case he disappeared. My family had kept me anchored for my entire life, and now I had more of it.

  “How did you find out?”

  “Let’s discuss that over dinner,” Black said. “It’ll be served soon.”

  “What about Emilio? Do you know where Emilio is?”

  He nodded, and his eyes told me the news wasn’t good. “I’m sorry. He died three years ago.” Black focused on Grandma, and a small smile flickered at the corners of his lips. “But I do have one more piece of news. Marisol, you have another grandson. Emilio’s girlfriend was pregnant when he died.”

  Now it was her turn to gape like a fish. At least I wasn’t the only one.

  “A grandson?”

  “His name’s Hisashi, and he lives in Boston with his mother. I spoke to her this morning, and she’ll come to visit as soon as we’ve cleared up the case.”

  An uncle and a cousin. I’d doubled my family in just a few minutes. I wanted to squeal with joy, but then I spotted Mercy standing to the side, trying to smile through her tears. I moved in her direction, but Emmy got there first.

  “Do you have family in Colombia?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, now you have family in Virginia. We may not be related on paper, but love can bond people tighter than blood ever can. You’re not on your own, honey.”

  Joder. I loved my new family.

  CHAPTER 45 - BLACK

  THE SUN ROSE above the balcony outside Black’s bedroom at Riverley. Home, sweet home. And today, it was sweeter than ever. He had his mother, his niece, and his nephew under the same roof and Emmy sleeping peacefully in his arms, her blonde hair spread over his chest.

  Black’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. Six thirty, and Alaric was already awake.

  McLain: Childs is pissed. Where have you stashed Arden?

  Well, good. Childs was an asshole.

  Black: Richmond. Currently waiting for him to shit out the evidence.

  McLain: Did you make some sort of typo there?

  Black: No typo. BTW, we also have The Banker so you can stop looking.

  The phone rang, but Black diverted Alaric to voicemail as Emmy stirred. He had plans for the next half hour, and they didn’t involve talking to his wife’s ex-boyfriend. After that, he’d scheduled a seven a.m. chat with The Banker, and then he’d promised Corazon he’d go with her to pick Leander up from the hospital.

  “Who was that?” Emmy mumbled.

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Time for you to eat breakfast.”

  His words took a moment to filter through, and then she smiled.

  “I’m so fucking hungry.”

  At the hospital, Leander sheepishly held out a plastic baggie containing a slim silver flash drive. So many hopes rested on such a tiny device.

  “I rinsed it a bit, but I didn’t want to scrub it.”

  “That’s probably for the best.”

  At least the bag was sealed.

  Black had hoped that if the data couldn’t be recovered, they’d be able to force Isabella’s whereabouts out of The Banker, but after this morning’s session, he wasn’t sure the man knew. He may have been a financial genius, but he had a low pain threshold, and Nevin had apparently dealt with that side of the business.

  Black didn’t tell Cora that, of course. Not when she looked so happy to be bringin
g Leander back to Riverley to recuperate. No, he’d pass the flash drive to Nate and hope they could get enough information to find Isabella.

  Cora had ridden in the front of the Cayenne on the trip to the hospital, but now she sat in the back with Leander, holding hands across the empty seat in the middle. Young love. And it was love—you’d have to be blind to miss it. Unlike Rafael, Black was happy for the pair of them. Better to find the right person early on than spend the rest of your life searching, or worse, do what he’d done and waste years waiting to make a move. Years spent waking up alone when he should have had Emmy beside him.

  “I need to go to the office after I drop you off, but just ask Bradley if you need anything. Or Mrs. Fairfax, our housekeeper. And keep an eye on Mercy. Hallie’s tough, but Mercy isn’t.”

  “I will,” Cora said. “Thank you for letting them stay.”

  Black only owned Riverley Hall because John and Audrey Black had stolen him as a baby. While he’d led a life of privilege in Virginia, his real family had suffered tragedy after tragedy. Sharing his home with Corazon and her friends was the least he could do.

  People accused Black of being a machine, a cyborg, and at one time he’d lived up to that reputation. But the events surrounding Emilio’s death had taught him what it was like to be human, and now he felt.

  Pain, anger, hurt, love, happiness—he never wanted to stop feeling.

  “We can’t all go.”

  Agatha, Mack’s new assistant, had worked a miracle with the flash drive. Twenty-four hours after Leander’s bowel had done its thing, they had data, data everywhere, but for the moment, they were only interested in one line on Nevin’s “sales” spreadsheet. Isabella had been purchased—fuck, Black hated that description when it related to a human being—by an attorney from Chesapeake. Simeon Michaels had been the first man in his firm to make partner before the age of forty, and today, he’d be the first to die before the age of forty too.

  The only problem was that assassins were lining up to do the job. Even Marisol had offered to put a bullet through Michaels’s frontal lobe if someone could just give her a hand with the steps at the front of his McMansion. Black gave his head a little shake. His mother was a sicaria—he still struggled to believe that, but he had to admit it was appropriate.

  “Maybe we could draw straws,” Sofia suggested.

  “Or use a random number generator,” Nate said.

  Black shook his head. “I’m going.” There were benefits to being the boss. He rarely enjoyed killing, but on occasion, it did leave him with a deep sense of satisfaction. “Rafael’s coming with me because he’s a familiar face for Isabella.”

  “But—” Emmy started.

  “Diamond, you’ve already killed seven people on this job. I’d go so far as to say you’ve exceeded your quota.”

  “Dammit.”

  “But how about you and Sofia watch Michaels at work? We need to know when he’s coming home.”

  Not anytime soon, it turned out. The attorney had a basic security system—hardly surprising since a monitoring service might have noticed the girl locked up in his house. No cameras either. Black bypassed the alarm in minutes, then he and Rafael slipped inside just before six o’clock. According to Emmy, Michaels was still in his office. She and Sofia had a perfect view of his desk from the café opposite, which also served great coffee and eight different kinds of muffin, apparently. Great. His wife would come home wired on sugar and caffeine, and he wouldn’t get any sleep.

  Hmm… Actually, that could have its advantages.

  Black searched the first floor while Rafael took the second, but the still air told them the upper levels were empty. The basement with two bolts on the outside of the door? That was more interesting.

  “Ready?” Black murmured.

  Rafael nodded his agreement, and Black swung the door open.

  Well, well, well. Somebody had been taking decorating tips from Nevin. The dimly lit basement was a homage to the dungeon at the glass eyesore, except this room had one major difference. The defeated-looking woman curled up under a blanket on a padded bench at the far end. She blinked a few times when she saw them approach, then screamed when she realised neither of them was Michaels.

  Rafael quickly holstered his gun and ran across the room.

  “Izzy, it’s okay.”

  “Rafe?”

  The blanket slid away as she sat up, and she quickly pulled it around herself again. The fucker had left her naked. Rafael scooped her into his arms, blanket and all, and carried her towards the stairs.

  “Emmy, is Michaels still in his office?” Black asked.

  “Yup. Now he’s on the phone.”

  “In that case, I’ll drive a car right up to the house. Tell me if the situation changes.”

  They’d brought a blue Ford Explorer and a maroon Honda. Nothing flashy, nondescript vehicles that wouldn’t turn heads in this neighbourhood. Black fetched the SUV. Bradley had worried Isabella might not be in good shape when they found her and packed a bag with clothes, drinks, and a blanket into the trunk. The men turned their backs while Isabella wriggled into a shapeless kaftan thing that was perfect for the occasion, then Rafael wrapped the fresh blanket around her and tucked her feet into a pair of furry boots.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked, her first words since she left the basement.

  “A friend’s house. Your mama’s waiting there for you.”

  “Mama’s in America?”

  “And Cora, and Marisol.”

  “Wait! Shouldn’t we call the police? I think I got drugged in Colombia, then I was in two houses, then the man who lives here locked me up and…and…”

  Isabella began trembling, and Rafael hugged her close. “Shh. We know what happened, and we’ll handle everything. Just focus on getting back to your mama. She’s not far away.”

  “I’ll see her today?”

  “In less than two hours. Do you want something to drink?”

  She nodded, and Black passed her an energy drink. The poor girl was shell-shocked, but hopefully she’d feel better once she joined the other survivors. Tomorrow, they could start to consider what professional help might be needed to get the girls through this.

  Rafael climbed behind the wheel for the journey back to Riverley. “Good luck.”

  Luck?

  Today, Black didn’t need luck. Not when he had training, practice, and anger on his side.

  You’d think any man with a woman locked up in his basement might hurry home after work to, you know, feed her, but Simeon Michaels proved what an utter cunt he was by heading out to a bar with his law firm buddies and hitting on the waitress. He was also one of the most inept criminals Black had ever come across. Firstly, he didn’t realise Isabella had disappeared, and secondly, he didn’t notice as Black tracked him through his house.

  Then his phone rang.

  “Hey, baby. Sorry I missed your call earlier. There’s a big case at work, and I spent the evening taking a deposition.”

  Michaels had a girlfriend?

  “Sure, lilac sounds great for the bridesmaids’ dresses.” A pause. “I thought we’d agreed on the Maldives for the honeymoon?”

  Bridesmaids? Honeymoon? This asshole was engaged? He kept a sex slave in his basement. Michaels held the phone in the crook of his neck as he poured himself a generous glass of Scotch.

  “Yeah, baby, an over-the-water bungalow sounds great. Show me the brochure tomorrow evening and we’ll talk about it.” He listened for a moment, then hung up. “Women,” he muttered.

  Killing this guy wouldn’t be murder. It would be a public fucking service. Black followed him upstairs and waited in the hallway while he stripped for the shower. This was getting boring now. How did the guy pass the bar exam when he only had half a dozen functioning brain cells?

  Michaels wasn’t a big man, five feet seven with the muscle tone of a desk jockey. Black simply picked him up and slammed his head down on the edge of the ceramic shower tray. His skull made a
satisfying crunch, like crumpling a Coke can. Blood trickled across the linoleum, and Black rubbed his gloved hands together.

  Another task completed.

  Bradley motioned Merrick Childs into the conference room at Riverley, and the FBI agent looked down his nose at him. Prick.

  “Can I offer you coffee? Tea? Water?” Bradley lowered his voice. “Pliers to take that stick out of your ass?”

  “Is the coffee filtered?”

  Bradley put his hands on his hips. “Does this look like the sort of place that serves instant?”

  Black stepped in before their visitor got a lecture on coffee blends. “Bradley, just bring a jug of Colombian roast.” He sized Childs up. “You look like a skim milk and stevia man.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I do my research.”

  And Black’s research told him that real men didn’t put skim milk and stevia in their coffee. Usually, he arranged meetings like this one at the office, but he’d invited Childs to his home today because there was something innately satisfying about holding a meeting to discuss The Banker in a conference room five feet above the man himself. They’d stashed their prisoner in a soundproof holding cell in Riverley’s basement, and there he’d stay until he outlived his usefulness.

  “Why did you ask me to come here today?” Childs asked.

  “I want to make a deal.”

  “You mean, you’ll turn over the evidence you stole and tell me the whereabouts of the special agent you corrupted, and I won’t charge you with impeding an investigation?”

  “Not exactly. Blackwood may have come across some data from an unnamed source, namely the location of a number of trafficking victims, some in private dwellings and a number in two properties run as—for want of a better word—brothels. We’d like your task force to liberate these young women and ensure they receive appropriate care.”

  “That’s not our job.”

  “Well, it is now,” Black snapped. “Unless you want the world to find out that your agents stood by while seven young women were raped repeatedly at a house in Florida. Stood by on your orders.”