by Nana Malone
"I'm not your fucking mate." He struggled against my hold.
"It’s odd that you say that, because I have noticed my mates don't like to hit women. That's kind of a rule we have. Overall, don't be a twat."
He tried to shake loose of my grip, but I just tightened it and threw him against the wall. "Now, now. We have discussed Belinda. I told you not to put your hands on her. But you can't seem to help yourself."
He struggled in my hold, but I let some of that fury out. The rage I’d been holding so tightly. I let just enough of it loose to let him know that I could kill him right there and not give a fuck. “She’s lying. I haven’t touched her.”
"I told you, I don't like you putting your hands on women. My assistant in particular. You don't listen. So I'm going to teach you a lesson."
His eyes went wide.
"You see, I've been feeling very frustrated in the last several days, so you're going to help me work some of that out."
"You can't do that. I haven't done anything to you."
"Yeah, see my assistant comes into my office every bloody day looking haunted. No woman should have that look. And she's constantly in fear. But she does her job with a smile. She's really excellent you know. My life would be a lot easier if I was shagging her. But alas, she seems to prefer losers. Like you. So we're going to try this again. It's called aversion therapy." His eyes went wide. "Every time you think about hitting something, I'm going to knee you in the nuts. How's that work for you?"
He coughed and struggled some more.
"Oh, good. I do want you to struggle. It'll make this much more worthwhile."
I hit him then, relishing the sting in my hand. The reminder that despite how I felt, I was, in fact, still alive.
I didn't relish kneeing another man in the nuts, making his eyes water as he bent over, weeping. I didn't get my rocks off like that. But seeing as I didn't consider him a man, I did it.
I hauled him back against the wall. And he still cupped himself. "See? You don't like that.”
“Y-y-you don’t know anything.”
“I read the police report."
"B-b-but they told me those were sealed since she didn’t press charges."
"Not sealed from my people. I know what you did to her. One time you hit her so hard in the stomach that she went into shock. The report said blunt force trauma to the reproductive organs. Did you kick her?"
I kneed him again. All my disgust, my loathing coming out with force. And this time all he did was wheeze as he sank to his knees. That’s when the sobbing began.
"You’re filth. Disgusting. You don't deserve to walk this earth. People like you, the bullies who torture and torment women. God, if I could eradicate you, I would find the most painfully long, excruciating way to do it. People like you practically ruined my sister. People like you roam around thinking you're God's fucking gift and loving it. But I like hurting you."
He writhed on the ground, but I hauled him up easily. This time I left his nuts alone and went for his face. "You see, I read the report." Pop. I didn't even feel the hit on my knuckles as I broke skin. "She told the police that she made the mistake of picking a handsome man." I popped him again. "So perhaps if I make you less handsome, she'll make different choices." Pop.
"Stop. God, please, don’t kill me."
I blinked down at him. "Oh no. Did you think I was going to kill you?"
“Y-you’re not?” His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up at me.
"Oh no, no. I'm going to leave you in a heap. And then, I'm going to go inside and tell those blokes in there that you're a nonce. After that I'm going to walk out the front door.”
He struggled and tried to scramble away. “N-no. It’s not true. Why would you do that?”
“What do you think that lot will do to you for diddling children?" My smile was more than a little evil.
"But I'm not. I've never touched my kids."
"Yeah, well, I don't care. You told Belinda if she reported you to the police you’d take the children. That was a mistake. By the time I'm done with you, you won't be allowed within a hundred feet of them."
He let the mask of simpering fear slip and spat, "I hate you. "
I smiled at him. "Yes. Excellent. That's how you should feel. That's how I wish Belinda felt, but mostly she's afraid of you. I'd like to change that paradigm. I want you to be afraid every time you see her. I want you to know real fear in your life. Do you understand me?”
By the time my hand went numb, he was a bloody pulp of a mess. And I knew I was going too far, but I couldn't tamp back that fury, that rage.
You have to. You're angry and frustrated because the woman you love, isn't here. As for this asshole, leave him standing. Because you have a moral center. Most people don't. He'll get what's coming to him in the end. Use your best resources and burn him.
I could burn him, but I only had one burn, and I wasn't wasting it on him. But there were other ways.
Make sure you're doing this for the right reason, not because you can't take out your anger on Nyla.
I was doing this for the right reasons. Nyla had distracted me from all the other things I had going on. But no more. I was back on track. And I was going to be just fine without her.
Nyla
As it turned out, once Amelia made up her mind, there was no changing it.
We were going to see Bram Van Linsted if it was the last thing in the world we did.
His father, Marcus, and several of his friends and acquaintances had been arrested for human trafficking.
Bram, while seemingly innocent on the human trafficking charges, was arrested for fraud, corruption, and embezzlement. He’d claimed a priceless piece of jewelry was missing. However, authentication showed that his family had only ever owned replicas. He’d covered that up and tried to collect on the insurance.
His own mother had been the one to give him up. She had also outlined an extensive set of financial schemes, all designed to cheat the family company and line his personal coffers.
Nice family.
He was absolutely the last person on earth I wanted to see. Even though I hadn't been able to pin him on the human trafficking, I kept thinking that surely, I had missed something. Somewhere.
Something told me I better get used to that kind of disappointment.
Like now. I wasn’t into making deals with arseholes. But I wasn’t in charge. This wasn’t my show.
To put it bluntly, I was there as backup. I had no badge, and I wasn’t willing to compromise myself to get mine back, so second fiddle it was.
What does that say about you?
Amelia led the way to her car. And I could tell that she was unsure if she should let me drive or not. Normally, she drove. Would it be different now? It was a new feeling having no place.
But I was glad she still did. Amelia was more than capable. She was exceptional, really. I had put her up for promotion to lead her own team three times in the last year and a half. But somehow budget cuts never seemed to let that happen. Amelia paused at the driver's side door of the Shelby. "This is weird, isn't it?"
"I'm so glad you said that because it's very strange."
"Look, I'm sorry it has turned out this way. Are you sure you won’t come back?" she asked in a pleading tone.
"Not now. But look, I’m happy for you. Just because my father, Denning, and I don't see eye to eye doesn’t mean I don’t have respect for Interpol. I just can’t be there right now. But you are going to be amazing."
"Thanks love, but I don't want it to be because of you losing everything. The way Denning has acted is so bullshit. And you recognize that anyone in the building who has ever maybe witnessed Denning being a complete dick to you has been reassigned.”
"What?"
"Oh yeah, remember the Toolsit mission? When he called you a dizzy flake in front of the whole team and screamed at you for nearly twenty minutes about how you'd entered the wrong coordinates?"
"Jesus Christ, how could I forge
t?" It was later discovered that I’d given the right coordinates and his special two-man team overlooked something, so we lost our lead. Afterward, there had been no apology, nothing. Just a brief acknowledgement from my father that I hadn’t in fact fucked up, then nothing.
“All those agents are on different teams now.”
I shook my head. “I will never understand it. Of all the things I miss, Denning Sinclair isn’t one of them.”
“He’s a proper twat.”
"Well, I appreciate you saying it."
"It's the truth, and I mean every word of it. Now, let's go talk to Bram Van Linsted." Amelia hesitated. "Look, I know you're not enthused to talk to him, but it’s a solid lead."
"This is your team. I follow you now. That's what’s important."
"Thanks, it's nice to have your support."
"Of course. Regardless of what else is going on, you kick arse. Now, let's go."
Amelia gave me a nod, her eyes glassing over and shimmering slightly with unshed tears. "All right, let's go."
Nearly an hour later, we were pulling into Belmarsh Correctional Facility in Thamesmead. There was a whole series of badge identification checkpoints and checking of all weapons as well, keeping them in lockboxes, the whole nine. Then we were led down the hall to the right and into an interrogation room.
We took the two seats on one side of the bare table and waited for Bram Van Linsted to show up. I hadn't seen him since his preliminary hearing. He hadn't been able to bail out since his family assets were frozen.
When he entered the room, his lawyer was also present, and she glowered at us. "To what do we owe this honor? I'm irritated that you did not present the matter to me directly before coming to see my client."
I thought Amelia would be rattled, but she wasn't. Not in the least. She was handling it like a total boss. "Mr. Van Linsted, you are well?"
"Well, it's not the bloody Four Seasons."
She lifted a brow. "No, I suppose it's not. But then, few things are." She leaned forward and hit record on her phone. She rattled off the date and the time before continuing. "Upon your arrest some time ago, you claimed that you have information that would be useful to us. Can you elaborate further?"
He shook his head. "No, I cannot." His gaze pinned on me. "I told you I'd come back. I told you that you would want to speak to me, but you didn't believe me then."
"Just answer the question, Van Linsted," I prompted.
Amelia scowled at him too. "We're here to listen. When you were arrested, you said you could offer information. What was it?"
He sat back and crossed his arms even though his solicitor was prompting him with her eyes to respond.
"I don't think I will. I don't think you're ready to hear it."
Amelia frowned. "Enough jerking our chain. You either have information, or you don't."
I wondered how this man could have gone from refined and handsome to this. His skin was sallow. His nose looked like perhaps it had been broken. The exact opposite of refinement. It was then that Van Linsted looked between the two of us and started laughing. "Ah, I see. Something has changed." He glanced at me and grinned. "You are in the doghouse, which means you are now in charge.” He pointed while looking at Amelia. “I find this shift intriguing."
Amelia tried to drag his focus back to the line of inquiry, but he wasn't having it. "Go on, tell us what you did."
“I’m not here to be interrogated,” I said coolly.
"Oh, come on, I just want to know what you did wrong that would get you dethroned from the gilded towers. Tell me, did you fraternize with the enemy?" he asked while directing his eyes at me.
I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being taken aback, so I tried my best to stay unaffected and smirked. But Amelia saved the day for me. “May I remind you, Mr. Van Linsted, we’re supposed to ask the questions, not you. We don’t have time for any of your crap.”
“All right fine, I'll tell you what you want to know." He grinned at me evilly. "You are looking for an organization called the Elite. It's a secret society, but you know, since I'm in here and no one's done a goddamn thing to get me out, I don't give a shit about keeping their fucking secrets. Not anymore."
I made a point to show zero emotion. I wasn't going to get embroiled in this battle.
Amelia leaned forward. "Explain more please. Who are they?"
"The baddest, wealthiest men in the world. We run the world."
I couldn't help it. My mouth got away from me. Honestly, it wasn't my fault. "Well, not we, right? Because you are no longer master of anything."
He narrowed his gaze at me. And I could tell, I knew in that moment, he wished me dead.
"I can even tell you who's in it. But the most important thing you need to know, as you probably gathered from your work on my father’s case, is that its members are powerful. They will do anything and everything within their power to avoid detention. They're involved in underworld activities, corruption, bribery, theft. This is not your ordinary secret society. This is something altogether different. These men are dangerous."
Amelia could sense it. She had him where she wanted him. "Unless you can give me names and a list of crimes, I don’t buy any of it. So why don't we start with the names first?"
He laughed. "Ah, yes." He smiled at me then. "I seem to recall that you were snooping around some very specific members, Ben Covington and his mates."
I nodded. "That’s not news.”
“The list of their crimes is a mile long. You'll have a hard time proving it though. But one thing I could help you prove is the Canary Jewel. They stole it."
I smiled half-heartedly. "We're not here for conjecture. We're here for something you can prove. And unless you have proof, nothing you say can be of any use to us."
He turned to me then, his face a mask. "All right, you want something that you can use? I have proof. Ben Covington and his London lads, or whatever the fuck they call themselves, were working with my father on the human trafficking ring. The old man kept a ledger. I took it from him. It details his associates. You’ll find the London Lords in there. A good mate of mine is holding onto it in his office for me. Rhys Mathison."
“And if you’re lying?” I asked.
He smirked. “You’re Interpol. I’m sure you’ll check for authenticity and whatnot. You bring me a deal I can work with, and you can have it. The London Lords on a platter.”
And just like that, a knife had been stabbed into my gut. I didn't hear anything else that happened in that interview. I knew he was lying. I knew I needed to warn East, and Ben, and Bridge. But I had no way of getting to them. No way to contact them. East wouldn’t listen to me.
That's not true. You have ways in.
Olivia Ashong would listen. Jessa Ainsley too.
I needed to reach out to them, because if Bram Van Linsted had his way, he was coming for them, and he’d use Interpol to do his dirty work.
At the end of the interview, Amelia had a bounce to her step. "This is huge, Ny," she said as we waited for security to let us pass through the gates. She checked her watch and frowned. “Shit, I have to get back to the office since this is an unsanctioned fishing expedition. But listen, I need you to call some of your private investigator contacts and see if they can get us that ledger from Mathison. Maybe he’s not a mate of Van Linsted after all. In the meantime, I’m going to try to get a warrant.”
I turned to her. "You can't be serious. You don't believe him for a second, do you?"
"We have to look into it. And maybe I don't believe that they're part of the human trafficking ring, but he's told us what to look for. He can give us more access than we've ever had. And if he thinks that we're looking into them for the human trafficking thing, fine. But we are in. This is our way."
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a familiar figure.
My brain stuttered as I tried to place him.
I couldn't remember where I'd seen him. He was tall and had dark hair, like East, but hi
s was lighter, as was the stubble on his jaw line. He had a soft chin and jaw. Where had I seen him?
I narrowed my eyes and willed myself to remember. And then it clicked. Oh yes, that was Garreth Jameson. We'd met that night at the restaurant East had called The Hiding Spot, and he'd been very aggressive. So what was he doing here? As he signed in on the other side of security, my stomach rolled. I knew who he was here to see. Because someone like Garreth Jameson wouldn't be in a place like this unless he needed to be. So the question was, what were he and Bram Van Linsted planning, and how badly was it going to hurt East?
Nyla
Amelia and I parted ways at the office. When she headed upstairs, she gave me my marching orders to see if I could find a legal way into Rhys Mathison's office that wouldn’t require a warrant. Staring up at her as she marched into the building, I tried to ignore the pang. I used to belong in there.
Now, well, I belonged nowhere.
And whose fault is that?
I started making some calls on my own then marched to the tube. When I reached my station, I paced in front of it as the phone rang and rang. Finally, Olivia Ashong’s lilting voice picked up. "Hello? This is Olivia."
"Oh my God, Olivia. Please don't hang up."
There was a long pregnant pause. "Nyla, I'm sorry, but it’s not really appropriate for us to talk."
I rushed to interrupt her before she hung up.
"I know, I know. Just listen for two minutes, okay? My partner, well, I guess ex-partner, because I'm not Interpol anymore, anyway, she's coming for you. She's coming for you hard. She's been speaking to Bram Van Linsted. We just left him."
Another long pause, but she finally said, "Why would I believe you?"
"I'm a lot of things Livy, but I'm not a liar. And you can check. Call Belmarsh prison and ask for the visitor’s log. They'll tell you. We signed in. You will also want to know that he had another visitor today. One Garreth Jameson. But that's not the important thing. The important thing is he claims to have a ledger tucked away with some mate of his, Rhys Mathison."