Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
I had to replay that in my head before I believed he’d actually said that, but then I nodded. “I can see how that might not work out so well for him.”
“No. Especially since I gave a heads-up to someone in the know.”
“I mean, I respect the deviousness. I should probably put you in the same category as the assholes who took me, but I’m not stupid enough to not see the difference.”
“I did what I needed to get Judge Marlin out of the country and away from prying eyes. For all intents and purposes, he’s disappeared. Never to be seen again.”
I flipped through the pages, trying to quickly skim as much as I could. One was flagged red. “Dominic Denton.” I stopped and looked up at Antonio. My throat tightened.
“Do you know him?”
“No,” I said, but it was a lie. “Maybe. I don’t know.” I forced myself to keep looking. The file on Denton was thick. The photos showed a suited man with silver at the temples. The file also contained receipts for cash, for international wire transfers, for luxury vehicles, and for security details that cost more per week than I’d ever made in a year.
I tried to remember where I’d seen the name before. Nothing came. I scrolled farther, hands shaking now. There were more photos. One looked recent. Denton at some black-tie event. Arm around a woman who looked bored out of her skull. The background was blurred, but I recognized the pattern on the wall as belonging to Enclave Éclipse.
I slammed the picture on the desk before shoving myself away from the table. I spun around and paced away. “He was there,” I said. “At Éclipse. The night I was taken.” The memory came up all at once, so hard it left me dizzy. “He talked to Iron. I was in the back. I didn’t want to be, but… I think I was supposed to serve drinks for the man’s party. He never looked at me. But I remember his voice. I remember him telling Iron he wanted the next shipment to be cleaner.”
“Cleaner?” Antonio’s voice was soft. “What does that mean?”
“He didn’t want the girls looking ‘used.’ Said it hurt resale.” The memory hit me so hard I broke out in a sweat. I hugged myself tightly, trying to catch my breath. “I didn’t know what he meant then, but I found out later.”
Antonio didn’t move, but the way his hands curled on the table told me everything. “Do you need a break?”
I shook my head and returned to the table to sit. Then I plowed on. Every line in the file felt worse than the last. Denton had enough money to make people disappear. There were receipts for hundreds of thousands spent on “charity.” Then a line item for “consulting,” paid out to a firm in Miami that Knight had already flagged as a cover for a private security and investigative company.
“You see this?” Antonio pointed to the payment record. “This is the firm that did the last surveillance run on Haven. They knew the layout, knew where the cameras were. They paid top dollar to get the information they needed to hit Haven.”
I wanted to vomit. Instead, I kept going deeper into the file. Knight had a whole section labeled “Narrative Management.” I opened it, expecting more payments. Instead, I got a list of media contacts, local reporters, PR agencies, and something called Lattice Partners.
Antonio leaned in. “That’s a crisis management firm. Denton owns it, through two layers of shell companies.”
It hit me what that meant. “He writes the story before the news happens.”
“Exactly. Knight found three separate drafts for the Haven attack. They were going to call it a drug raid gone wrong and blame the women while painting Kiss of Death as armed thugs.”
I looked at the booklet again. “So even if we died, it would have been our fault.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he watched me. I forced myself to keep reading. The next few files were technical, too dense for me to follow. Then there was a folder of emails. I opened the most recent. It was from Denton to someone called “Crandall.” The tone was businesslike, but final. “Complete the job, then lose the asset.” The date was three days ago.
I read it three times. “He wants me dead,” I said.
Antonio didn’t argue. “He wants any loose ends gone. The only reason you’re still here is because you fought, and because the men in Kiss of Death aren’t exactly what they seem.”
I looked back at the photo of Denton at Éclipse and the biggest wave of hate and disgust washed through me. It felt like an oily slime coating my skin from the inside out.
A crash from the hallway made me jump. The door banged open, and Darby walked in like she owned the place. “Did you find it?” she asked. She wore ripped jeans and a black thermal, with her braid over one shoulder. She went right to the minifridge, pulled out a can of something, and popped the tab.