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 hear you,” I said, holding up a hand as I interrupted her. “I’m not here to fuck anyone over. Antonio has been kind to me.” I sighed. “Even if I don’t want to admit it, I needed him when he found me. So, while I can’t say I’m thrilled at the circumstances or the situation as a whole, as long as he doesn’t fuck me over I won’t retaliate.”
Carrie tilted her head before nodding. “OK. I can respect that.” She grinned.
“Glad we got that straight.” I turned to see Darby strolling into the room with a big grin on her face. “Though I’ll support putting Superglue in his shampoo if you want.” Of course, Darby made no effort to hide that she’d been eavesdropping.
Antonio watched, one corner of his mouth twitching. “Glad you’re all getting along,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said. “We’re just one big happy family.”
Carrie looked at me again, and this time there was a flicker of calculated interest in her gaze. “Want to get a drink?” she asked.
I looked at Darby, who was already headed to the kitchen’s liquor shelf. “Of course, we do,” she muttered. “What kind of question is that?”
Darby poured us all a round of Crown before holding up her glass. “To getting shitfaced in a Miles luxury safehouse.”
We all giggled as we clinked glasses and drank. For the first time since arriving, I didn’t feel like prey. I could feel pieces to my goals clicking into place. I had the feeling these people truly were allies and would help me bring my abusers to justice. I knew the stakes were high, and there was most definitely no guarantee of success. But I knew I had more hope than I’d had an hour ago.
That night, I lay in the dark, replaying everything I’d gone through in the last twenty-four hours. Too much. Too much had been thrown at me and I had to fight to keep down the fear and anger threatening to overwhelm me again.
Later. I’d deal with everything later. For now, I closed my eyes and smiled. I now had a fighting chance, and that was all I needed.
Chapter Four
Tessa
Antonio waited until the sun was high before calling me down to the study. I’d spent the morning with my laptop, digging through my first pass of Knight’s summary, but what Antonio had was the full unfiltered dump, the raw documents my sister had gathered. I just needed to see with my own eyes exactly who, what, when, and why. I had no illusion I could do anything about any of it, but I wanted to have the chance to look these men and women in the eyes and tell them I knew exactly what they’d done. Might never happen, but I still wanted to know.
His study was cozy, dressed in dark wood throughout, but it was understated without looking or feeling pretentious. The view out over the deep valley was simply breathtaking. In the middle of the room, a large rectangular table held several stacks of papers and printouts. I took a seat and folded my hands on the table.
Antonio slid Knight’s packet of the raw evidence to me, unfiltered and unredacted. I’d never seen anything like the scale of the viper’s den I’d become a part of. Names, shell corporations, LLCs built for short periods of time and then dissolved, bank accounts that didn’t even pretend to be legal. Photos, too. Not the kind you put on social media, but candids, surveillance pulls, group shots at parties with people I recognized as being some of the most powerful in this part of the country.
“Knight built this in forty-eight hours,” Antonio said. “He worked off what you and your sister put together, then took apart every phone and laptop we grabbed from the attackers at Haven.”
The first few names and faces meant nothing. Most of them looked like men in their forties, wearing expensive-looking suits and flashing big watches and pinky rings. Yeah. No stereotypes there. A few women appeared, too. The shell company stuff went over my head, though the money amounts were substantial. Then I saw a face I recognized. Not from real life, but from the news. “That’s the judge,” I said. “The one from the news last month.”
Antonio nodded. “He’s on a plane to Belize right now. He’ll never set foot in Nashville again.”
“He brokered sales for a human trafficking ring, one I got forced into, and he gets to live a life of luxury? Is that your version of justice?”
“No one said anything about him living in luxury. I only sent him to Belize because that’s one of the places we found this network passed through. He has a surprise waiting for him when he gets there.”
I tilted my head. “Surprise?”
“Yes.” He met my gaze straight on. “Turns out, there’s a significant market for middle-aged, entitled, rich assholes. My understanding is that the very small population of female billionaires in Belize have some pretty significant anger management issues when it comes to the aforementioned middle-aged, entitled, rich assholes.”