Page 32 of Sin of Love
15
After peelingmy pathetic ass off the floor, I armed myself with coffee and led the men out back, to a rarely used patio under a latticed overhang. I’m sure they were relieved; the house really does reek. Too many weeks of closed windows, B.O., rotting food, and, of course, vomit.
I’ve already decided that when Lucy’s cleaning company shows up, I’ll let them in without a fight. For the first time in weeks, I’m marginally more tired of being disgusting than I am tired of being sober.
Presently, Dominic and Liam sit side by side on a low couch, while Nate’s on a nearby chaise, cross-legged and swimming in an oversized sweatshirt. Unlike my companions, I’ve been pacing for the better part of an hour. My body is now almost as miserable as my heart.
I feel like I’ve aged twenty years since Liam started talking. From Nate’s pinched expression, he feels the same—minus my hangover, of course.
I finally pause before the couch. “What you’re saying is you thinkyou know where she is, but you can’t confirm it?”
Liam nods. “That’s correct.”
In a nightmarish turn of events, Deirdre isn’t even in the country. Liam narrowed down her location to the Yucatan Peninsula—who fucking knows how he accomplished that, but he did. Not that it’s even good news. According to Nate’s phone, the peninsula is 76,000 square miles of coast and jungle spanning portions of Mexico, Belize, and Guatemala.
She might as well be on Mars.
“So what now?” asks Nate, knees bouncing beneath his clasped hands. “What’s the next step?”
Liam clears his throat and winces. “Well, there’s not a lot that can be done at this point without seeking, er…further assistance.”
Dominic shoots him a wry glance, then meets my questioning stare. “He means buying information from Mexican cartels. There are several who run operations in the Yucatan. If we can narrow it down to a single cartel, we’ll be moving in the right direction.”
“Cartels,” I echo. My anxiety kicks up a notch. “And you know for sure she’s being held by one?”
It’s Nate who answers me, “Yes. There’s no doubt in my mind we were trafficked by a cartel. It wasn’t a one-man operation, and they moved tons of kids through that house.”
I look away before he can see the horror and sympathy in my eyes. I never doubted there was evil in the world, but after hearing parts and piecing together the rest of what happened to Deirdre and Nate, I know it now unequivocally.
Pushing lank hair off my damp forehead, I turn back to Liam. “Okay, so how do we talk to these people?”
He shrugs. “There are always people willing to answer questions.”
“For a price,” I deduce.
“Aye, but sometimes it’s not money they want. Do you understand?”
I nod stiffly. Debt. Favors. Blood. Another long-time belief is confirmed—the world of organized crime isn’t too dissimilar from the cutthroat world of business. My father’s world.
“Whatever it costs,” I tell him.
“I need you to be very, very sure, Mr. Masters. Please remember, there’s no guarantee Deirdre is alive, or will be alive at the end of this. And that fact isn’t going to matter to certain people. They’ll demand to be paid regardless.”
The words punch and slice, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I look at Dominic.
“You would have burned the world to find London, right?”
He nods without hesitating.
Jaw clenched, I turn back to Liam. “Find her. How much money do you need up front?”
He nods, unsmiling. “One million U.S., transferred to my account by the end of the day. Another half-mil when I have a firm location. Quarter-mil when I bring her home.”
“Done. But I’m going with you.”
“What! No way!” blurts Nate.
Dominic mutters, “Oh hell.”
