Dark Descent into Desire - J. J. Sorel Page 0,32

my dream, I took a moment to nod.

He observed me biting into a nail. “Is that a bad idea or something?”

“Um… no…. I mean, I’m good.”

His brow lowered. “One day you’ll have to tell me where you live.”

I smiled meekly.

He kissed the back of my hand and strode off as though he owned the world.

The words “one day” kept repeating themselves in my mind. That meant the future. Doesn’t it?

* * *

A STRANGE FEELING THAT someone was following had me looking over my shoulder. Although I saw nobody, I sprinted over the cracked pavement back to my home. A dread of being at that squalid place sucked my spirit into a black hole.

Jimmy clasped a can of beer while gesticulating and blustering away to a bunch of guys in saggy gym wear.

Cocking his head, he called me over. “Hey Penny.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“Some big Russian prick came sniffing around earlier.”

“What’s this got to do with me?” I asked, growing concerned.

“He wanted to know where Lilly was.”

I went cold. Maybe that was why I’d sensed someone following me. They must have known Lilly and I were connected.

“You didn’t tell him anything, did you?”

“No fucking way. I told him I’d never heard of her. He smelled of trouble. A big motherfucker.”

I let out a jagged breath.

“What’s it all about, Penny?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. He’s probably fallen for her.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied me close, as a detective would. “Well, at least she’s got Brent to protect her, because that guy seemed pretty fucking eager to find her.”

I touched his arm. “Thanks for the heads-up.”

19

* * *

BLAKE

THE SOMBER PUB MADE one forget it was daytime. My leather shoes squelched along on sticky carpet, and I spotted him straight away. Paunchy with a ruddy complexion, he was the type of man who finished a pint within three gulps.

He stared up at me with bloodshot eyes. Smelling of cigarettes, he nodded a greeting. “You look different in the flesh.”

Whether that was a compliment or not, I couldn’t say. I supposed he was referring to those poorly written articles, which I detested. But my choice was either to give the odd interview or submit to endless pursuits by some unwashed paparazzo.

“Can I get you another?”

“A pint of stout,” he said with a strong Scottish accent.

After the barman placed our drinks on the damp runner, I turned to Barnes. “Do you mind if we sit by a window?”

He studied me. “Sure. I had the feeling you wanted this to be discreet.”

I looked over at the tinted window. One could look out but not be seen. My kind of window.

Once we’d settled, I said, “Tell me what you’ve got.”

He puffed out a slow breath. “Fox is in thick with an Eastern European gang of smugglers. He’s filthy. Only…”

“What?”

“He’s got a few powerful men eating out of his palm.”

“How’s that?” I asked.

“Men with a taste for young girls who’ll do anything to keep the cover on that ring. There are drugs involved. But Fox is more into the prostitution side of the business. Specifically, virgins. And the younger they, are the more valuable.”

“I bet.” I thought about James and his predilection for young women. He drew a line at eighteen, he’d insisted. For all his weaknesses—and he had a few—his moral compass sat somewhere close to mine. He wouldn’t have been a friend otherwise.

So why do I feel a sudden pang in my gut?

The thought of anyone having sex with underage girls, and children in general, disgusted me in such a visceral way that it made me want to vomit. And the mere implication of James’s involvement in that scene left a bad taste in my mouth.

“How did you manage to find out?”

“I’ve got my contacts. And your generosity made it easier to get information.” He smirked. “Around that scene, money talks louder than anything.”

“Who are the obstacles?”

“There’s a politician and a couple of cops.” Barnes drained his glass, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s one girl who managed to escape. She’ll need a new identity and cash to set her up somewhere else.”

I nodded. “And she’ll testify?”

“I think so. That’s if they don’t get to her before that.”

Shaking my head, I said, “That sounds pretty grubby. How old is she?”

“She’s seventeen. They kidnapped her from a village in Serbia when she was fourteen. They’ve had her trapped in a brothel, fucking her brains out, for three years. A week ago, she escaped.”

“Where’s she hiding?”

“She’s at a shelter. The main problem is that

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