it by the tap, followed by the lip balm and the miniature bottle of Viktor&Rolf perfume. As my hand reaches in for more things to decorate the counter with, just to make it feel a fraction like my own, I frown, pulling out a cell phone. A small disposable one.
Nox.
I don’t bother asking how he got this into my purse in Vegas. It would be pointless—the man has capabilities beyond my comprehension. My heart rate increasing isn’t avoidable as I stare at the cell. I turn it over and remove the back, looking for the final clue that’ll tell me Nox is responsible. The small chip looks back at me. He can track me with this phone. And the bug means I can’t use it to make calls or texts, other than to him and the random dummy numbers he’s saved to it.
I replace the back and switch it on, and the screen soon asks me to unlock it. I know what the code is. It’ll be the same code he programs into every cell phone he gives me. My fingertip punches in the four digits and the screen illuminates.
As expected, there are dozens of fake contacts and easy-breezy text messages, all for show, just in case it falls into the wrong hands. I go straight to Mom, dialing and bringing the cell to my ear, closing my eyes and bracing myself for the sound of the voice that’ll always remind me of my place in this world. How am I going to explain what happened in Vegas? He was there watching me. He knew the moment Danny Black took me.
“And how are you settling in at Casa Black?” His serious question has me closing my eyes and quietly inhaling.
“Did you try to kill him?” I scold myself the moment I’ve asked. Never ask questions. Ever.
“Excuse me?” The malice in his tone cuts deeply, and my mind casts back to the photo served on a silver platter right after I was served with a brutal punch in the ribs.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, looking up into the mirror above the sink. Dead. My blue eyes look hollow and dead.
“What do you know?” he asks, and I frown. Marinas, boatyards, consignments, the Coast Guard. It’s all I can hear in my head, and for the life of me, I don’t know why the words aren’t forming on my tongue for me to speak them. To tell him what I’ve heard. Then, as quickly as I question myself, I remind myself of the consequences if I don’t do what this bastard asks me to do. “I heard him talking about a consignment. I don’t know what it is. There’s an exchange happening. He talked about Coast Guards showing up and a decoy to distract them. I don’t know any more than that.” Every single word that passes my lips feels wrong. So, so wrong. “Adams owes him millions,” I go on. “I think Perry’s getting money from someone else now, but Black won’t release him.”
Nox hums, thoughtful. “And this consignment, where is it coming from?”
I pull up, thinking. Wait a minute. Why ask where it’s coming from? Why not ask what it is? I start doing the math in my head, working backward and putting things together. What I come up with forces me to take hold of the sink for support. “You’re Adams’s new backer,” I breathe, looking at the open bathroom door into the suite. Good God, Perry is in a mess. He has two malicious killers on his back. “The marina, you want it.” And I know why. Of course I know why. There’s only so long Nox can get away with smuggling women into the States in containers and offloading them in the dead of night at the docks. My mind races. The marina Black is buying is a cover for whatever Danny deals in, and obviously the perfect location if anyone wants to smuggle things into Miami. “You want Adams in power too.”
“You’ve always been smart. Carry on being smart. Find out when the consignment is being delivered to Black. He will be selling on, to the Russians, I expect. I want to know when.”
“Selling what?” I cringe the second I’ve asked. Just do as you’re told.
“I’m not sure America suits you. I might take you back to my homeland.”
I breathe in. No. I can’t go back there. I may still be a prisoner, but at least I’m back in my homeland. At least I’m in the