Deliver (33 page)

He put on his seat belt and unfolded the paper in his hand.

“Don’t read that.” She stared straight ahead, navigating the winding road, her expression lost in the darkness.

When he flicked on the ceiling lamp, she tried to grab the paper from his hand. He caught her wrist, pinned it to her thigh, and held up a letter that was addressed to Van.

Van,

The reasons that chained me here were my reasons to go.
I’ve never asked you for anything. I’m asking now.
Keep them safe.

Liv

Every mournful word stabbed Josh in the gut. As he read to himself, Liv stared straight ahead, her jaw locked in unapologetic stubbornness. He folded up the note, turned off the light, and spoke as calmly as he could. “You were going to do this at the house?”

“Where he’d find me.” Liv’s whisper was cautious.

He let that sink in. Would he have done the same to save his parents, damning himself to hell?

Maybe. He didn’t know, couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

His throat burned as he freed the heartache piling up there. “I would’ve missed your smile, how it lifts your eyes and rounds your cheeks. And your voice. God, Liv, your voice is so mystical and arousing. I’ve never experienced anything like it.” He pinched the note between his fingers, loathing its purpose, feeling its strength. “I would’ve missed your kiss, that incomparable connection when your lips brush mine. But most of all, I would’ve missed our future together, the one you would’ve taken from us.” He turned in the seat to face her. “You said you freed me, but freedom isn’t defined by chains or walls. You, alive, with me. That’s my freedom.”

Her profile nodded in jerky movements, and her hand reached out for his.

He caught it and entwined their fingers. “I need a promise, Liv. A promise to survive.”

She glanced at him, swiped at her cheek, and steered onto the main road. “Wish I could say that if I went back to the day I first saw you, that I would’ve looked the other way.” Her hand tightened in his. “I can’t. I found my redeemer, and I know where you’ll still be in the end. I won’t give up. I promise.”

Damn, those words felt good. He traced her knuckles with his thumb and settled into a comfortable silence until a hundred and ten questions penetrated his solace. “How did it start with Camila?”

“She has associations with a cartel. Not family relations. It’s some kind of business connection. I don’t know the details. She was doing side jobs for them before Van took her. When I killed her buyer, she drove away with his body, saying she knew people.” She let go of his hand and raked her hair from her face. “I was so damned scared, unsure if I could trust her. She went back to work for her connections, and now they help her dispose of the bodies, cars, weapons. I don’t know. I only talk to her on delivery days, and our interactions are as brief as you saw tonight.”

His heart raced, his mind spinning. “Has she looked for your mom and daughter?” With her connections, she should’ve been able to trace Liv’s mom at the very least.

“She’s tried. I don’t know my daughter’s real name and there are no Jill Reeds that match Mom’s description.”

He drummed his fingers on his knee, gathering his thoughts. “Did you plan to kill Camila’s buyer?”

She nodded. “Camila didn’t know. I think she thought I was going to kill her, too.”

No doubt. Liv was the fiercest woman he’d ever met. “How does Mr. E not know about this? With every buyer disappearing after his purchase, someone would notice.”

She stretched her legs and reclined behind the wheel, eyes flicking to the side mirror. “The buyers are supposed to disappear. They crawl out of whatever hole they come from, make the transaction, and return to their holes. Which happen to be in shady places south of the border. They’re all from Mexico.”

That part made sense. Traquero had the accent. He shuddered, knowing the fat freak was walking the streets then going home to torture his wife. “What about the referral system? They’re all connected.”

“Wrong. Camila is the connection. When she drove away with the body of her buyer, she also had his phone. And the contact number for his referral. She used it to create a network, initially on her own and now with the help of the guys. They sell referrals to potential buyers.” She took a breath, bit her lip, and glanced at him.

Yeah, he was listening, shocked speechless, his head pounding.

“They lure would-be slave owners, often acting as previous buyers, collect the contact number, and sell it to the next client in line. The buyers aren’t connected to each other. They’re connected to Camila.” She barked out a laugh, rubbed her eyes, and sighed. “Camila actually charges each fucker for the referral number of the next fucker. Then he sits back and waits for Van’s call. A year later, she’s emptying his pockets and disposing his body.”

Jesus.
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Fields of black whipped by the window, passing him by, leaving him reeling in another dimension. “What is Mr. E’s role in this?”

Her gaze ping-ponged between the side mirror and the road. “He started this horrific operation. I think he owned slaves before he brought in Van and me. I mean, he taught Van how to train slaves. Why would he know that?” She tugged at her ear, her expression pensive in the passing headlights. “Now he just sits on his greedy ass and collects money while Van and I scramble beneath his blackmailing thumb.”

Nausea rolled through his gut. What would’ve happened if he’d been the obedient slave she’d intended him to be? His delivery would’ve played out. Traquero would’ve been gutted. Then what? “I’m not like the others. My parents are searching for me. I would’ve wanted to go back.”

She flinched. “I know. I chose you anyway, without a clue on how to deal with the aftermath.”

The whole operation was risky. So damned risky. One misstep, one slipped word from the buyer to Mr. E, and the whole thing would fall apart with Liv at the center. Yet they’d pulled it off six times. “Where does Mr. E think these referrals come from?”

“Why would he care as long as he has his next paycheck lined up? Van makes the initial call, gathers the buyer’s requirements, and establishes Mr. E’s rules on anonymity. Mr. E never deals with any of them.”

“It takes months to hunt and capture a new slave? Ten weeks to train him? And you’re doing this, knowing the slave will never see the inside of a buyer’s prison?”

“Hoping.” Her voice wavered. “Never knowing. Van was banned to tag along after Camila’s intro meeting. That ban could’ve been lifted. Or I could’ve been overpowered during a delivery. Or my freedom fighters could’ve been delayed…like tonight.” She peeked at him from the corner of her eye.

“Freedom fighters.” His lips twitched. “I like that.”

“I’ve been thinking.” She glanced at him and back to the road. “Van knows who Mr. E is. What if he also knows where my family is? Maybe we could tie him up and torture him until he tells us everything he knows? We’d keep him alive so the contract isn’t triggered.”

Wow, that was the thinnest idea he’d ever heard. “You’re serious?”

She shrugged. “I’ve got muscle now.” She gave his arm a pointed once-over. “What would Jesus do if he was built like you?”

“Cast the first stone.” Honestly, he didn’t know. “What if Van doesn’t know anything?”

“Then we’re fucked either way.”

For the next two hours, she answered his questions about Camila’s operation, and he still wasn’t sure he understood all the intricacies of the process. When she turned into the
Two Trails Crossing
subdivision, she stopped the van a block from the house. “Meet me on the front porch. He’s not due back for a few days, but we’re running out of luck. If he’s there, I’ll find a way to sneak you in.” She left him on the curb with a heart-pounding kiss and trust in her eyes.

The walk was quick, but the wait on the porch dragged ten minutes too long. Drapes blacked out the windows. There was no light peeking through the creases. No sounds coming from within. What if Van was in there? Hurting her? His nerves stretched by the second until he finally snapped.

Down the driveway, past the garage, he stopped at the back door, found the keypad, and punched in 0054. She’d said all the doors but hers opened with multiple codes. Van and Mr. E had their own.

The door opened into the kitchen, lit by the lamp over the sink. Soft sobs crept from behind the bar and tore through his chest.

He sprinted around the counter and found her curled up on the floor, clutching a photo and a newspaper clipping. “Liv? Liv, what happened?” His pulse roared in his ears. “Are we alone?”

She nodded, expression pallid, voice empty. “Mr. E was here.” When he jerked back, she grabbed his t-shirt, her face twisted in horror. “Oh God, Josh. It’s…it’s…” Her gaze was lost to the papers shaking violently in her hand.

Stomach plummeting, he pulled her into his lap and wrenched the pages free. The photo showed a small smiling girl, her dark brown hair the color and length of Liv’s. Same milky complexion. Same delicate chin. The date and time printed on the bottom indicated it was six hours old. On the back, neat cursive scrawled,
Do not fail again.

Liv coiled her arms around his ribs, her body trembling. “Mom got married.” Her voice was hoarse, desolate. “That’s why I couldn’t find her.”

He kissed her head, his lips numb with dread, and dragged his eyes to the news article printed by the
Key West Examiner,
dated that day
.

Local woman killed in plane crash

The pilot killed in a plane crash near Key West is being described as a skydiving adventurer and a generous volunteer in the community.

“It’s devastating,” said Wyatt Keleen, husband and co-owner of her skydiving school. “Jill was a warm-hearted woman and well-known in the Keys for her charitable efforts with families of homicide victims and missing persons.”

Keleen said Jill’s only child was kidnapped and murdered seven years earlier.

Jill’s body was discovered off the coast of Lois Key in a swampy area. The wide cavity surrounding the wreckage indicates her life came to an end after a high-speed impact.

The Transportation Safety Board is investigating the crash. Officials have yet to confirm the cause. Memorial services were held today at 2:00 PM at Summerland Key Cove Airport.

Liv lay on her side on the mattress, showered, fed, and…depleted. Josh had kept her talking through the night, prompting her to share memories of Mom and preventing her from crawling inside herself. Eyes itchy and sore, she’d cried more than she had in seven years. If she didn’t stop, she would find herself ass-up in the prison of her own self-pity.

Mom had survived her death. She could survive Mom’s. And she would. With Josh’s hand in hers.

He’d run their dirty soup bowls downstairs two minutes earlier. Her fingers were clenched so tightly in the sheets, one would’ve thought he’d been gone for hours. Her lungs didn’t seem to suck enough air, her focus blurring on the door, awaiting his return. When had she become so fucking needy?

The angel in the photo she’d tacked to the wall smiled down at her with eyes and hair as dark as hers. So much better than a video. She had a snapshot of her daughter’s face, forever looking back at her. Perhaps Mr. E gave it to her to cushion the murder of Mom. Or to lessen his own regret. But she knew that was bullshit.

She’d failed to nail the deal with Traquero, which earned her Mom’s death. But he’d still given the referral, which earned her Mattie’s photo. His motivation for not sending a video had to do with the fact he didn’t trust her with a tablet and access to e-mail without Van present.

That thought awoke an unwelcome feeling about Van’s departure. It wasn’t odd for him to hunt immediately upon receipt of a buyer’s specifications. But given his enraged reaction to the meeting with Traquero, why hadn’t he waited for her return and the opportunity to punish her?

What if Van had left to kill Mom himself? Was he cruel enough to not only let it happen but
make
it happen? Despite his violent nature, she struggled to believe he was the hand that brought down Mom’s plane, but how well did she really know him?