Page 8 of Savage Beauty

“How did you end up in Cambodia?”

“We docked somewhere and boarded a small plane.”

“Did you…did he touch you? Hurt you?”

Sloane shakes her head slightly. “I couldn’t stop vomiting. Dry heaving.”

“What about the people in Cambodia?”

“Anton told them he’d be back to get me. He told a guard no one was to hurt me. Before you ask, I don’t know why. Whoever his boss is, they gave specific instructions I wasn’t to be hurt. I heard him instruct more than one person.”

“Were you ever held against your will in the Caymans?”

We’re all interested in hearing the answer to this question of Tristan’s. We’d originally suspected she was being held in the Caymans. But by the time Arrow got involved, she’d been missing a while. We didn’t have much to go on.

“No.” Sloane is curt. Dismissive, even. “How quickly can we arrange flights home? I need to get back to work.”

Sage places her sister’s hand, the one without an IV, on her thigh. She’s leaning on the bed, and she seems to be working to get her sister’s attention. “They believe you resigned.”

“I didn’t resign. I need to get back.”

“Not so fast, love,” Tristan says with quiet calm. “Anton Solonov is a known assassin. There’s what’s called a Red Notice placed on him. Which means he’s considered to be highly dangerous. We’ve been quite aware of him for years. Someone hired him. Someone with extensive means because he doesn’t work for just anyone. Can you think of any reason someone would hire him to abduct you?”

Sloane’s brow furrows, and it’s clear there’s a discussion going on in that head of hers. “I figured out why they had me doing blood tests.”

“Why?”

“Organ matches.” She licks her lips, and Sage gets up to get her water. “The people in the compound will be harvested for organs. Or at least, that’s my assumption based on the records they were keeping on them. But anyone could do those tests. Once I figured out what they were doing, which was on the first day when I saw the data they were collecting, I refused to be a part of it. But then they told me they’d hurt Sage.”

“And you don’t have any idea why they picked you?”

Sloane shakes her head, lips firm and tight, gaze downward.

“Could it be this report you created? Is there someone who wouldn’t want it shared? Data, perhaps, that someone might not want uncovered?”

Sloane pushes the glass away when Sage approaches, refusing the water. She closes her eyes and rests her head against the pillow. “It wasn’t our research. I accessed a database we pay to access. Multiple parties contribute data. I was making the case to the investors that organ development will be profitable because I overheard one of them questioning the financial return. If anything, the risks inherent in trafficked organs will be absent from lab grown organs. And based on the data I was putting together, the risks of black-market organs are increasing. Significantly higher cancer rates. Like I said.”

“How closely does Origins Laboratories work with Lumina International?”

“They’re an investor.”

“So, you don’t work closely with them?”

“I never work with them. My old supervisor took a job with them in Geneva. The headquarters.” Her gaze drops to Sage’s hand over hers. “I was close to him.”

Reading between the lines, my guess is this old supervisor is an ex. But if the Interpol suit picks up on that, he doesn’t care.

“Has he remained in contact with your project?”

“No.”

Tristan fumbles with his coat like he’s done. That’s a shit interrogation.

“And your supervisor’s name?” He reaches in his coat pocket for his phone.

“William Salo.” He taps the name into his phone.

If he’s wrapping up, there’s no need for me to stand in the doorway like an outcast.

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