Page 72 of Peyton's Price

“I did. Liam told me.”

“He did?” Ethan sounded surprised.

Peyton grimaced. Why was she doing this now? And over the freakingphone?

But she did it anyway.

“Um…yes,” she continued. “He’s here. Well, he’s not here at the moment, but he’ll be back soon.”

Ethan paused. “I’m not following.”

And he didn’t follow for a long time. It took Peyton a few minutes to make him understand the nature of her new relationship.

When he finally did, Ethan whistled. “I didn’t give you enough credit. I guess I’m not the only one who likes a challenge.”

“Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone else yet.”

“Maggie doesn’t know?” Now she had really shocked him.

“No one does,” she said.” Not yet.”

Peyton had sent Maggie and her other friends dozens of emails, assuring them of her well-being and happiness, but she couldn’t seem to find the words to tell them about her new relationship. Every time she tried, it came out so stilted and odd, so she’d given up, vowing to tell everyone in person.

Ethan’s awkwardness grew. “No offense, but why exactly do I have the honor? Not that I’m sorry I did. We’re friends,” he ended weakly.

“I’m going to tell them soon,” she swore. “The next time I see them, I’m going to tell them everything, but I had another reason for calling you.”

Fidgeting with her charm bracelet, she inquired about his friend Mason Ward. Ethan had mentioned him several times. Mason was an Interpol agent.

Settling in one of theOrmen Lange’smany deck chairs, Peyton told Ethan all about Belarus and Matthias’ work rescuing victims of the slave trade.

“That was how he knew how to find me. He posed as a buyer in that world for so long, he was able to track me down when Liam asked.”

Ethanhmphed. “You’re sure this guy is on the up and up? That sounds pretty damn convenient to me.”

“I assure you it wasn’t. Priya, his right hand, had a hell of a time finding me.”

Priya had detailed the search over lunch once. Peyton realized how close she had come to being lost forever…

Consequently, her dreams had become substantially darker.

“I guess money talks.” Ethan sniffed. “Out of curiosity, how much did this Raske guy pay for you?”

“I have no idea. He still won’t tell me. It’s driving Liam crazy because it means he can’t pay him back.”

Ethan laughed, the sound grudging. But he wasn’t an FBI agent for nothing. He asked a million questions, most of which she didn’t know how to answer. After learning what few details she did, he promised to put her in touch with Mason.

“Be forewarned. Mason’s kind of a hotshot at Interpol, and he didn’t get there without knowing how to play the game.”

“Meaning?”

“That he won’t help without getting something in return. Be prepared.”

* * *

Ethan had been correct.Mason did want something—her. Specifically, he wanted to recruit her for Interpol.

When Mason called, he’d already been over all the records his agency had on the Belarus incident. He’d even spoken to George Wheeler, the retired agent in charge of the operation.

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