Page 48 of Cruel Dreams

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll always feel responsible for her death.”

“Don’t. Nathalie was intelligent and she had common sense. She chose to believe Ash and his lies. God knows what he promised her in exchange if she gave him Stella and Quinn.”

My throat closes, and I fight to breathe. I promised to keep her safe and give her a happy life full of love and the security she craved, and I’ve given her nothing.

“She won’t blame you,” she says. “She wanted to help.”

“Stella won’t want anything to do with me after this is over.” I voice my worse fear, and instead of comforting me, Mel agrees.

“You’re probably right. This has been really hard on her, and to move on, she might have to let you go. Not because of anything you’ve done or because she doesn’t love you, but you’ll be part of a past she’ll want to forget.”

“I know.” Christ, do I know.

I wake Denton, sure he doesn’t want to be left out of the loop, especially since this concerns Stella, and we sit in silence for hours waiting to hear any kind of news. Finally, my phone chimes, and a field agent from the FBI’s office in King’s Crossing asks for me.

“This is Maddox. What do you know?”

The agent spoke to the shipyard’s manager of operations, and the sheriff’s boat and water safety division located the ship on the Great Lakes Waterway ten nautical miles from King’s Crossing. I breathe a sigh of relief—they didn’t get far. The agent’s waiting on inspection documentation to come through that will allow them to board the ship. Thanks to Douglas’ statement, there’s more than enough probable cause and they don’t need it, but the paperwork will ensure solid evidence and a smoother trial.

I don’t argue. They’re doing everything as quickly as they can, and I don’t want Clayton or Ash to walk because of a technicality.

Maybe Stella and Quinn know the authorities located the ship. Maybe they know help is already on the way.

“They’ve identified the ship,” I tell Mel, Douglas, Max, and Denton. “They’re waiting on the papers to board, and the FBI will handle it from there.”

“Good,” Max says. “Then all we have to do is wait.”

It’s the longest twenty-four hours of my life.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Stella

The air’s humid and stinks, and the metal floor bites into my legs. My wrist throbs—it’s swollen and hot to the touch—and my whole body aches. Quinn wraps her arms around me, and the women circle around us desperate for news. I’m appalled by the number of women trapped inside this bleak box, a few of them looking underage.

Fear is in every one of their eyes, including, I’m sure, Quinn’s and mine.

“How long have you been in here?” My voice sounds too loud, as if we should be silent, listening for any clue rescue is coming.

Ash is too good at his job to let that happen.

A blonde woman holding a flashlight crawls toward me. Her hair is greasy and her dress is ripped. She looks worn out, and it’s difficult to guess how old she really is. Deep ridges cut into her skin, but there’s beauty under the fatigue. It’s not hard to see why Ash added her to his payroll. “A day, I think. Are we still in King’s Crossing?”

“Yeah. We were at Ladies and Gentlemen trying to find out information. Ash caught us.”

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Stella, and this is my friend, Quinn.”

“Stella Mayfair?” she asks, her eyes wide.

I blink. “Yeah, how do you know?”

“You’re like a legend,” she says in awe. “You used to date Zane Maddox, and then you ran away with Sergio Cardello. It was all over the club when you and Zane had a fight downtown and got shot. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“That was a ploy to get Ash off my back, but it didn’t work. We think Nathalie Barton told him I was still alive.”

The woman scoffs. “She can go to hell. She did whatever Ash told her to do, the fucking bitch.”

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