Page 71 of Bulletproof Love

My eyes scan the document. It’s like an inventory listing. “This reminds me of what we had to fill out stocking shelves at the craft store I worked at in high school,” I say.

“Except these are real people with real lives that were stolen from them,” Leon says, his voice dripping with anger.

The numbered spreadsheet has me sick to my stomach—columns for names, most of which are blank, then age, price, and some kind of coded word at the end. Bile rises in my throat.

“How are we going to know which one of these is Bailey?” Jasper asks, his enthusiasm fading.

“I don’t know,” Leon answers, sounding despondent.

“Can I take a look at it?” I gently squeeze Leon’s shoulder, trying to convey that I know how he feels. He nods and moves over.

“I’ll make a pot of coffee,” Damon says. He must know hovering won’t get the job done any faster. They all give me some space, except Jasper, who pulls up a chair next to me.

“If there’s something on here, I’ll find it,” I tell him. His answering look cracks my heart in two. It’s full of hope and trust—in me. We didn’t dig up a dead guy in the freezing cold just to come back empty-handed.

I write up some quick code to help me sort the list by age. That’ll narrow it down quickly. While it’s doing its thing, I search the drive for other useful information.

The first file I open is empty. The next has another coded list. And this one—I tap the screen. “This has header info that matches what we found in Brennan’s container manifest.”

“Can you cross-reference them?” Leon asks, leaning over my shoulder.

I nod, already writing a script to compare the two files. “Give me a sec.”

The apartment fills with the gentle clicking of keys and soft purring as Havoc settles into Jasper’s lap. He pets her blankly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“This file here,” I say, frowning at a particularly stubborn bit of code. “It’s encrypted differently than the others. Triple layer at least, maybe more.”

Leon leans in closer. “Let me see.” He scans the mess on the screen. “That’s not your standard encryption. Look at the pattern in the header.”

I squint, following his finger. “RSA with… Wait, is that?—”

“A custom key,” we say together.

Jasper shifts forward in his seat. “What does that mean?”

“It means whoever the fuckwad was that encrypted this really didn’t want anyone getting in,” I tell him, already pulling up my decryption tools. “But they probably didn’t expect someone like me to find their shit.”

My fingers fly across the keyboard as I work through the layers. First the outer shell. Basic stuff, almost too easy. The second layer puts up more of a fight, but I’ve seen worse. It’s the final layer that has me cursing under my breath.

“Need help?” Leon offers.

I shake my head, completely in the zone now. “I’ve got it. Just need to…” I trail off, focusing entirely on the pattern emerging in the code. There’s always a weakness, always a way in. I just have to think like the person who locked it up.

“There!” I say as the final piece clicks into place. The encrypted text transforms into clear files before our eyes.

The first thing we see are photos. Dozens of them. Young women and girls, a few boys too. Some obviously drugged, others looking terrified. Each labeled with only a number.

“Oh, God,” Blake whispers from behind me.

I feel Jasper go completely still. His hand reaches for mine, squeezing tight enough to hurt. Because there, labeled simply as #521, is a photo of a young woman with his same ocean blue eyes.

“Bailey,” he breathes.

CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE

JASPER

I’ve staredat Bailey’s haunted face on the screen for days now, pacing the floors, waiting on something tangible to do. The photo is my sister, no doubt about it, but she looks nothing like the girl I hugged over a year ago as she went off to college. She’s paler, thinner, her wide eyes making her look years younger than nineteen.

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