Page 34 of Brick's Retribution

She studies me for a moment. "You mentioned your friend Lashes before. You think there's a connection between her disappearance and what's happening now?"

The question catches me off guard.

I haven't spoken much about Lashes to anyone outside the club, afraid that voicing my fears might somehow make them more real.

"There could be," I say carefully. "The timing lines up. She disappeared three months ago during that ambush at CatsandJava. No trace of her since then, no ransom demand. Just... gone. Just the fucking video. They want us to know they have her. But, there’s some club shit along with that. You’re not privy to that information, and we know who was rolling the dice behind the scenes. I just… I’d be a fool to think the gun and drug trafficking your father’s associated with couldn’t be part ofwhat’s going on here. Whoever has her, they’re good at what they do."

"They’re professionals."

"Exactly."

Something shifts in Imani's expression. "Tell me everything you know about her disappearance. Every detail."

I hesitate, then make a decision.

If we're going to trust each other with our lives, holding back information makes no sense.

So I tell her—about how she was ambushed at the cafe, how long we’ve been searching, how we were sent a video of her bound to a chair, how there was a man in front of her speaking Arabic.

About the three months of searching, the false leads, the dead ends.

Imani listens without interrupting me, her sharp mind clearly cataloging every detail. When I finish, she's quiet for a few moments.

"My father mentioned a new player moving into the border territories about four months ago," she finally says. "Someone with connections and resources, specializing in high-end human trafficking. Girls with certain... qualifications."

My blood runs cold. "What kind of qualifications?"

"Education. Breeding. Skills. Girls who could be 'refined' for wealthy clientele." Her expression is grim. "We were investigating, trying to identify the organization, when the attempts on my life started."

The pieces click into place with sickening clarity. "They targeted you because you were getting too close."

She nods. "And if they're the same people who took your friend, or even the people who might have her now…"

"Then she might still be alive." The thought sends a surge of hope through me.

"It's just a theory," Imani cautions. "But if I'm right, it explains why they want me alive, not dead. I'd be quite the prize for their collection."

The casual way she says it like she's discussing the weather, not her potential fate as a trafficking victim sends a surge of anger through me.

"That's not happening," I say, my voice dropping lower, harder. "Not while I'm breathing."

Something flickers in her eyes—surprise, maybe, or something deeper. "You barely know me, prospect."

"I know enough."

The moment stretches between us, and that feeling comes back, along with the heat neither one of us wants to talk about.

She's the one who breaks it, glancing at her watch.

"We should head back. Get some rest while we can."

I pay the bill, and we walk back to the motel in silence, the night air cool against our skin.

The few street lights cast long shadows across the empty road.

In the distance, a coyote howls, the sound echoing across the desert—lonely, haunting.

Back in the room, reality reasserts itself.

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