Page 59 of Calypso's Shield
“What are we going to do?”
I inhale deeply, locking eyes with her. “We go after him.”
She arches a brow. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
I shake my head, smirking despite the tension coiling in my gut. “We do this my way.”
Calypso tilts her head, considering, then sighs. “Fine. But you better not try to put me in a goddamn bubble.”
“No promises.”
She glares at me. “Farris.”
I roll us, pinning her beneath me, pressing my lips to hers until she melts into the kiss. “We handle this together,” Imurmur against her mouth. “But you let me protect you the way I need to. You let me keep our baby safe.”
Her fingers dig into my arms, her body soft but unbreakable beneath mine. “And you let me fight,” she breathes.
I nod, pressing my forehead to hers. “Always.” Because she’s mine, and nobody, not Reyes, not anyone, is taking her away from me.
22
FARRIS
Calypso is at her Clubhouse with Allura, filling the other Harlots in on what we found out. We plan to meet with them once we get the intel on where Reyes and Senator Grant are hiding out. I didn’t want Calypso to leave, but I know I can’t hold her back either.
The dim glow of monitors and the rhythmic clacking of keys fill the IT room as Red works his magic. He’s hunched over his setup, multiple screens reflecting across his face, fingers moving at a speed that makes my head spin.
Bones leans against the wall, arms crossed, his ever-present scowl deepening as the pieces fall into place. The air in the room is thick with tension, a brewing storm that’s about to fucking break.
I grip the back of a chair, my patience thinning. “Tell me you’ve got something.”
Red doesn’t look away from the screens. “I’ve got something.” He smirks. “I’ve got a lot of fucking somethings.”
“Call Capone. We need to have Church.” My jaw clenches in rage.
Bones pulls out his phone, and once he relays what we know, we’re heading to the Chapel.
About fifteen minutes later, everyone is sitting around the table. Capone is at the head, with Blayze on his left and Torch on his right. Allura is on speakerphone, so we don’t have to relay this information twice.
Capone slams his gavel on the table and grunts. “Start talking.”
Red flicks a few keys on his laptop, and our tablets come alive. A detailed blueprint of a massive estate flashes onto the screen. “That,” he says, pointing, “is Senator Grant’s mansion. The place is a fucking fortress of private roads, motion sensors, and guards at all entrances. The bastard invested heavily in keeping people out.”
I roll my neck, cracking the tension that’s settled into my spine. “Then we make sure he regrets that investment.”
Red clicks a few more times, zooming in on specific areas of the house. “Here’s the thing, though. This isn’t just a politician’s safe house. Grant isn’t just helping Reyes out of the kindness of his corrupt heart. The Cartel and the Russians are involved.”
Capone stills. “Explain.”
Red’s grin turns sharp. “Our dear senator is deep in bed with some very powerful people. He’s been brokering deals between the Cartel and Russian arms dealers. Guns, drugs, and,” he pauses, his jaw clenching, “women.”
The word lands like a fucking bullet in the room.
I fist my hands at my sides, the urge to break something clawing at my chest. Torch curses under his breath, his fingers twitching like he’s seconds away from punching through the nearest wall.
Red continues, voice tight with anger. His Ol’ Lady was kidnapped and almost sold by men like these. I’ve learned that most of the women in this house have been victims of human trafficking. “Grant has been running a pipeline. Smuggling weapons and human trafficking victims through his private estate. His mansion isn’t just where he’s hiding Reyes, it’s a distribution center. Women are being sent in and out like fucking merchandise.”
I press my hand against the desk, my breath coming out slow and sharp. “Tell me you have proof.”
