Page 65 of Blackmail
I’m not sure what he means. Don’t be harsh? Don’t be cold? I always have been. Don’t insist he give me the divorce I’m due given our agreement?
I glance at the bed again, at Simon’s chest rising and falling beneath the blankets, before I notice the rain pelting the window. He’s doing better. His fever broke. The storm is still blowing outside, but the worst seems to have passed. For the last couple of days, Simon has slept, but he’s healing.
I’ve thought long and hard about what he said, about why things between us wouldn’t work out. I’m no longer eighteen and hurrying to access my trust fund. I cannot predict the future. But what I feel when I’m with Simon shows me so clearly what I didn’t have with Tony.
I know I’d like more of the way I feel when Simon and I are together. It’s all I need to know. How can he think I’m savvy enough to build a multimillion-dollar company but not know whether or not I want to be with him?
My phone buzzes again. I’m expecting it to be Tony and I’m ready to put the damn thing on focus mode, but it turns out to be from my business partner.
Lehman: You guys doing okay?
Bas: Fine. The hotel still has power. I’ve got a fully charged laptop and just ordered room service. You?
Lehman: Great. The parents’ house came through with minor damage. Just got done having dinner with everyone.
Bas: Your family is weird.
Lehman: Because we all speak to each other? Because nobody tried to kidnap anyone?
I don’t realize how tightly I’m clenching my fist until my knuckles crack. Lehman seems to think making jokes about this shit keeps me humble. If he hadn’t been friends with the man who raised me for most of my life, I’d have punched him in the face by now.
Lehman: I thought you’d want to know our guy managed to get more info about that thing from the other night.
Bas: You’re being a bit vague.
Lehman: *middle finger emoji*
Of course, I know why. We walked out of that room knowing the man tied to that chair wasn’t going to live. When we paid the retainer, the group we hired clarified that they operated in gray areas, and sometimes things must be handled.
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. I glance one more time at Simon before going to the other bedroom so he can sleep. Outside the window, an alligator plods past a sign that says, NO SWIMMING in large enough letters to see them from the twelfth floor. I envy how unbothered he seems.
“What do you want, Lehman?”
“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to say hello normally?”
“I’m not a normal person.”
“That’s the fucking truth. I called because I didn’t want a text thread of this conversation. The bottom line is there’s a trafficking operation that uses a few of the businesses around town. Our guy shared that some hotels, farms, and construction companies in and around Belle Argo are being used to transport humans. Primarily, people who won’t be missed if they disappear. But there’s a new thing. Rich freaks on the black market are placing orders, so to speak.”
“Orders. For people?”
“Bidding. They’re looking for a certain type of person with certain traits and they’re willing to pay a certain amount. It’s usually someone somewhere outside of the country, like the island where Cam was found. Coastal towns like Belle Argo are popular hunting grounds. It is harder to pin down people involved between the transient hospitality workers, the tourists, and the snowbirds. The guy we talked to only knew the other person he was doing transport with. His job was to drive a van and get the people on the plane. Whoever was coordinating sent encrypted messages.”
“That sounds like very little actual information.”
Outside, some kind of large bird pecks at the ground, seemingly clueless about the approaching alligator.
“Such a fucking pessimist. It doesn’t tell us who’s pulling the strings, but it gives us some idea of where to look. Liam recommended a local hacker who might be able to find out where people are bidding on the dark web.”
“It’s crumbs, Lehman. We’ve been searching for months and made almost no progress.”
“I think Cam and Lily would disagree.”
I sighed. “Why the hell are they targeting our damn clients?”
“They’re getting picked off from crowded gatherings. It really could be a coincidence.”
“My gut says it’s not.”
