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Chapter Five

Leah found the coatroom and walked inside, noting the high-end wooden hangars—all unused for now. She turned and waited patiently for several long moments until footsteps echoed on the heavy tiles outside the room. Placing her clutch on the shelf of the partial door, she shut it. Some barrier was better than none. At least her bottom half was secure.

George Contingent approached slowly, handing over a lightweight rain jacket. "I heard it was supposed to rain today," he said, giving her the line perfectly.

"That's not for two more days," she said evenly, remembering her part.

"The weatherman's usually wrong," he countered.

She forced a smile. "Not if you're married to him."

He leaned closer. "It's good to finally meet you in person, Mrs. Patterson." As a false name, it was a good one.

"You, as well, Mr. Contingent." She shook his hand and tried not to throw up. He stood to a good six feet, had broad shoulders, reddish-brown hair, and a matching beard. His green eyes sparkled in his ruddy face. He shouldn't be somebody who had sparkling eyes. She removed her hand from his larger one as quickly as possible.

"Call me George, as I hope this is the beginning of a profitable relationship for us both." His gaze wandered down to her breasts and then back up to her face, lingering for a bit on her lips.

Her fake smile made her jaw ache. "How kind of you. I'm Leah." She suddenly wished she hadn't decided to use her real first name again.

"Do you have the money?" He lost his leering gaze.

"I do." She removed her phone from her clutch, leaving the recording pen safely in place.

He unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to her.

She read the numbers and keyed the bank account number into her phone, effectively transferring the required five million dollars into the account. Unfortunately, the fake funds would disappear in about four hours. Her computer squad was the best in the world, but even they couldn't keep fake numbers in place for longer than that. If George discovered the fraud, he'd move the children at the very least. She didn't want to think about what he'd do at his very worst.

He straightened his brown suit that even included a vest. His tie was cherry red. Her dislike for him defied imagination.

"Where's the product?" she asked, trying to force her voice to sound bored.

He took out his phone and stared at the screen. "The money's been transferred."

"I'm aware of that," she said curtly. "We're here to do business, right?"

"Of course, and everything you ordered is in a safe location. The address will be sent to you one hour after the charity auction—after I'm clear and gone."

So he didn't trust others any better than she did. "That was not the agreement. I transferred the money. Now, you give me the address."

He chuckled and reached out to touch her face.

She leaned away, tempted to give George a horrible rash, maybe one so bad it'd kill him. Unfortunately, she'd end up with the rash as well. "No touching, George. Not until you prove you're an honorable businessman."

The idea of honor being anywhere near this guy was a freaking joke.

His hand dropped. "Very well. This is our first deal together, and I'm always careful, sweetheart. Don't worry. I'll send you the location tonight."

With the fake pen recording in her purse, she needed more than coded statements from him. "How do I know you acquired what I requested? One of my clients was adamant about the four-year-old twins." She tried to keep her gaze steady, but the thought of the monsters in the world made her want to punch him in the face and keep punching until he stopped breathing.

"Twin statues are one of my specialties for your art collector," he said smoothly.

He was better at this than she was. But she'd lived a lot longer. Should she take him out back and beat the truth out of him?

She lifted one eyebrow. "Do you have more, ah, product than this?" There couldn't be more kids out there under his control, could there?

He puffed out his chest. "I do back in the States. One hundred thousand children have gone missing from the southern border of the good ole USA. You have no idea how easy it is to find them if you want."

Bile rose from her stomach, and she forced it down. Even so, her heart rate picked up. He'd mentioned children instead of using code. That was good. But in order to give the authorities enough evidence, she needed more from him. "One hundred thousand? Baloney. There's no way to lose that many children."

"Oh, they're lost. Came across the southern border and were sent anywhere that would take kids. I have several organizations that were more than happy to accept those children from the government." His smile showed a crooked bottom tooth she'd love to knock right out of his mouth.

"I have several clients interested in younger kids," she said, her voice going husky as she tried not to scream at him.

"You're from the States, aren't you?" he asked.

She nodded. Years ago, she'd been from Great Britain, but she'd lived in the United States for long enough that her accent was no longer discernible. She needed him to say more than what he had so far. Maybe. "I am planning to return home in just a few days."

"Then let's do business once you're back across the pond. You have my number." He leaned closer, clogging her senses with his heavy floral cologne. "I'm free tonight after this silly auction if you are." He licked his lips, staring at the spaghetti strap over her right shoulder. "Maybe we should get together for a nightcap. After you visit the warehouse, of course."

Gross. So the kids were in a warehouse. That didn't narrow down the search much. "I have plans tonight but would love to meet up. I have business in New York for the next month. How about you?"

"Gorgeous, if you're going to be in New York, I'll make myself available there."

Now she might just puke on his fancy suit. "I still have to see how true to your word you've been. All the kids here had better be in good shape." How badly off were those poor children? Her legs trembled with the need to run out and find them. How could evil to this degree exist? "George?"

"Perfect condition, as agreed." He straightened, his chest puffing out. "I think you should forget your plans for tonight and join me. We could create quite the business enterprise, considering our mutual interests in…art. Or rather, in the trading of paintings. You're not a collector, are you?"

Her stomach rolled over. Now he remembered to use coded language? Too bad. It was too late. She had him on the pen recorder. "No. I don't collect. You?"

"No." He leaned even closer. "To be personal for a moment, I find you perfect. Definitely my type."

So the asshole liked adults. Good to know. "I'm not certain I can truly trust you, and that's important to me when beginning any sort of partnership." Like she would ever date this jackass, even if she didn't know he was a sick fuck. She cocked her head. "Perhaps you could ease my mind. I'd like to know about your partner."

His thick eyebrows lifted. "What makes you think I have a partner?"

"There's no way you squired that many kids across the ocean to Paris by yourself." She scoffed. "I want an introduction to the man with whom you work."

It had come to her attention during her last job that a Kurjan was working with different trafficking organizations, no doubt trying to line his coffers now that the main Kurjan nation had found peace. She wasn't quite sure if she believed they'd keep the peace, but for now, she had to deal with this person. "I have several willing buyers, but I need to know all the players, including your partner." She had to find that asshole to finish taking down the entire organization. Then maybe she'd take some time off on a beach somewhere away from evil. It was becoming too much, and she needed downtime to rid herself of the nightmares.

George shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't have a partner."

"We both know you do."

He took a step back. "You're crazy. I handle my own business."

That could not be true. By tracing modes of transportation, her computer guru, also known as Ivy, Athan Maxwell's mate, had unearthed names involved in trafficking women and children. One name—someone called Wallace—had always been mentioned along with George's. But she'd never discovered if Wallace was a first or a last name. Leah also didn't like the coincidence of Jasper also looking for a Wallace, but she hadn't had a chance to contact Ivy about it.

Ivy was safely tucked away at the Maxwell compound in Montana, but she worked via computer whenever Leah needed.

Years as a spy had taught Leah to never believe in coincidences. But that was something to worry about after she got the kids to safety.

She'd now crossed off every single name besides George and his buddy. Once she put them behind bars or in the ground, she was done. "Please stop lying to me." She smiled flirtatiously. "I so want to trust you with everything."

He looked her over. "Your everything is quite lovely."

What a prick. "You're too sweet. So, about your partner…"

His brows drew down. "Honey, I really don't have a partner. Don't work with anybody—definitely don't trust anybody. Except you. Are you staying with me tonight? I'll make it one you'll never forget."

Considering she'd probably stab him in the carotid, neither of them would forget it. "Not unless you level with me."

He shrugged. "Fine. Contact me if you want to talk when you're back on home soil." With that, he turned and sauntered down the walkway toward the still-empty ballroom.

She reached into her purse and turned off the recorder camouflaged as a pen, her mind spinning. How frustrating. She didn't know where to look for the kids. Was the recording enough for the inspector to take George in for questioning? What if George refused to talk in time and didn't correspond with whoever was watching the children? What were their orders in that case?

This was too much. She didn't know what to do.

Mallory hurried over, her eyes wide. "Did you get it?"

"Act natural," Leah whispered.

Mallory reared back. "Sorry. I didn't know you were going to take coats." She said the last loudly enough that anybody could hear.

Leah unclenched her left hand. "I've got some evidence of the crime recorded but not the location where the kids are being held. He won't send it until later tonight."

"Did you get the name of his partner?" Mallory whispered.

Leah shook her head. "He lied and said he didn't have one." She shouldn't be surprised. Hopefully, he would give up his partner once the police got him into an interrogation room. "Let me know the second Inspector Dupont arrives." Leah had wanted the name of the Kurjan before giving information to the local inspector, but she should bring him in on the case. Perhaps he could put a tail on George while they waited for the address. She opened the half door and walked out.

Mallory walked alongside her, eyeing the fresh roses brightening the corridor set on antique pedestals every few feet.

Shandra hurried their way, her eyes wide and skirt swishing on the floor. "We have two tables mixed up. You put the former Mrs. Fontaine with her ex-husband and his newest mistress, their former nanny, at the same table."

"Holy shit," Mallory whispered. "I'll go fix that right now." She turned on her high heel and ran through the doorway.

Leah looked sideways. "That might make the evening more interesting."

Shandra chuckled. "If you'll excuse me, the table at the far end right now has both Mr. Laraby and the Earl of Jonestown…and their business went bankrupt last week. They're blaming each other, and I believe lawsuits are about to commence." She turned to follow Mallory. "While I agree that some fireworks could be fun, the earl has a terrible temper and enjoys throwing knives."

Leah chuckled. She had a job to do, but she wouldn't mind a knife show. "Good luck. I'm going to freshen up." Her stomach still ached as she strolled down the hallway and into the restroom.

The air chilled behind her, and she began to turn. A large male hand suddenly covered her mouth, and something pinched her neck before she could react. Darkness fell across her vision. She started to drop, but she didn't feel her body hit the ground.

She faded in and out with a kaleidoscope of colors flashing behind her eyes. For a while, she felt like she was floating. Nothing hurt. No thoughts intruded. Her body felt weightless.

Then, she felt nothing.

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