Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

N ight fell like a heavy velvet curtain, ending an act of a play. But unlike a theater, the lights didn’t go up; instead, they remained low with nightfall as the audience waited for the final act.

Dinner was pizza, delivered by a teenager who’d been scared out of his mind when three heavily armed men opened the door to him. To make up for terrorizing the poor kid, Noah made sure his tip was on the hefty side.

It was a working meal while the team went over building security, ensuring the place was locked down tight. Once that was done, they moved on to helping Evan unravel the complicated systems the Demons used to hide their money. The reports were correct: Eddie Hanson was smart. Every contact they talked to, every clue they unearthed, led back to him. The man was a genius at hiding his money.

“It’s unbelievable.” Abasi slowly shook his head. “We would have killed to have a guy with these skills in the James Family.”

“Pity he’s a violent psychopath,” Noah pointed out. “Hard to control those.”

“Tell me about it.” Abasi wandered over to help Evan decipher some info he’d uncovered in the Caymans.

While Abasi, Rodrigo, Evan, and Rochelle followed the money trail, Noah strolled to the corner of the room, where Annabelle sat curled up in the old armchair that he’d slept in, her sketchpad open beside her. She smiled up at him as he approached.

“Whatcha drawing?” he asked, crouching down beside her.

She turned the pad toward him. On the page was a picture of the two of them in the panic room on the day they’d met. Annabelle huddled in the corner, her hands covering her ears, while Noah stood behind a barrier, gun aimed at the wall in front of him. Bullets flew all around them, destroying everything in the room.

“It’s amazing,” he said. “But I thought you didn’t remember much about that day?”

“It comes back to me in psychedelic flashes. I see everything through a cough-syrup haze.”

“Pretty accurate for a hazy memory.”

“Well, I have you to thank for that. Mainly, I’ve relied on what you’ve told me.”

Noah rested his hand on her knee. “Why are you drawing this? Please tell me it isn’t part of the boys’ next lesson because, as far as they’re concerned, their father shoots with a water pistol.”

She grinned, as he’d known she would. “Nope, it’s for my doctor. She suggested drawing my anxieties or the memories to get them out of my head. She thinks it might help me process things.”

“And is it helping?”

Annabelle shrugged. “I’m calmer, but I think that’s mainly because I just love drawing.”

Unable to resist, Noah reached out to sweep her hair away from her face. It ran through his fingers like silk. “Can I get you anything?” he asked a little gruffly.

“No, thanks, I’m good.” Her smile was intimate, just for him.

“We’ve barely had a minute alone since… last night.”

Her eyes crinkled at the corners. “You mean when I fell asleep waiting for you?”

“I’m sorry about that. Talking to Rodrigo took longer than I expected. When I got back upstairs, you were out cold.”

She reached down to link her fingers through his, and in that moment, it seemed as if everyone else in the room disappeared. “You know, you could have just crawled into bed beside me instead of sleeping in the guest room.”

“You needed your sleep.” He caressed the inside of her wrist with his thumb and watched as she wet her lips.

“I could have slept with you beside me,” she said softly, her eyes darkening.

“I’m not sure I could have, not after that kiss.” Blood pooled low in his body at the memory.

“That kiss seems like such a long time ago,” she whispered. “I can barely remember it.”

He shifted uncomfortably as his jeans became tighter. “I could refresh your memory.”

Annabelle bit her bottom lip, gazing at him through thick, dark lashes. Her eyes flickered to the room behind him before she gave him a tiny smile. “Perhaps when we don’t have an audience.”

At her words, the room rushed back into focus, and once again, he could hear the low chatter of his teammates and the hum of computers.

“No,” he said wryly. “This isn’t the best location.”

“Noah?” Rochelle called. “Can you take a look at this? I think we may have hit the jackpot.”

Reluctantly, he released Annabelle’s hand and straightened. Turning his back on her proved much more difficult than it should have.

“What is it?” he asked as he approached Evan’s control center.

Rodrigo and Abasi smiled knowingly at him and cast pointed looks Annabelle’s way. He frowned at them. They were both worse than the triplets.

“This.” Rochelle indicated the screen, which was filled with financial transactions. “It appears to be some kind of trust account.”

“Like lawyers set up to hold money until a deal goes through?”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

Noah leaned in to get a better look. “Do we know what the money’s for?”

“Horses.” Evan scratched his head, looking bewildered.

Beside him, Abasi pulled out his phone and wandered off.

“What do you mean, horses?” Noah asked their tech.

“That’s what it says.” He pointed at the screen. “This payment was held back in January. The notation beside it says it’s for twelve unbroken Arabians to be delivered by the end of the month. Then here”—he ran his fingertip down the screen—”the funds were released at the end of January. Which means the horses must have been delivered.”

Noah frowned. “Six million for twelve horses? What’s the going rate for an Arabian?”

Evan brought up a search engine and typed in the question. “Says here that a rare, highly sought-after Arabian can go for as much as 150k. But they usually sell for about the fifteen to thirty thousand mark.”

“So, these ones are selling way over market value, if they’re paying six million for twelve. Are there more entries for other sales?”

Again, Evan tapped on his keyboard. “Last October, there was an order for fifteen horses, a mix of European breeds. They wanted these ones trained. And then in November, the money goes out for delivery of the horses.”

“Anything more recent?” A nasty tingling sensation grew in the back of Noah’s mind.

“Aye, this month, somebody wanted twenty-one American Quarter Horses, trained and of breeding age.”

A chill ran up Noah’s spine.

“How much was in the account for this purchase?”

“Two point one million.”

Noah felt sick to his stomach. “They aren’t buying horses.”

“No.” Abasi came up to stand beside him. “They aren’t. I just got off the phone with one of my contacts. They’re buying women.”

Katrina leaped up from where she’d been working close to Annabelle and ran from the room. Noah heard the bathroom door slam behind her. Harris followed, and when he returned, he looked worried.

“I think she ate something bad,” he said.

“Oh no,” Annabelle said. “I’ll go see if she’s okay.” She got up and rushed out of the room.

Noah nodded at Harris.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said, following their client.

Noah looked at Abasi and saw that he, too, realized exactly why Katrina had run. And it had nothing to do with the pizza.

“What else did your contact say?” Noah asked.

“That you can make a shit ton in human trafficking if you have the right product and the right clientele.”

“People, not products,” Rochelle corrected evenly. “Women, in this case.”

Abasi nodded somberly. “He also said that there isn’t a whole lot of trust in the business. Used to be it was money on delivery, but the guys picking up the women were being stiffed on payment and wanted some security. Hence, accounts like this. They aren’t common, but they’re out there.”

“Administered by a third party?” Noah said.

“A broker,” Abasi agreed.

“Who deposited the money into that account?” Noah asked Evan.

He jerked a thumb at Rodrigo, who was on a computer beside him. “He’s working on it. All we know right now is that the account was set up for the Demon Brothers. All funds are released into their normal accounts.” He swallowed hard. “You really think they’re talking about people and not horses?”

“I’m afraid so.” Noah clasped his shoulder.

Sometimes, it was easy to forget just how young the triplets were and how relatively sheltered their lives had been in Scotland.

He turned to Rochelle. “If we take the money out of that account, it will piss off whoever’s paying for the women the Demons pick up. Could turn ugly for them.”

“Or they could join forces to find whoever took the money.” She frowned in thought. “Evan? Can we move the money out of there and into a Demon account before taking it from them?”

“Sure.”

Noah liked how she was thinking. “Make it look like the Demons stole it.” He nodded with approval.

There was motion behind them, and the two women walked back into the office space, followed by Harris.

Katrina was pale, but she smiled weakly at them. “Something must have disagreed with me,” she said, her head held high and a hand pressed to her stomach.

Annabelle fussed around her. “How about I make you a nice cup of tea to calm your digestion?”

“Thanks, that would be great.” Katrina sat back at her desk, keeping her gaze averted from her teammates.

“I’ll help,” Harris said when Noah gestured for him to follow. “We’ll make a new pot of coffee too.”

“Not you!” Rochelle’s head snapped around. “Annabelle, have mercy on my coffee addiction, and don’t let the Scot make it.”

With a grin, she shoved Harris out of the room. “I’ll make sure he sticks to tea.”

“There’s nothing wrong with how we make coffee,” Evan grumbled and was ignored by everyone.

“So,” Noah said to his boss, “we’re taking their money, then?”

Her jaw clenched as her eyes darkened. “All of it. Every last cent we can get our hands on.”

“Do we hand it over to the cops?” They were both aware that was standard procedure.

Katrina cleared her throat. “What happens to criminal profits when they’re confiscated by law enforcement?”

Noah pulled out a chair, glancing at the clock on the wall above Evan’s control center. It was getting late. Again. “Usually, it’s added to state funds or split between the departments involved in the investigation. Sometimes, you’ll see cars drive past with ‘bought by drug money’ written on their sides. That’s what it means.”

“So, it goes to the state?” She frowned.

“Mostly. They can dish it out as they see fit.”

“Does any of the money make its way to the victims?” she asked evenly.

“Sometimes they donate to charities that work with victims.”

There was silence for a moment as everyone contemplated that, and then, as though functioning as one, they turned to Rochelle.

She nodded as though she’d made a decision. “Abasi, are you able to set up an account for the money to go into? We don’t want the transfers to be traced to this account, and we don’t want anyone to find out who’s behind it.”

“With Evan’s help, sure, we can do that.”

“Even though we were able to trace the Demons’ accounts?” she asked him and Evan.

“They were good,” Evan said. “But we’ve learned from their mistakes. Plus, Abasi knows a trick or two of his own, right?” He gazed at the former mobster with awe in his eyes.

“One or two,” Abasi agreed.

Rodrigo swiveled his wheeled office chair. “I think I know who’s paying for…” He cast a glance at Katrina. “Who’s paying the Demons.”

“Are you gonna make us guess?” Noah said.

Rodrigo rolled his eyes. “It’s the Alvarez cartel.”

“But I thought they were all about being a boutique drug mob,” Evan said, looking confused. “Didn’t you say they were specialists? Scary dudes who deal in cocaine?”

“They are.” Rodrigo ran a hand through his hair. “Word is, they started trafficking a few years ago when the international market for cocaine dipped—not so many drug deals during a pandemic. To reduce their costs, they started using slave labor. From there, they diversified. Human trafficking is a low-risk, high-reward crime. People tend to think of it as all being sex related, but there are unscrupulous assholes out there who just don’t want to pay their workforce. It’s modern-day slavery.”

“And the Alvarez cartel is profiting from it.” Noah rubbed his chin, feeling the rough growth of a day’s worth of stubble. “Rodrigo, you’re familiar with this cartel. How pissed will they be if the Demons take their money but can’t produce the goods?”

“Let’s put it this way, they might be one of the smaller cartels, but nobody touches them. Ever.”

Rochelle stood, nodding. “Then we take it all.”

She looked at Noah, and something passed between them. An understanding of sorts. As though she realized that even though the men had been out of line to go off without telling her, things were done a little differently in Benson Security than in regular law enforcement. Sometimes, justice and the law didn’t run hand in hand.

“We take it all,” he agreed.