Chapter 45 Mila Genevieve lifted her head from her phone. "They're coming back." Cold relief rippled through me. As mixed up as I was over Convict, I'd hated him going. Even though he'd given me the choice to have him stay. At least the Skeleton Girls Detective Agency had used the time well. Cassie and Riordan had caught Yelland and chained him up in a boathouse of some kind. Then they livestreamed his question-and-answer session to us, sitting watching from the safety of Genevieve's sofa. Gen and Lovelyn sat either side of me. Everly had refused point blank to be in the room while the torture went on. I didn't blame her. Yelland was exactly as I remembered. Brown-stained teeth. Ugliness to him that no amount of money could hide. I almost enjoyed spotting the bruises that must've come from his capture. With his features tight in terror, he'd readily admitted buying Becky but said he didn't know anything about the other buyers. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ Findηovel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality. Cassie didn't believe him. Her persuasion had Genevieve muting the feed. I typed a text message to Cassie, knowing Riordan would whisper it into her ear. Mila: Ask about the format of the night. We know enough from Becky to tell if he's lying. Riordan gave a thumbs-up to the camera. Genevieve activated the sound again, and Yelland's spluttering voice filled the room. "The attendees were all separated in booths. I never saw the others. Even transport was arranged at separate entrances. They had a car pick me up and take me back to where I parked." He coughed up blood. I winced but didn't look away. "Who told you about it?" Cassie asked. "A fellow at the Greystone club." Genevieve glanced at me. "Any clue?" "It's an old boy's club. Privately owned, whisky and cigars, that kind of thing." My grandfather had been offered membership but hadn't taken it. He considered networking a waste of time and would just seek out those he needed information from. On the video feed, Cassie demanded a name. Yelland answered more readily. "I don't know him. We were at the bar, and he was telling someone else about it. They called him Sulli, that's all I know." "Describe this Sulli." "Brown hair, younger than me. It was a short conversation. What do you expect me to say?" "Did he attend the auction, too?" "I don't know." His whiny voice had me cringing. Cassie was unfazed. "Based on this short chat, you decided to prey on women?" Anger flashed through his fear. "Rhys Jacobs was supposed to be running it, and it was his name that sold it to me. I was told they'd be willing to do anything. It was a waste of money." "You trusted that name because you've bought from Jacobs before," she decided. "Once or twice, but there's nothing wrong with what he does. Everyone is consenting adults, so I don't know why I'm here. The bitch I purchased griped and complained. I was glad to see her go when her friend came." "What friend?" Cassie asked. "She called her Esther. They aren't allowed phones, so someone had to pick her up." All of us stilled. I exchanged a look with Genevieve and Lovelyn. Becky never told us about seeing Esther the next day. A grinding sound came down the phone, then Cassie spoke. "Esther's dead. As far as I can tell, you're one of the last people to see her alive. Did you go after her because the woman ye bought wasn't what ye wanted?" Yelland sobbed. "I don't know anything about her friend. There's a pawnbroker two doors down on Strathmore Road. She got into the car right outside of that. They'll have cameras. You can watch them drive away together." The phone shifted, and Cassie's face filled the screen. She stomped away from Yelland and exited a door into the night. "Annoyingly, I don't think he's lying. Either way, we can test it. Riordan is arranging for someone to go to that pawnbroker's now." "We should also pick up Becky," Genevieve suggested. Cassie nodded. "We'll get someone on that as well. So, what am I doing with this arsehole? In the river or let him go home to lick his wounds?" I stared in horror. "We should release him." She sighed in disappointment. "Fine. I'll give him a little warning about treating women with respect. Talk later when we have any more news." The line disconnected. I slumped. The mystery of Esther's death still wasn't solved. I had to hope that Convict returned with news from Salter. It wasn't long until he was back, the smell of blood, gunpowder, and the night clinging to him. He grabbed my hand and led me down through the warehouse and to our car, driving me home without a word. A dark storm of energy crackled over him. It bothered me. His obvious impatience. How he white-knuckled the steering wheel. Worse, I was keyed up and still on edge from his game. Like hell was I asking him to solve that problem. In my apartment, he locked the door, kicked off his shoes, and stormed into the living room. Then he wheeled around on me. "Salter believes that Jacobs is dead, though has no evidence. He claims Jacobs supplied women and ran the auctions as a trafficker, giving Salter any he couldn't sell. His urgency and blackmail of you came from the fact his supply of bodies would dry up without Jacobs. But where was Jacobs getting his supply? Why opt out from what was making him a fortune, according to Salter? Something changed. Some unexpected event took place that tumbled their house of cards." I fought the urge to shrink in on myself, his words leading to one conclusion. "You're implying it's to do with my grandfather's death." He watched me, his muscles locked tight and wariness in his eyes. "You do. You really think it." Convict held up a finger. "The boats." Another finger. "The routes in and out of Europe." A third. "Secrets he kept from you. Relatives who aren't what they seem. The trafficker haunting your grandmother then vanishing." His fourth and fifth fingers added to the damning list of evidence. I shook my head, unable and unwilling to believe it. Outrage consumed my need and every other emotion. How dare he? My grandfather would never have anything to do with a world like that. Yet even as I knew that to my bones, all the other factors crowded in. "There has to be another explanation. This is way off base. Marchant Haulage isn't a front for people traffickers. My grandfather was a good man. It doesn't make sense. There's nobody else who could have fulfilled that role. There's no way it would be a woman, and you've met Wallace. He couldn't organise his way out of a paper bag." He just kept that judging stare on me. My blood heated further. "Plus, what about me? I've been in every part of that business. I've seen how it works. It's a well-oiled and highly profitable machine that has operated for decades. Don't you think I'd know if there was something else going on?" Convict went to speak, but I was so hurt, so livid by even the suggestion of the picture he painted. I held up my hand. "Don't say another word. I don't want to hear it." He breathed through his nose, that tension in him clearly building. "You asked for my help. Now I've given it, you won't let me speak?" I planted my hands on my hips. "You've done enough." "What does that mean?" "I'd say our deal is over." Emotion flickered in his gaze, then he poked his tongue into his cheek. "If we're so temporary, all you are is a hole to fill, is that right?" I jutted out my jaw, in pain but defiant. His eyes gleamed. "You're forgetting the thirty days. It isn't over yet." "I have no idea what I was ever doing with you. Taming a monster or slowly being devoured by one." "That's bullshit." Convict stepped up to me, his fingers curving under my chin to hold me still. "You want me to own you. You need my insane degree of obsession and my loyalty. Want to hear my theory why?" If he expected a response, I wasn't giving it. I glowered up at him, infuriated and messed up beyond belief. "Because your world is falling apart and it's happened before. You were given away by parents and swept up by grandparents you barely knew. But they used you and cast you aside, too." Fresh pain welled. His fingers gripped tighter, pinching so I couldn't tear my gaze away to hide it. "A house you never got to live in. All the responsibilities and hard work but never in the heart of the family. Only the job. They rejected you after being your everything and left you with this shitstorm to handle. Your grandfather dead and your grandmother retreating into a life she refused to take you with her. I would never do that. Even if you walk away from me, even if the world stops fucking turning, I'll always be yours." My frustration rose in a hot wave. "Stop talking." "Never. I belong to you just as you belong to me." He stole a savage kiss. I shoved him. He didn't budge. "Don't fight me, Mila." "Don't pretend you know me after barely a month." His laugh was cold. "It's been a lot longer than that." "It hasn't." "No? Then why can I see your face in my past? Why am I so certain I knew you before my amnesia? If I'm a liar, you are, too." He was insane. I pushed him again to loosen his hold. Convict snarled and spun me around, pinning me with my back to his chest. He marched me to the edge of the couch that overlooked the city view, and kicked my feet apart. Reaching under my dress, he shredded my underwear and undid his jeans. "Mine since I don't know when. Mine forever." I wrenched to get free, but he brought his dick to my core and punched into me, so hard I saw stars. Pulling his hips back, he wrapped my hair around his fist and fucked into me again, his rough treatment and actions holding me in place as much as my body wouldn't let me give him up. Fury mixed with rising heat. If he was insane, so was I in how much this turned me on. "I will never give you up. I'll toy with you and play games because you love it. Because you love me, even if you won't say it. That denial fucking kills me because it's the one thing I want. The only thing. But still, I'll never leave you. The sooner you accept that you belong to me, the better. You're mine, Mila. Mine until I die. Mine in every hell that comes after." With my cheek to the cushion, I gripped the material, so tense I could break. Each statement was marked with a jerk of his hips and his thick fullness thrilling my body. The orgasm he'd denied me in the game in the sex club rushed back, and I couldn't stop the flood of need and desperation. Yet it was his ragged breaths that drove me over the edge. Or his demanding words or the fact he'd claimed my silence hurt. He told me over and over that I was his until I cried out and shattered into a million pieces. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be put back together the same again.