Page 12 of Tyler's Rule
I wandered my gaze over him. He’d found a soft-looking grey t-shirt to cover the broad shoulders and chest I’d barely glanced at in my freakout. I still wore his original one. It smelled of him. “What do you know about them?”
“The Marchant grandfather died, leaving a mess. Dozens of relatives dependant on the company were clamouring at Mila’s door. She was fighting to get the company up and running again but needed a vote to happen. That got postponed when it was revealed that there was a third Marchant heir.”
“Me.”
“You. Alongside that, a Marchant ship was blown up and bodies found on it. Women. Four of them. There’s a cross-border police investigation underway with an expectation that they’ll uncover trafficking. We know for a fact it was happening.”
I held my breath. “Why’s that, hun?”
“Convict was tasked with taking a woman from the Marchant warehouse at the harbour to a brothel run by a rival gang. He lost his memory, but that came back in time for him to challenge a detective on it.”
“Convict challenged a cop?”
He nodded. “Detective Dickhead himself, or Police Constable Kenney. Also Lovelyn’s dad. He knew about the trafficking but had turned a blind eye. He also told us, via Lovelyn, that there were delays on the case because of political reasons.”
“Meaning?”
He shifted in his seat. “Whenever ye have someone taking bribes, it’s a sure sign that those in power above them are doing the same, or crooked in some other way. They act as an enabler. Kenney is as crooked as they come, and I’ve long suspected that there’s an old boys’ network in Deadwater who are buying trafficked women.”
I clucked my tongue. Deadwater had a healthy supply of sex workers. The only reasons men would buy women without theirconsent were bad ones. “And the Marchant ships were bringing them in.”
His gaze held on me. “You’re not surprised.”
I was and I wasn’t. A lot had changed in the thirteen years since I was in that family, but in some respects, I’d accepted this as a possibility.
I switched the subject back to what I wanted to know. “Then the police are after me?”
“Not yet. The lead detective has only just been assigned a few days ago, so little progress has been made.”
“Then who?”
“The press. Others.”
I climbed to my feet, suddenly nauseated. “How? How can they be looking for me?”
“They’re hunting Darcy.”
Oh.I swayed on my feet. Held my focus on him. “I changed a lot to not be her. My face.” I swooped a finger down my nose to indicate the altered shape. “My cheekbones.” I underlined them in some kind of half-remembered Madonna’s ‘Vogue’ dance.
But a ton of people now knew the connection. My redesigned life was over.
“Darcy—” Tyler started.
I cut in, shocked. Hurt. “That’s a dead name. I’m not that girl.”
“I wasn’t calling ye by it.” His grey eyes widened. “My complete sentence was that Darcy is the target for the newshounds. Not ye.”
My chest crushed. “Sorry.”
“Ye have nothing to apologise for. But I’m not done explaining. The only people who know, as far as we can tell, are allies. They’re crew. They will protect ye.” His cheeks coloured red, a flush that changed him from stoic man to almost boyish.
It was in danger of fascinating me.
“They tasked me with it.”
My mouth popped open. “You have to be joking. Arran assigned you the job of finding me?”
His lips twisted at the irony.
