Page 72 of Unlocked

"Two that I saw. The one who grabbed me, and the driver. The one who grabbed me had a ski mask. So did the driver."

"What happened then?"

"I fought back. Headbutted the guy holding me. Broke his nose, I think. Got free. He tried to grab me again, so I kneed him in the groin." Grim satisfaction flickered across her face.

Good. Archer felt a surge of something fiercer than satisfaction. She'd hurt them. Made them pay.

"And the driver?"

"Came after me. He was bigger. Faster. I ran." Her voice shifted slightly, and he heard the edge of fear underneath the composure. "I made it to the street, lost him in a crowd of teenagers. Then I got a rideshare back here."

Archer was quiet for a moment, his mind working through the details. The timeline. The planning it would have taken.

"Did they say anything?" he asked. "Anything at all?"

She thought for a moment. "The first guy called me a bitch when I kicked him. The second guy didn't say anything."

"And you didn't recognize either of them?"

"No."

Archer leaned back. "They were waiting for you. They knew where you'd be."

"Or they were following me."

"Maybe. But my guess is they've been watching you for a while. Learning your patterns. Kim's restaurant, the corner store, those are places you go regularly." He watched her process that, saw the moment it hit her. The violation of it. Someone studying her movements, cataloging her habits, waiting for the right moment.

"They wanted to take me somewhere," she said quietly. "That's what the van was for. They weren't trying to kill me. They wanted me alive."

"For leverage," Archer said. The word tasted bitter. "Or information."

She met his eyes. "About the Ponzi scheme."

He nodded slowly.

Silence settled between them.

Archer weighed his options. He could tell her about The Curator. Should tell her, maybe. She deserved to know what she was up against. But the image of her being dragged toward that van was still too fresh in his mind. If he told her about the Curator, she'd go looking. She wouldn't be able to help herself. It was simply who she was: relentless and driven and inherently incapable of backing down.

And that would get her killed.

"What aren't you telling me?" she asked, reading him too easily.

Archer exhaled. He could give her part of it. "I've been looking into Davis. Into his connections."

"And?"

"I think he's involved in human trafficking."

The words sat between them, heavy with what they implied.

Tatum went very still. "You think, or you know?"

"I have evidence suggesting it. Money moving through shell corporations linked back to him. Payments to people known for moving girls across borders." He paused. "Do you know anything about this?"

Something flickered in her eyes. Recognition. "I have a client who might have knowledge of that."

"Who?"