Page 92 of Reaper’s Wrath

The Greek saw only the profitability in such an instance, rather than the moral obligation to help them. Those moments gutted me. And now that I’m in a position to respond differently, there’s no question what I will do.

“Two girls and a boy, only one of them speaks English,” I tell Kairos over the phone in a calm, quiet tone, keeping my rage tightly reined in to keep from further terrifying the kids who are already huddled together and shaking.

The sight is enough to douse a man’s heart in gasoline and set it on fire.

I want to punish the twisted fuck responsible for taking these kids. The driver of the boat was alone, and I had to kill him when he opened fire on our boat. Now I know why he was so motivated to keep us away, but I have no idea who he works for. This man was a runner, nothing more. To find out who’s behind this operation, I need to do some digging.

“And the one who speaks English—did they say how they were taken or from where?” Kai asks in a grave tone.

“Said he’s from the Bronx. Kid can’t be but five years old, but the accent’s right. I’d say they came from the US and were headed to the Caribbean, stopping here to gas up.”

“Anyone of any ilk would know these islands are ours.”

“My thoughts, as well. Either a newer operation or someone branching into new territory.”

I hear a long sigh across the line. “That leaves us with very little to go off. New York City alone is one hell of a huge lake to fish in.”

“True, but I did find two other things of note. The driver had hand-rolled cigarettes on him—the paper packaging label is in Russian.”

“He have any tattoos?” Kai asks before I can tell him the second bit. I understand why. The Russians are often easy to identify by their tattoos. If this guy were Russian, he was too Americanized or inexperienced to have earned any ink.

“No, but there’s a container of Borscht in here.”

“So Eastern European—likely Russian or Ukrainian.”

“It’s not much, I’ll give you that,” I admit.

“No, but it’s enough to look into, if you want to follow the trail.”

I wasn’t sure what his take would be. Killing the guy and returning the kids is one thing. Hunting down the head of the snake is another endeavor entirely.

“You good with that? I have no idea what I might find.” Nor am I crazy about leaving him when our transition to ownership is so new.

“I can make the rounds on my boat while you’re away. Tessa’s been pestering me to get off the island, anyway,” he adds gruffly. “We’re not hurting for cash. I say, see what you can find if that’s what you want to do. I’ll let you know if I need you back here.”

My gaze drifts back to the three little ones, terrified eyes peering through ratty hair while they hold one another for comfort.

I’m instantly engulfed in a second wave of fiery rage.

I may do a lot of bad shit, but I’m not soulless enough to hurt kids. That takes a special kind of malignant corruption. An insidious cancer on humanity that should be extinguished.

I’d be more than happy to put that sort of sick fuck out of his misery.

It’ll mean going back to the city—a place I didn’t think I’d ever go again. Will I be strong enough to resist opening old wounds? I have no idea, but the kids are worth the risk because if anything is certain, it’s that these three aren’t the only ones.

Trafficking is too profitable to be a one-off. This boat is part of a larger operation, and I swear on the souls of those I couldn’t help in the past that I will do everything in my power to burn this evil to the ground.

CHAPTER 48

ISA

I’ve pored over the notes, reading them time and again. I imagine my hand writing the words and can feel a ghost of the emotions from which they must have originated, but the sentiment exists in a void with no context. No matter how far I stretch, I can’t reach what isn’t there.

The memories evade me.

Guilt crushes me.

I’ve barely seen Elio since he gave me the letters two days ago. I’ve kept to the bedroom for the most part. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted, and he’s made it clear he needs space. I’ve had meals delivered, though my appetite is sparse, and tried not to wallow, but it gets harder with each passing day. I keep thinking he’ll come to me and we’ll talk. That hasn’t happened, so I rally my courage and finally go in search of him, only to find he went into the city alone. That only intensifies my worries, which hold me captive while I sit on the bed hoping for his return.