Page 24 of Her Mercenary

Little do the well-meaning gossips know, these stories didn’t compare to the real horror hidden in these woods. One that I was about to face head-on.

I smashed a bug against the window, then flicked its carcass to the floorboard. “Let’s recap.”

The Jeep hit another bottomless pit in the road, jostling the cab and sending maps and papers tumbling to the floorboard.

Lucas regained control. “Last known communication was two days ago, between him and a high-ranking official I spoke with. Conor is on his way here, to the lodge.”

“And you’re sure he was here two weeks ago?”

“Yes. I didn’t see him personally, but that is what I understand.” Lucas spoke perfect English, only a hint of his Spanish accent sneaking through. “Had a business meeting or something. Stayed for five days, shored up a few things, assessed his inventory—”

“Inventory, meaning slaves.”

“Yes.”

“How much time did he spend with Samantha, one on one?”

Lucas shook his head. “I don’t know. Like I said, I didn’t see him.”

I frowned, turning to the window.

“Anyway, his current location is unknown.”

“He was in Thailand,” I said.

Lucas frowned, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“Conor was in Thailand for four days until he boarded a plane yesterday.”

“How do you know this?” Lucas asked.

“My sources. His plane lands at Licenciado Gustavo International in exactly seventeen minutes.”

“What was he doing in Thailand?”

“Selling children.”

Lucas shifted in his seat, a line of disapproval creasing his forehead. And he didn’t know the half of it.

Conor Cussane had recently expanded his operations into the child-harvesting sector, joining forces with a trafficking network in Thailand, home to one of the largest baby factories in the world. There, young women are kidnapped, raped, and impregnated. They’re held in horrific conditions until their babies are born, only for the babies to be ripped from their mother’s arms the moment they are cleaned, and sold for no more than two thousand US dollars.

Two thousand dollars.

“I’d like to know who your sources are that disclosed this information,” Lucas said.

“I’m sure you would.”

My friend and undercover agent with the Mexican intelligence agency, the CNI, looked in the rearview mirror. He paused a moment as if choosing his next words carefully. “We’ve been working together for how long now?”

The question was rhetorical because neither of us could remember. Five years? Ten? Despite that, we both held secrets from each other. We knew it and respected it. It was part of the work we did.

But something about this mission was different. The stakes were high—for both of us.

“How is the lodge?” I asked, diverting Lucas away from his curiosity about my sources. Hell, I didn’t even know their real names—and they sure as hell didn’t know mine.

“Let’s just say I hope you got a good deal on it.”

“Are you staying there?” I asked.