“Any other boyfriends we need to pick up? Maybe an ex-husband or two?”
“Can you shut the fuck up and just drive?” I snapped. Then I laughed. “I'm sorry, but you’re the last person to be having a go at me right now, so quit it, Mace. Before you say something you’ll regret.”
He muttered something under his breath and then reached for the stereo knob, turning the volume up. I sighed loudly, resting my head against the window.
It was pointless trying to talk to him now. Maybe I shouldn't have called Ben, but I only did it because I was worried about Mace. Why couldn’t he see that?
The address we had was for a house in a quiet street in one of Melbourne's more affluent suburbs. I shivered, goosebumps trailing up my arms. This was not the type of place I’d expected someone who was into this kind of shit would be living. It shouldn’t have shocked me as much as it did; in my line of work, I was forever learning it was often the people you least expected to be keeping the biggest secrets. I glanced sideways at Mace.
“So, what now?” I asked.
“Now we go up there and get some answers.”
Mace got out of the car. I winced as the door slammed. So maybe he was still a little bit angry. I turned in my seat and flashed Ben a sympathetic smile.
“Sorry about this,” I said. “He's not always so tightly wound.”
Ben's eyes twinkled as he smirked at me. “You’re sure about that? It seems to me that you have a type.”
“Just get out and stay the hell out of the way,” I muttered. The last thing I needed were his games.
We walked up to the door. I glanced at Mace, looking for a sign of nerves, or anything that would tell me how he was feeling. He took a breath, exhaling quickly, and then rapped loudly on the door.
He's shaking. I wanted to reach out and touch him, let him know I was there for him, but I knew that wouldn't help. Right then, that would probably make things worse.
My heart jumped as the door flew open. A guy stood there. He was just an average-looking guy—mid-thirties, moderately attractive . . . just an ordinary-looking guy.
Next to me, I heard Mace gasp. My head whipped sideways. Did he know the guy? I looked from the guy to Mace and back again.
The guy stood there, brow furrowed, a blank expression on his face. Recognition flashed through his eyes, then shock, and finally he smiled.
"Well, well, well. Look who it is. Mace, right?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Mace
What the hell was he doing here?
He was the buyer? It didn't make sense.
“What the hell is going on?” I asked, my hands clenched into fists beside me.
This was the guy who had gotten me into this ring in the first place. It shouldn't have shocked me that he was a buyer, but for some reason, it did.
Did he have something to do with Anna’s rape?
The guy laughed. “I get the feeling this isn’t a social call.”
His gaze rolled over me, then Ben, and finally, his eyes fell on Leeta.
Something flickered in them—something I didn't like. I took a step closer to her. So h
elp me God, if he tried anything on her . . .
Something inside me snapped. Taking a step forward, I closed my hand around his neck. “Listen up, you piece of shit. I want answers, and you're going to give them to me.”
As the pressure around his neck tightened, I saw fear in his eyes. That made me happy. I needed him to see how serious I was. I pushed him, hard. He staggered, falling backwards into the house. I walked inside, the others right behind me.