Stolen Love (Beauty in the Stolen 3)

“What do you get out of the deal? Silence about the fact that you were present when Detective Wolfe blackmailed and threatened me and put a bracelet with a tracker on my wrist?”

He grabs my arm and steers me to the door. “If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut and be grateful to walk free. I agree with Mr. Hart that you were dragged innocently into this. Don’t make me change my mind.” Lowering his voice, he continues. “You’re an unfortunate holiday maker who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, Ms. Dreyer. We’re not laying charges against you.” He lets go of my arm and says with emphasis, “You’re done here. Let’s go.”

Too dumbfounded to protest, I follow him like a sheep from the station and get into the white Toyota when he opens the door. Frozen in shock and petrified about the implications the deal holds for Ian, I sit like a puppet until he drops me off at a hotel.

“Do you need money?” he asks.

I shake my head.

We don’t say goodbye. I get out of the car, hide my hair under my cap, pull a sweater over my dirty T-shirt to hide the blood, and hurry inside. While the receptionist signs me in, I try to process what’s happened. Taking the key without registering the room number, I follow a bellboy to the first floor. He hangs around, explaining how the facilities work. He’s halfway through his demonstration of navigating the television remote when I shove a tip in his hand and ask him to leave.

Finally alone, I lock the door. Leaning on it, I start to tremble. It takes several breaths to calm myself. I’m too hot, suffocating under layers of clothes. Ripping off the cap, I dump it in the trash. I tear out of the clothes, ripping the lace of my bra in the process. I rush to the shower and turn on the water. When it runs warm, I step under the spray and scrub my body. I rub my skin raw and wash my hair twice until the water runs clear instead of pink.

After a last rinse-down, I towel myself dry and pull on the change of clothes in my backpack. Brushing out my hair, I contemplate my options. How do I help Ian? What can I do?

Shit.

I put aside the hairbrush with a shaky hand and take my phone from my bag. Not knowing who else to call, I dial a number I memorized in Johannesburg.

It’s not Lina who answers but Damian. “Cas? Is everything all right?”

I’m tripping over my tongue. “I didn’t want to bother Lina.”

“She’s giving Josie a bath. What’s going on?”

I sink down on the bed, resting my forehead in my hand. “Ian has been arrested.” I swallow. “He shot a SIU detective.”

Damian sounds infuriatingly calm. “I see.”

“He made a deal. He’s given himself up to guarantee my freedom. We have to do something.”

Silence.

“Damian?” I ask as a fresh wave of panic sweeps through me.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.”

I jump up. “I refuse to accept that.”

“He obviously knew what he was doing when he made that deal. He wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t what he wanted.”

Pacing the room, I pull at the roots of my hair. “I’m not letting him take the fall for me.”

“Cas.”

His tone makes me stop.

“If you do something stupid like make a confession,” Damian continues, “you’ll go to jail just like Ian. Don’t let his sacrifice be for nothing.”

Those words get to me. They punch the air from my lungs. I catch a sob behind my hand. “Do you know a good lawyer?”

“The best.”

“Can you call him? Now?” I suppress another sob. “Please.”

“Where are they keeping Ian?”

“I don’t know. They drove me to the station but refused to tell me where they took him.”

“Cas,” he starts carefully. “No lawyer in the country is going to get him less than a triple life sentence. Maybe, if he wasn’t a criminal celebrity, we would’ve stood a better chance, but the police and the government will make an example of him. No judge will give him bail, and they’ll make sure the judge appointed to his case can’t be bought.”

“What are you saying?” I ask as tears roll down my face.

“I’m saying you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“Fuck.”

I kick the coffee table, smashing it against the door. Someone in the next-door room bangs on the wall.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“At a hotel in Rustenburg.”

“I’ll send a man to fetch you. It’s best you lie low for a while. When the dust settles, we’ll get you out of the country.”

“I don’t want to put your family in danger.”

He chuckles. “I know how to handle danger. Besides, there’s something I need to give you, something Ian wanted you to have.”