Luck of the Devil (The Forge Trilogy #2)(38)

“Are we going to get in trouble?” Krystal asks.

From their licenses, both these working girls are only eighteen, and I can’t imagine they planned to become prostitutes when they grew up. It makes me sad, because that could have been me if I hadn’t learned to play cards to find a way to support myself and Summer.

“You’re not in trouble.” I pause, not fully considering what I’m about to say, but I don’t care. “And if you would prefer not to go back to working for your pimp, I can help you find another job or get you off the island.”

Both Kelsey and Krystal’s eyes widen.

“Really?” Krystal says, blinking back tears in her brown eyes.

I nod. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“And I’ve got some nice hot tea for you, girls,” Alanna says, going right into mothering mode, which is exactly what I expected.

I leave the flat and go back to the efficiency unit, intent on telling Forge what I’ve learned so he can find out who paid the girls. My gut is telling me this whole situation isn’t random, but I have no idea why. Immediately, my mind goes to Bastien . . . but it doesn’t add up. None of it adds up.

When I peek my head into the trashed apartment, Forge is alone with one of the guys. Koba and the other one are both gone.

“Jericho.” I don’t know why I say his first name, but it rolls easily off my tongue, and I have to check myself again. He’s Forge.

His head whips around. “Is everything okay?”

“The girls said these two didn’t pay them. Someone else did.”

The guy on the floor scuttles farther into the corner like he’s terrified of what’s coming next.

“I don’t know anything, man.” His eyes dart from side to side and he shakes with fear. “Alfie was the one who talked to people. I just came along for the ride. He’s the one with the connections. He had us staying at some massive pad up in the hills before tonight, and then said we had to come here to fuck the place up to repay our bill for using the other place.”

“Why the fuck did you say yes?” my husband asks him.

“Because I ran out of money, and we don’t go home for three days. Alfie said we wouldn’t have to pay for anything if we did this, and I’d even walk away with cash in hand.”

“Where’s home?” I ask, even though he’s clearly British from his accent.

“London. We’re on holiday.”

“Whose house were you staying at up in the hills?” Forge asks.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. The guy must have boatloads of money, though.”

Forge looks at me, and I know we’re thinking the same thing. Bastien.

“Was a red Lamborghini there? Someone coming and going?” he asks.

The kid nods until I’m afraid he’s going to shake his brain loose from his skull. “Yeah. It was funny because he’d roll up a couple times a day, and each time, he’d only take one suitcase ’cause that’s all that would fit in that bitch. Alfie and I joked that he needed an SUV to save himself some time.”

Forge steps back and waves at the kid. “Stand up. Give me your wallet.”

“I told you, I don’t have any more money. A few quid is all. I can’t pay for all this damage. I barely touched nothing. Alfie was going ape-shit. I didn’t do the meth. That shit scares me.”

“What did you take?” I ask him, because there’s no way he’s clean and sober right now.

He wipes his nose, and I don’t even need him to answer, but he does. “A little coke. Had some Molly for later with the girls.”

“Where were you going in the morning?” Forge asks. “Where’s your shit?”

The kid points to the corner where two suitcases sit. “We brought it with us, but I don’t know where we were going next. I told you, I don’t make the plans. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Which case is yours?” I ask.

“The blue one.”

I walk to the corner and point to the silver one. “This is Alfie’s?”

“Yeah.” He nods again before wiping his nose.

“Should I open it?” I ask Jericho. “Or should we wait for the police?”

“They’ll fuck up the investigation, if they even bother to open one. No point in waiting.”

“Okay.” I grab an empty pillowcase, crouch down, and carefully turn the suitcase onto its side and locate the zipper—all without leaving my fingerprints on it and hopefully not wiping off Alfie’s. Once it’s unzipped, I flip it open, revealing brightly colored clothes. Strange choice for a guy, but—

My thought cuts off as I zero in on the heat-sealed bags of pills and powder.

“Jesus Christ. There’s enough shit in that bag to get Alfie arrested for trafficking and thrown in jail for years if he’d been here when the police arrived.”

Forge’s head swivels to survey the contents, and he curses under his breath. He stares down at the guy on the floor. “You weren’t planning on being here when the police came, were you?”

“Nah, man, we were going to bolt, but Alfie wanted to break more shit, and then you showed up.”

My brain kicks into overdrive. If they’d bolted before the police arrived, Alanna could have been nailed for this. Blood pounds in my ears, and I wonder what the hell is going on here.