Archangel's Shadows (Guild Hunter #7)(109)

“No,” Ashwini answered, putting the ice back. “We haven’t tracked them down yet, but we will. Do you know any place Giorgio might hide?” Pulling out her phone, she went through each of the properties they’d already cleared.

“You got them all.” Rasping, barely audible words. “Only . . .”





40


“Only?” Ashwini could tell Brooke was in severe pain, but the woman had nixed pain medication prior to this meeting because she wanted to talk, wanted to help. Ashwini wasn’t about to second-guess her courage.

“Cattle,” Brooke whispered, her hand tightening on Ashwini’s. “Cattle give him things.”

Ashwini frowned, focusing ruthlessly on the facts rather than the silent scream of terror that continued to slap at her, making her skull throb. “How?” she asked. “His pattern seems to be going after women who have little.” Even the showpiece cattle had all proven to be from modest or deprived backgrounds. Brooke herself had been an exotic dancer in a low-rent part of town before Giorgio plucked her for his adoring harem.

Despite that, the financial wizards had checked them out, found no properties.

“Pattern right.” Brooke coughed again, accepted the ice chips this time, her breathing a serrated scrape. “Make us grateful.”

“He’s a predator.” Ashwini squeezed the other woman’s hand. “One who’s had hundreds of years to hone his skills. Don’t you ever blame yourself for what he is.”

A shaky nod. “Th-thanks. Needed to hear.” The other woman seemed to be about to lose consciousness, but blinked rapidly, managed to stay awake. “Cattle poor . . . but Penelope got in-in-inh . . .”

“Inheritance?”

Another faint nod. “T-turned out her McScrooge aunt was rich. L-left it all to her five y-y-years ago.” Air noisy in her lungs, her hand spasmed on Ashwini’s. “It’s in sp—” Throat dry, she couldn’t speak until Ashwini had eased more ice into her mouth. “Aunt didn’t like Giorgio,” the hurt woman said clearly, eyes so bright it was clear she was fighting desperately to communicate all she knew. “House is in special legal trust where Pen can use it till death, but she has no . . .” A wracking cough.

Mind racing, Ashwini said, “She has no control over it—can’t sell it or sign it across to Giorgio?” That had to be the reason why it hadn’t shown up in the searches. Penelope’s name wasn’t on the deed.

Brooke nodded. “The women d-don’t know ’bout him.” A pained inhale. “Don’t hurt them.”

“Don’t worry. They won’t be punished for his crimes. And Brooke—thank you. What you’ve just told me changes everything.”

Brooke’s smile was a shadow, her eyes closing.

Leaving the sleeping woman after freeing her hand, Ashwini walked out to where Janvier stood waiting in the hospital hallway . . . and staggered, would’ve gone to her knees if Janvier hadn’t caught her.

“A minute,” she said, holding on to him, letting his heat warm up the ice in her veins.

“As long as you need.” Arms steel and voice rough, he pressed his lips to her temple.

She wished she could stay in his embrace forever, but she’d made a promise to Felicity, to Brooke, to all of the victims.

Pulling away after that single precious minute, her nausea and pounding head at a more manageable level, she kissed him once before returning to the horror. “Penelope,” she said, already dialing the data team. “She has access to a property.” Rattling off everything she knew to the tech who answered, she put a rush on the information. “Find the aunt and you’ll find the house.”

She’d barely hung up when Carys’s name appeared on her phone. “Two girls are missing,” the woman told Ashwini. “They had a call-out last night, told another girl they were going to be rich, maybe even bag a sugar daddy who’d get them into a Quarter house.”

A knot formed in Ashwini’s gut at the eerie similarity to the line Felicity had been fed. “It’s only overnight,” she said, trying not to leap to a deadly conclusion. “That unusual?”

“Yeah, if Bridget and Marta were overnighting, they would’ve told us. It’s how we look out for one another.”

“Send me their photos. Is there anything else you can think of that might help us find them?”

A pause. “You actually going to help? You’re taking me seriously?”

Nonplussed, Ashwini said, “Why wouldn’t I? You don’t seem like the kind of woman who’d lie.”

“I’m not, but cops don’t take hookers missing overnight seriously.”

“I’m not a cop.”

“Yeah, you’re a hunter.” It sounded like a compliment. “Ransom said you were solid.” A crackling rustle in the background. “Okay, I talked to the girls, as well as a few of the guys who work that area, and the girls were picked up in a black SUV, tinted windows. But it wasn’t a guy inside. It was a woman. I wrote down the description—brunette in her late twenties, good condition. One of the girls noticed she had a nice mani—”

“Gold with diamantés?”

“Yeah, you know the bitch?”