Darkest Fire by Tawny Taylor Page A

to be any hope of trust developing between them someday, she had to tell him more.
    She said, “I won’t lie, we’ll be dealing with somebody who’s just as dangerous and slimy as a loan shark. I’m . . . I met with him once, and I’m not sure he’s going to give me what I want, even after I hand over the money.”
    The car came to a sudden stop.
    “Who?”
    She knew he was staring at her, shocked, angry, bewildered, which was why she couldn’t stop looking down at her hands, tightly gripped in her lap. “A man named Campioni. He’s a local contact for an international sex slave smuggling ring. I’m . . . buying my sister.”
    Her husband visibly gritted his teeth. “The police should be involved—”
    Panic set in. “No!” She threw her hands forward, catching the front of his shirt in her fists. “Please.” Within a single stuttering heartbeat, her eyes filled with hot tears. “Please,” she repeated, the words choking her, clogged in a throat that was closing in on itself. “You don’t know how long I’ve been searching. How many times—” Despite trying to swallow it down, a sob tore through the blockage and slipped between her lips. “They’ll send her away again.” It was no use now, months of desperation, of pain and longing and frustration had taken their toll and all the emotions she’d been squelching broke through the barrier she’d fought so long to hold up. Tears ran from her eyes in hard gushes, and sobbing, retching noises thundered from her chest. Her head dropped forward, her forehead striking something hard. Her hands went to her face, catching hot, salty tears and somewhat muffling her sniffles and sobs.
    She wanted to stop, but she couldn’t. Tried to, but failed. Fought to, but eventually surrendered. It was only then, when she finally accepted that she couldn’t control the outburst, that it eased a little. A little more. Finally, she was breathless and dizzy and exhausted, but the worst was over.
    When her vision cleared, she realized her face was buried in his shirt and he was touching her. On the head. His hand wasn’t moving; it was just resting there. But the gesture was so patient and kind it almost made her start crying again.
    “I’ll handle this,” he said.
    “But I never expected you to,” she said to his chest. “She’s my sister. My responsibility.”
    “It’s dangerous.” When she looked up, he explained, “What makes you think a man who sells human beings is going to keep his end of any bargain, especially with a woman who is—no offense—the size of the average twelve year old? It’s more likely you’d end up becoming his next victim. Then where will you both be?”
    “You’re right.” Sitting upright, she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to subdue the shudders still quaking through her body. “I thought of that, and I wasn’t going to assume fifty thousand dollars was going to be enough to appease his greed. I was hoping . . .” What? That’d he’d give her Lei anyway?
    “You said your sister’s name is Lei?”
    “Yes.” She grabbed her purse, unzipped it, and pulled out the worn photograph she always carried. She handed it to him. “This was taken just before . . .”
    “. . . she was kidnapped?” he finished.
    Unable to tell him the ugly truth, she simply nodded. “I still feel guilty making you do this.”
    “You aren’t making me do anything.” He placed Lei’s picture in his wallet, shifted the car into drive, and pulled back out into traffic. “After you call Campioni, I’ll take you home. I don’t want you there when the deal goes down. Just in case things go bad.”
    Those words hung in the heavy air for several moments until she couldn’t help herself, and she had to apologize. “I’m sorry. For dragging you into something I’m sure you don’t want to get into. I feel awful.”
    “Don’t.”
    “But I’m not used to this, to letting somebody else handle something I should be doing—”
    “I