Freed by Tara Crescent

Tunisia, from Iran and Syria and from Georgia.”
    I nodded. I did know this. Salim and Rachid had been especially livid about her activity in Tunisia. I’d had to soothe them in Bangkok, reassure them that I had a plan. They had still given me a warning. If I didn’t clean up this mess, they would act and the streets would be knee-deep in blood by the time they were done.
    I had no mercy to spare for Sylvia. She didn’t deserve any. But I wanted to prevent all-out warfare. There would be too much collateral damage. Sylvia was completely capable of shooting each and every one of the slaves in her brothels to make a point about who was in charge.
    “Did you notice that your girl is afraid of her?” Jean-Luc continued. “In the auction, when you were kissing Sylvia, I saw her watching, but she wasn’t looking at you. Her gaze was fixed on Sylvia and she was petrified. ”
    “Really?” My voice was thoughtful. “Do you think they’ve come into contact before?”
    “Well, Sylvia’s quite memorable, isn’t she?” Jean-Luc’s voice was cold. A very long time ago, Sylvia had been responsible for tearing his world apart. Jean-Luc wouldn’t rest until the Anliker sisters were exterminated.
    In our operation, I was the planner. The waiting had chafed at Jean-Luc. I could understand that. It rankled at me too, especially given how much misery Sylvia caused every day she was alive. “Sylvia isn’t going to be a problem for very much longer,” I said. I heard the same coldness in my voice.
    I didn’t want to think about Jenny being afraid. Everything in me ached to strip the fear from her eyes. I wanted her to be the way she’d been last night. Laughing and happy, sassing me in the playroom, until her breathing had quickened in arousal and only lust remained.
    Jean-Luc nodded. He knew the plan. “Okay, let’s chat about Dylan.”
    I exhaled. I detested talking about Dylan McAllister. He should have been dead a long time ago and it was to my everlasting shame that I hadn’t acted. I couldn’t think about him without feeling a hot flush of guilt.
    However, I did have some news for Jean-Luc. Yesterday, I’d received a carefully encrypted email from one of his guards. Someone within Dylan’s organization was willing to switch allegiances. After the untimely murder of Ivan Klimov, it had taken two years of the most careful baiting for me to attract another defector, but I had finally succeeded. I showed Jean-Luc the message I’d received from Daniel Schneider.
    “Why now?” Jean-Luc worried out aloud. “Schneider’s worked for Dylan for over a decade. Why defect now?”
    “Because the net’s tightening around Dylan,” I replied. “He’s running out of money. Bethany’s family is supposedly hiring detectives. Interpol is closing in, asking uncomfortable questions about missing women. He doesn’t know it yet, but an arrest is only weeks away. However, he’s always had good instincts about trouble and he’s ordered a clean-up. Anyone who has ever worked for him has a bounty on their heads.” I smiled with grim satisfaction. “One of the targets is a former lover of Schneider’s.”
    I was Dylan’s financier. I paid the bills. The killings had been arranged through me, or so Dylan had thought. The reality was that each kill was reported back to Dylan while I moved the targets to safety. Jean-Luc knew that – he had played a role in that operation.
    I did what I could to atone for the fact that I’d been unable to put a bullet in Dylan’s brain, but I hated my weakness. As a result of my shameful inability to pull the trigger, three women had endured hell at Dylan’s hands.
    Jean-Luc looked sympathetic, as he did every time we talked about Dylan. As much as we’d disagreed on many things, this had been the one topic he’d never questioned me on. He understood. “Is he planning a run for it? Flee Hanoi the way he fled Abeokuta?”
    “He doesn’t have enough cash,” I replied. I couldn’t bring