him. Pressing the code on the remote, he opened the gate.
“I ran because once I am in police custody, I can’t control the information. If I come to you first, you know what I know. What happens next is up to you.”
People who traffic children deserve to be in jail.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, but he held the words in. They needed to know what she knew. She was the only link to what had to be a much larger organization. As sick as it made him to even think about, trafficking children might only be the tip of the iceberg.
EIGHT
E than halted the gate’s progress with only a small opening. “Step through, slowly.”
After she did as he said, he closed it behind them. “Walk. What’s your name?”
“Viktoria Arsov.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Yes.” At his hard look, she breathed out a frustrated sigh. “Why would I lie? What do I have to gain?”
“You control the information, remember?”
“I see why you would be suspicious.” She nodded slowly, then shrugged. “At home, I am called Vika.”
“Vika Arsov?”
She nodded, but there was enough of a hesitation that he figured the last name was an alias. It appeared that she didn’t want to lie to him, though, which was a good sign.
“I am sure you have questions.” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I will answer what you wish.”
“Later. Get in and drive.”
Viktoria sent him a startled look. “Drive?”
“I want both your hands and one of your feet occupied. And don’t worry, we have plenty of time for questions.”
It took her a few tries to get the hang of the golf cart, but within a few minutes, they were back at the main house. His brother, bless him, had sent the visiting police team—in their gear, with weapons at the ready, to line the trees. Ethan knew they were only using blanks for the purposes of their exercises, but Viktoria wouldn’t know that.
She shot a sideways glance at him. “You were expecting an invasion? I am only one small woman.”
Ethan ignored her. “Park the cart and get out.”
Viktoria sighed again. “Ethan, you should understand by now that I’m on your side.”
“I think you’re on your own side, but we’ll see.” He nudged her forward across the patio toward the French doors that led into the living room. If he could avoid a scene in the kitchen, that would be ideal. He tucked his weapon into the small of his back and opened the door for her.
In the fifteen or twenty minutes he’d been gone, the library had been cleared. His brother, or possibly Gracie, had moved the table into the center of the room.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his brother, texting that they’d moved the computer to the room across the hall, where they would be watching the live feed from the surveillance cameras.
“Have a seat.” Ethan gestured to a chair at the table. “This might take a while.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know. I didn’t come here to keep secrets.” She sat gracefully in the chair, lacing her fingers together and putting them on the table in front of her.
“Why did you come here?”
European shrug. “It’s complicated.”
“Start at the beginning. I have time.” He sat back in his chair.
“I was born in Moldova, before the Soviet Union fell. The economy of my country was dependent on the Soviets.”
“I’m not sure you have to start quite that far back.” He leaned back in his seat.
“Oh, but I do, if you want to understand.”
He nodded, shrugged a little as if to say,
Whatever, I’ve got nothing but time.
“When they left, we had no infrastructure to support ourselves. There was no work. People began to starve. Parents were abandoning their children in order to go into Russia and find work. This is nothing that has gone away. It still is happening today.”
“It’s tragic, Ms. Arsov, but what does it have to do with you?” Her story moved him. How could it not? But if he showed her that emotion, she would have the
“I ran because once I am in police custody, I can’t control the information. If I come to you first, you know what I know. What happens next is up to you.”
People who traffic children deserve to be in jail.
It was on the tip of his tongue to say, but he held the words in. They needed to know what she knew. She was the only link to what had to be a much larger organization. As sick as it made him to even think about, trafficking children might only be the tip of the iceberg.
EIGHT
E than halted the gate’s progress with only a small opening. “Step through, slowly.”
After she did as he said, he closed it behind them. “Walk. What’s your name?”
“Viktoria Arsov.”
“Is that your real name?”
“Yes.” At his hard look, she breathed out a frustrated sigh. “Why would I lie? What do I have to gain?”
“You control the information, remember?”
“I see why you would be suspicious.” She nodded slowly, then shrugged. “At home, I am called Vika.”
“Vika Arsov?”
She nodded, but there was enough of a hesitation that he figured the last name was an alias. It appeared that she didn’t want to lie to him, though, which was a good sign.
“I am sure you have questions.” She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I will answer what you wish.”
“Later. Get in and drive.”
Viktoria sent him a startled look. “Drive?”
“I want both your hands and one of your feet occupied. And don’t worry, we have plenty of time for questions.”
It took her a few tries to get the hang of the golf cart, but within a few minutes, they were back at the main house. His brother, bless him, had sent the visiting police team—in their gear, with weapons at the ready, to line the trees. Ethan knew they were only using blanks for the purposes of their exercises, but Viktoria wouldn’t know that.
She shot a sideways glance at him. “You were expecting an invasion? I am only one small woman.”
Ethan ignored her. “Park the cart and get out.”
Viktoria sighed again. “Ethan, you should understand by now that I’m on your side.”
“I think you’re on your own side, but we’ll see.” He nudged her forward across the patio toward the French doors that led into the living room. If he could avoid a scene in the kitchen, that would be ideal. He tucked his weapon into the small of his back and opened the door for her.
In the fifteen or twenty minutes he’d been gone, the library had been cleared. His brother, or possibly Gracie, had moved the table into the center of the room.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was his brother, texting that they’d moved the computer to the room across the hall, where they would be watching the live feed from the surveillance cameras.
“Have a seat.” Ethan gestured to a chair at the table. “This might take a while.”
“I’ll tell you what you want to know. I didn’t come here to keep secrets.” She sat gracefully in the chair, lacing her fingers together and putting them on the table in front of her.
“Why did you come here?”
European shrug. “It’s complicated.”
“Start at the beginning. I have time.” He sat back in his chair.
“I was born in Moldova, before the Soviet Union fell. The economy of my country was dependent on the Soviets.”
“I’m not sure you have to start quite that far back.” He leaned back in his seat.
“Oh, but I do, if you want to understand.”
He nodded, shrugged a little as if to say,
Whatever, I’ve got nothing but time.
“When they left, we had no infrastructure to support ourselves. There was no work. People began to starve. Parents were abandoning their children in order to go into Russia and find work. This is nothing that has gone away. It still is happening today.”
“It’s tragic, Ms. Arsov, but what does it have to do with you?” Her story moved him. How could it not? But if he showed her that emotion, she would have the
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