average human’s Reviews > Control My Night > Status Update

Arwood’s hand bristled over his close-cropped blond hair. If I swapped his business suit for camo gear, he’d look just like his army photo. “I’m not in the mood to entertain theories.”
I’d obviously chosen a poor time to do this. I steeled myself, squaring my shoulders. “Johan tried to abduct me at the Kohnstamm casino.” I pointed to the profile shots lying on the table, the shots I’d seen on the desk in the library. “He’s one of those men.”
“You IDed Johan that night?” Steadman demanded. “And you only think now to tell us?”
“You never asked.”
The thunderous displeasure on both their faces sparked the urge to fawn, but I held strong, maintaining eye contact. Lissandra’s lips quirked. She, at least, seemed amused by my audacity.
“Well?” Arwood snapped. “Which one of them was it?”
“I’m offering an exchange: I tell you which one is Johan, and in return you remove my collar.”
I wanted to win this for myself. My collar symbolized more than just being his weapon, and we all knew it.
Arwood clasped his hands together, looking like he wanted to put them around my neck. “Do better, Miss Backhus. Removing the collar is a large concession on my part.”
I gripped the hem of my shirt, assessing the room while I tried to work out what to say next. I’d banked on their desperation being so great they’d accept whatever I had to say.
The picture of the distribution center had knocked a memory loose in my head, a memory couched in the undertows of dread and inevitability. “Do you have a map of where we’ve tracked his associates to?”
The initial silence to my question broke when Steadman grabbed the laptop and plugged it into the projector. Prague showed on the screen. Lissandra identified the affected areas. One by one, circles generated on the map. Some were in clusters.
“If you’re looking for a pattern, you won’t find one,” Steadman said, echoing my thoughts. “We’ve been over this.”
Lissandra shushed him. “Let her think.”
I couldn’t see which streets the locations sat on. “Do you have a list of the actual addresses?”
I loved puzzles. Pre-abduction, Sunday mornings had meant long breakfasts and Sudoku. Sometimes my father would join me, and we’d work together to solve the crosswords in the paper. But puzzles had rules. Johan’s people did not.
Except …
Two addresses itched my brain. Both were located in Karlin, an area of redevelopment after flooding two decades ago. My father’s company had bought up big in the neighborhood, and a few months ago listed a portfolio including office and apartment buildings. As an intern, I’d assisted in the sale while they were on the market, but they’d sold as part of a larger deal that included properties all over north and east Prague. Arwood’s distribution center had been an asset we’d tried to acquire without success—no surprise why.
The two addresses had been locations in that sale. In fact …
There was Waldemar’s jewelry shop filled with the trafficked girls. A property in Prague Seven I’d physically visited to help assess. They’d all been sold by my father’s company.
But not every property in the deal was featured here.
“There should be two others.”
“You’re mumbling,” Steadman said.
I swallowed a retort, filling them in on the sale. “Two are missing from this list.”
“Where?”
“Give me a minute.” I tried to suppress the icy, sick feeling rising. You do due diligence when going into business with someone, but I doubted the same had occurred here. People buy and sell real estate all the time without necessarily knowing what the other party is tied up in, right?
But as much as it hurt to admit it, evidence was starting to stack up. I just didn’t want to believe it. I resisted the urge to touch the phone hidden in my bra, pushing it all aside. I’d have a crisis over my father’s ethics later.
I focused on the list, willing my memory to trigger. I’d worked this sale. Photocopied documents, listened in on the meetings. “If I could access my work emails—”
Steadman didn’t even let me finish. “Not a chance.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t have let me, either. I stood, facing the projection. The shadow my figure cast blocked out most of Arwood’s territories, but I wasn’t looking at them. I mentally recounted the reports I’d proofed, the emails I’d drafted. I’d seen the addresses over and over. I just had to remember what they were.
I gestured to the map. “Is there a list of all addresses for that area?”
After perusing the list in silence, I tapped on two of the locations: a secure parking garage, and an industrial warehouse. They hadn’t been included in any information we’d reviewed so far. My instincts told me I was on to something.
“If you still think Johan will lead you to Isobelle, then these buildings are our best bet.” I addressed Arwood, trying to keep my face passive. “Johan’s location and confirmation of his identity. For my collar.” There. I did better.
“Let’s move,” Arwood said. “I want us out there tonight.”
Steadman shook his head. “Not tonight. Going in without—”
“I don’t care. Make it happen. None of this matters if I don’t get her back. I want her found.”
“I do, too.” Steadman’s tone was calm. “But we have to keep perspective here. What if this Johan fuck isn’t the guy?”
“He is.” The desperation Arwood kept hidden from me, perhaps everyone, bubbled to the surface. Cords in his neck protruded below a tense jaw. The grip on his glass tightened, but his tone turned soft, like a benediction. “It has to be him.”
“We need more time—”
“We aren’t in the field anymore, James. Tonight, or I’ll find a different person to lead them.”
Steadman’s expression went stony. The tension between them didn’t just make me uncomfortable—it hurt to watch.
“Arwood.” Lissandra’s tone cut across the table as she removed her cat-eye glasses. “Take this offline. Now.”
He cleared his throat, plucking at his tie—and just like that, Arwood was a businessman again, discussing a proposal and not his daughter’s life. “Good work.”
Finally, finally, I felt on equal footing. “My collar?” I prompted.
Heads either side of the table swiveled to Arwood.
“Deliver Johan tonight, Miss Backhus, and it’s gone.”

66%

I flinched as Silas sat beside me.
“I’m sorry for what I said,” he whispered.
Borrowing some bravery from the boardroom, I ate a large bite of risotto while Silas watched. The night we’d met, I’d thrown my food in the garden. My, how far I’d come.
“Define your statement, mage,” I deadpanned.
Silas smothered his smirk, leaning closer. I checked the kitchen. We were early to dinner; the chef and his kitchenhand stood by the grill, not paying us the slightest bit of attention. “Calling you spoiled. The things I said about you and your father. It was a dick move. I’m sorry.”
I mined his gaze. I saw contrition there. He was sorry. His words still stung, and I needed to reflect on why, but Zeina’s ticking clock urged me to give the smallest of smiles. Despite my anger, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I spent the time I had left with Silas fighting with him.
The time I had left. That thought twisted my insides.
But I couldn’t resist one last dig. “You were a dick,” I agreed. “My father is the most important person in my life. I’ll never not defend him.”
“I get it. Family’s off-limits.”
I swallowed the apology that rose; I wasn’t sorry about what I’d said to him.
“This mission worries me,” Silas murmured. “Johan’s dangerous. More dangerous than Arwood anticipates.”
“You’ve been assigned?”
“With you and the warehouse team. Something about it makes me nervous. Steadman isn’t the spontaneous type, and it all feels too last-minute. I don’t want you there.”
“I don’t want you there, either,” I said, not bothering to tell him that Steadman had been overruled. It wouldn’t change anything. “I’m in this with you. I’ll watch your back.”
Underneath the table, our knees brushed. Material separated us, but a shiver stole down my arms. The kitchen filled until we were once again surrounded, bodies turned away from each other, knees still touching.