“Shhh. None of that. I have to copilot the plane, baby. If you need anything, tell your daughter and she’ll come get me.”

I nodded. He stood up, and then I saw Juleen was sitting across the aisle from me. The plane was a six-seater, and four seats were taken up. Chris had brought two sidearms with him. The men weren’t just men, they were also his weapons.

Chris put on my seat belt. “We’re going over mountains. We’re actually going into the mountains. It’s going to be really bumpy, especially because it’s summer and the heat rises after dark. It’s normal. Don’t be nervous.” He stroked my arm. “It’ll be okay, I promise you.” To Juleen, he said, “If she starts to fall asleep, just put this ice pack on her face, okay?”

“Okay.”

I held out my hand to my daughter and she took it. Within a minute, I was going under. And no amount of yelling, shaking, ice packs, and turbulence would disturb my rest. At one point, they thought I’d died.

Maybe I had.

CHAPTER 2

HE STANK OF vomit, blood, and his own sweat. As meticulous as he was, he tolerated the stench out of necessity. But as soon as she was wheeled into a treatment room hidden behind double doors, he had to change his clothes. He always kept spare duds in all his offices. And he had a lot of offices. The convenience factor was that he wore the same thing every day: black suit and a black T-shirt, either long- or short-sleeved, depending on the weather. His boots were the only item that showed creativity. He had hundreds of pairs in every possible color and animal skin available.

He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath. The place didn’t have a waiting room. The men who came here were usually certain types: those who had purposely ditched hearth and home for a couple of nights of bacchanalian freedom, rich single men who wanted it done in a very specific way, and on-the-spectrum coders with no social skills and money to burn. The cash bought them good food, fine spirits, and copious amounts of sex with as many women—or men—as their wallets could afford. Who the hell would be pacing for them in a hospital waiting room? No wives, no girlfriends, no boyfriends, no friends at all.

Nope. No waiting rooms. Just a hallway with a few chairs. The girl was sitting in one of them, head down, with two trash bags, a purse, and a violin case at her feet.