But that same, lifesaving act had also cut off the head of the very snake he’d worked his ass off to get near. A man responsible for the trafficking of countless women and children.
Including Rose.
Generous, funny, smart-assed Rose. Olly’s best friend and confidant. And the woman he’d risked everything to find.
I’m not giving up, Rose. I swear I will keep looking until I find you. For as long as it takes.
There were still leads to be found. Olly knew there were. But as strong as his tenacity was, his hope in finding Rose alive was dwindling with each passing day.
His silent thoughts hadn’t been a lie, however. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—quit trying. This was simply another dead-end in a long line of others. And like before, Olly knew he’d just have to work that much harder.
And sitting on your ass waiting for some spam call to connect is a waste of time Rose doesn’t have.
The mental reminder had Olly impatiently trying again.
“Hello?” He shifted against the recliner’s worn cushion. Met with more silence, he let whoever was breathing on the other end know what he thought of the bullshit call. “Listen, asshole. I don’t know who this is, but if you’re trying to scam some poor, unsuspecting bastard out of their hard-earned money, you’ve called the wrong—”
“Is this…Olly?”
The soft, feminine voice put an instant halt to his scathing rant. For half-a-beat, Olly thought it belonged to Rose. But when the woman on the other end of line cleared her throat and spoke again, he realized it wasn’t his missing friend.
Rich and slightly deeper, this voice held a hint of a rasp that reminded him of sex.
It wasn’t Rose, of that Olly was certain. But the voice did sound somewhat familiar, though try as he might, he couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
It could still be a scam. No secret that dumbass women play as big a role in that shit as dirtbag men.
Only he didn’t think this was that. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but something about this woman’s tone of voice turned his gut in a different direction.
So not a scammer, but someone who wants something.
Ready to tell whoever it was to look somewhere else, he responded with a curt, “This is Oliver Garcia.” He used his formal name to make a point. People he knew called him Olly, and he had no idea who this woman was. “Who are you, and how did you get this number?” he asked point-blank.
Olly wasn’t prepared for the answer he received.
“Your sister gave it to me,” the mysterious woman responded.
He frowned, his pursed lips parting with surprise. Izzy had given this woman his phone number without running it by him first?
What the hell?
His sister was a criminal psychologist and worked for the Denver Police Department. She also worked closely with Denver’s FBI office, specifically a special unit run by the best agents in the state.
Which is how he knew Izzy would never just give his number to some random—
His phone notified him of a newly received text. When Olly pulled the device away from his ear, he was confused by his sister’s cryptic message…
Got an interesting phone call right after we spoke. I gave the woman your number. Figured you’d know if she’s legit. Take the call and let me know what she says.
This had the be the call Izzy was referring to, but the heads-up text had reached him a tad late.
“Olly..er…Oliver, my name is Scarlett,” the woman on the phone shared willingly. “I believe you knowmysister.”
Scarlett. I like that. But you’re gonna have to give me a little bit more, sweetheart.
“Does this sister of yours have a name?” Olly asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
A stuttered, feather-light inhale reached his ears a heartbeat before he heard the woman say, “Rose. My sister’s name is Rose Goodwin, and I…I was hoping you could help me find her.”