Andre stands in front of my desk, his lips pressed into a tight line and his gaze fixed on his beat-up converse. His hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his leather jacket as I stare at him. He’s a fucking cockroach who makes money from cutting off the top of other people’s deals.

“They lost her?”

He glances up at me nervously. “They say she escaped when they were bringing her to the meet.” I lift a brow. “They are refunding the money,” he blurts quickly.

I laugh. “Nero Verdi doesn’t give a fuck about the money.” Shit, he’s going to be pissed. I don’t know who the girl is, but he’s gone to a lot of trouble to get her.

“She shouldn’t be hard to find. She’s Russian. Blonde…pretty.”

“Get out.” He nods and turns away, closing my office door behind him. With a resigned sigh, I take a seat at my desk and open my laptop to video call Nero.

After a couple of rings, he picks up. The screen jolts and bounces before settling on his face. “Yeah?”

“We have a problem,” I say.

“I don’t like problems, Rafe.” He drags a hand over his jaw, tensing it beneath the five o’ clock shadow.

“Yeah, well, your collateral has done a runner. Like it or not, I assume that’s a problem.”

“Fuck! You lost her?” His whiskey-colored eyes lock with mine through the screen; dark brows pulling together in a stony frown. I like Nero, I do. We understand each other, but sometimes, he forgets who I am.

I lean forward in my chair and cock a brow. “Careful, Italian. Your fence lost her before I ever laid eyes on her.”

He huffs an exasperated breath. “Where is she now?”

“She ran before the Sinaloa even got her to the exchange. They have no idea where she is…” I smile.

He narrows his eyes at me. “But you do…”

“This is my city. I know everything, and a rare bird is not hard to find amongst the pigeons. Your little Russian cannot hide for long, and my dogs are already on her trail.”

He nods. “Good. If you can keep her safe until I need her, I’ll pay you one million on top of our deal.”

“Nero, we both know I owe you a debt far greater than that.”

I hang up the call and stand, taking my suit jacket off the back of the chair. I just got a shipment from Colombia today, so the warehouse is full. As soon as I step out of my office, Samuel is beside me.

“We lost nearly a kilo in Miami,” he says.

“Fucking shit. You need to train them better, Samuel. You’re sending them out looking nervous as shit with my coke in their guts. They are costing me money!”

He sighs. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

“Have you heard from Fernando?”

“Yeah, he’s got his guys looking for the girl.” I start walking towards the door. “Boss, the shipment to Miami is going to be late now. You want me to send another?”

“Yeah. Change the flight to Fort Lauderdale and find that fucking girl even if you have to go and do it yourself.” He flashes me a look, and I hold up my hand. “I don’t need Nero up my ass.” I walk away from him before he can say anything.

* * *

Forty-eight hours. I’ve had my men scour the city, called in every contact, and they still can’t find her. I tap my finger against my bottom lip. How does a girl like her just disappear? The one thing I know about slaves is they’re sheltered by design. The people who own them don’t want them to think for themselves at all. They’re fuck-bots for all intents and purposes. She’s either dead, or she’s been taken. There is no way she’s made it out of this city. I’d know.

A window pops up on my laptop along with a high-pitched ringing. Nero. Brilliant.

I click the green button with a sigh and lean back in my chair. “Well?” he asks.

I lift the cigar from the ashtray and place it between my lips, lighting it. I take a slow inhale, and I can see the irritation blanketing his features. Good. His collateral is causing me enough irritation.

“Nothing yet,” I say, allowing smoke to stream through my lips.

“Two fucking days!” He slams his hands on his desk.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair as I watch him through my computer screen. “She can’t hide forever.”

“Rafael, for all you know, she’s crossed the border. I need her.” There’s an edge to his voice, just a hint of desperation. His jaw tenses and his brows pull tightly together.

“She won’t have crossed. How is she going to leave the city, Nero? She has no money, no passport. Nothing.”

“Or she’s dead.” Honestly, that’s far more plausible. He must see it on my face because he drags both hands through his hair. “Fuck!”

I shrug. “Juarez is a dangerous place for a girl like her.” This is not my problem. I didn’t lose her, the Sinaloa did.

He inhales a deep breath, and the muscle in his jaw twitches erratically. “Keep me informed.” He hangs up, and I smile. It’s good to see him sweat a little sometimes. The Italian is always far too sure of himself. It’s not healthy.

I don’t have time to be handling a damn girl, but honestly, she’s starting to make me look shit. Some of my best men can’t find a runaway whore with no money, friends, or means of escape. If that doesn’t look weak, then I don’t know what does.

I pick up my phone and dial Carlos’ number. “Yeah?”

“Put the word out, ten grand to the man who brings me the girl alive.”