Read the book: «Deadly Exchange»

One

Kayla Brooks balanced one foot on the bike pedal and the other on the reddish path then waited for the traffic light to turn green. Getting around a city like Amsterdam, where there were more bikes than people, had initially felt like traversing a minefield. But after living here for two years, the choice to navigate the city like the locals was a no-brainer. Not only was it cheaper than public transportation, it was also faster.

A scooter zipped past her down the winding street as the light turned green. Ignoring her irritation, she started through the intersection—supposedly reserved for bicycles—and picked up her pace while mentally going through her to-do list. With the upcoming annual fund-raising luncheon only two weeks away, her list had grown substantially. Which meant she’d have to postpone running the bulk of her personal errands—like restocking her empty fridge—at least until the weekend.

The squeal of brakes jerked her out of her thoughts.

Kayla glanced behind her just in time to see a car swerve toward her. It slammed into her back tire, throwing her onto the hard pavement face-first. A sharp pain shot through her elbow as she started to untangle herself from her bike. The car flew past, its driver never looking back.

A shot of adrenaline raced through her as she glanced back at the string of bikes coming toward her. She needed to get off the path before she got run over. A man in a business suit riding a sturdy bike swerved out of the way, just barely avoiding hitting her. He shouted a few choice words as he flew past, chastising her both for being a tourist and for blocking the path.

So much for trying to blend in and look like a local.

Five seconds later, she managed to drag her bike out of the line of traffic to a strip of grass, barely avoiding another near collision with a woman riding with her toddler. She examined the damage—first on her body. Besides skinned-up palms and the lingering pain in her arm, nothing seemed broken. As for the bike she’d affectionately named Archie, the back fender was bent and the tire wouldn’t move.

Great. There was no way the damaged heap of metal was going to get her home.

She looked back down the street where the offending car had disappeared and let out a sharp huff of frustration. A couple people zoomed by on their bikes, apparently not having seen what had just happened. Her options were limited. She was going to have to lock up her bike, then walk the rest of the way home. She’d deal with the messed-up tire later.

Her phone buzzed as she snapped the padlock into place, securing her bike to a post. She glanced at the string of text messages.

do i have your attention now?

go home and wait for us to contact you again.

and don’t go to the police or there will be consequences.

Consequences?

A sick feeling spread through her. What kind of consequences?

Her stomach heaved. She stood on the side of the road, trying to interpret the messages. They had to be connected to her work. It was the only thing that made sense. She’d known when she accepted a position with International Freedom Operation that helping women who’d been trafficked get off the streets was risky. Three months ago, one of the girls they’d tried to rescue had been murdered, bringing with it a string of unwanted memories of her own. The girl’s death had been a frightening reminder of exactly whom they were dealing with on a day-to-day basis. And while threats weren’t uncommon, what did they—whoever they were—want from her?

Deciding to take a risk, she quickly punched in a number on her phone and then waited for her coworker to answer as she started walking.

“Evi? This is Kayla.”

“Kayla...where are you? You sound out of breath.”

“I’m walking home—”

“Walking? What happened to your bike?”

“It’s out of commission.” Kayla glanced behind her at the traffic zooming past her, trying not to give in to the panic. “Someone just hit me, and it wasn’t...it wasn’t an accident.”

“Wait a minute. A hit-and-run? Did you call the police—”

“No... I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I’m probably not supposed to be talking to you, but I don’t know what else to do. I also got a couple of text messages. I don’t know who they’re from, but they told me not to go to the police. I think it might be connected with one of the girls we’re working with.”

“Kayla, if that’s true, I don’t care what they told you. If someone’s threatening you, we need to get the authorities involved. Take the tram to the office, and we’ll meet you there as soon as we can.”

“I’m almost home,” Kayla said. “I think I’d rather be there, since it will be dark soon. Plus I need to check on my father and make sure he’s okay.”

She started walking faster. She’d be safe in her apartment, and it would give her a place to think. At least she thought she’d be safe. She tried to shake off the torrent of fearful thoughts.

I have no idea how to deal with this, God. The decision to work with IFO came with its own set of risks, but this—having my life threatened...

What was she supposed to do?

“Okay, listen,” Evi said. “Abel and I can try to catch the next train out of Maastricht, but it will still be several hours until we can get back to Amsterdam. In the meantime, go home and stay there until we get back and the three of us can figure out what to do. I don’t think the girls need to know what’s happening yet, but I’ll contact each of them and make sure they’re okay.”

Kayla hung up the call a minute later. They’d done everything they could to cover all the bases with the trafficked girls they were helping reintegrate into society and regain their independence as they healed emotionally. They’d also put into place a detailed emergency protocol. Until they knew what they were looking at, she couldn’t have any of the girls’ lives put at risk.

She glanced again at her phone. But what did these people want?

Another message came through with another photo.

I thought we were clear. Talk to no one. No police. No one at your work.

She clicked on the photo and saw a picture of herself sprawled on the bicycle path.

They were watching.

Ten minutes later, Kayla stepped into her apartment and slid the security bolt shut behind her. The panic that had started when the car had hit her only managed to grow as she double-checked the lock. She needed some kind of weapon. She glanced around the tiny entryway, then grabbed the broom before starting through the two-bedroom apartment to make sure no one was inside.

She flipped on the overhead light and felt her breath catch. Someone had been here. The files that had been on her desk now lay scattered across the floor, and her laptop was open to the password prompt. Thieves would have taken the computer. Whoever had broken in had been looking for something. But what?

“Dad? Dad, are you here?”

Her heartbeat quickened as she checked the room where her father, Max, had been staying the past few weeks. A pile of books that had been on his bedside table lay strewn across the floor next to his radio. Had he been out when someone had broken in, or had they walked in on him? She couldn’t tell, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t here now.

She tried to squelch the growing panic. Chances were he’d simply run down to the corner café for an early dinner. Or at least that’s what she hoped had happened. But it was going to be dark soon, and he never stayed out after dark...

She grabbed her phone out of her back pocket and dialed his number.

No answer.

She hung up the call, trying to convince herself that everything was still somehow okay. That her father not answering didn’t mean something had happened to him. How many times over the past few weeks had she reminded him to keep his phone on so she could contact him if she needed him? For all she knew, he’d left the phone somewhere here in the house.

Still, worry began to spread. She’d invited her father to stay with her for a couple months, praying that a change of pace would help with the pain of losing her mom eight months ago to acute kidney failure. With the loss had come the familiar signs of depression he’d experienced before, but so far, she wasn’t sure the change of pace was helping. Until recently, he’d rarely left the apartment, spending most of his time in the small room she’d fixed up for him, listening to the news on his radio or reading.

Something creaked above her. She glanced up. It was probably just her neighbors upstairs. She quickly finished checking her bedroom and her bathroom, then peeked out onto the small balcony that was just big enough to store her bike and found the intruder’s point of entry. Someone had wedged open the balcony window. But whoever had broken in was gone.

Her phone rang, bringing on another flood of adrenaline. She set down the broom, then glanced at the caller ID, disappointed when it wasn’t her father. Surely they couldn’t monitor her movements from inside her own apartment.

“Hello?”

“Kayla?”

“Who is this?”

“It’s Levi Cummings. Listen, I know it’s been a long time,” he rushed on, “but I really need to talk to you. It’s...it’s about Adam. He’s in Amsterdam.”

Her head began to throb at the news. How was that possible? Adam was supposed to be in prison.

She contemplated hanging up. Instead, she melted into the leather chair in the corner of her bedroom, wondering what else life was going to throw at her today. Almost two years had passed since she’d walked out of that busy courtroom. One year and eleven months, give or take a day or two. Not that she was counting. Because she wasn’t. But it had been enough time to send back all of the wedding and shower gifts, as well as inform the guests that there was not going to be a ceremony. Instead, she’d donated her white satin dress to charity and started a new life, determined to recover from a broken engagement.

She hadn’t told people why the wedding had been canceled. She hadn’t had to. Adam Cummings’s arrest had been all over the news at the time: Groom Arrested for Fraud. Bride Left at the Altar.

Not literally at the altar, but it had been close enough. Three weeks after his sentence, she’d decided to accept a position with International Freedom Operation that would expand the nonprofit she worked for into Europe. She’d taken the next flight to Amsterdam, hoping to put her past—and all the bad memories—behind her.

“Kayla, are you still there?”

“Yes, I’m here. Sorry. It’s just that...hearing from you caught me off guard.”

She stood up and started pacing the small bedroom. She had enough on her plate today. Talking with her ex-fiancé’s brother really wasn’t something she had the emotional energy to deal with at the moment. Her elbow ached from the fall, and she needed to take some pain medicine. Except even pain medicine wasn’t going to be able to mask reality.

“Levi...I’m sorry.” She ran her finger across a row of books. “I don’t understand why Adam would be here. I thought he was still in prison.”

“He got out early for good behavior, and I have reason to believe that he’s in Amsterdam to see you.”

She frowned. She had no desire to see Adam, though she hadn’t exactly kept up with the news. The last time her mother had sent her an article from back home it had been about Arkansas’ most eligible bachelor, Levi Cummings, who according to the magazine was also quite a ladies’ man. The up-and-coming CEO of Potterville was also known as the man who’d saved the small town from dying out.

She shifted her mind back to the conversation.

“How long has he been out?”

“Five days.”

“Why would he want to see me? We didn’t exactly part on good terms.” Unless...unless he was the one behind what was happening today.

“Honestly, I’m not sure he would come, but that’s why I’m worried.”

Worried that your little brother is about to cause another scandal?

She squeezed her eyes shut for a few seconds and tried to steady her breath. “I’m still not following you.”

There was a long pause on the line. “You heard some of the things he said about you when he left for prison. Threats he made.”

“Like blaming me for his arrest?”

She stared at a stain on the carpet that needed to be cleaned. The hit-and-run, the cryptic text messages... Was all of this because Adam still blamed her for his arrest? Something wasn’t adding up. She knew Adam—or at least she once had. And while she might not have any desire to see him again, she’d never believe he’d try to hurt her.

Or would he?

He’d spent the past two years in prison. Enough time to think about the person he blamed for putting him there and come up with a plan for revenge.

“Kayla?”

“I just can’t believe he’d do anything to hurt me,” she said.

“I’ll be honest, I haven’t seen him much these past couple of years. His choice. But he believes—or at least at one time believed—that if you hadn’t gone to the police, then he wouldn’t have gotten arrested.”

“For one,” she began, “it was the authorities who came to me. And on top of that, at the time I had no idea what Adam was involved in. But that part of my life is over, and I have no intentions of going back.”

“Please, I’m not trying to upset you, but I do want to make sure you’re safe. Which is why I think it would be better if we spoke in person.”

“Wait a minute. You’re in Amsterdam as well?”

“I just arrived in the city. I thought we could discuss what’s going on, and how we’re going to resolve the situation.”

She let out an audible sigh. Spoken like a true army intelligence officer. Like he was on a combat operation and needed information in order to protect her. But maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. Levi had always been incredibly focused. Which was why, even though he and Adam were only eleven months apart, Levi had always played the role of older brother. Even to the point that when his father had gotten sick, he’d been the one to complete his current contract with the military and then returned to rural Arkansas to run his family’s manufacturing company. And as always, he’d continued to be the glue that held the Cummings family together during a crisis.

Like when his father had come to her, insulting her by offering fifty thousand dollars not to tell her side of the story. The whole situation had made her question—not for the first time—her whirlwind relationship with Adam that had made her miss noticing that there was nothing solid beneath his charm. It made her realize as well that she’d simply been enamored to the point where she wasn’t sure if she’d ever really loved him. Because it hadn’t been Adam who’d come to her rescue. In the end, Levi had been the one who’d stood up for her, sweeping in and cleaning up the mess.

But none of that mattered. Not anymore.

Kayla pressed her fingers against her temples. Her decision to come to Amsterdam and her rejection of that money had nothing to do with what was happening today. She’d always known she’d made the right decision, not letting the Cummings family buy her out. Not that she ever would have divulged what she knew about them.

“Kayla, please...has Adam contacted you?”

“No.”

“Then we need to meet before he does.”

Kayla frowned. Apparently this problem wasn’t going away, either.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Near the city center, but I can come to you.”

“I live a bit farther out.”

“That’s fine. If you give me the address, I’ve already secured a taxi.”

Of course he had. He had flown across the Atlantic, hired a taxi and was now prepared to fix things. Just like he always did.

But the last thing she wanted to do was get involved in Adam’s life—or with anyone from the Cummings family, for that matter. Maybe the sooner she saw Levi, the sooner she could put all of this behind her.

“Fine.” She gave him her address, thought about suggesting they discuss whatever it was they needed to discuss over dinner, then decided that would be far too personal. He could come, say whatever it was he needed to say, then leave.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. It’s just...it’s been a rough day.” She hesitated before continuing. She didn’t want to believe Adam was capable of hurting her, but Levi was right. Adam had threatened her, blaming her for his arrest. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Then I’ll be there in about thirty minutes,” he said.

She hung up the phone, then downed a couple of aspirin with a glass of cold water. She needed to figure out if it was Adam who was targeting her—or someone far more deadly.

* * *

Levi Cummings stood outside Kayla’s apartment, trying to get his nerve up to knock on the door. Which was ridiculous. He’d spent the past two years running a multimillion-dollar manufacturing compound and employing thousands of workers, which had in turn lowered the town’s unemployment to just over 4 percent. All thanks to the Cummings family. Or so their head of PR always liked to say. But while he missed his work in the army, family had always been a priority. He’d decided to put his whole heart into building a company that provided jobs by creating the tents and outdoor gear that had become income for their town.

In the process, though, financial meetings and other responsibilities had filled up his calendar, making it so he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d actually had a chance to head out with any of his company’s gear for a day of hiking and fishing. But he knew how to handle conflict. So how had it come to the place where he was scared to knock on the door of an old friend? It was just Kayla Brooks. The girl next door. The girl he’d known forever. The girl who’d stolen his heart in seventh grade and who’d now somehow managed to bring him across the Atlantic just to ensure she was okay. What he hadn’t been able to do—at least not completely—was convince himself that he wasn’t responding out of emotion or any personal reasons. Was his being here simply a matter of family honor?

He knocked on the door, rolled back on his heels, then stuffed his hands into his pockets while he waited for her to answer. She finally did, a full thirty seconds later.

“Levi.” Her gaze took him in. “It’s been a long time.”

“Almost two years. How are you?”

She hadn’t changed. Not really. She still had the same wide hazel eyes, red hair that now reached past her shoulders and a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks. She looked...beautiful. Not that it mattered.

“I’m fine. Just wondering why you flew all the way to Europe to see me. And why Adam would want to see me.”

She’d made her feelings clear the last time they’d spoken, on the day of Adam’s sentence. Levi had walked her out to the car, begging her not to take offense at how his father had tried to buy her off. Ira Cummings was used to getting what he wanted, and used to using money as a bargaining chip to get it—whether it was someone’s cooperation or someone’s silence. And this time the seventy-year-old patriarch had wanted to ensure that Kayla wouldn’t do anything that might further ruin the Cummings family name.

But his father should have known her better than that. Levi could have told him before he handed her the check that Kayla wasn’t the kind of person to take a bribe. She wouldn’t tell her story to the paper, or anyone else for that matter, because she was one of the few people he knew who still actually held to their principles. He’d always found that refreshing. It was his father who hadn’t seen it that way.

Kayla, though, had always been different, and she’d never do anything to hurt those around her or the town she’d grown up in. With a population of just under seven thousand, the town boasted a turn-of-the-century courthouse, a white water tower painted with the local high school mascot and Reggie’s diner, known in a hundred-mile-radius for the best catfish, fried okra and apple fritters. Levi knew Kayla loved that town as much as he did.

She stepped back from the doorway. “You can come in.”

He nodded, wondering how he was supposed to greet her. A hug seemed too personal at the moment, so he just thanked her, then stepped inside the cozy living room with its hardwood floors. The apartment was small, but the living room had a large window that would ensure plenty of light in the adjoining dining area and tiny galley kitchen during the day. She’d added a few personal touches, mainly some artwork on the walls, photos of friends and family that were stuck on the refrigerator and a vase full of purple and white tulips on the table, a surprise for February. What also surprised him was that it wasn’t neat and organized like he expected. As if someone had hurriedly gone through her things.

Levi frowned. Whatever was going on, she was clearly upset about something. “When’s the last time you heard from Adam?” he asked, getting straight to the point of his visit.

“I haven’t. I made it clear two years ago that things were over between us. I don’t know why he’d want to see me now.”

“Neither do I, but that’s why I’m here.”

“Trying to avoid another family scandal?”

He brushed off the biting comment. “I’m not my father.”

“No, but surely you haven’t forgotten the fifty thousand dollars he tried to give me, or the choice words and the long lecture it came with.”

“I haven’t forgotten, but I didn’t come to threaten you, Kayla. I came here to warn you.”

“About Adam?” She sat down on the couch and offered him a worn wing chair across from her. “He might have made some bad choices, but he wouldn’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m pretty sure that Adam is the least of my worries right now.”

“What do you mean?”

She glanced at her phone lying on the table as if she were trying to decide what to tell him. “It’s nothing. Just some things I need to take care of. You didn’t need to come, Levi.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“Then how long do you plan to stay in the country?”

He studied her body language. She seemed on edge...distracted. Something was off. “Until I’m sure you’re safe.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” He leaned forward. He might be pressing for something that wasn’t any of his business, but he could tell by her eyes that something was wrong. “Because you clearly seem scared about something, and if you’re convinced Adam would never hurt you, then it’s about something else.”

She mindlessly grabbed a piece of candy from a bowl on the table between them, tugged off the wrapper, then popped the sweet into her mouth.

“Where’s your dad?” he asked, his concern rising. “I heard he was staying with you.”

“He is, but...to be honest, I’m not sure where he is.”

Levi leaned forward, waiting for her to continue.

“I received some other messages today. Some...threats. But I’m pretty sure they weren’t from Adam.”

“Can I see them?”

She hesitated before picking up her phone. “You don’t have to come to my rescue. I’m not ten anymore.”

A memory surfaced. The three of them had decided to take a shortcut home from school. Adam had tried to convince them no one would ever know they’d trespassed, but Mr. Sander’s bull had had other ideas. Levi had managed to pull Kayla over the fence to safety, even though she’d quickly assured him after the rescue that she could have scaled the fence on her own.

She’d always been stubborn, even though he’d joked in return that she owed him for saving her life.

“And this photo?” he asked. “You could have been seriously hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.” She shook her head. “And while I could be wrong, I don’t think these texts are from your brother, Levi. They just don’t sound like him.”

He read through the messages again. “I wouldn’t have flown all the way here if I didn’t think Adam was capable of following through with his threats.”

“Maybe, but there’s another possibility.”

He looked up and caught her gaze. “What do you mean?”

“I think the threats could be related to my work.”

“I know some about the nonprofit you work for, but how?”

“We work with exploited and trafficked women, and not everyone is happy about what we do.”

“Have you received threats before?”

“Not personally, but others involved with the work have. We’re combating a hundred-billion-dollar business. We get girls off the streets, which means while there might be someone else to take the place of the girls we rescue, someone’s losing their income.”

She was scared. He could see it in her body language and in her eyes.

“What about the police?” he asked. “Have you told them what’s going on?”

“Not yet. I’m not sure they can help. Traffickers use burner phones and know how to work under the radar.”

“Maybe, but you still don’t know who’s behind this. And even if it is traffickers, the police have got to have resources that will help, or has legalizing prostitution changed things?”

“It shifted the role of pimps and traffickers to businessmen and managers. And while some do choose this life, there are still many who are being imported into this country in order to meet the demand—including children. They are promised work but end up trapped in a world they can’t get out of.”

“And in the meantime, the traffickers are making money,” he said. “I’m just not sure you should shrug this off. You could have been killed when that car hit your bike.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“No, but this clearly isn’t over.”

Kayla’s phone beeped, and she picked it up.