Read Cease and Desist (The IMA Book 4) for Free Online Page B

long as either of us breathed. I remember wishing that he hadn't used those exact words — as long as either of us breathed —  because it sounded an awful lot like tempting fate.
    An odd thought occurred to me. Maybe this was why Michael had given the folder to me to open. Had he been curious about my reaction? Why?
    Maybe it is a test , my brain whispered. To see how far you've come. To see if you're strong enough.
    “Mr. Callaghan has been very quiet as of late.”
    That was Angelica, the voice of reason. She was standing in the doorway Michael had only recently vacated — I hadn't even heard her come in.
    She paused for a moment. “Now we know why.”
    Did we?
    Adrian Callaghan isn't quiet , I wanted to say. He only bides his time.
    When he wasn't speaking, that's when you needed to watch out, because it meant that he had decided to hurt you, and was planning on how best to go about it as ruthlessly and painfully as possible. His words could sting, yes, but they weren't what would end up breaking your bones.
    I dug my fingers into my thighs and told myself not to cringe before these people.
    Michael gave Angelica a slow, measuring look, but there was no surprise in it. They must have talked about this in their meeting earlier. I couldn't help wondering why I hadn't been included.
    “Well?” Suraya again. “What are you going to do about this? I haven't heard a solution.”
    Fear uncoiled deep down in my gut, snaking its way around my insides like a lasso and squeezing tight. Finding a solution meant facing Adrian again, and I didn't want to do that; because I knew that the next time I did, I might not walk away.
    I almost hadn't, last time. Neither had Michael.
    What can we do? We're already living on borrowed time, as it is.
    But I didn't have any alternatives.
    I just wanted somebody to take my hand and make the bad man go away.
    I was so pathetic.
    Suraya's words circled my head, mocking my lack of drive. Here I had been condemning her for an utter lack of participation, and now she was at this meeting doing my job, asking all the right questions, while I tried to figure out a way to avoid conflict.
    Her choice of pronoun was odd, though. Not what are we going to do about it? But, what are you going to do about it? Did that mean anything?
    “Obviously, this has to stop.” I said the right words, but they sounded hollow, even to me.
    “It will cost too much time and resources to pinpoint each shipment.” Angelica dehumanized the women, turning them into objects, like something that could be shipped through FedEx. I had never borne any ill will against her before, but in that moment I hated her a little for being so blasé .
    One look at Suraya told me she felt the same way.
    As Angelica glanced our way, discreet diamond studs in her ears caught the light and winked jauntily. “If we do succeed in cutting them off,” she continued, purposefully, “another operation will sprout up elsewhere — and the girls will be killed.”
    I thought of the pictures again. Those frightened human faces. I wondered again if I would be sick.
    Steeling myself against the nausea, I tried to think of it in the abstract. In words and numbers, only. It didn't quite work. All I could see were their eyes.
    “All you're succeeding in doing is going around in circles.” Suraya's face hardened. “I ask you again — what are you going to do about it?”
    “Infiltration,” I said.
    The moment I spoke, I saw Michael's head whip towards me. His face was interested. Too interested. Almost … intent. I faltered.
    “Maybe — maybe we can't do anything about it from the outside” — courtesy dictated that I at least concede Angelica's points, even if I didn't agree with them “ — but if one of us could figure out a way in, we could find out more details. The hows and whys and wheres — how they're getting the women in, what their motivation is, and where, exactly, it is that they're operating from. Maybe then we could do more