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They’d been trying for a month to find Elle, uniting over and over to find their lost sister, and because they couldn’t, they knew she was a great distance away and under extreme duress. Elle was powerful, probably more so than any of them. Jackson had seen her nearly bring a building down with the explosive energy of her temper. She was always carefully controlled, but if she couldn’t get herself out of whatever situation she was in . . . Jackson closed his eyes again, his stomach turning over. She had to be injured. If she couldn’t reach them, she had to be injured, there was no other explanation.
    Elle hurt. The thought was terrifying. Elle in the hands of a man capable of human trafficking was even worse.
    You know I’ll never stop until I find you. Stay strong, baby. For me. For your sisters. For Jonas and Ilya and the entire damn village. Stay alive, Elle.
    He wanted her to love him enough to live for him. He wanted to be her reason. She was his. She’d been his ever since he first heard her voice, soft and silky and so damned sexy. Something inside of him had come awake—had come to life.
    He didn’t have emotions the way Jonas had them. Caring for everything and everybody, every cause, that was Jonas. Saving the world, determined to save Jackson. Jackson glanced at Ilya. The Russian was much more like him. Controlled. Disciplined. Utterly dangerous. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Jonas, especially when it came to expressing his feelings to Elle, because if anyone was going to save him, it was Elle. He’d never wanted a woman for his own until Elle and she was as elusive as the wind.
    He swore softly under his breath and turned away from the other two men. Both noticed every detail, and he didn’t need their scrutiny right then. He should have just stepped up to the plate, been a man and taken what was rightfully his. He’d let her down.
    Ilya stopped walking beneath a stand of trees and glanced up at the captain’s walk. Three stories up, Hannah Drake Harrington, Jonas’s wife, paced back and forth, her long blond curls spiraling in the strong wind. Several times she lifted her arms, drawing in the wind, calling to it as she did when she wanted to command it. Jackson knew she was gathering energy in preparation for their sending.
    Ilya kept his voice low. “I’ve pieced together information from several sources who owe me. Elle’s cover has been carefully built over several years, which explains her frequent disappearances. She used the name Sheena MacKenzie, a young, very attractive and wealthy socialite playing in the European circles mainly. She was known to be quite the adventurer, very skilled at everything from caving to mountain climbing.”
    “Which Elle is,” Jonas interjected.
    “By night Sheena MacKenzie was on record, suspected by Interpol of being a very high-class and successful thief.”
    “So she didn’t infiltrate as a woman kidnapped and used in the trafficking ring,” Jonas said. “Her people leaked the false information to Interpol? Or were they in on it? As far as I know she doesn’t work for Interpol.”
    “If my informant has it correct, there was a loan and cooperation. The man they’re after is a big fish,” Ilya explained. “The main suspect is a man by the name of Stavros Gratsos.”
    “The shipping magnate.” Jonas whistled softly. “He’s got more money than half the world. What would he want with a human trafficking ring?”
    “It’s a huge moneymaker, Jonas,” Ilya explained. “More than likely that’s how he got his start in the first place. He’s been suspected, but no one has ever found proof. Human trafficking is second only to drugs and growing every day. One house can earn well over a million a month in one city. Imagine if you have a house in every city all over the world. It’s global, not just one small area, and Gratsos has his finger in every pie. It wouldn’t be difficult, and he’s so far out of reach of authorities,