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I scowl. “What the fuck, Julian?”

“Can you meet at my penthouse this morning?”

I run my hand down my face. “I’m on my way.”

Hanging up, I address Leo.

“Take me to Julian’s building.”

“Yes, boss.”

It doesn’t take long to reach it, and once we’re parked underground, I make my way to the elevators that lead up to the penthouse where Julian and his wife keep their second home. He had it completely redone, from the studs, for Natasha, and I’m thinking of having the same done to mine so Rina and Charlie feel at home there. As it is, it’s not exactly warm and inviting, and I want my family to be there whenever they want.

I’m about to get on the elevator when another vehicle pulls in, and I see Mateo get out of the back seat. He’s in black jeans and a black T-shirt, and he’s a scary motherfucker with his jaw set and muscles tight.

“What pissed you off this morning?” I ask him as we step into the elevator. Mateo is the laid back one, the one quick to make jokes.

He’s also the one that loves to use a blowtorch on his enemies and owns a fight club where he kills men with his bare hands.

He’s a well-rounded guy.

“Someone is still moving girls in our motherfucking territory.”

My eyes narrow into slits. “Say that the fuck again.”

When we rescued Rose a few months ago, we thought we shut down the sex-trafficking ring that had plagued our city.

“I’ll tell everyone at once,” he says. He looks like he’s ready to punch his way through someone’s chest.

We walk into Julian’s penthouse and find Rome already here, standing with Julian in the kitchen, drinking coffee as calmly as if we’re meeting for Sunday brunch.

“You want?” Julian asks, gesturing to his cup.

“I want to know what the fuck is going on,” I reply and cross my arms over my chest. “With you and with him.”

I point my thumb at Mateo, who’s pacing back and forth, plunging his hand through his messy, long hair.

“Me first,” Mateo says. “Someone is still dealing in the flesh trade.”

Julian and Rome both narrow their eyes, the way I did.

“How do you know?” I ask him.

“Violet had a new customer yesterday who came in wanting to cover up her mark.”

“Okay,” I say, tilting my head to the side.

“This is a new motherfucking mark,” Mateo continues. “Inside of the wrist. A goddamn barcode. And she said she’d just escaped, and needed it gone right away.”

“Escaped from where?” Rome asks. “It could have been LA, Phoenix, Denver . . .”

“Rose recognized her,” Mateo says. “But said that she’d been sold to someone else a couple years ago. She was here. We didn’t find them all.”

I shake my head and blow out a breath. “Fuck.”

“I’ll do some digging,” Julian says. “But in the meantime, I have news too. I had a hit on the facial rec for Lincoln.”

I go very still. “Tell me he’s here.”