Without a word, he picked up a slim black satellite phone. He didn’t bother dialing. One press of a speed-dial button was enough.

“Marcus,” Matthew said, his voice low but heavy enough to make the air inside the car feel tighter. “Route 9 and Blackwood Lane. A woman is standing in the road. Patricia Salgado. She’s holding a leather belt. Remove her from the scene. If she tries calling the police, remind her about the pending audit on her logistics company. If she contacts Becerra, tell him he has twenty-four hours to liquidate his assets before I liquidate him.”

Elena’s breath caught in her throat. She hugged her knees closer, her bare feet pressing into the flawless leather seat.

He knew them.

The thought struck her with terrifying force. She had not climbed into the car of some random stranger. She had entered the world of a man who spoke about her abusers as if they were small problems to be erased from his path.

Matthew ended the call with a quick movement of his thumb. Only then did he look at her.