Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
“They’re not talking, they’re too afraid,” Beast says.
I climb onto the back of the truck and walk over to one of the girls. She shrinks away from me with a whimper.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help.”
“We think Viktor brought them in via a port he’s got covered by corrupt ATF agents,” Beast says behind me.
Hearing Viktor’s name, the girl whimpers again and steps further away from me.
“Did Viktor Olicheckoff do this to you?” I ask her gently.
Frightened, she nods. “Viktor.”
White hot rage washes over me.
The bruising on her face tells me about the violence she’s endured.
“He did that to your face?” I ask.
She hesitates. But then says, “The men outside. They hurt us.”
“Elina, don’t say a word,” another girl begs in a hushed voice.
But Elina ignores her. “They like to punch. Like to take what is not theirs to take.”
I grind my teeth. Curl my hands into fists. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“Especially the one with the beard. He likes to inflict pain when he’s taking.”
“Not anymore. They won’t touch you again. You have my word.” I take her hand. No sudden movement. Just a gentle reassurance. “You are safe now.”
I know my words do little to help.
But right now, they’re all I have.
A promise that it’s over.
I jump off the truck and pull my gun from the back of my jeans.
Arm outstretched, I walk past the sheriff and over to where the three men are on their knees, and I shoot the first one in the face.
The one with the beard who likes to inflict pain.
"Jesus, Lars. You remember I’m a cop, right?” the sheriff complains. “Couldn’t you have at least warned me to turn around before you made me a witness to murder?"
“Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t deserve it.”
"That might be so. But there’s a process. It’s not a great one, but it’s still a process."
"If that process worked, then you wouldn’t need men like me."
The sheriff shakes his head as he looks down at the dead man. "You ever think about a warning shot? Or are we skipping foreplay nowadays?"
“Assholes like him don’t deserve a warning.”
“Makes it hard for me to clean up. How am I supposed to explain why he’s missing half his face?”
"If anyone asks, say he slipped."
“Yeah, face-first into a hollow point. Very fucking funny.”
I think about the women inside the truck.
Young women who should never know the depravity of what happened to them.
I crouch in front of the second man lined up with his hands behind his head.
“Where are you taking the girls? And who are you taking them to?”
He screws up his face. He’s not going to play nice. “Fuck you.”
I sigh. “Are you going to tell me who your boss is?”
We already know Viktor is involved.
But I want to know if there is another shark in the fishpond.
Get a clearer picture of what we’re dealing with.
But number two doesn’t want to help. Because he curls his sweaty lip and grits his yellow teeth. “I said, fuck you.”
I nod and then sigh. “Do you know who I am?”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“Well, that’s rude. But okay. I’ll tell you. I’m the enforcer for this club. Meaning it’s my job to make you tell me who your boss is.” I lean in. “And you’re making me look bad in front of my boss. He’s the big ugly one standing behind me wearing the president’s badge. So let me try one more time. Who is your boss?”
“Go. Fuck. Yourself.”
He doesn’t get another warning.
I shoot him in the face.
And when he slumps to the ground, I turn to the third man.
The last one with a pulse.
“Are you going to tell me to fuck myself too?” I ask.
He shakes his head quickly. “No, I will tell you what you want to know.”
I smile. “Thank the Lord.”
He tells us everything.
How Viktor traffics girls and sells them to low-life criminal syndicates around the country. How this truck was heading to a vile criminal called Big Willy in Miami. How the other two liked to hurt the girls, but he was just the driver and never touched them.
The desperate lies of a man facing a terrible fate.
But I don’t kill him.
Because Sheriff Coulter is going to want someone to arrest.
“I’m going to let Hammer know there’s some fun to be had in Miami,” Beast says, removing his phone from his cut pocket and moving away to make a phone call.
I rise to my feet and turn to the sheriff. “He’s all yours.”
But Sheriff Coulter doesn’t bring out his handcuffs. Instead he removes his gun from his holster and shoots the third man dead.
I give him a questioning look.
He shrugs. “Fucking paperwork would be a bitch.”
Impressed, I nod. Fair enough.
Beast rejoins us. “Just spoke to Hammer. He’s going to pay Big Willy a visit.”