Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
"It wasn't the same guy," I confess, having gotten that information from Zeus yesterday. "That's why I have the new security cameras around the house. Zeus was here showing me how it works."
"And Zeus is not Roman? They're two different people?"
I nod, noting the look of relief on her face. It makes me want to laugh despite the seriousness of the conversation we're having. If she ever got the chance to see all the guys in that cabin lined up together, she'd no doubt wonder where the cameras were hidden because they all looked like Hollywood movie stars.
We continue our conversation, and Rhonda doesn't leave until I assure her that I'll be okay. She's not exactly happy about the gun, but she didn't argue about it either after I assured her I had training on how to use it.
I lock the door the second she's out on the porch, watching in the peephole as she makes her way to her car. She wanted me to leave with her, but I just needed some time to myself right now.
I shower with the bathroom door locked and the gun on the counter. I get dressed with my ears peeled and my eyes on the weapon.
I place it on the bedside table when I go to bed, and all the while I feel like leaving the cabin was the biggest mistake of my life.
Chapter 32
Jersey
I think it's just par for the course at this point.
Why would the bad guys still be at the hotel in Dayton when I arrive? Why would I have something to do that keeps me away from Gatlinburg for an extended period of time?
Maybe because that's what I need right now, and life always has a way of refusing me.
I took my bike from the cabin, a decision I regretted fifteen minutes into the drive north, but I didn't turn back around. If I was focusing on preventing frostbite on my face and hands then maybe my mind wouldn't wander to her.
Fat fucking chance.
She's all that I can seem to think of. No matter how many times I've forced myself to think of anything else, my mind always circles back.
"When did they leave?" I ask, leaning in toward the front desk clerk.
The guy looks high as a kite, but I wouldn't expect much more in a place like this.
He shrugs, not bothering to pull his eyes from his phone.
Irritation swims inside of me, and it takes all I have not to pull the guy over the counter and curb-stomp his face into the shitty, stained carpet. It's unlikely that anyone connected to trafficking or Nathan Adair would confide in a guy like this, but they may have underestimated his lack of attention. It's possible he heard or saw something that would help me track them to their next stop.
"When. Did. They. Leave?" I growl again, the animosity in my tone drawing his attention finally.
"I don't know, man. I had two days off and when I got back to work tonight they were gone. Did you need a room or some shit?"
I swallow down my frustration. "I want to speak with housekeeping."
"We don't keep housekeeping staff overnight," the guy says waving his arm to indicate the entirety of the hotel. "If you haven't noticed this isn't exactly a five-star sort of place."
"When do they get here in the morning?" I ask looking down at my watch and realizing it's later than I thought.
"Noon."
"Noon?"
"People around here don't check out early, man. Plus, I got word that the two women who were working housekeeping quit the other night. Don't know what the owner plans to do about that shit, but I'm not changing cum-covered fucking sheets again," he says before mumbling more as he looks down at his phone.
The women working housekeeping quitting is a very bad sign. It's Adair's MO to take women from one location to sell them in the next, and it seems even with the leader's death, it's still business as usual.
A quick glance around the lobby tells me they aren't even pretending to have a security system around. I have no doubt that's why this place is so appealing to all of them. They pay cash to desk clerks who don't ask questions.
There will be no leads, and sticking around will only be a waste of time, but it doesn't make me any less angry. More women have been victimized and I don't have a single fucking clue as to where they were going next.
North takes them to Detroit. South goes to Cincinnati. East and West would take them to Columbus and Indianapolis. Dayton is the perfect fucking place to disappear. Even in death, Adair is able to stay operational.
I grind my teeth as I head back out into the cold. My leather gloves creak as I ball my hands into fists. There seems to be no fucking end to the way people hurt others, and it's absolutely appalling the way people use others for financial gain. They're sick and depraved and leave these women mere shells of themselves.