Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Lemon was leaning with her hip against the open door, her arms crossed over her chest as she listened to Deacon and Falcon report on what had happened.
“Illivitch is dead. Boat’s scuttled about twenty miles offshore,” Deacon said. “Wylde and your boys Crush and Byte did some diggin’ and found the guards and the captain of the boat were willing accomplices, so they died too.”
Rocket glanced sharply at Falcon who just shrugged. “All taken care of, Prez. No bodies to find.”
“Crush said you gave them a list of names to track down.” Rocket sat back, tapping a pen against a pad of paper on his desk absently. “They all connected?”
Deacon nodded. “A few months ago, Iron Tzars rescued some women from a shithole in Mexico. It was the result of over a year of hunting those fuckers. Most of the women didn’t make it. With the information we got that led us to that place and the stuff I’d learned over the last year, we knew there were a few stops along the way for most of the girls. A highway that leads from Appalachia to Mexico.” Deacon shrugged. “Little out of our territory, but with skin trafficking, borders get blurry.”
“We do the same. It’s why we’re all here now.” Rocket nodded for Deacon to continue.
“When I questioned Illivitch, I got two other names. The list I made for the tech guys is made up of those two guys and their associates. Men and women who work for them regularly in any capacity from the trafficking to the lawn service. We’re gonna look into every one of them and find the next rung in this never-ending ladder. We’ll likely never get them all, but we can chip away at it.”
Rocket was silent for a long time. I came up beside Lemon who looped her arm through mine. She didn’t hesitate to show affection in front of the guys, but not usually when they were discussing club business. Normally, this would be something they’d take behind closed doors, but since Grim Road wasn’t officially involved, I guess they didn’t consider it club business. Or they just didn’t care who knew.
“Did you infiltrate any major drop-off points?” Rocket steepled his fingers.
“I did,” Deacon answered. “More than one. I’d just come back from that leg of the operation when…” He cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly, clearly uncomfortable with whatever he’d been about to say and changed his mind. “A few months ago.” He kept his gaze straight ahead as he spoke. “But I didn’t get out clean. Sting told me to abort, but I was so close to finishing what I’d started I disregarded and cut myself off from the club. It was then I confirmed Borris Illivitch had an in with these guys going straight to the top.”
“What kind of setup is this, Deacon?” Brick’s deep, rumbling voice was surprisingly soft. Like the subject demanded reverence and respect and he was doing his best to be gentle in his questioning.
“I can’t find the head of it. But it starts with ultrarich… clients who pay top dollar for young women and/or men -- children even -- to be their personal whores, for lack of a better word. They are basically kept as sexual slaves until the master gets tired of them. Then he trades them off or sells them to someone who peddles them off to less wealthy clients. After that, they’re sold to what amounts to human farms. I don’t think any one place has more than fifteen or twenty men and women at a time, but they’re whorehouses or have pimps who send them from client to client. Like a Fuck Me delivery service.” I shivered as he continued. “This is usually as far as males get. They either get too old to be able to sell, or they’ve gotten killed at some other point on the line. Either way, they die.”
Lemon put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to her. I should have known my sister would know how the account upset me. I really tried to be a hard-ass like her, but I’d always been the tender-hearted one. I was a nurturer. When someone was hurting, I needed to help. In this case, it wasn’t only the faceless women and boys I felt for, but Deacon too. I would bet my life, no one else in that room could hear the anguish in Deacon’s voice I did. I knew Deacon, had loved him since I was sixteen. More than four years. I hadn’t gotten to know the new Deacon, but I could see how he’d changed. And that core of him, the protective, compassionate man I’d fallen in love with, was shaken to his very soul by what he’d witnessed.
“Each stop they make is worse than the last. Along the way, each handler collects more and more girls. By the time they reach Mexico, most of them are barely human. They’re completely broken.”