by Izzy Sweet
Tapping the phone off, he says, “Keep this shit to yourselves. The police have no clue the girls are even missing. Meaning, we are in the clear of it blowing back on ourselves.”
He snaps his fingers at James and says, “Get that car around back. Remove any personal belongings and the plates. I’ll have someone come by to remove it in a few minutes.”
Smirking at Simon, James says, “Please.”
Looking at him in confusion, Simon asks, “Please, what?”
“Say please, Spider, or you can move it yourself. Lucifer called me into this gig, you can say please.”
Simon’s face goes completely smooth. No frown, no smile, nothing except the cold eyes as he says, “If you would please, James, move that fucking car now.”
Snickering, James nods his head. “Sure, who’s got the keys?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I head over to the car and start looking around. “You got them in the purses, Simon?”
“No,” he says in a clipped tone as he stands there. He hasn’t moved a muscle since James started fucking with him. I think saying please might have broken all those computer parts in his brain.
“Was this an attack of opportunity or planned, Simon?” I ask as I switch my phone’s flashlight on.
Shaking himself, Simon says, “I highly doubt it was planned. These girls never should have been in a dump like this.”
James looks over at me at the word dump. “You gonna let him call your bar a dump?”
“It’s not far off the mark. I prefer to call it a dive bar, though.” Frowning at the thought, I look over to Simon. “You know, a couple of them were pretty uptight about being here. Beth was especially, at first. I got the vibe this was completely out of the norm for them.”
“Did they stay long?”
“About two hours. No one but regulars came in. No sketchy cars or shit was mentioned till someone came in asking about the car outside.”
“Well, we won’t be able to keep a lid on the car being left here, or the missing people. But with luck, no one will figure out who they were until it goes on the news that the girls are missing.”
“You thinking ransom?” I ask. It seems highly unlikely to me. If it was a ransom gig, why take ‘em all? And why not have someone on the inside of the bar to make sure they came out the front? Someone to keep ‘em in sight?
“No. It wouldn’t fit the scene before us.”
“Got the keys,” James says as he scoops them up from under a car. “Pretty big scuffle if they made it over here. To add my two cents, if it was a pro job, they would have taken this Lexus or at least hid it from here.”
“Sloppy if they just left it here. Doors open, signs of a scuffle,” Simon says as he peers around us.
“Sloppy…” Something about this whole thing rings a bell in my head, but the connection isn’t there yet. I can feel the connections coming, but I’m missing a piece of information.
“We need to know where they’re going,” Simon says.
“Yeah, and I’m willing to bet they won’t be sending out a ransom note.”
Looking at me, Simon nods his head. “You and James get rested up. Then get gear ready for whatever might come up. I’ll get my hooks into the traffic lights around here and see if I can spot anything.”
Beth
“Stop your fucking crying,” one of the men in black fatigues barks as they push, shove, and drag us through the hallways.
We’re lead down a set of dark stairs, and I nearly fall twice as I struggle with the change of lighting. Sophia’s grip on my arm is the only thing that keeps me from wiping out completely.
Once we reach the bottom of the stairs, we’re lead down another dark hallway lined with doors and marched up to the third one. The door is unlocked, pushed open, and then we’re pushed inside.
I hear one of the two men mutter, “Fucking worthless bitches.” Then the door slams behind us and once more we’re locked in.
Trapped.
The three of us just stand where we’re left for a moment before Amanda collapses to her knees.
“We’re going to die, we’re going to die,” she keeps repeating, and I don’t know how to comfort her.
I don’t know how long I just stand still, listening to Amanda crying, waiting. Expecting the door to open again and for the men to reappear.
Waiting for them to come tell us they know who we are.
They know our fathers.
Waiting for them to put a bullet between our eyes.
My ears still ring from the gunshots, and it’s a long time before I realize Sophia is talking to me.
“What do you think they want with us?” Sophia repeats, looking at me. Her face is red, blotchy, and her makeup is running with tear streaks.
“I don’t know,” I croak out, but inside I think I know.
I just don’t want to say it out loud.
I don’t want to voice my fears and give them life.
“What are we going to do?” Amanda sobs, breaking down completely. “They killed Lindsey!”
My throat tightens up and fresh tears flood my eyes. Lindsey’s dead, she’s really dead, and a part of me wants to collapse, to breakdown like Amanda. But there’s another part of me that wants to make it out of this.
That wants to survive.
Wiping the back of my hand across my face, I take another step into the room, and look at what we have to work with.
The walls appear to be made out of concrete and there’s no window. We must be in a basement. There’s one bare twin mattress on the floor, a bucket… a fucking bucket… and a gallon jug of water.
“What are we going to do?!” Amanda repeats, crying hysterically.
I drop down to my knees and Sophia follows me.
Pulling Amanda into a hug, I fight back my own sobs, my own despair, and whisper, “We wait.”
Time crawls by. Hours must pass. Sophia and I manage to get some water into Amanda, and then use some of it to rinse off my face. After awhile, Amanda curls up into a little ball and falls asleep on the mattress.
Even in her sleep she whimpers and cries.
Sophia and I sit on the floor, up against the wall, side by side.
“You know,” she says, her gaze far away. “I overheard my father talking about a surge of disappearances recently.”
“Oh?” I ask, looking over at her.
She nods her head and tucks a blonde curl behind her ear before looking at me. “Yeah, but most of the disappearances were college girls. He warned me to be more careful and to avoid campus after dark…” She shakes her head and the curl she just tucked behind her ear pops out. “He’s always warning me of one danger or the other, so I didn’t take him seriously.”
“We weren’t grabbed on campus,” I say quietly and look away.
A strong surge of shame slams into me.
“Yeah, but—“
“It’s not your fault, Sophia,” I say, my throat wanting to tighten around the words to keep them from leaving. “It’s mine.”
“How is this your fault?” she asks, turning towards me.
“If it weren’t for me, if I would have just stayed at home, we wouldn’t have been at that dive bar in the first place,” I say and hang my head. “Amanda and Lindsey didn’t even want to be there.” I start to choke up and tears prick at my eyes. “Lindsey wanted to leave… if we would have left earlier…”
Sophia’s arms come around me and I feel myself weakening. I feel myself filling with self-pity and self-loathing.
“It’s not your fault. It’s not, Beth. You’re not the one that pointed the gun at Lindsey’s head…”
The memory of Lindsey just dropping to the floor flashes through my mind. Her dull, lifeless eyes. The blood staining her hair red…
I shake my head back and forth, fighting a losing battle against the tears and sobs that escape my mouth.
“We live in the most dangerous city in the country,” Sophia murmurs as she rubs her hand in circles on my back. “These guys…
these guys are to blame. And they will pay for this.”
“But it won’t bring Lindsey back,” I shudder.
“No, it won’t bring Lindsey back,” she agrees reluctantly.
We hold each other and cry for a few minutes.
When our sobs lose their strength, and the tears start to dry, she leans back, wipes her eyes and says, “You know, Lindsey could be a bitch sometimes, but she didn’t deserve to die.”
I nod my head in agreement and choke out in a half-sob, half-laugh, “She could be a real bitch, but she also had lots of awesome moments.”
“Yeah, like that time she pulled Tommy Baron’s underwear all the way up to his ears for picking on me,” she sniffle-snorts.
I laugh a little. “Yeah, I remember that. Miss Wilson had to cut them off and he walked funny the rest of the week.”
“Or that time—” she starts but stops, her eyes widening as we both hear the lock on the door rattling.
We both jump up and walk backward, pressing into the corner of the back wall.
The door swings open and one of the goons dressed in black marches into the room.
He looks at us, then he looks down at Amanda.
Dammit, we just left her lying there, unprotected. He takes a step toward Amanda and I cry out, jumping forward. “Don’t touch her!”
He shoots me a dirty look and turns back to Amanda, ignoring me. He walks up to the mattress and starts to bend down, as if he’s going to pick her up, and I rush him.
I can’t let him touch her, I can’t.
I try to shove him away but he doesn’t budge. He weighs a fucking ton, and I feel like I just tried to push over a building.
Growling, he turns towards me and shoves me back, knocking me down to my ass. “Back the fuck up, bitch.”
The second goon in black steps into the room, lingering by the door. The first guy bends down again, grabbing Amanda and lifting her up.
“Beth, don’t,” Sophia murmurs quietly, coming up behind me. I feel her hand on my shoulder, gently restraining me, as I pant angrily and watch the guy march out of the room.
Amanda wakes up with a startled cry and starts to fight the guy as he carries her. “Let me go, please!”
“Stop fighting,” the goon grunts, shifting her around in his arms. “Or you’ll end up like your friend…with a bullet between your eyes.”
That warning seems to suck all the air out of Amanda. I watch helplessly as she sags in his arms and cries.
“The same goes for you two,” the guy at the door says as he eyes Sophia and me. “You fight us, you die.”
The guy carrying Amanda marches out of the room and the door slams behind him.
As I hear the lock clicking into place, I burst into a fresh round of tears.
I’ve never felt so fucking helpless.
6
Johnathan
“Johnathan, I’ve got more information. I need you and James to be at my office as soon as possible. Lucifer will be with us, so make sure to hurry,” Simon says in that unhurried voice of his.
It’s always even tones with him. Doesn’t matter the time of day, he always sounds so fucking infuriatingly calm.
“Got it,” I growl as I check the clock on my nightstand.
It’s three in the fucking morning.
Pushing disconnect, I look over at the window. It’s the dark of night out there. Spider’s favorite fucking time, if you ask me.
Calling James, he sounds aggravated when he answers. “You and your fucking troubles. I swear to fucking hell.”
“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”
He’s in a good mood.
“You guys have shit timing…” he says, and I hear a female’s sleepy voice in the background, asking what’s going on.
“Get to Simon’s office. Lucifer will be there too.”
“Fuck. When the hell did Simon figure out that we need the big guy’s fucking attention?”
“When the stakes got raised. Police Chief’s daughter, senator’s daughter, realty mogul’s daughter, and some fashion queen’s beloved daughter. All money and power families.”
“See you there,” he says before he disconnects.
Grabbing my jeans off the floor, I stand up and pull them on. These are the least dirty ones I have right now, or well, I should say the cleanest. Walking into the kitchen, I grab my keys off the counter.
It’s going to be a long fucking day; I can just fucking see it.
It’s a little cooler right now out in the dark of night, but the cold metal of my 1956 Harley Davidson panhead feels good against my calloused hands as I run my fingers over her.
“I know you’re cold, baby, let’s get you all hot and bothered,” I purr to her as I crank her up.
The loud thrum fills the night air as I let her rumble for a couple minutes. I don’t know when I’ll have a chance to just sit back and enjoy the feeling I have right now. I get the distinct impression from the way the world feels around me, things are about to get rough.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Simon hisses, and for the first time in a long while I’ve achieved my happy place.
I’ve taken his calm from him.
Fucker looks livid with me as I stroll right into his office.
I’m surprised to see Andrew here as I walk over to one of the chairs by Simon’s desk.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask as I slap Andrew’s shoulder.
Rubbing his eyes, Andrew grouches, “Fuck if I know. This is your shit show, I’m guessing.”
“If you dare sit down…” Simon says to me in a cold voice.
“Gentlemen,” Lucifer says as he walks into the room. He looks like he’s just been on a vacation. He’s completely relaxed and not showing a single sign of it being three-thirty in the morning.
“Matthew,” Simon says to Lucifer, calling him by his real name.
“Boss,” I say.
James follows right behind him, heads to a chair and slumps down into it.
“Let’s all be seated and get this started,” Lucifer says.
Grinning right in Simon’s face, I lower myself into his plush office chair and scoot around until I find that perfect, comfortable spot.
Simon’s eyes are on fire as he looks to Lucifer and then back to me. I can see a small vein on his neck beginning to stand out.
I think the prissy fuck is about to have a stroke.
“Johnathan,” Lucifer starts as he sits in a chair facing us. “You seem to have fallen into a dirty world that has been darkening the corners of our city.”
Lifting my eyes, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Simon takes over. “While this is more speculation than I’m used to, I was able to gain CCTV footage surrounding your area of town. From the surrounding traffic light cameras, I have a better understanding of who took the girls from your bar.”
Turning his screen around, he shows a video of a white van driving along the road leading to my bar. The picture changes and then shows the same van at the light about a quarter of a mile away from it. My bar is on a long stretch of road with nothing else out there except for old, closed up industrial plants.
“This van was traveling on the street at the time intervals you gave me. No other vehicles came during that time except for a pickup truck that stopped at your bar.”
I look at the video of the pickup truck. “His name is Jack. He doesn’t have any part in this.”
“Agreed,” Simon says.
“So, what the fuck happened?” Andrew asks as he yawns again. “The girls have me getting up early for soccer practice this morning. Let’s hear the meaty bits.”
Simon and I quickly do a rundown of what happened three nights ago at the bar. We start from my point of view then Simon shifts it back to the white van.
“Here’s the interesting piece of the story,” Simon smiles. “The information you pulled from Yuri added pieces to the Russian puzzle we’ve been working on, but the white van adds a whole corner of the puzz
le we didn’t know was taking shape.”
Lucifer asks, “How did we not know they would be doing a slave auction in my city?”
Raising my eyebrows, I look over at Andrew and James. This is news to us all, and from the pained frown on Simon’s face, I take it he’s not too happy about the answer he’s about to give.
“It’s a floating market. They’ve been doing this in Europe for the last century. They move their chattel from city to city. They often pick up their merchandise from the cities they plan to have an auction in. Their pickups start anywhere from a month ahead of time to a couple of days. It depends on the influx of what is being called for.”
“What are they selling?” James asks.
“Women and children. Never men. Females range from three years old to thirty. The male children no older than eleven.”
James looks like he’s turned green. He’s not the newest member to our family, but he’s from a different side of the criminal underworld. Previously, he worked as a very skilled cat burglar. I’m not sure where the ability to use a sniper weapon came from, but for both jobs, he is the one person I trust to get them done. He’s way too good with a mile of distance and a rifle to be a civilian, if you ask me. But he hasn’t dealt with the shit side of life like this. Things like these usually don’t come up on his side of the family’s business.
Rolling my neck in a circle, I hear it click twice in loud pops. “So what they don’t sell they take with them to the next city?”
“Yes. According to my sources, they move into an area a couple of days ahead of time. Either the Russians, or the local crew, target pickups days or weeks beforehand. Everything is planned ahead of time, if possible, from what I can see. They spend time with the local boss of the area, and then leave a nice cash incentive. Sometimes they’ll go back to the same city, if they did particularly well.”
“Why are we just now hearing they are coming here, Simon?” Lucifer asks before I can.
“Because the Russians are getting restless again. The money flow they previously had is declining. Alexei Rastov is trying to expand his options. My thoughts are he doesn’t know or care of our rules barring slave auctions in our city.”