“Understood,” I agree.
“You’re not… you’re going to set them free, aren’t you?” Sasha asks.
“Of course we are,” Maxim says. “We’re trying to get to their source.” He looks at Ravil. “I can’t believe how little they’re selling them for.”
“I can,” Ravil says grimly. “The global reach of human trafficking has sent the price to a rock-bottom low.”
“Are these the same people who took Nadia?” Sasha guesses.
Ravil shrugs. “There might be a connection..”
“Are we telling Adrian?” I ask.
Ravil considers for a moment. “Yes. Loop him in. We’ll bring a crowd.” He looks at Maxim. “Put together a team.”
I leave my beautiful sex slave well-sated in bed at ten-thirty.
“Where are you going?” she murmurs sleepily.
I strap an extra holster to my calf and check my weapon, which makes her sit up with a frown between her brows.
“Go to sleep, Freckles. I have business to take care of.”
“What kind of business?” I hear a tautness in her voice and wish to hell I’d waited until she was fully asleep before I got up.
“Don’t ask me questions about business, Chelle. It’s a rule.” When her frown deepens to a scowl, I add, “It’s for your own safety and protection.”
She curls back on her side to watch me, a line firmly etched between her brows.
I lean over and try to kiss it away. “Stop thinking so hard—this doesn’t concern you. Go to sleep.”
She doesn’t answer, and I know we just took five steps back from the progress we’d made toward her accepting me.
Well, fuck. This is what I am. I can’t change it or help it. I knew she couldn’t hang with it long term, and to expect any differently would be delusional.
I meet the guys on the sixth floor where we have a lounge for the soldiers lower in the ranks. There are sixteen of us in all, and Maxim has assigned us one or two to a vehicle, with extra SUVs along to transport the women, presuming all goes well. Dima is on video conference with us and Ravil is here, but Maxim won’t let him come along. Ever since his son was born, we’ve protected our pakhan from the most dangerous activities. The idea of him being taken from his baby is too much for any of us to bear, especially his wife, Lucy.
“This is an information gathering mission,” Maxim says firmly. “We are bringing you all for protection not to exterminate. Our objective is to get the women out safely and find out who is behind the operation.” He gives Adrian a sharp look. “Understood?”
There are a chorus of yeses and das, but Adrian remains stony-faced.
“Adrian, did you hear me? This is our chance to find out if Poval’s behind this and where he might be. If you fuck this up, we lose the lead.” Maxim raises his brows.
Adrian scowls.
“I need to hear your acknowledgement.”
“I understand,” Adrian says with obvious reluctance. I don’t blame him. I wouldn’t mind killing all these fuckers, either.
I receive the text with the address just after eleven and read it out loud. Dima instantly pulls up a map of a warehouse and sends the pin to all the drivers.
“Let’s move out,” Maxim orders, and we file out to take the elevator to the underground parking garage.
I ride with Oleg, Adrian and Maxim. Oleg drives. At the warehouse, we take the lead, the rest of the guys spreading out to cover our backs. Maxim has the cash in a bag.
We’re greeted at the door by two guys with machine guns. They allow only Maxim and I to come inside and insist we drop our weapons into a crate, which doesn’t surprise me. I try leaving the Glock at my ankle, but the guy who pats me down finds it and takes it away.
Maxim and I play it cool, even though our lives are at risk.
Inside, a group of women are tethered together like a chain-gang, surrounded by lethal-looking men with machine guns. We’re in an empty warehouse. I’m guessing this location was picked for the transaction not because it has any meaning to their operation.
A muscle in Maxim’s jaw flexes. He tosses the bag of cash onto the floor in front of us.
Rattlesnake steps forward to pick it up and count it, then he nods at a man standing back, puffing on a cigar. Like Rattlesnake, he has serpent tattoos crawling up his neck. “It all there?” he asks.
“Yeah. It’s good.”
One of the women makes eye contact with me. She looks malnourished and scared.
“It’s all right,” I murmur in Russian, and she goes still, like she understands me.
“Yeah, I figure you’ll have better use for them,” the man I presume is Viper says. “Them not understanding got old fast.”
“You have more than these?” Maxim asks.
The guy shrugs. “No more to sell.”
“Where did they come from?”
“I came into them,” he says, then looks at Rattlesnake. “Unlock the chains.”