g, so instead he closed his email, fiddled with his paper clip, and ripped the SIM card out of his phone. Tearing off a piece of paper towel, he wrapped it up and dropped it in the toilet.
The sound of the toilet flushing nearly drowned out the sound of his other phone going off—the one Delmonico’s crew used to get in touch.
“Yeah?” he answered, shouldering the door open to make his way out of the bathroom.
It was just Tito telling him to pick up a case of beer.
The machine had stopped and everything was dry, so he shoved all the clothes into the laundry basket. Everything would be wrinkled as hell, but it didn’t matter.
Outside, he threw his basket of rapidly wrinkling clothes into the backseat of his beat up Toyota, slid behind the wheel, and headed to the store to pick up some alcohol.
---
Turning the key in the ignition, Ethan heaved a sigh, trying to get his head back in the game. He probably shouldn’t have checked his email. While he was living amongst the rats, it was easiest to pretend he was one of them until he believed it himself. Reminders of his real life made it harder to stomach the guys he was about to spend his evening with.
The street, sparsely lined with trees, was packed full of little rectangular homes, many converted into apartments or duplexes, stacked one on top of the other. Given that two people couldn’t walk side-by-side between the houses, there wasn’t a lot of perceived privacy, so it wasn’t the kind of place you would expect criminals to imprison up to a dozen young women.
But that’s what they did.
The house on the left contained a normal family—balding dad with glasses, seriously pregnant mom, and a little blonde girl with a My Little Pony backpack. They never so much as looked toward the house, even when Ethan was coming or going during the day and they were outside.
To the right was a brick building that Delmonico owned and rented out to four heroin addicts. Not the greatest of tenants, but they also weren’t going to report any suspicious goings-on, even if by some miracle they noticed any.
They were hiding in plain sight.
So was he, so he couldn’t exactly criticize their technique.
Upon entering the house, he made a conscious effort to adopt a much douchier demeanor. Glancing in the living room as he stepped into the grungy kitchen, he saw Chuck sprawled in the corner of the couch, but nobody else. There was no way anybody left Chuck there by himself, so Tito must be around somewhere.
Shoving the case into the barren refrigerator, Ethan grabbed one of the cold stragglers from the last case, popping it open and making his way to the cheap, old floral-print couch.
“So, did I miss anything good today?” he asked, plopping onto the opposite corner and tipping his beer back.
“Kinda,” Chuck responded, but he didn’t expand on that.
“Did Lane figure out when we’re moving the first bunch yet?”
“Nah, not yet. Max is still beatin’ around the fuckin’ bush. Why, you got a hot date or something?”
Scoffing, Ethan said, “I wish, the only action I’m seeing lately is Tito kissing Lane’s ass.”
The other man grinned. “I know that’s right.”
They made inane small talk for a while. Chuck was one of the dumber criminals Ethan had come across, and it seemed like dumb luck that he wasn’t in jail. Lane, the leader of that particular crew, knew that, so it wasn’t surprising that Chuck didn’t know anything. Most likely they would wait until the last minute to give specific dates and times. He wished they would hurry so he could pass along the intel and get the hell out of there.
The group of girls they were moving to Max’s included a 15-year-old Mexican girl named Lorena—the girl he was there for. Some teens looked older than they were, but not Lorena—she looked younger. The few times he saw her, it had been difficult to stay in character. Every time she appeared, her face was a mask of terror. He didn’t even want to think about what was happening to her behind the closed door of the room the girls were stashed in. It turned his stomach just to walk by that room, so he made a point to stay out of it.
Some of the guys made a point to go into it, but he tried not to think about that.
He wished it surprised him, but he had a pretty clear picture of how shitty people could be.
Just a few more days and they could all go home.
Tito emerged from one of the house’s three bedrooms—the one the guys slept in, not the girls. That was a relief. He looked uncharacteristically tense though—Tito was usually a pretty chill guy.
“Everything okay?” Ethan asked, catching Tito’s eye.
Nodding jerkily, Tito said, “Yeah, I guess.”