Torrid (Sordid 2)

“Where are the others?”

The talking between the crew stopped abruptly, and Filip’s unease was visible. “That’s it.”

The rain must have soaked through my jacket and shirt, because I felt cold. “Just three? How many girls?”

“Fourteen.”

I could hear them deeper in the warehouse, probably sitting on the floor in the darkness, quieting coughs and sniffles. I’d get to them in a minute. Right now, we had a serious issue. “Who the fuck sends three guys to handle all this?”

Filip reseated the gun in the waistband of his pants as if uncomfortable. “This was my concern as well.”

I texted my driver to start the car. I wasn’t taking any chances. My father had taught me if you got a hint of a setup, it was probably already too late for you. “Fuck this shit. Let’s bail.”

We were potentially walking away from a lot of money, but at least we were walking away. Filip nodded in total agreement with me and told his guys to roll out.

Alek looked surprised. “What about the girls?”

He wasn’t asking about their well-being; he wanted some pussy. I glared at him. “Glup ko kurac.” It was Serbian for stupid as a cock. “Grab one and let’s get the fuck out of here.”

He didn’t need to be told more than once. What Alek lacked in brains, he more than made up for with loyalty and obedience, and I wanted to keep it that way. So I went with him, in case the girl put up a fight. We’d move quicker that way.

The women were huddled together, some clutching suitcases and bags like everything they owned was inside. Which was probably true. They were nearing the end of their trek from Moscow, or Saint Petersburg, or who the fuck knew what Russian city. Most of them had been traveling for days, and they sure as hell smelled like it.

Glassy, fear-filled eyes peered up at me and Alek, and two of the girls skittered backward on their hands and knees, wrapping their arms around each other. Sisters, no doubt. Every time we struck the Russians’ fresh shipment of girls, I swore it’d be the last time I’d do it. These girls left their shitty lives behind for the false promise of America. Some even thought they were coming here to become models.

Too bad most of them were too skinny to have tits. Or hadn’t ever seen a dentist.

Watching their dreams crumble into dust was a drag.

I also didn’t like dealing with the girls because I never knew what level of quality we were going to get. Drugs and cars were products where I could rely on consistency. But I got why Goran was in the business of girls. Besides the money, there was a poetic justice to having the Russians do all the leg work to bring the women to America, and then we swooped in and reaped the profit of selling their whores.

I despised the way the girls looked at me, like I was their savior. They’d watched the Russian men they thought were helping them turn into their captors. When all hope seemed lost, the Serbians showed up and slaughtered the men. The girls thought we’d come to liberate them.

Wrong. They’d just traded one set of evil men for another.

Although, today actually was their lucky day. They’d have to figure out where to go from here, but at least it wasn’t straight into the sex trade.

This crop of girls was just like all the others, maybe even uglier. Pasty, bland faces over cheap clothes and unattractive bodies. Some weren’t a total loss. With a shower and some makeup, they might even make money. I didn’t look long because we needed to hurry the fuck up. Their hopeful stares were eating at me, so I withdrew my Glock and let the gun hang at my side.

There were gasps, and every gaze dropped to the floor in terror. I’d taken my gun out not just to keep the girls quiet and pliant, but to motivate Alek. “Pick one or I pick for you.”

He frowned as if facing an impossible decision. Shit, it wasn’t that hard. He wasn’t going to marry the girl, he was just looking for a warm body to stick his dick in. Fine, I’d select a girl for him and we could—

I locked gazes with one of them.

All the others cowered in fear, but her? She didn’t seem scared, she just looked tired. The gun in my hand was unremarkable to her. The other girls had vacant stares, but the blonde’s eyes were full of fire and life. Heat licked across my skin, sizzling like a jolt of electricity.

She wasn’t the hottest thing I’d ever seen. In another room, she’d probably look better than average. An eight at most. But among this crowd of ugly-assed bitches? The blonde was a ten. And she wouldn’t fucking stop staring at me. It made my skin itch.