He falls, choking on his own blood, hands clutching at the wound. I walk over and finish him with a shot to the head.
Silence falls over the warehouse.
Too easy. There should be more of them.
I check the office quickly, nothing but cards, cash, and a laptop I'll have my tech guys look at later. Then I move toward the shipping container.
The door is padlocked. I shoot it off.
The smell hits me first, unwashed bodies, fear, desperation. Then I see them.
A dozen women huddled together in the darkness. Filthy, terrified, some of them bruised. One of them screams when she sees me, scrambling back against the metal wall.
"It's okay," I say in English, then Russian, then Serbian, just in case. "I'm here to help. I'm not going to hurt you."
They don't believe me. Why would they?
I holster my gun and raise my hands, backing up a step. "My name is Yakov Korolyov. I'm looking for four women who were taken from Las Vegas casinos in the past two weeks. Are you—"
"You're Bratva," one of them says. American accent. Blonde hair matted with dirt. "You're the one they were afraid of."
"Yes." No point lying. "Where are you from?"
"Vegas. I worked at the Korolyov." She's shaking but trying to hold it together. "My name is Macy."
Relief hits me like a fist. "Macy Walsh?"
"Yes. How did you—"
"Your boss reported you missing. So did your roommate." I pull out my phone, still no signal. "Are the other three here? Faith? And Laurie Parker? A girl from another casino?"
"Faith is here." Macy points to a redhead curled in the corner. "Some of them work clubs and bars. A few of them... they’re not doing well. And Laurie..." She swallows. "Laurie's in the back."
"In the back?"
"They took her earlier. Said she was too much trouble, kept trying to fight them. Zajmi wanted her moved to a different location. I don’t know if she is still here."
Ice floods my veins. "Where in the back?"
"There's a room. On the other side of that wall." She points to the far end of the container. "Please, you have to help her. They were talking about... about making an example of her."
"Stay here and stay down until I come back."
I'm already moving as she begins to rally the women together. Out of the container, around to the other side of the warehouse. There's another door, newer, metal. Also padlocked.
I shoot the lock off and kick the door open.
Laurie Parker is zip-tied to a chair in the center of the small room. Her face is bruised, lip split, but her eyes are clear and furious when she sees me.
Alive. She's alive.
"Who the fuck are you?" she demands, her voice raspy enough that I wince at how sore her throat must feel. Empty water bottles are strewn around the floor, but it’s clear she hasn’t had the luxury of drinking anything for at least the whole day, if not longer.
Then I almost laugh. She sounds exactly like Laney, that same fire, that same refusal to break.
"I'm Yakov Korolyov. Your sister sent me."
Her eyes go wide. "Laney? Laney's here? In Vegas?"
