And the deal I made separately with my father, which I haven’t told anyone about yet.Not even Brooks.
I push all thoughts of my father to the side, frustrated that he’s managed to get under my skin again, and turn back to my work.Daniel and I are in my office, going through the security footage my contacts have sent me.Looking for the girls we have in our files.
For the moment they disappeared, and who might have taken them.
“What do you have for me?”I ask sharply, counting on Daniel to know what I’m talking about and what I need.
He glances away from the laptop he’s been working on, then spins it toward me and comes to stand behind me.One finger on the mouse and two clicks, and we’re watching a video.It’s grainy and black and white, obviously not from any high-quality camera, but I can see the people clearly.
I can see the girl walking through the parking lot.
“Gods, she’s young,” I breathe.
“Polly Swift,” Daniel agrees.“Related to Crow Lafayette, though it’s not a close relation.Blond, with green eyes.Very pretty.Young.”
“How old?”I whisper, hating that I have to know the answer.
“Seventeen.”
Satan alive.She’s not even allowed to vote yet, and nowhere near close enough to drink alcohol.Though I’m sure she’s done the latter.New Orleans starts them young.Still.Only seventeen.She has the rest of her life ahead of her, and instead…
If my suspicions are right, she’s been kidnapped by a trafficking ring, and there’s only one reason a girl like that gets kidnapped.Well, two: One, for blackmail or money, and since there haven’t been any demands for ransom, that we can find, it’s not that.
The other answer: sex slavery.Girls and boys taken from their homes and shoved into a world where they’re auctioned off to the highest bidder or kept in a harem, forced to serve whoever pays enough for an hour.Slavery.Degradation.Humiliation.The worst betrayal one human can impose on another.
It’s disgusting and horrifying and words I don’t even have, and I try very hard not to think too much about it.I live on the dark side of the world, my days taken up with gambling, plotting, and murder, but the idea of trading in flesh chills me to my very bones.It’s so depraved I can hardly hold it in my head.
Every instinct in my body is screaming to save the girls who have been caught, starting with Brooks’ friend.Aislyn Brennan.We don’t have any tape on her yet, partially because she was taken in a city where I don’t have any contacts, but we’re searching.
We just don’t have much time.
If we can use some of this footage to identify who’s taking them, though, it might lead us to where they’re being held.And we might be able to stop them.
“I can’t believe we can’t get anything better than this,” I growl, leaning closer to the monitor.I’m used to being able to pull the best possible information.My contacts are airtight, and I’ve never had so much trouble getting information.
But this ring is bigger and sloppier than anything I’ve ever dealt with.I don’t even know if anyone specific is in charge, or if it’s just a loose coalition of individuals.It must be organized, to have this much consistency in terms of the victims, but I’ll be damned if I can figure out who’s at the head of it.
Suddenly Daniel’s finger jabs the screen in front of us, and he pauses the video.
“There,” he says, pointing.
I look, wondering what he’s seeing, and it takes a moment for it to register.The girl is still in the parking lot, but she’s walking toward a van, now, as if someone in that van is calling her.Or she knows the person driving it.This is the last-known location for this girl, so we suspect she was kidnapped from this spot.We don’t have it on camera.But this is where they got her.
And the van she’s walking toward has a logo I know on it.
“Under the City,” I say quickly.
“We should have known,” Daniel mutters, shoving away from the table and gathering up his things.
I stand and follow him, gathering my guns, knives, and cane just as quickly.Yes, we should have known.Under the City is a bar that sits in the catacombs nears the ocean.It’s a swanky place, full of high-end drinks and people with too much money, and it’s always rubbed me the wrong way.First of all, they have a gambling den, and gambling is a Boudreaux racket in this town.
Second, they’ve built the place in the catacombs.Also our territory.We’ve never been able to kick them out because we don’t technicallyownthe catacombs, but we’ve controlled them since the Civil War, when our family took them as part of a smuggling operation.
No, we don’t smuggle.
Yes, at that time we used the tunnels to get slaves out of the area and to freedom before they could be sold.
So I lied.Sue me.
