I watch, not sure what to even do about this.I have no weapons.I have no allies other than Kate.I’m entirely at their mercy, and this is a position I’ve never been in before.I hate it.I want to scream and kick and fight, and though I’m not sure how much good it will even do, I realize that I have to follow my instincts.
“Are you ready for this?”I mutter to Kate.
“Being felt up by the guards?No.I hope you’re talking about something a little more brilliant than that.”
I am.
“Follow my lead.”
I make for the guard feeling up the girl before anyone realizes I’m moving, and tackle him from behind.He was enjoying his work and not expecting an attack, so he’s entirely relaxed, and that makes it easy to crawl his back and get into position.I grab his chin in one hand and the back of his head in the other, and jerk with all my might.
His neck snaps like I hoped it would, and he falls to the ground, dead.
I’m already moving for another guard, intent on taking him out too, and out of the corner of my eye I can see that Kate’s already dispatched one on her own.Before I can get to the next guard, though, someone grabs me from behind, yanks my hands behind my back, and jerks me backward.
“Looks like we’ve got a live one here,” my captor mutters.“What’s the move, boss?”
A voice I haven’t heard before chuckles, and it drives chills down my spine.“Send her and the other bitch to Canal Street.No need to inspect them.I know who they are, and they’ll bring top dollar no matter how soiled they are.”
I’m shoved forward and have time to meet Kate’s eyes, registering her sudden flash of fear, before we’re pushed out the door and into the hallway, on our way to Canal Street.Whatever that means.
It’s big trouble, I know that much.
Because I have no idea what to expect there.
And I now know that I only have a day to get the fuck out of this noose before I’m sold and shipped to who knows where.
God, I hope Lucien’s doing something brilliant and sneaky that will get me out of here.I hope he realizes how quickly he has to move to save me—and Aislyn, wherever she is.And Kate, and all the girls I now feel responsible for.
I hope to fuck he’s not dead.
Lucien
“Canal Street,” Daniel mutters, the disgust clear in his voice.
I don’t have time to ask him why he’s sneering, but I do anyhow.“You don’t like Canal Street?”
The sneer on his face becomes more pronounced.“It’s not real New Orleans,” he says quietly.“Might as well be Las Vegas.”
I wonder now if Daniel has ever actually been to Las Vegas, because Canal Street is nothing like that monstrosity.On the dividing line between the Vieux Carre, where the Spanish and French lived, and the area where Americans decided to set up shop, Canal Street was, at one point, supposed to be an actual canal.I wonder if the city planners thought that would keep the Cajun section of society from attacking the American side.
I doubt it.The planners of this city never had much forethought.
More likely they thought it would be good to contain all the evils New Orleans has ever held–whore houses, dance halls, gambling dens, and opium joints–and would give all people an equal shot at wasting their money.
Maybe Daniel’s right.That does sound like Vegas.
It also makes this area the perfect place to house a sex trafficking ring, though I can’t for the life of me understand how anyone would keep it in the dark if they were doing it here, where all eyes are wide and staring.Canal Street isn’t the seedy neighborhood it once was.These days, it houses a lot of retail and some newly renovated movie theaters.Trolleys line the streets and there’s a parade every other day.Tourists crowd the sidewalks, eating as many beignets as they can hold.
Boudreaux has several casinos on this strip, but they don’t open until midnight, because that’s the only way to make sure no one sees what you’re doing.
Who the fuck would try to smuggle girls through a building here?
Still, this was one of the most popular places on James’ GPS, and I don’t think he was coming here for fun.No one visits the same dance hall that many times each day.So there must be something.I just have to figure out what it is.
I stare up at the old-fashioned building in front of me, its wooden plans painted a garish color of bubblegum pink, with sea green trim along the corners and the roof.The place looks like a candy store just threw up on it, and I feel myself sneering.A dance hall, and an old-fashioned one at that.The place looks like it was renovated recently, but kept its original job.Instead of turning it into a club or bar, whoever owns it maintained it, according to the sign, as a dance hall.One large room where everyone can go dance, drink, flirt, and generally have a good time.
Back in the day, dance halls doubled as lounges where you could find prostitutes, and I’ve heard rumors that these days, they cater to a much more permanent version of sex slavery.
