“J-Joey?” Ivy stammers. “She…they separated us. Days ago.”
“Where is she?” Trevor asks again, pulling the wire even tighter.
“Not…here,” Mr. Black wheezes, his fingers desperately trying to loosen the wire, to no avail. “She…was…never to be…sold.”
Taking my knife, I cut through the waistband of his pants, his briefs, and expose his flaccid cock. “If you ever want to be able to use this pathetic dick again, you’ll tell us where she is.”
“Amir Abdul Faruk. He has her. The other two,” he gestures weakly towards Ivy and Mia, “were not part of his plan, so he had his men bring them to me.” His shoulders sag. “He will kill me if I do not deliver his money tomorrow. Please…”
Trevor meets my gaze. We have a way in. “I’m going to kill you anyway,” Trev whispers in the man’s ear, and as Mr. Black whimpers pathetically, I turn to Nomar.
“Come on. We have to get out of here,” I say, not wanting the women to witness yet another death. Nomar translates for the three who look like they could be locals, ushering them out the door to the waiting van, and I extend my hand to Ivy, who still holds Mia tightly.
The two share a look, then Mia straightens in Ivy’s embrace and they both stare expectantly at Mr. Black. “If you’re going to kill him,” Mia says, her voice hoarse and weak, “we’re going to watch.”
“Are you sure?” They look so fragile, but then again, I can understand their need to see the man who hurt them die.
“Yes,” they answer in unison.
Trevor pulls the garrote tight, and Mr. Black’s face turns purple, then blue as he bucks and thrashes with his last breaths. Blood seeps around the wire, then pours freely from his carotid artery, and with a final muttered curse, Trevor lets him go where he falls to the floor, his eyes open and staring.
Mia sobs quietly, but Ivy pins me with a hard stare. “Who are you?”
“Ford Lawton. I…used to know Joey. A long time ago. Can we save the rest of the explanation for the van?”
“Hell, yeah.” Ivy urges Mia towards the door, and once we’re in the van racing towards the safehouse, Ivy touches my arm. “Ford?” Her shoulders are straighter and her eyes hold a fire I didn’t see when she was chained and about to be sold. “Joey’s strong. She tried to protect us—until they came and took the two of us away.”
“Where were you?”
“I don’t know. But they put us in this tiny little compartment—almost like a coffin—in the back of a van, and it was hours before they let us out again.”
From the front seat, Nomar says, “That’s how they got you over the border.”
“Did you ever hear the name Mr. Black mentioned?” I ask. “Amir Abdul Faruk?”
“A couple of times,” Mia whispers. “He was in charge of the guys who transported us. They kept saying how much Ivy would go for.” She shudders and turns her cheek into Ivy’s neck, her next words muffled. “I wasn’t as valuable. So…they…they…”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You’re both safe now. I promise. This is Trevor, and that grump behind the wheel is Nomar. We’re all ex-military or US Intelligence. We’ll get you home. All of you. And we’re not leaving Joey behind. We’ll find her.”
8
Ford
A little after 11:00 p.m., one of Nomar’s contacts, a Brit named Matthew, knocks on the safehouse door. He—along with three of his most trusted agents—will protect Ivy, Mia, and the other girls until we can make arrangements to get them all home to their families.
“Matt,” Nomar says as he claps the tall, thin man on the back. “Thanks for this.”
“You saved my arse, mate. I’ve been trying to put an end to that bastard’s trafficking ring for three years. But he’s always smelled a rat before we got in there.” Behind him, two other men and one woman wait for Matt to introduce them.
“Ford?” Ivy asks from the bedroom door. “Is everything okay?” She holds a blanket tightly around her and darts a glance back at the bed where Mia sleeps. She passed out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.
“Just fine, sweetheart. Matt and his team are going to stay with you until we find Joey and can get the hell out of here,” I say.
The woman with Matt steps forward and holds out a duffel bag. “I brought clothes—various sizes. Sweats, long sleeves, socks. And some fancy shampoo and soap. I’m Tara,” she says with a smile. “You’re Ivy?”
Ivy nods, but pushes past Tara and grabs my arm. “You have to find her, Ford. Please. Joey took care of us. The three weeks we were in Turkmenistan working? She was the one who taught us how to make the locals feel comfortable. How to double-check the tent frames to make sure they were solid. How to sleep at night when it was so hot.”
I arch a brow, and Ivy offers me a weak smile. “Put on fresh socks.”
