Gaby’s heart nearly stopped when the thug swung, a brutal haymaker that would’ve taken Rhys’s head off. But fluid and precise, with the effortless timing of a champion boxer, he ducked under the punch. Unscathed, he rose and drove an uppercut into the thug’s jaw, hard enough she felt the impact in her teeth. As the man reeled, Rhys used the opening and connected with a savage left hook. It must have knocked him out because the brute fell like a tree into a table that exploded under the impact.
If they weren’t in the middle of a fight, she would’ve cheered. Rhys: one. Refrigerator: zero.
She didn’t have time to appreciate his Thunderdome fighting skills for long, though. Behind him, Viktor was sneaking toward the exit.
A shout tore from Gaby’s throat. “Rhys! Back door!”
Viktor glanced back, eyes widening—
Too late.
Rhys had closed the distance in a blink, hooked Viktor by the collar, and yanked him back so hard his feet left the ground. The smaller man shrieked when he forced him forward, face and chest pressed to the wall, one arm twisted up behind him.
“Don’t move,” Rhys said, voice cold enough to frost glass.
Viktor didn’t. He couldn’t.
He was flattened beneath two hundred and thirty pounds of trained muscle and a man who had absolutely reached the end of his patience with men who bought and sold innocent and helpless young women.
Gaby couldn’t look away because, God help her, the man was impressive.
The remaining guards were quickly subdued. She lost sight of Rhys as other agents came to his aid. Not that he needed it, except for maybe the metal cuffs one of them slapped on Viktor, none too gently.
She felt a measure of satisfaction that he was getting a small taste of what he’d done to countless women.
Gaby holstered her weapon and crouched in front of the girl, who threw herself at her and clung with surprising strength. “You’re safe now,” she assured her, throat tight. “I’ve got you.”
Despite Tex’s continued loud blubbering, she heard the girl whisper, “I can’t believe that old man was going to buy me. Who does that?”
“A man with more money than sense, and without the slightest shred of human decency,” Gaby replied. “His billions won’t serve him well in maximum security.”
“I hope he gets a huge cellmate who makes him his bitch,” she said. It wasn’t dark humor—just the truth.
Gaby leaned back and looked down at her. Tear-streaked and still scared, but she was quickly regrouping. “What’s your name, honey?”
“Lyssa Morgan.”
“Are you even eighteen?”
“Yes. I just turned last week, or maybe it was two,” she hiccupped. “It was hard to keep the days straight. They took me coming home from school. On my birthday.”
Rage coiled in Gaby’s gut. She was an innocent, little more than a child. She asked a question she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to. “Are you hurt? Did they…”
Lyssa shook her head. “No. When they found out I’ve never—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “They said I’d bring a higher price if they kept me… untouched.”
Rhys appeared beside them. “Gaby. There’s a counselor outside, ready to help.”
He’d pitched his voice low and gentle. Lyssa jumped anyway, clinging to her again. She wasn’t sure if it was Rhys, the mention of a victim’s counselor, or the thought of Gaby leaving her, so she covered all the bases.
“This is Rhys. He’s with me and is one of the good guys. We’ll find the counselor, but I’m not leaving you until you’re ready. She’ll help you get in touch with your family. Is that okay?”
When she nodded, Gaby helped her to her feet and walked her out of the chaotic, smoke-filled room.
One girl saved. One miracle. Her innocence had protected her.
Almost three months had passed for her sister. The thought tore at her heart.
Lyssa’s road back would be long. Natalie’s would likely be longer. They had to find her, first.
