Well, that’s not eerie at all. Does my little princess have some psychic, precognitive abilities or was she simply traumatized and looking for a creature of comfort? That’s a mystery to be solved on a different day, today, we need to take out the trash.
Once Indiana lifts Zoey into his arms, that’s our cue to begin moving. I swoop Elodie to me and follow him. Every sense in my body is on high alert as we traipse down the corridor and down the steps, going back the way we came. When we breach the shipping bay, I scan for any threats that haven’t been neutralized. Not finding any, I join the huddle and listen in on Indiana and Zoey’s conversation.
“Any of these the men you two saw?” Indiana asks her. I intently watch as she lifts her head from his shoulder and scans the men who are bound and on their knees.
“No,” she whispers. “Never saw any of them, but they kept those stupid masks on most of the time.” Then, as if a lightswitch has been flipped on, she gasps. “Indiana, there are women in cages down in the furnace room.”
Indiana and I share a look then turn toward Riptide. “I’ll keep the girls here with me while y’all go and check it out.” Riptide states, “Not playing, Icer. There are innocents who need our help.”
“Please, Icer,” Zoey begs. “Letti’s down there.”
“Who’s Letti?” Indiana inquires, peering down at the woman still locked in his arms. “And why, exactly, do you know there are cages in the furnace room?”
“I’ll explain later about that, I promise. This is about Letti, though. She’s a woman about my age, and she’s been kept down there for at least a month by her estimation. She looks near starved, and the only bath the women are given is with a water hose. Please, check on her and make sure they didn’t take her with them when they left.”
“Fine,” I bark. “Not happy about this, Zoe.”
“What the fuck am I, chopped liver?” Rip asks, his voice sounding less than amused. “Don’t care if you’re happy or not, an order is an order.”
I growl, spinning and heading back into the building, Indiana barreling down on me as we pick up the pace. “Don’t like leaving them,” I grunt.
“You think I do?” Indiana queries, his tone rough and gravelly. “I just got them back, but this is important, Icer. There are innocent women being held captive down below, depending on us to release them. From cages!”
“I get it, but we could’ve handed this off to one of the others,” I argue. “We dropped the ball once when it comes to their protection, won’t be doing that again.”
“You can’t guard them twenty-four/seven, Icer,” Indiana states.
“Watch me. If I can’t have my eyes on them, you will, Indy.”
“Don’t call me that, Icer, you know it drives me nuts.”
“Don’t care,” I grunt. “We fucked up, Indiana. I wanna kick both of our asses.”
“Let’s save that for another day and time, huh? The faster we get these women freed the sooner we can get back to my girls.”
“Our girls,” I correct him, finding it repugnant that he left me out of that grouping. “You need to learn how to share.”
“Hello, pot,” he mumbles underneath his breath.
“I share,” I say in defense of myself. “When I have to.”
“Well, you have to when it comes toourgirls,” he says, emphasizing the word ‘our’and drawing it out. Rolling my eyes, I stomp down the stairs, taking them two at a time, ready to get this shit done and over with. The quicker I can get back to my princess and sister, the better. The need to get them away from this warehouse is incessant, playing like an endless loop in my head. I don’t want them in this place any longer than necessary, their demon kept them here so this place isn’t a good one for them to stay in.
CHAPTER
NINE
Icer
When we hitthe steel door and slide it open, it grates against the floor and as I breach the doorway we hit the light switch to give us a way to see through the gloom that coats the staircase, our weapons in hand to protect against anyone who might be down there who means us harm. I watch as women scatter in their cages, backs against the side furthest away from us and my eyes widen as I get a head count.
“Holy shit,” I say, stumbling over my feet before roaring, “Fuck!”
There’s not but one cage unoccupied and I have a feeling that’s where Zoey was kept. I bring the collar of my shirt up and over my nose because the stench in here is overwhelming. Glancing around, I notice that the women have buckets tucked in the corners of their enclosures, and it dawns on me that it’s where they relieve themselves and it’s glaringly obvious they aren’t emptied on an hourly basis like they should be. Each cage has a singular female in it. The ages range from teenagers to maybe mid to late thirties, if I had to take a guess. Of course, it’s almostimpossible to truly tell because they’re all filthy, covered in bruises, and curled into the smallest possible position they can get into.
“Icer, man. None of them have on clothes,” Indiana whispers, quiet as a mouse so the ladies don’t overhear us.
“No shit,” I grumble, looking around to see if there’s something down here we can use for them to cover up with. Stepping toward the middle of the room, I raise my voice and talk, “Ladies, we’re here to help you.”
