“We are going to pay a visit to one of your father’s new friends.” He gives me a look. “I find those ‘friendships’ to be disrespectful.”
I’ll assume ‘friend’ is a euphemism for one of the people in my father’s human trafficking ring. Clearly, Mikhail’s been successful in keeping my father’s side business quiet for the most part.
“Who is it?”
He studies me. “You don’t know who his Vegas contact is?”
Ah, the actual test. Mikhail wants to see with his own eyes if this man and I have met before—if I was more involved with my father than I let on.
“No.”
He grunts, expression easing slightly. “Frank Harlan. Fronts as an air-conditioning wholesaler. Brings in women and children and sells them to private buyers. I’ve been told by another of your father’s new ‘friends’ that Harlan was aware this was a controversial friendship, but that he didn’t care if he made me angry.”
I am extremely familiar with how Mikhail elicits that kind of information.
“Not a healthy attitude to have in business,” I say.
Or a good plan if you want to keep your blood inside your body.
“Tonight, we are going to send a message to him and everyone else that I don’t share my ‘friends’, and if others choose to ignore my wishes, they can expect the same message to be delivered to them.”
I hold in my sigh. I have a feeling this is going to be a long night, and I want to get back to Sera.
Twenty minutes later, we pull into a gated community. Ivan hands the guards at the gate a fat envelope, and they wave us through. The houses are far enough apart that no one willnotice our car in the driveway, and the distance will also come in handy for the inevitable screaming. With the guards paid off, we don’t have to be concerned with patrols. Yuri cuts the wires in a panel bearing a popular security company sticker, and we’re in.
We move through the dark kitchen and up the carpeted stairs without a sound. The master bedroom door stands open. Harlan is snoring loudly in the king-size bed, his gut rising and falling beneath the sheet. A young girl—late teens at most—lies curled on the far side of the bed, half-covered.
When we step inside, her eyes snap open, wide with terror. Bruises mark her cheek and upper arms, dark and fresh against her pale skin.
“What the—” Harlan shouts when Yuri drags him from the bed by his ankle. Hauling him off the floor by the throat, he slams Harlan against the wall hard enough to rattle the pictures. The girl shrieks and pulls the sheet higher.
My gut burns. This is what my father intended for Sera.
Thank fuck she killed him.
“Ivan,” I glance toward where he is standing by the far wall. “Get her out of here. Make sure she doesn’t need medical attention. Give her cash, clothes, whatever she needs to disappear. And find out who she works for—if there are more being held with her. We may have a follow-up job, tonight.”
Ivan looks at Mikhail.
Mikhail meets my eyes, then inclines his head. Ivan speaks to the girl quietly, his voice surprisingly gentle for a man his size. She hesitates, eyes darting between us, but then nods and lets him help her up. She grabs a robe from the chair, clutching it tight. They slip out, Ivan’s arm protectively around her shoulders.
We secure Harlan to one of his dining room chairs downstairs with zip ties. Easier to drag a live body down thestairs than carry dead weight. Harlan’s face is already red, veins bulging as he struggles.
The next couple of hours pass the way they always do. The denials always come first. “You got the wrong guy, I swear! I don’t know what you’re talking about." Next comes bravado. “You can’t touch me! I know people!” Then the last-ditch effort for survival—begging and crying.
But the thought of the girl upstairs, and the knowledge this man is responsible for thousands more like her being abused, puts a little more power behind each of my blows.
When Mikhail finally gives the nod, after extracting all of the information we possibly can, I pull my gun and rid the world of at least one monster.
“Where the hell have you been?” I ask Yuri when he appears with his arms full of wine bottles.
“This guy has a kick-ass wine collection.” He looks sheepishly at Mikhail who just shakes his head. “Seemed like a waste to leave it.”
The front door shuts, and I swing my gun in that direction before recognizing Ivan returning from wherever he took the girl.
“All set?”
“Yeah. She was in a house with ten other women.” His jaw hardens. “I dumped the guys watching them in the desert. It’s what took so long.”
