Ellie
Oh, snacks are here! I’ll call you later with an update.
Gail
Or you could wait until our scheduled session tomorrow?
Nice try, Gail.
Ellie
You’re right, I could.
Gail
But you won’t.
Ellie
Right again. It’s like you are inside of my mind. Must be a psychologist thing.
I stuff my phone in my bag and zip it up as I settle in for the remainder of the flight. The strangers around me hook into their online lives, conducting business and making money. I zone out, focusing on my iPad as I create a new identity for another woman who needs to hide from a man that believes he owns her and has the right to do whatever he wants to her. Her body. Her mind. Her heart—all his to play with, to hurt, to bruise, to break. Typically, these abusers have one thing in common: they live under the false notion that their women are too weak to run, to break free and live without them.
Newsflash: they are waiting for the right moment, and the right people, to show them their hidden strength. Honor is putting together an amazing network of people across the country, a supportive community who don’t judge, don’t push, don’t ask questions. Their silent power is in the security and safety these survivors crave to flourish. Perhaps if this had existed years ago, my mother wouldn’t have fallen afoul of Jonathan Carver. His predatory nature wouldn’t have woven a spell over her and trapped her in a terrifying cult breeding children, both boys and girls, into a sex ring spanning the globe.
A facial recognition pop-up alert appears in the corner of my tablet. Which lackey has Jonathan sent into the world today? I click it open and my breath catches as I stare at the man who takes center stage in all my nightmares. He’s in Miami, and there’s only one place he will go. My heart thuds against my ribs as a smile curves my lips. The devil himself has emerged from Hell, and I’m the avenging angel he should fear.
Chapter Six
Eleanor
Let’s go fishing.
Once I landed in Chicago, I booked another flight to Miami, and now find myself sitting in a bar across from the exclusive club Cloud. Despite its heavenly name, it conceals the worst sinners the world has to offer. Irony at its finest.
The burly doorman checks his tablet against the guest list as a steady stream of expensively dressed people enter the club. Can’t have any uninvited or unvetted people entering a club entangled with sex trafficking. My brows lower at the number of girls—who don’t look old enough to have graduated high school—being escorted inside. They are too innocent, too young, and are utterly clueless.
While their cyber security is good, it’s no match for my skills. I hacked into their list hours ago. The issue is there were no women’s names on it, simply men with their plus ones. I’m a lot of things, but I am not a man. My long brunette hair is tucked up beneath a bouncy blonde wig and contacts have transformedmy blue eyes to brown. I want to get close enough to plant a tracker on one of Jonathan’s lackeys, without rousing suspicion. The aim tonight is to find the latest location of their compound. From there, I can build a plan to destroy him.
I’ve already scouted the back entrance, but it was locked up tight. I could break in, but it would draw attention, and I’m not entirely sure what I’m walking into. I studied the blueprint for the three-story building, and I know the exits, bathroom locations, even the stock behind the bar. But I have no idea what happens in the main rooms. There doesn’t appear to be any CCTV—apart from outside—which in itself is odd. I guess no recordings means no evidence, and if the authorities were to come sniffing around, they could claim ignorance.
So here I am in this classy bar filled with twenty to forty-year-olds dressed to the nines. I’m expecting three men who frequent the club to make a stop here before they disappear into Cloud. I’m not sure why they come here first, but my gut says the bartender is on Jonathan’s payroll and slips a little something into the girls’ drinks to lower their resistance. Then again, perhaps these predators like toying with their food.
If my suspicions are correct, then the women they bring have been handpicked for their lack of family and close connections, leaving no one to report them missing. Jonathan’s perfect trifecta. The problem is I’ve not been vetted. I could be the daughter of a high-profile politician for all they know. I’m an unknown, and I have to prove I’m alone in this world. I suck my teeth before taking a sip of my drink. Shouldn’t be all that hard.
My first target enters the bar, and at his side is a tiny brunette whose eyes dart around the room. I can mimic almost anyone, but I dressed to show off my body tonight. If he’s set on a Bambi-like damsel, I need to bide my time and wait for target two and three before deciding.
The couple is swallowed by the swell of the crowd at the bar, no longer worth my attention. I take a few more sips of my soda and keep my eyes peeled on the street.
“Are you waiting for someone?” a masculine voice asks, the fourth to approach me.
My body is wrapped in a tight white bandage dress, showing off my curves. My feet are squeezed into a pair of off-brand heels. Designer ones would give away my wealth, and I need to look sexy and a little desperate, not like a woman of means.
I scan him from head to toe. He’s actually someone I would pick out if I wasn’t working. He’s got the tattooed, leather jacket, bad boy look that makes me think perhaps, just maybe, he knows what he’s doing, and I wouldn’t have to reach for my electronic friend to enjoy myself.
“I am,” I tell him.
“Would you like company until he turns up?”
