Page 5 of Rescued

Jackson was paid by the club owners; the girls were paid in high-end clothes, endless parties, fancy food and drinks, the knowledge that they were beautiful enough to make the grade, and the promise of rubbing elbows with directors, producers, and agents who could make their careers.

Or, as it turned out, with dangerous men like Quentin Moreno, who sucked you into illegal activity and then hung you out to dry.

She glanced at the rooftop door they’d come out of, her gut clenching. Surely Kimberly would come through it any minute. She should have been here by now. Hell, she should have been with Breanna when the team came to get her.

She hoped Quentin’s men hadn’t somehow gotten to Kimberly. She was the one who had found these people, this escape route. She should be here.

Marie was looking at her phone, reading a text message. Breanna touched her arm. “Any word on Kimberly?”

The woman shook her head. “No. I’m sorry. And we can’t wait. If she’s not here when the helicopter comes…”

Breanna shook her head. “We have to wait. I’m not leaving her behind.”

Kimberly was her only real friend in New York. They’d both wanted so bad to make it. Modeling, maybe even acting careers one day. Everyone said they had what it took.

She’d thought the supposed dangers were only on TV. Made up. That the rich bad guys who preyed on girls like her weren’t real people.

But they were. People who had that much money always wanted more—and they didn’t care how they got it.

But Kimberly had found them a way out. All they’d had to do was get some evidence these people needed, and they’d promised to get her and Kimberly into some kind of Underground Railroad that helped people like her escape, without going into the Witness Protection Program and having US Marshals breathing down her neck the rest of her life.

They’d gotten the evidence—and more. But Quentin had found out. And now his men were probably right behind her.

She hoped these people could keep their promises. She rehearsed it in her head, what they’d told her.

The helicopter would pick her up and fly her to meet the people at the next stop. They’d take her to a safe house, change her hair color and give her different clothes, enough cash to start over.

A new identity.

And when that was done, they’d set her up somewhere far away.

She hoped she could trust them. But just in case…

She clutched the big leather shoulder bag that hung with its strap across her chest, so it couldn’t fall off. Nothing was going to get between her and this bag. Not until…

Well, not until she needed what was in it.

Because she’d trusted people before, and it had always been a mistake.

But right now, it was the only choice she had.

Chapter 3

Switch flew over the rendezvous point, almost on time. This last part was a bitch to navigate, mostly because he was landing on the roof of a building that didn’t have an approved helipad.

Luckily there were enough lights for visual references. A lot of helicopter pilots wouldn’t even fly at night—for good reason. It was too easy to get spatial disorientation and crash.

Good thing he was crazy as fuck.

Although, there were more potential obstacles than he’d been led to believe. Damn, he thought, navigating carefully through the power lines. He’d left a nice warm bar with lots of nice hot coffee, for this?

What happened to the days when you liked a challenge? said a little voice in the back of his head. The snarky one, not the intuition one.

He did like a challenge. He just liked new ones, not the same-old same-old.

Okay, fine, this kind of work was needed, but face it, being a ferry pilot was boring. Almost as boring as hanging around in the Adirondacks.

He switched channels and spoke into his radio. “Freebird on the approach, ready for two ducklings. Abraham fucking Lincoln.” That last was the password—a shout-out to the Civil War Underground Railroad. Except for the middle part, which was his own addition.