Chapter Ten #2
Voorhees takes point with me and Gremlin not far behind him. It’s a standard tactical formation, except Gremlin keeps humming the Mission: Impossible theme song under his breath like a jackass.
“Gremlin,” I whisper angrily.
“What?” he whispers back, sounding slightly offended. “It helps me focus.”
“It makes me want to smother you with your own tactical condom,” I growl.
“Fair,” he concedes, taking a single step back to put some distance between us.
We creep to the ridge overlooking the loading bay. From there, we’ve got eyes on everything.
Voorhees nudges me. “I got movement. Four… no, five guys. But no Misfits.”
I follow his gaze. He’s right. The men standing lookout are all dressed in suits and ties. None of them are rocking the cut we’ve learned to loathe.
They stand there for a few minutes before the first item is unloaded. But they’re not moving crates or weapons; whatever they got makes them really fucking nervous. It’s like they know they’re being watched with their constant head swivels and jumpiness.
Outside the building, two black SUVs idle with no plates. Both of them are waiting for further instruction. That’s when my stomach drops.
They aren’t peddling stolen merchandise this time; they’re peddling people. Just like Drac feared.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “He was right.”
Voorhees’ jaw flexes. “You seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Yeah.” My voice drops to a lethal whisper. “Human cargo.”
Gremlin stops his damn stupid humming, his expression darkening. “That’s low. Are you sure it’s Moseley behind this?”
As if we beckoned him by saying his name, Moseley steps out of the first vehicle, his hands folded neatly in front of him.
“Bring out the first one,” he shouts.
We stay hidden, watching as two of the men haul out a terrified young woman with zip-tied hands.
She’s wearing a long, tattered white dress, and her hair is matted.
She looks to be of foreign descent because her face is a mixture of terror and tear-stained track marks, and her hair is a dark auburn brown.
She stumbles as one of the men pushes her hard enough to bring her to her knees.
The same man grabs her by the hair, violently ripping her up to look into his manic eyes, causing her to scream.
Voorhees moves forward instantly, but I grab his arm, halting him. “Not yet.”
“They’re hurting her.”
“I know. But if we charge in blind and get caught, we can’t help her or any of the others.” I point at the SUV. “We need proof. Then we can dismantle this entire fucking operation.”
He wrestles with it, but he nods, fury simmering just beneath the surface.
Gremlin whispers, “Look.... there’s more of them.”
And he’s right.
A second group of captives, no more than four or five, are ushered from a van and pushed toward the loading door.
My blood runs ice-cold.
This isn’t small scale.
This is organized… big… and it looks like Moseley is behind it all.
He’s gonna burn for it too
I pull out my phone and discreetly snap photos of everything I see, making sure to capture faces, plates, the warehouse, and what I can of the captives, getting every angle I can.
“Alright. We’ve seen enough. Time to fall back,” I whisper shout.
That’s when I hear Moseley’s voice carry across the empty parking lot, arguing with the tall man who stands in front of him with his arms crossed, looking pissed the fuck off and annoyed.
“It’s not my fault the girl is older than I thought she was, Rico. She’s a pretty one, so you can still fetch a hefty profit for her.”
Voorhees and I exchange a look.
“She’s too fucking old, Moseley. No one’s gonna buy a thirty-year-old woman to fuck when they can buy someone young and dumb. She’s worth pennies compared to the others.”
Moseley throws up his hands. “You wanted a mail-order bride, Rico, and I gave her to you. It’s not my fault you don’t want her now.”
The man spits on the ground in annoyance. “What am I going to do with her, Moseley? Enlighten me.”
“Enjoy her baked goods?”
“Fuck, are they talking about Mindy?” Gremlin whispers.
I nod.
This is bad. Really fucking bad.
“You better hope she makes some man really happy, Moseley, because if she doesn’t, I’m gonna have your goddamn head.”
Voorhees gives me a look of pity, already knowing I’m spiraling. “She’s gonna be alright, man…”
“Damn right she is,” I growl. “We’re gonna tear their operation and them apart limb from limb.” The thought of them touching Mindy has me thirsting for their blood, blood they’ll never get back once I’m through with them.
“Come on, Krampus, there’s nothing you can do for her right now. Let’s get back to the clubhouse and tell Drac what we found.”
I can hear his words, but I’m too lost in my own thoughts to really pay attention to him.
No one says a word until we’re a good distance away.
Gremlin exhales obnoxiously. “This is bad,” he says softly. “Really bad.”
“Yeah,” I answer grimly, mounting my bike in frustration. “And it’s about to get worse for them.”
Tonight was just recon.
Tomorrow? War.
I’ve got to protect Mindy at all costs.
She has no idea how dark this world can get, or how close danger is to consuming her.
I grip the handlebars harder because tonight proved one thing: if these bastards are trafficking people, there’s no telling how far they’ll go.
They won’t get Mindy.
Not on my watch.
Not ever.