Chapter 4 - Bolton #2
“Um, I don’t plan on doing anything like that to you. What’s your name?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter,” she mutters as unhooks her bra.
I turn my head because I really didn’t come here to see nude women. “Please keep it on. Look, I don’t want to have sex with you. I’m gay.”
She stares at me with a dumbfounded expression. “You’re gay…but you came to a strip club?”
I decide to take a risk and tell her what’s going on. I know Cal wants to gather evidence and make a plan, but we don’t have time to wait. These women are literally being beaten up for an extra two hundred dollars every night. She’s been pushed down so badly she isn’t even fighting back.
“It’s a long story, but I’m here to free you all. I know you’re kept here against your will, and you’re part of some trafficking scheme.”
She takes a step back toward the cabinet. I think I spooked her, because instead of looking relieved, her face freezes.
“Are you a cop?” she whispers.
“No. Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Look, I'm not law enforcement of any kind. My husband and I are vigilantes and we have been targeting this shit hole for a while now. Please let us help you. Tell me what’s going on.”
She erupts into tears. Not the Academy Award kind of tears—these tears were chest-shaking sobs. They kind of cry that went bone deep, unloading all the fear and anxiety you don’t even know you’re holding onto.
I wrap my arms around her, trying to comfort her. No one should have to cry alone.
“Come on, let’s sit down and you can tell me everything.” I led her to the bed, grabbing some of the paper towels from the cabinet on the way.
She wipes her face, streaking her smoky eye makeup.
“I used to be a server at a diner nearby. When my ex totaled my car, I had issues getting to work and my boss fired me…” She blows her nose into the towel.
“This guy told me about a serving gig at a bar, and when I came in here for the interview, I didn’t know it was a strip club. I never saw the front of the building.”
“So you thought you were going to be a server here, but they conned you into being a stripper?”
“Basically. On my first shift, they drugged me and locked me in the basement. There are cells down there. I don’t have family and my friends never came looking for me…”
She chokes on her tears, and I want to punch Melton in the face. His henchmen must have researched her, realized she was alone, and targeted her. They preyed on her because she was vulnerable.
“Are they drugging you?” I almost can’t get the words out because of how angry I am.
“The girls who aren’t compliant. I learned quick—you do what they say or they hook you on some messed-up shit. Or you just disappear…”
How many women have come and gone through this place? And where are the ones who didn’t make it?
“Does the name Maurice Melton mean anything to you?”
She blinks a few times. “There’s a guy named Maury the bouncers talk about. Maybe that’s him?”
Before I can think on it more, the door opens, and Cal lets himself in. He closes the door behind him.
“We’re leaving,” he grits out.
No hi, no asking why I’m back here. Mr. Stripper-In-My-Lap says we’re leaving, so I guess I have to hop to it and follow him.
“We’re bringing—wait, what’s your name?” I ask her. She never told me the first time.
“My real name is Mandy Jenkins. My stage name is Khloe.”
“We’re bringing Mandy with us. Everything we suspected is true, and we need to get the women out of here ASAP.
“Bolton…” Cal sighs in a tone that cuts me to my core. It’s the deflection at the end that fucking triggers me.
Like he’s disappointed in me and is about to lecture me. Like he’s annoyed with me. I can’t stand it. He has no clue what these women went through. Neither do I, but if it’s even half as bad as I think it is, they need out of here ASAP.
“Shut the fuck up, Cal. I don’t want to hear how this isn’t the plan, or how disappointing I am. I’m helping Mandy and the other women out of here, and you can either help me or not.”
Cal stares at me, and I’m not sure if he’s going to pick me up and extract me from this room or throw me over his knee.
Every part of his body is tense. The atmosphere is charged enough that even poor Mandy knows something is up.
She looks between us with her mouth open, like she knows I poked the bear too hard.
He takes a deep breath, a calmness washing over his stark facial features. “I knocked the bouncer in the hallway out and hid him in a broom closet. We probably have about five to ten minutes until someone notices.”
I guess he’s saving his reaction for when we get home.
“Mandy, how many women are in the basement?” I ask.
“Everyone except two of us is working right now. The new girls are always in the cages for the first week or two until they’re broken enough to behave when let out.”
What in the actual fuck? They’re keeping women in cages?
I give Cal a look, and he makes his way to the door. “Let’s go to the basement and get the women down there up here. Then we have to get you all out of here.”
Some way, somehow, we’ll get these women out of here.