Chapter 3 Spencer
I’m fucking beat and annoyed that the damn runner went to Rick instead of me. Talking to the cops is the last thing I want to do, but the only way we get to go home is if everything is cleaned up all pretty, and the only way to know is to ask.
I make my way over to one of the cops standing near his car, looking annoyed. Most of the others are going back and forth from the building to the van outside.
Wonder why they need a van. Maybe it’s a drug bust, and they have to haul away evidence? Guess I’ll ask about that, too, since I’m here.
“What’s up, Trent,” I call out as I get closer, smiling to myself as I see his back stiffen. Clearly, he didn’t notice me as I approached, or maybe he did. The bastard hates us, so his reaction is usually the same, no matter what.
“Spencer. Is this a business call, or did you just happen to be in the area?” His disdain is obvious and only makes me smile wider.
Of course, Froggie has most of the cops on his payroll nowadays, so he can hate us all he wants.
But, at the end of the day, I’m as good as a boss to him, and he knows it.
“Purely business, my friend.” I sling my arm around his shoulder and pull him close as if we’re friends. The clench of his jaw shows me just how much he wants to push me off. That makes being the one to talk to them completely worth it. Well, not entirely, but better, that’s for damn sure.
“So how about you clue me in on what’s happening here, huh, buddy?
” I’m laying it on thick, even for me. Usually, Zander is the one who gets into this kind of thing, but Trent and us go way back, and making his day worse makes mine a thousand times better.
I’m not above using him to make my shitty day a little less shitty.
“I thought you said this was business. Doesn’t that mean you should already know?” Just like that, my mood sours again. Apparently, he’s going to need a reminder of who’s in charge here.
“Our business here was to pick up the slack.” I give him a pointed look as he opens his mouth. I’m sure he’s seconds from assuring me they don’t need help, but we both know that’s not true.
“For example, the guy that got away. We handled him.” He snaps his mouth closed, and I know I’ve got him. You can’t fight with the facts.
“You’re welcome,” I tell him, patting his shoulder with just a bit more force than necessary.
“Now, was there anyone else who might have gotten away while under your very watchful eye? ‘Cause we’re under strict orders to ensure nobody gets away, and you know the boss doesn’t tolerate failure.
” I keep my tone light, teasing even, but we both know I’m not joking.
No, the boss doesn’t tolerate failure at all, but I’m not the one risking his wrath right now, so I don’t mind using it to get under his skin.
I swear the vein in his forehead is about to burst any second now, and the mental image that creates for me almost has me laughing out loud. I hold it in, just barely. Instead, I raise a brow at him in question when he fails to answer me.
“No.”
His single-word answer doesn’t come without looking as though it caused him great pain, and again, I find the whole situation worth it.
“Well, damn, that’s no fun.” His eyebrows shoot up, and honestly, that’s people's usual reaction to us, so it doesn’t phase me anymore.
I stuff my hands in my pockets, a little bummed the night’s been so uneventful, but more than ready to head out. As I turn around to head back to the guys, I spot the van again and remember I planned to ask what it was for.
“What’s with the van?” I shout back over my shoulder, heading towards it to see if I can answer my own question.
Before I get to it, I hear voices, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I pick up my pace as I round the van. The back doors sit wide open, and no less than ten girls, maybe more, varying from very young to maybe mid-teens, sit in the back.
The older ones hold the younger ones in what appears to be an attempt to offer comfort, but they all appear to be in different states of distress, their clothes dirty, ill-fitted, and clearly old.
They don’t look as if they have been properly bathed in who knows how long, streaked with dirt, the cleanest parts on most of them being the track marks on their faces from their tears. I feel my mouth fall open, but words escape me.
One little girl who couldn’t be more than ten looks up at me as I stand in front of the doors, frozen. The moment she sees me, she buries her head back into the chest of the girl who holds her and begins to cry hysterically.
Someone grabs my arm and tugs me back around the side of the van hard enough that I stumble, almost falling on my face. Whipping my head up, I find Trent in front of me. I look from his face to his hand, still gripping my biceps, and he pulls away as if he’s been burned.
“Those are the victims we pulled from the building. Twelve women,” his voice cracks, and he clears his throat before starting again.
“Twelve girls. All found in this building. We can’t know for sure, as none of them will talk to us, but we're pretty sure it was a sex trafficking ring. From the looks of them, they’ve been here for a while.
” His voice has lost its hard edge by the time he’s finished explaining.
He looks at the van, and I can see the sadness on his face.
Shit, I don’t even know these girls, and I feel it too. I’ve done a lot of questionable things to survive, even more since we joined Vengeance, but selling skin is a line even we don’t cross. Thinking back to how small the girl I just saw was makes my stomach turn. I might actually be sick.
I take a deep breath and instead focus on Trent.
“Why don’t you have anyone talking to them to see what they need or what happened?”
My voice comes out strong and demanding. I’m thankful because inside, I still feel sick. Trent doesn’t need to know, though. All he needs to do is handle this shit and get these girls cared for.
“We don’t have a female officer on the scene, and as you can see from their reaction, they don’t do well with men.
” His voice is still calm, even though I’m all but screaming at him for answers.
Considering we mix like oil and water, him ignoring that lets me know just how serious he’s taking this situation.
I nod and turn to leave, having nothing else to say to him, pulling my phone out as I walk around the front of the van.
I can feel my temper rising the longer I think about this whole fucked up situation, and for once, I don’t feel like Trent is an appropriate outlet for my rage.
No, for once, I think he’s doing what he can with the situation.
Fuck, how bad does something have to be for us to see eye to eye? Pretty fucking bad, apparently.
I shoot off a text to Zan and Rick in the group chat, letting them know they need to get over here.
I don’t give any details because you never know when Zan might lose his phone, or someone might try to steal it.
Erasing their information remotely is easy enough, but it's always better to play it safe. Regardless, I know they’ll come.
None of us wants this mission to be anything less than perfect, and I have a feeling that’s exactly what this means.
By the time the guys get to me, the last few cops are making their way out of the building, loading back up to head out.
I’ve stepped back from the van but ensured it’s still in my sight.
One of the smaller, less intimidating cops goes to close the van doors, and I appreciate that they seem to be trying to be as approachable as possible in this situation.
I open my mouth to clue the guys in on what’s happening, but before I can get the words out, an ear-piercing scream sounds from the van, causing our heads to whip toward it.
My feet are moving before I can really think about it, and I can feel the guys behind me as I come up to the van, skidding to a stop.
They might not know what’s going on, but they have my back.
The minute I decided it was worth going, they did, too.
Plus, the scream was very obviously a child.
None of us hurt children, and we won't stand for anyone who does.
The smaller officer steps back from the door, his hands in the air as if to show his innocence. Somehow, it doesn’t appease me, though.
“What did you do?” The venom in my voice shocks even me, and I take a breath as the cop takes a step back from me out of fear. He’s right to be afraid, but I also know this probably isn’t something he is directly responsible for, and I try to get a grip on my anger.
Rick steps forward and in front of me, ever the level-headed leader.
“What happened?” His words are calm, cool, and collected, and the cop looks from me to him before stammering out his reply, probably hoping to get out of here as quickly as possible.
Trent might be used to us by now, but most rookies act like we are the boogie man personified.
They aren’t wrong; we are what goes bump in the night, but at the moment, we’re on the same side.
“I’m not sure, Mr. Spade. I was just closing up the van, and one of the girls started screaming, so I stopped.” The guy looks like he’s about to piss himself, and if the situation weren’t so serious, I would love to toy with him.
The rookies can never handle Rick. With his dad being the chief of police and him working in the underground, it always puts them on edge.
But the situation is serious, so I stuff down my jokes at the expense of Officer No Balls and instead turn to look into the van.
The little girl who cried just looking at me earlier is sitting at the van's edge.
Seated behind her is the girl whose lap she cried in.
Both are still a mess, but instead of looking sad and scared, they both look determined.