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The words storage facility make my stomach coil with disgust. There are men out there that see women as bargaining tools, as possessions they can barter with, purchase as if they were goods at a market.
“How long before the girls are sold off from the warehouses?”
Mark’s head turns toward me when he hears my question. I hold my breath, praying for some reprieve. Just a small flicker of hope that will get me through this.
“About forty-eight hours usually. Unless something goes wrong and they have to wait,” comes my answer.
I’ll do anything to help Autumn, just like she saved me all those years ago. I never had many friends, not ones I could trust or even spend time with. Because they were from influential families, they were approved by my parents. But they were never buddies I could trust.
Now, all I have are Jackson and the team of Cole Security who I know will have my back. Call it intuition, but I feel safer with them than I have with anyone else I knew growing up, besides Autumn.
The underbelly of New York isn’t a beautiful place. It’s filled with liars and thieves. “Can you send through the information? I’ll head out there with the team from Cole Security. I want to be there when we find her.”
“If you find her.” His response sends icy dread racing through my veins. I don’t want to think about the alternative. Autumn will be alive, and she won’t be harmed. I repeat those words in my head as I speak to Timothy on the call. By the time I hang up, there’s an email waiting for me with an attachment. All the information in the PDF has me wanting to jump out of my chair and race for the door, but I know I need to meet with Mark and Jackson before anything can move forward.
“What’s going on?”
“I have a lead. It may not be anything, but my dad’s partner said that was the last known location of this asshole.” I glance through the file and pick out his name. “He’s in New York. The Bronx. That’s where Marlin’s main warehouse is located,” I tell them.
“Fuck,” is Mark’s shocked response, which has me snapping my gaze in question to him.
“What?” I’ve never heard the name, not that my father would talk about work at home, but I figured perhaps he’d have slipped up. Unluckily for me, my dad was far too secretive for anything like that to happen.
“We’ve found a few stories on the dark web about Marlin and his organization, but nothing is ever confirmed in any articles about him. Didn’t think he was real, to be honest,” Mark tells me. “Come on, Newb,” he calls me by a nickname they’ve given me. “Let’s get into that room with the team to talk about our next course of action.”
We move into the meeting room after I’ve printed out the info Sunderland sent me. My body is already buzzing with the need to fly to New York and find this asshole. When I do, I’m going to rip him limb from fucking limb.
* * *
The plane is filled with the team that I’ll be a part of when we find Autumn. The meeting was just a catch-up. We’ve got our orders, and we’re about to land at a private airstrip at Newark.
To say I’m nervous would be an understatement. Autumn has been gone for just over a week, and I have no way of knowing if she’s alive. If the asshole contacted me directly and asked for a ransom, I could’ve bargained to see her, just to hear her voice so this tension in my gut could ease, but no such luck.
When Mark and Jackson spoke about Christopher, I felt sick. The revulsion caused my stomach to churn. The asshole is vile, buying and selling women, girls, for his clients. His clubs are managed by people he chooses, so his name is never on any legal documents. He’s a ghost, and after hearing about what he does, I know why.
He’s been known to toy with his enemies, sending their wives, daughters, even their mothers back to them in pieces. He’s ruined so many lives, and I pray I find him because I’ll be sending him to his grave in pieces.
There are three SUVs waiting for us when we land. Each car seats four of us. And soon, we’re on our way through the city, heading toward a safehouse, which Timothy set up for us while we are here.
Not far from Brooklyn itself, we head through Long Island and stop outside a house which looks like any other house on the road. We all file out onto the sidewalk, and I move toward the door.
“We’ll find her,” Jackson tells me, his hand on my shoulder offering a squeeze. These guys have been through so much, and he seems so confident, but it doesn’t stop the anxiety from eating through me.
