“No.” Her voice was pinched. “Not yet.”
Said like a girl who expected nothing more from her life. Naomi wanted to wrap her in a blanket and fight anyone who looked at her wrong.
“They’re waiting for somebody,” Angel continued. “And I think they’re scared of whoever’s coming.”
God, they were trafficking women.
The knowledge drilled that pit in her stomach even deeper, hollowing her out. She wished she were shocked, but she’d suspected it, hadn’t she? All along, she’d known there was moregoing on here than a rash of runaways. She’d even mentioned her suspicions of widespread trafficking through the Bitteroot Valley to her superiors, but they’d brushed her off, same as the sheriff. The tribal council hadn’t been much better, giving her the equivalent of athere, therepat on the head when she’d voiced her concerns to them.
But now she had proof.
She had witnesses.
If she could free them.
“Angel, look at me.” She waited until the girl’s eyes met hers. “Do you remember how you got here? Did you drive through town? Over a bridge? Through the mountains?”
Angel’s brow furrowed. “I... they put something over my head. A hood, I think. But I could smell the river. We went over train tracks and then drove on a dirt road for a long time.”
Train tracks and the river. That narrowed it down to the east side of the county, but it was still a lot of ground to cover.
Naomi nodded, encouraging. “That’s good. What else?”
“I heard a dog barking. Like, really loud. It sounded big and scary.”
Shit, were there guard dogs here? If so, the poor animals were probably starved mean, and that would make escape even harder.
Naomi looked around, mapping every inch of the stall they were in. The hay bales. The gate. The mesh wire stretched across the ceiling to keep them from climbing out. The air stank of old diesel and urine and sweat, but underneath it was the sharp, almost metallic tang of animal blood. Probably a slaughter barn before it became a prison.
She flexed her wrists again. A little more slack now. If she could pop her left thumb out of joint, she might be able to worm her hand free.
It would hurt like hell, but she’d take pain over helplessness any day.
But before she could shift her weight to work on her bonds, a metallic clink sounded outside—a key in a lock. She froze, heart hammering. Angel scrambled backward into her corner, knees pulled tight to her chest. Even Tariah seemed to sense the danger, her glazed eyes moving sluggishly toward the door.
Naomi twisted her body, positioning herself so she could at least see whoever entered. The deadbolt slid back with a heavy thunk, and the door swung open, letting in a blast of cold air that raised goosebumps on her skin.
A stocky man stepped inside. Just as Angel had described—broad shoulders, a bit of a gut hanging over his belt buckle, black hair cropped close to his skull. A bandana hid his face, except his eyes, which were blank as he carried in a tray of food. She’d seen that stare before on men who’d made too many bad choices and had stopped caring about the cost.
Men like Ghost.
Except that wasn’t entirely fair.
Ghost had never stopped caring. He cared too much, which was why he’d walled everyone out, brick by brick, to keep the world at a distance. But, with him, there was something alive behind those walls. She’d glimpsed it when he’d called her late at night, voice raw with a vulnerability he’d never show in daylight. She’d tasted it in his kiss, felt it in the desperate grip of his hands.
Ghost was nothing like this man, whose eyes were just... empty. There were no walls because there was nothing left inside for this guy to protect.
Without a word, he set the tray down and slid it to the center of the stall with one dirty boot, then turned to leave.
Oh, no. He wasn’t just going to throw food at them like they were livestock and walk away.
“Wait,” Naomi said, the word scraping her dry throat. “I need to talk to you.”
The man paused at the door, shoulders tensed. He didn’t turn around.
“My name is Naomi Lefthand,” she said, keeping her voice level despite the fear clawing at her insides. “I’m a federal agent. People are looking for me right now. If you let us go, I can make sure you get a deal.”
He let out a harsh laugh and glanced back. “You ain’t a fed no more, Rabbit.”
