He spots me quickly, placing an order at the bar before joining me at the table. I stand and greet him, pulling him in for a pat on the back.
“Moretti, a pleasure as always. Though you could have traded the suit for a cowboy hat this evening,” I tease.
He shines me one of his pearly white smiles. “Where would be the fun in that, brother?”
“I’m starting to think you sleep in those things.”
He doesn’t deny me; he just smirks before taking the seat across from me. Hunter hurries over with a glass of scotch with asingle large ice cube. She plops it down with a larger than life smile and a one hundred dollar bill tucked in the bust of her tank.
I can take one guess who it’s from.
“Thank you, darling,” he rasps, a slight accent to his tone.
“My pleasure, cupcake. Just let me know when you need another.” She winks and saunters away.
We tip our glasses together in cheers. I slam my beer down on the table, ready to get to the chase. “I want out,” I say bluntly, my face hard as stone.
“Straight to the point, as always. That’s why I like you, kid. I’m afraid it’s not as cut and dry as you think.”
I don’t like that one bit. I want out, now more than ever. I can’t keep putting my body through hell every week. It’s already starting to take a toll on me, and people are starting to notice the bruises. Maisie had to put makeup on me this week.
“Why? There’s gotta be a number he couldn’t refuse, a little dirt to dig up against him? What are my options here? I’m not leaving this booth until we have a plan.”
Moretti sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He leans over the table, lowering his voice. “There’s more to the story. I’ve tried to keep you out of it for your own sake. You don’t want to get wrapped up in this. If they find out you know, it will be worse than the little threats they’ve sent your way so far.”
He saidthreats.“How do you know about the second one?” I know better than to trust anyone in the mafia, and I need to remember to keep my guard up, even if he says he’s trying to help me.
His face hardens, but he doesn’t deny me. “Who do you think was the one tasked to set it all up?”
My hand slams on the table, drawing a few eyes. “You what?”
Moretti wearily looks around the bar before whispering under his breath. “Calm down, Mustang. Would you rather it have been someone else? They would have done way worse than me, maybe even checked out Maisie’s cabin for themselves. Theyneeded someone for the job, and I needed them to think I’m still on their side. Call it insurance on my part and protection of your property on yours.”
He has a point, but I still hate it. If he wasn’t on my side, he never would have told me. This is a good thing, I try to tell myself, even if I don’t like the idea of him leaving threats onmyproperty againstmywoman.
“Fine,’ I grit through my teeth. “What about the other thing you said? What have you kept from me?”
He shakes his head and swigs his expensive scotch. “I didn’t want you deeper than you needed to be, but I think it’s time you learn the real men you’re dealing with here.” He pauses, thinking over his words carefully. “The fighting ring is a cover of sorts. Yes, the people watching are there to win money on bets, but that’s not the real reason they’re there. It’s what happens after the fights that has them coming back.”
What could be worse than watching two men or even children fighting to the death for entertainment? I hope this isn’t going the way I think it is. I’m not sure if I could hold back my anger if it does.
“Sex trade,” he says, straight to the point. “They steal women from all over the world and collect them at warehouses. I wouldn’t wish their conditions even on my worst enemies. The warehouses are basically like dog shelters but worse. They chain them to the walls by their necks, no beds, no toilets, nothing. Just concrete floor. They strip them of their clothes and tattoo them with a permanent scannable barcode across their chest. Each warehouse is different, a sort of ranking system. They each have a specific brand they give their girls. Those from the top warehouses go for more at the auctions.”
My teeth grind the more he talks. “And I’m guessing these auctions you’re talking about happen after the fights, here in fucking rural Montana, where the feds would never look.”
“Bingo,” he confirms, chugging down the rest of his drink. “Even if the cops were to bust the place, they would go after thefights happening above. They don’t mind getting caught for that if the real money maker going on below stays hidden. You guys are just the entertainment, the warm up. It would be genius if it wasn’t so evil. They’ve been doing this under your town's nose for years, Grayson.Years…”
“Fuck!” I flag Hunter down for a second beer, my stomach twisting over everything. How could this be happening here in this little, close-knit town? Surely, we would have noticed all the fancy cars and people going in and out. But how could we? The Underground is out in the middle of nowhere, with a straight shot to the highway from an unused back road. It’s the perfect location.
Oh God… The trucks. There are always big white semis parked in the back. I thought they were for equipment. Are they hauling women in them?
“How many?” I ask, my stomach ready to explode.
He fidgets with his empty glass, tapping his large golden ring on the glass. “On a single night?” he clarifies. I nod, urging him on. “Anywhere from fifty to one hundred. They auction them off in waves by their ranking and age.”
The wooden table groans under my hand. “Age?”
His grim nod is all I need to know it’s beyond bad. If I didn’t want Maisie wrapped up in this before. Now, I want to lock her in my bedroom and never let her see the light of day until this is all sorted out.
