Page 40 of Thaddeus

“She’s gonna flip her shit, knowing she was so close to all those women. Tex estimates he keeps thirty to forty women there,” Max told me something I knew.

He wasn’t wrong about Emerson, either. Once she found out Garcia’s training camp was used for more than just training dogs, she was going to be upset. Tex and Garrett had compiled a thorough work-up on Garcia’s women.

The girls who were kept at the camp were for his VIPs. All of them in various stages of priming. These women were special, they were being educated and taught proper etiquette and grooming. They’d learn how to be the perfect companion for the sick fuck who’d purchased them.

“Glad that fucker’s dead.”

“Yeah, me, too, brother,” Max agreed and rested his head back against the seat.

Sleep didn’t come for a long time. All I could think about was how close Emerson had come to being forced into a situation she wouldn’t have been able to get herself out of. She’d deny it, tell everyone she’d known what she was doing, and was safe because she thought Jefferson Garcia Baldwin had a soft spot for her. But she was wrong—Garcia would’ve sold her to the highest bidder. A man like him, as sick and depraved as he was, demanded loyalty but never gave any in return.

I finally drifted off thinking that Emerson’s days of chasing sex traffickers were over. There was no way I was allowing that shit to continue. Come hell or high water, Emerson’s white hat bullshit was done.

Emerson

Perhaps I should’ve reconsidered Zane Lewis’s offer. If the private jet we’d flown to Guyana on was any indication of how he rolled, I was game. I’d been on a lot of privately owned aircrafts over the years, but I’d never been relaxed enough to fully enjoy the mode of transportation.

Not that I was a snob, and when I finally found Autumn and took her back home, I’d never fly in luxury again, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t appreciate the swank interior. The seat had swallowed me whole—the second I’d sat down, I sank into the soft foam and was asleep before we’d reached altitude.

Which was a little concerning that I’d let my guard down so easily.

Now we were at what Declan had called the compound, but I’d describe the warehouse as a prison. There were armed men all around the perimeter and a tall gate had to be opened to allow us entrance. Strangely, there were no guards inside.

The space was wide open and spartan. It was fitted for practicality not comfort. There were couches, that had seen better days, arranged to make a seating area. A table just off a galley kitchen, that again was out-of-date and should’ve been upgraded, oh, fifty years ago. A long beaten-up table with no chairs around it that was big enough it looked like you could make an assembly line on it. Then there were metal stairs that led to a second floor.

I’d counted seven doors before Tatiana had opened one and explained that’s where I would be staying. I didn’t ask any questions, I just entered. There were two twin-sized beds and nothing else. Not a dresser, a nightstand, or even a mirror. White cracked walls, and for a splash of color a dingy-white blanket was thrown over the mattresses.

Perfect.

Great.

Not only did the exterior look like a prison, the bedroom felt like one, too.

With nothing but time on my hands, I sat on the bed and thought about the report that had been put together about my life. I wondered what it said and if I’d be allowed to read it. And the longer I sat there, the more pissed I became.

Then I thought more about Zane’s offer to take me back to the States. Maybe that’s what I needed—a little time to relax and regroup. I’d also need to unload all the gifts Jefferson had given me and I’d get more for them in the U.S.

And sleep, I could catch up on eight months of sleep. I was so tired—bone-deep exhaustion from years of hearing about and seeing the most atrocious, violent activities. I didn’t think I’d ever close my eyes again without seeing all of those poor dogs ripping each other apart. Or the girls. So many young women torn from their lives and held against their will.

I wished I could go back to a time when I’d never known this world existed. The dark underbelly of society. A place where men and women were so evil. What kind of person did that make me, that I wanted to go back to a life of ignorance?

“We’re ready for you,” Thad said, opening the door.

“Ever heard of knocking?” I snapped.

He mockingly knocked on the open door and repeated, “We’re ready.”

“I’d like to read the file Zane put together about me,” I blurted.

“Why?”

“Um… because it’s about me and I think I have the right to read it and possibly make corrections.”

“Corrections? It’s not a term paper, Emerson, it doesn’t need an edit.”

“I know that, Thad. I’m not talking about going Grammar Girl on the fucking thing, I’m talking about correcting any inaccuracies.”

“There aren’t any.”