Page 59 of The Man with a Treasure

“Bitches and Hoes,” he barked. “Get your skank asses out here.”

It took every bit of stolen composure to keep my mouth from falling open when naked women and little girls exited the dog homes, chains around their necks. One little blond girl rushed to a woman, “Mamma!” until the chain caught and jerked her trembling little body backward.

The woman she was rushing to was fighting tears, trying to soothe her child with hand gestures that hung in the air, unable to reach the one she clearly wanted to touch, while telling the man, “Please, she is just confused. She will behave.”

In the corner of my vision, I saw Angelo’s Adam’s apple bob, most likely fighting the urge to vomit, the same as I was experiencing. These naked females were all different—ethnicity, size, and race. Their horrid owners were being certain to have many flavors for the despicable to purchase as if merely examining a menu.

The man gestured to the child and woman and smiled at us. “Special price for the two?”

Speechless to the Godless land this Earth sometimes proved to be, I stayed quiet as Angelo shook his head. “No. I come for one only.”

When our crude tour guide noticed one doghouse had not been emptied, he lifted his shotgun and pointed. “You think I’m playin’?”

Boom!

Angelo’s hiss gained attention.

The man growled at him, “See something you don’t like?” as more men came out the front door to inquire about the shot. They all started laughing when hearing desperate squeals of pain and seeing blood seeping out from under the little house now casing what sounded like an injured child.

The woman who had been fighting tears stayed focused on her little girl. “Close your eyes. It’s okay, baby. Just do what you’re told.”

The little girl sniffled, her eyes slamming shut as she nodded.

“I asked you a question!” yelled the man to Angelo as he dared to raise his shotgun in my best friend’s direction.

I was done with this asshole.

So, I shot him.

The man grabbed his foot, howling like a lunatic with no tolerance for pain. I wondered if now was a good time to ask if he still thought the screaming child was laughable. It took immense restraint to not go stomp on his injured foot, then shoot the other one. Maybe I would’ve had his ‘buddies’ not been retrieving their own guns. Not that I truly cared. No one was ever going to shoot Angelo, or even threaten to, in front of me, not without repercussions. Bold response, maybe, but a line had been drawn. Don’t fuck with Angelo.

Am I clear, you disgusting inbreeders?

As soon as I saw Angelo’s jaw twitch, I knew he had snapped, too. Isabella had spoken of seven men. Now, we had shot one, and there were six at the door. Were these beasts—who had just shot a child—the ones who had violently abused Isabella? Possibly Scarlett, too? Feeling so close to the truth had the immense frustration of the last decade of anticlimaxes racing to the surface, pounding on our self-control. That’s why I internally smiled while double-fisting guns and pointing them toward the newcomers.

With his own gun now drawn, Angelo charged forward and put the barrel in the man’s face. “Have I seen something I don’t like?” Angelo’s other quick hand easily snatched the shotgun from the injured man. “What you should be more concerned about is that I have yet to see something I do like. I have a hungry dick and a million to spend. Show me what I came for or I am fucking leaving.”

Apparently, a million dollars was more than the man’s six friends were willing to watch drive away. One of the men by the door laughed at his shot partner. “Stop fucking around, Ben. He ain’t no cop.” He gestured for Angelo as he headed back into the house. “Follow me if you want to meet our prized possession.”

After Angelo threw the rifle to the ground—far enough away to force the asshole to hobble a bit—we holstered our weapons and followed the man through the door that led us to the kitchen.

The odor hit me first. Second, the sight.

The reasoning behind the doghouses outside was due to having run out of wall space inside the dwelling from Hell. On the timeworn wood-paneled walls, there were ring hooks every few feet. Connected to the hooks were more chains, each with an ill-treated slave attached.

One of the naked slaves nearest us, tied to the rusty gas stove, was a striking young woman with dark hair. At first glance, I thought this was who we had come to see. She definitely was full of the fight we had been told about. Due to her hands being chained, she kicked at a young boy who seemed to be around the age of twelve.

This boy wasn’t restrained. He was free. He was, in fact, taunting the young woman with an old green toy train. It was beyond disturbing how his eyes showed such pleasure, causing her such fear. He didn’t speak, didn’t need to. If there is such a thing as the Devil’s spawn, this kid was it. I was loaded with weapons, a murdering man, yet was apprehensive about this child.

The man Angelo and I were following chuckled at the little soulless being, finding him very entertaining. “You just can’t get enough of her, can ya?” He told Angelo, “You’re in for a treat.” Then he called over his shoulder, “Playtime for Junior, boys!”

Junior? Sweet mother of God. I have now met the Devil reincarnate.

Five men cheered, pushing their way through me and Angelo, all eager for whatever was coming. My stomach tightened as nerves racked me. I was waiting for Angelo’s sign. I needed him to tell me if this girl was Scarlett because I was getting itchy to pull out my gun. I didn’t even know what was going to happen yet, but everything in my gut was telling me it was going to be awful.

Another boy, who appeared to be the same age as ‘Junior’, was across the room, tugging on his restraint. “No! Leave her alone, Goddamnit!”

Relief that this girl had a friend gave me enough will to inhale because I realized I had stopped breathing. The five men started grabbing hold of the female. She screamed while her legs were forced open, exposing her naked core.