AllFreeNovel
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The District’s underbelly has always been managed by theCosa Nostra—by us—and while our depravities are sure to send us directly to Hell, we arefamilymen.
Children are off limits.
Human trafficking, too.
“Do what you have to do,” Clay orders, scrolling the front page as Slip types away on his laptop. “Unpublish it. Get in. I want this site.”
“Easy,” is all Slip says and continues to hack the backend of the site, his fingers sliding over the keyboard, his digital presence jacked-in, moving within the code like a god.
Rubbing my temple and forehead in circles, I will away the undertone of a headache.
This doesn’t sit well with me.
I look down at my phone, hissing at the nameCharles Young.The hairs on my neck rise, creeping across my skin is an ominous energy.
Why did he send me this?
The text message stares back at me. I’m intent on finding a hidden meaning, a clue, anything. I inhale sharply. He wants me to see something…
Fuck.
I freeze. My gaze slowly shifts to the monitor, the stream of products a chilling blur of skin and sex and perversions. My mouth wrestles around the words. “Search X” The X in his message means something.
Clay narrows his glacial-blue eyes on me, suspicion swirling within them. Looking back at the monitor, he searches X, but brings up more than five hundred pages of results.
Dammit.
Clay says, “Use your voice, Xander. Tell me what you think we are looking for.”
“I don’t fucking know.” Furrowing my brows over dark eyes, I rip the message apart word by fucking word until I’m ensnared on the last sentence.
Get yourself a Girl. X.
A capital G.
Weird.
“Search GirlX.”
That’s the one. Images flash at me. And the room is suddenly riotous with the sound of nothing. Of Slip typing on his laptop. Of Clay’s chair groaning like tormented thunder. Of my heartbeat like a train roaring right through my cranium.
At first, the images don’t mean anything to me, just a naked girl with a balaclava on. Just beautiful round tits with a perfect upward slope to her nipples.
“Xander?”
Just a tiny concave at her waist that rolls down to two perfect curves, one at the hips, one at the upper thigh.
Just…
“Buddy?”
I stare at the profile, unblinking.
It’s not her.
My lips twitch.
It’s not her.
