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“Well, aren’t you up shit’s creek without a paddle. Because if you don’t tell us, you’re still dead. And sooner.”
“You’ll kill me with less pain than them.”
“I wouldn’t count on that.” Shep presses the blade into the man’s cheek, slicing the tender flesh and spilling his blood onto Yuri’s rug. Probably not the first time someone has bled there, and it won’t be the last.
“Yuri will have you killed for this. Disrespecting his business.”
“Only if he lives, and it’s not looking too good for him either.” Shep digs the knife deeper, fury pulsing rapidly through the bulging veins visible on his arms, neck, and temples.
It makes sense that Shep’s barely restraining his anger. We’ve seen firsthand how this shit destroys lives. We rescued hundreds of girls from deplorable conditions. On one particular case, we intercepted five shipping containers as they arrived from overseas. They were packed with women and children. Some didn’t survive the journey. The smell will haunt me until I die.
Shep tightens his grip around Yev’s throat. “The girl from Friday. We only want her. Tell us where she is, and you can live. We’ll leave right now, and all you’ll have is this little souvenir from our time together. Hopefully, it’s made you ugly enough that you can’t lure away any more girls for a while.”
Aaron’s getting antsy, pacing by the door. Yuri’s bound to show up soon to find out what’s happening, or he’ll send another guard. If they hurry and get the intel from this fucker, they can slip out before things get worse. Yuri can wait. Finding Lettie’s location is the primary mission. We can feed everything else we’ve uncovered to the authorities and let them go after the other players.
Once we identify the sewer-sucking slimeball in the FBI who’s beenHarvey Weinsteiningthe investigation, everything else will fall into place.
Yes.I made that shit nozzle rapist into a verb.
“Come on. Come on,” I mumble, my knee bouncing frantically under the desk.
“Just the one girl?” Yev sputters out through the blood raining over his lips.
“We only came for the girl.”
A fact.
Doesn’t mean we won’t save as many girls as we can on the way out.
“And you don’t tell who sent you there?”
Shep’s response is low and gruff. “Fine. Just the one girl, and we won’t rat you out. Where is she?”
“A house. In Safety Harbor. Brown with yellow shutters.”
“We need the name of the street, asshole,” Shep demands.
The expression that passes over Yev’s face can only be described as indigestion. He’s the poster child for a Pepto Bismol commercial. “Street is hard to say for me.”
Shep grumbles under his breath.
“Is… uh… Witchel-coosie,” Yev attempts, then shakes his head. “No. Not right.”
“Spit it out, fucker,” Aaron fumes, his frustration with the Russian wearing as thin as Shep’s.
“With-a-cooshie,” he attempts again.
“What the hell kind of street name is that?” I tap Tomer’s shoulder with the back of my hand. “Street named with a cooshie? Coozie maybe? Near Safety Harbor. Ring any bells?”
Tomer’s frown lightens a bit. “Ask him if it’s Withlacoochee. It’s a high crime area.”
My boisterous laugh springs free, and I cup my mouth to save the team’s ears on the comms.
“Shep. Ask him if it’s,” I look at Tomer, and he repeats the name, “Withlacoochee Street.”
The guard nods eagerly, agreeing with Shep’s pronunciation. The street was named after the Seminole’s word for little big water.
My hands fly across the keyboard as he talks, finding the house and pulling it up on satellite imagery. “Found it, Shep. Exfil immediately.”
