AllFreeNovel
Share Us
A woman was in the room, together with two men, who had her pinned down on the floor. One of them had his hand over her mouth, muffling her screams. The other was ripping at her clothes. The woman, with platinum blond hair and slender limbs, was fighting back like a wildcat, and Cora had a clear line of sight to the closest man.
Unhesitatingly, Cora wrenched her stolen gun out of her belt and fired. The man fell to the ground, clutching at his shoulder and gasping, and then Gabe stepped in, giving him a roundhouse blow that sent him sprawling back. The back of his head hit the bed frame with a thud that, to Cora, sounded like serious injury had been done.
The other one let go of the blond woman and lunged at Cora.
She was ready for him, though. She sidestepped his charge and grabbed his arm, yanking him off balance and then kicking him hard in the knee. With a shout, he stumbled down, trying to break his fall, and she kicked him again, this time in the face. His head whipped back, and he slid to the ground, unconscious.
Quickly, Cora fastened his limp arms together behind him.
"It's okay. Get downstairs. Down, now!" She herded the woman out quickly.
Cora ran to the last rooms on this floor. One was an office, and the others were bedrooms. Women were in them, terrified, sobbing, shaking from their ordeal. She freed them and sent them downstairs.
She'd been through the whole place now, and Rose was not there. This infamous brothel had eight trafficked women, but none of them were her sister.
She hurried downstairs again, knowing they didn't have much time. Soon, police would be on their way. In fact, she thought she could already pick up the distant blare of sirens. Before they arrived, Cora needed to be gone. She'd hoped to be gone with Rose. But her sister wasn't there.
At least, when the police arrived, they'd find this hellhole blown wide open. They'd done their job for them, even though they had clearly turned a blind eye until now. She guessed it was the women's choice whether to be there or not when the police arrived. Up to them. Not her call.
If they were going to run, though, Cora wanted to check one thing first.
Did any of these women know Rose?
She headed downstairs, rushing down the narrow flights. The women were in the downstairs office. They'd grouped together around the front desk, which looked to be the place where the passports were held. One of them had already forced open the desk drawer. She saw the men had kept cash there, too. Passports were being handed out. Bundles of cash were being distributed. A clothes cupboard was being raided for clothing and shoes.
The women were talking in soft, shocked voices. They were writing notes, using the pens and paper in the drawer, exchanging information. Nobody was looking at the trafficker Cora had shot, who was lying still now. It seemed like he'd bled out. What a shame, Cora thought cynically. A great loss to humanity.
"Rose. My sister. Does anyone know her?" She asked the question. She showed the photo she'd brought along, taking it from woman to woman, staring at them in appeal. "Does anyone know her?"
There was only silence and shaking of heads.
But someone at the back might know. Cora had seen a flash of awareness in that woman's eyes. She was the slim blond who’d been fighting with the two men, and Cora guessed she would be a couple of years younger than Rose. Having two men brutalizing her meant that she must still be getting broken in. Sometimes that was what it took to get the fight out of the more spirited ones. A bit of forceful ‘training’ followed by a beating up. She was thankful she’d arrived in time.
"Anyone?" she asked again, looking directly at the blond, but now she was looking down, scribbling something on a piece of paper.
The women began to file out. It seemed they didn't want to wait for the police, and she couldn't blame them.
But, as the blond passed, she slipped something into Cora's hand.
Cora grasped the paper instinctively, understanding that the blond didn't want to talk, that she was scared of saying anything, that she just wanted to get the hell out of there.
The sirens were getting louder, and they needed to get going, too. Cora ran down the last flight of stairs and out the door to where Gabe was waiting.
Then, Cora and Gabe raced down the alley they'd come from, moving fast, getting some distance between themselves and the illegal brothel.
Only when they were back on the main street, did Cora open the page?
The hasty inky scrawl contained an address that she didn't recognize, but she thought she was in central Paris.
And a time – 21.00.
Staring down at it, she felt suddenly breathless. Did she dare to hope?
"This might be a lead on Rose," she said, showing Gabe the page. "That’s in two hours. I've no idea what it’s about, but we need to be there."
CHAPTER FOUR
The meeting place was a bar a few blocks from the Moulin Rouge. The giant windmill with its neon lights was just a few hundred yards ahead as Cora walked down the road, heading for the bar.
