AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“No need to shout. What you transported is no different than guns or drugs. It’s a commodity plain and simple.”
“A commodity? You’re a woman how can you do this to another woman?”
Marita’s lips thinned and her eyes narrowed. “In case you haven’t noticed it’s a cruel fuckin’ world. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She shrugged. “They won’t be the first and they won’t be the last. The strong ones will survive—I did.”
Holy fuck. Was she saying she was trafficked too? And yet, she had no compassion for other victims. Fuckin’ soulless.
Marita opened the drawer of her desk, extracted an envelope, and extended her hand. “Your pay.”
“Keep it.”
Her back straightened. “You can’t be serious.”
“As a fuckin’ heart attack.”
“Such a shame especially since it all went so smoothly.”
He turned toward the door. “And don’t call me again.
“You’re passing up all this easy money?”
“Yup, cause there’s no way I’m getting involved in this shit.”
“That could present a problem.”
Mamba froze with his back to her.
“Since you’ve already done the job and now know what we’re transporting, it makes you an accomplice.”
Mamba spun around, and sneered. “What are you gonna do, go to the cops?”
“Hardly, but a visit to your beautiful pregnant girlfriend might be in order. I understand she’s only a few weeks away from delivering your first child.”
Mamba stormed to her desk and leaned over the polished wood. “You fuckin’ touch her and I’ll—”
Strong arms grabbed him from behind as a knee smashed into his kidney. The sudden unexpected blow knocked the wind out of him for a second, then he bucked against the muscle holding him.
“Why don’t we start over.” Marita’s controlled voice chilled him. “You will make these runs when I say and how I say. And don’t even think about telling your biker buddies about this conversation because if I even get a hint they or anybody connected to you is snooping around or making trouble that sweet girl of yours might go missing. Remember newborn babies bring an even higher price tag.”
5
Mamba didn’t remember driving home. One minute he was in Searchlight and the next minute he was pulling into his driveway. He gripped the steering wheel with sweaty palms as Marita’s threat echoed in his brain.
He called Mandy along the way but even her sweet voice didn’t calm him. He’d unwittingly put her and their unborn child in danger and he couldn’t even turn to the Serpents for help.
Mamba didn’t doubt for one minute Marita would carry out all her threats. Her admission of being a victim of slave trade, then going on to inflict that horror on other women spoke volumes about how she would handle this situation. Whatever compassion she might’ve had was ripped away leaving a calculating, vicious woman bent on power and money. He’d seen plenty of men with this mentality, and although Mandy would say he was being sexist, somehow it was way more chilling in a woman. Especially a woman inflicting pain and suffering on other women.
He couldn’t shake the ugliness of the night, so he silently entered the bathroom, and turned on the water in the shower as hot as he could stand it. Then he scrubbed his skin raw in an attempt to cleanse away his guilt—it didn’t work. After toweling off, he slipped on his gym shorts and headed for the basement.
He shook out his arms and pummeled the speed bag with rapid succession until sweat dripped in his eyes and his arms were numb but it wasn’t enough so he delivered punishing, repetitive jabs to the heavy bag hanging in the corner. One hit, then two, then a combination. He hit the bag harder, faster but it didn’t clear his head or erase those sad eyes and innocent faces.
Finally, breathless and drained he pressed his forehead against the rough canvas, his brain searching for a solution out of this clusterfuck.
“Babe?”
He startled at Mandy’s low questioning voice. Then he pulled himself together, pushed off the bag and plastered a fake smile on his face. “What’re you doin’ up?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you all right?”
