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RIDGE
“It isn’t her,” I said out loud even though no one had asked me to determine if the woman Varilla had shot and killed was Luisa Reeve. Perhaps they already knew it wasn’t, but I hadn’t.
None of the other women being held in the shipping container were her either. It wasn’t only women, though. There were men too. As Ares had said, there were thirteen in total. The youngest looked to be a teenager.
They were huddled together with nothing more than the clothes on their backs. No blankets, no cots, no sign of food or water. Depending on the intended destination, a ship could take a month or longer to get from one port to another.
Also, based on how few people there were versus how many the container would hold, I couldn’t help but wonder if there were more victims being transported here from another location. Maybe food and water were due to arrive with them.
I watched as Ares and one of the other K19 guys moved Varilla out. He wasn’t dead, thank God. He deserved to be, but first we needed answers.
Press, Beau, and I began helping the victims out of the container and into a warehouse where a triage center was being set up.
“Bones, what are you doing here?” I heard Beau ask as I was on my way back to the container to help move more of the victims.
“Dalton?” I said, feeling profound relief at seeing my brother. We walked toward each other and embraced. “Tryst said my help was needed down here and arranged for a private plane to bring me to the ranch.”
“Whose?” asked Beau.
My brother shrugged. “K-something.”
“K19,” I said rather than asked.
“I heard there’s a triage set up in one of the warehouses. How bad is it?” he asked.
“It could’ve been much worse had the container actually been loaded onto a ship. As it is, many of the victims are dehydrated. Some show signs of being beaten,” Beau told him.
“I’d better get over there.”
“Thanks, Dalt.”
He cringed as he walked in the opposite direction. “Can’t you call me Bones like everyone else? Dalt has always sounded like dolt.”
He’d managed to get back at me by calling me No, saying it would be too weird to call me by his last name like everyone else did.
“What’s happening with Varilla?” I asked Press.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Has anyone gotten anything out of him about Luisa Reeve?”
“Nothing specific.”
“Fuck.”
“However, Ares said he has reason to believe she’s alive.”
I supposed that was good news. “But where?”
“He’s working on that bit of information now.” Press looked around as if to see if anyone was within earshot. “Varilla wants to make a deal,” he said in a lowered voice.
“For what?”
“Luisa’s whereabouts. In exchange, he walks.”
“How about, in exchange, he doesn’t die after being repeatedly tortured?”
“I’m certain Ares said something along those lines. The problem is determining whether Varilla actually knows or he’s bluffing.”
