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“Traffic is starting to pile up on either side of us,” Angelo says. “We need to go.”
“Tell us where she is, and we’ll let you live,” Franco mutters.
“She was transferred to a boat,” the dealer fesses up. “I don’t know what happens to the girls after we hand them over.”
Damiano nods with his head. “Run.”
The fucker stumbles to his feet and starts hopping toward a nearby field, his useless leg being dragged behind him.
Raising my arm, I take aim, and with a single shot to his head, I drop his ass on the side of the road.
“No one lives,” I mutter as I turn around and walk back to the SUV.
Climbing in, I grab my tablet and open a different app where I begin hacking into law enforcement programs that monitor vessels electronically.
I’m aware of everyone getting back into the SUV and that we’re moving again, but I don’t glance up as I look for a way to find out where Eden could be.
“We’re going to the airfield,” Damiano instructs Carlo. “We need to get airborne.”
Chapter 23
Eden
Opening my eyes, I find myself upside down as I’m lugged over a shoulder again.
The world sways, and I manage to see a short hallway with steps leading up to what I assume is a deck.
I’m still on a boat?
I hear a door open, and a second later, I’m tossed on the floor like a sack of potatoes. A groan escapes me, and when my eyes focus on the man who threw me down, I don’t recognize him. He’s dressed in a suit instead of regular clothes like the others were.
“Remove the dress and shoes,” he mutters before walking out of the room and shutting the door behind him.
Huh?
I’m grabbed by my arms and hauled to my feet, and when I hear the zipper of my dress go down, the lingering effects of the drugs they gave me vanish at the speed of light.
“The hell,” I snap, but it sounds more surprised than angry.
I begin to twist and turn my body while slapping at the hands reaching for me. There’s a hard blow to the side of my head that makes me fall on my hip.
I push through the pain, and when I lift my head, I see four women standing in a row by a wall. One stares at me with a blank look, while the other three have silent tears rolling down their cheeks.
I’m hauled back to my feet, and as my head whips around, I see two men who again try to remove my dress.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I shout.
It takes another precious second for it to sink in that I’m in a fuck-ton of trouble.
A panicked chuckle escapes me, then I swing around and dart for the door.
One of the men grabs me by the hair and slams me face-first into the door I was hoping to escape through, then I’m yanked backward. The sound of tearing fabric hits my ears as the dress is forcefully ripped from my body.
Jesus.
God.
I suck in trembling breaths, my eyes flitting wildly from the girls to the men to the rest of the empty room.
