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“What’s going on with Louis? Why was he so pissed?”
Jack smiled.
“Your man bankrupted him.”
I glanced back to Wilson. He wasn’t smiling, he was scowling.
“You did what? How can you bankrupt someone?”
“I didn’t, Shep did.”
I kept hearing about this Shep but I had no idea who he was.
“That’s clear as mud seeing as I don’t know who Shep is and I don’t understand how that’s possible.”
“It’s possible when Shep hacked his accounts and drained all his money.”
Holy cow.
“Why?”
“Why?” Wilson parroted.
“Yes, Wilson, why did you ask this Shep guy to steal all of Louis’s money?” I added.
“First, you can’t steal what’s been stolen. Shep simply redistributed dirty money that didn’t belong to Louis. Shep’ll take his fee then make anonymous, untraceable donations to women’s shelters, charities that help victims of sex trafficking, and he’ll fund safehouses and halfway houses for women who need help. As for the why, two reasons. The first, I want him out of play. If he’s broke he can’t bid at the auction. There are no IOUs. Cash needs to be present. The second reason was personal.”
I kind of admired this Shep guy; he was like a modern-day Robin Hood. And I liked the idea of that sleazeball’s money funding charities.
“Personal?”
“He had you followed. He put you in danger and scared you. That can’t stand.”
It couldn’t stand?
When I didn’t say anything Wilson leaned close, his blue eyes hard and angry. His expression scary and fierce.
“No one follows you, scares you, and puts you in danger. No one threatens to take what’s mine and if they do they’ll learn quick that shit is unacceptable.”
My heart swelled and a lump formed in my throat.
“Now the good news is, Martin’s unknowingly fucked himself.” Wilson went on as if he hadn’t just shaken the very foundation of my life. “And Eden’s extended an invitation.”
I was currently living in an alternate universe—one where receiving an invitation to a sale of humans was good news.
And that made me think—did I always live in this universe and I just didn’t know it? I knew prostitution was a huge part of the Vegas culture but the call girls I knew were in the profession of their own free will and could stop at any time. Right?
“What’s on your mind?” Jack’s question pulled me back to the room.
“I was just thinking how insane all of this is. And before you say it, I’m not stupid. I know sex trafficking happens. But I was thinking about the girls I know—the call girls. I’ve spoken to them, I know some of them. Believe it or not, they’re business minded. They know their profession has an expiration date. A woman doesn’t stay young and beautiful forever. One of the women I’m friends with has a master’s degree in finance. She’ll retire at thirty-five and live comfortably off her investments and rental properties. Sure, some people will judge how she’s chosen to make her living but the point is, it’s her choice. But I’m wondering how many women I’ve come across over the years who had that choice taken from them. Who didn’t want to sell their bodies. Women who were living their lives then were snatched off the street and forced into doing things they didn’t want to do.”
“Women and men,” Jack seethed. “Sex trafficking doesn’t have a gender or a race or an age limit. Sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers. The dark and depraved have no limits.”
Screw a new job. I needed a new life, one in a world where men and women didn’t live in fear of being bought and sold.
“I hate people,” I grumbled.
“Welcome to the club,” Jack returned.
