Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Wait!” I ignore Nic’s plea in favor of taking the stairs two at a time and going to the room where I first found Delilah. There are so many doors, all of them closed, and from behind more than one of them, I hear weeping. I ignore it in favor of going to Delilah’s door and testing the knob. No surprise, it’s locked and unmoving.
“Delilah!” Silence. “I’m coming in. Stay away from the door!” I take a step back and deliver a solid kick that sends the door flying open hard enough to bounce off the wall beside it.
The room is empty, the lights off. I flip the switch on the wall, and the overhead bulb reveals nothing to give me a clue about what happened. No blood, nothing broken. The bed is neatly made.
Not once I strip the thin blankets from it and throw them across the room. “Goddamnit!” The pitiful excuse for an adjoining bathroom is also empty—and grimy. The man couldn’t be bothered to keep the place livable for the girls he sells.
I return to the hall, colliding with my brother. “She’s gone.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I begin with the door directly opposite Delilah’s and repeat the effort of kicking it open. A girl with dark skin and wide, tear-filled eyes cowers on the corner of the bed, holding a pillow in front of her like a shield.
“Nobody is here to hurt you,” I grunt, approaching the bed. “Where’s your boss? What happened here?”
“I-I don’t know!”
“Is your door always locked?” Nic asks, standing in the doorway.
Her head bobs up and down. “Always. We’re never allowed to leave our rooms.” I figured as much from the time I spent with Delilah, but now I know she wasn’t a special case.
I leave her and go to the next room and the next. The girls are too thin, dressed in cheap, skimpy lingerie meant to excite their customers. The rooms are like closets, bleak and depressing.
“Do you know where your boss is?” I ask a redhead at the end of the hall as she wipes tears from her freckled cheeks. She can’t be older than Aspen or Delilah. None of them can.
“I never see him unless he wants to feed.” When all I can do is stare at her in confusion, she gestures toward her swollen tits. “Some customers like to feed. I have to make sure my milk stays in so they can get some. He likes to do it sometimes.”
Holy fuck. And I thought I was sick. “Did anyone say anything about closing for the night?”
She shakes her head. “They don’t tell us anything. All of a sudden, there were gunshots, and you came in.” I guess they have to keep the girls disconnected from the rest of the world as much as possible.
In my earpiece, one of the men downstairs reports, “No sign of him. The entire first floor is clear.”
“No sign on the second floor, either,” Nic responds. “One more sweep of the place. Include the roof.”
“I’m going to his office.” I storm down the hall, past doors I kicked open and girls I might have inadvertently freed. Their problems aren’t my problem right now. Where would he have taken her?
Would he kill her to keep her away from me? No matter how I try to push the idea away, it bounces back to me like a rubber ball. I would put nothing past that bastard.
One thing is for sure: his office leaves the impression of someone who left in a hurry. Papers are strewn over the desk, and half a fast food meal sits uneaten. The food is cold. So is the chair. Where the fuck is he?
I sink into the chair and begin searching the desk. “What are you looking for?” Nic asks from the doorway.
“I’ll know it when I see it.” I glance up at him in time to notice his scowl. “What?”
He shakes his head. “We already have a list of his other properties. He could’ve taken her to one of them—but there are over a dozen in all. It’ll take time.”
Time is something I don’t think Delilah has on her side.
4
DELILAH
My eyes feel heavy, like concrete blocks are sitting on top of them. I force myself to open them and mutter a hoarse, “What the fuck?” the moment they’re open. This has to be a dream. Actually, scratch that. This has to be a nightmare. Where the hell am I?
I sit up slowly, my brain swimming in my head like that of a fish in a bowl. The room I’m in looks like a unicorn puked cotton candy everywhere. The walls are two shades of pink, with random princess décor on the walls and a dresser. The bed is white, with a dusty pink accent, and the whole thing reminds me of a little girl’s room. A bookcase and vanity sit off to the far left of the room.