Page 123 of Colt

“The girl’s no older than thirteen or fourteen,” Atlas went on. “She says she’s from Laramie. Those assholes snatched her yesterday on the way home from school.”

“Where is she?” Prez demanded.

“Still in the van,” Atlas replied.

Prez’s forehead furrowed. “Where’s the Sinner?”

Atlas grinned big. “Sweating like he’s done ten rounds with Tyson. We bound his hands with zip ties, attached him to the back of the van with rope and made him run behind us.”

Prez’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Didn’t ya get seen?”

“Nope.” Atlas’s grin widened. “Went the long way around; kept to the back roads.”

“Jesus.” Prez scrubbed a hand down his face. “Every time we think we’ve put a dent in their operation something like this happens. We need to go on the offense.” His voice sounded strained, betraying his growing frustration.

Atlas’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Fuck yeah.”

“Where are Bowie and Reno?” Prez asked.

“Keepin’ watch on the van,” the SAA replied, his anger evident in the tight set of his jaw. “Not leavin’ the kid out there alone.”

“Good call,” Prez mused. “Get the Sinner down in to the Cell. We’ll question him tonight.”

Atlas jerked a nod before sauntering to the door, opening it, and whistling shrilly through his teeth. Seconds later Bowie appeared dragging a scruffy looking dude with his hands tied, wearing a Sinners’ cut into the bar. “Cell?” he asked, grinning evilly.

Atlas rubbed his hands together gleefully. “Yip. Already made a date with him for tonight. Dinner and wine. The pervert won’t be able to speak by the time I’ve finished with him.”

“Especially when I cut his tongue out,” Prez snarled. “We’ve got one hell of a night planned.”

The Sinner’s eyes went wide as saucers. He visibly gulped as Bowie dragged him toward the stairs leading down to the basement to the Cell, the place where we kept captives, and which also doubled up as a panic room when we needed to get the women and kids safe.

Prez waited for Bowie and the prisoner to disappear before turning to Atlas. “How’s the girl?”

The SAA winced slightly. “Scared but okay. She’s a feisty one.”

Dagger rubbed his beard contemplatively. “Good, she’ll need some’a that spunk when it sinks in how close she came to bein’ trafficked. We’ll get Iris to sort her, see what information she can get from her and then we’ll arrange to get her home again.”

“What about the cops?” I asked.

“We’ll get Iris to have a chat with her, tell her how important it is that we’re not brought into it,” Prez muttered thoughtfully, raising his eyes to meet mine. “Call the boys in, tell ‘em I’m calling Church early. We gotta get this shit sorted once and for all. Sick of waitin’ around for the Sinners to make a move.”

Atlas gave Prez a one finger salute and made his way toward the kitchen.

“I’ll go call the boys in now,” I said, turning toward the corridor leading to my office.

“Tell ‘em I want ‘em here in ten,” Prez ordered, standing as he slammed his fist down on the bar. “We’re gonna destabilize those motherfuckers before they get the chance to bring it to us.”

Fifteen minutes later, I watched as Abe, Cash, and Kit filed into Church and took their seats.

“Iris okay out there with the kid?” Dagger asked through gritted teeth.

Abe nodded. “Yeah. She’s made the girl more food than she’ll probably be able to eat. Poor kid’s scared witless, but she seems to be responding to Iris well enough. They roughed her up a bit when they took her—she’s got some gnarly bruises on her back—but she’s generally okay.”

“It’s good we’re getting the victims before they get hurt,” Bowie muttered.

“Agreed,” Cash said with a nod. “But it makes me worry more for the ones we’re not savin’.”

“Cash is right,” I interjected. “For every one person we save they’re probably getting three more through, maybe even more.”

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