Page 78 of The Chameleon

They were in a shipping port.

All around him, dangerous-looking men were opening shipping containers and escorting people out of them. Men, women, and children. They all funneled out, two at a time.

One woman screamed as the man next to her collapsed and was repeatedly kicked by a man holding an assault rifle.

Were these people beingtrafficked?

Matteo had read that in addition to the human sex trade, there was also a demand for human trafficking for slavery. People were told that there were work opportunities in a foreign country and provided assistance with smuggling them across borders. People came willingly, hoping to build a better life for themselves in this new country. However, once they arrived in their destination country, they quickly discovered that they were actually being sold into slavery.

Their captors would take their travel documents and any money that they might be carrying, then force them to work eighteen to twenty hours a day in order to “pay off” the debt that they incurred while being smuggled into the country.

It was a tragic story. Monsters taking advantage of the less fortunate and making money off the backs of migrant workers.

Every article Matteo read on the subject only made him want to find these monsters and exact his own form of justice ontheir treacherous asses. Perhaps Chase and his boss had it right. Monsters, such as the evil men listed in theBook of Sin,didn’t deserve the luxury of living.

Watching the troves of families being torn apart and separated into different holding pens made Matteo see red. When he was done with Edwin, he was going to end these fuckers. He just had to figure out how to break himself free.

“Walk,” another man, also holding an assault rifle, ordered, jamming the tip of the gun into Matteo’s back.

He followed his armed escorts into an old brick building that looked like it had been built in the early nineteen hundreds. The windows were thick with grime, and the paint on the doors was stripped almost completely bare.

“Here. Sit,” the man said in a thick Italian accent.

Since when did Edwin have the money or the intelligence to set up an operation of this magnitude?

Yes, the kid was semi-smart, but he never had the resources or connections to pull off something like this. There was something else going on here.

“Faster,” another man barked in Italian, pushing down on Matteo’s shoulders, causing him to fall into the seat before him.

Okay, this asshole was the first to get a bullet in the face whenever he got free.

“Ah, it’s about time you arrived. Sorry about the travel arrangements. I know how much you love extra legroom.”

Matteo looked up just in time to see Edwin step out of the shadows. Always like a cockroach.

“No worries. I found it cozy, like being wrapped in a tight wooden hug.”

Edwin smirked.

“It’s so great to see you after all these years, M,” Edwin added, coming to a stop right in front of Matteo.

“Don’t call me that. Only my friends are allowed to use that nickname. To you, it’s Mr. Sabarino.” Matteo loved watching the anger flash across Edwin’s face. Nothing annoyed the man more than being talked down to.

“Now, now,M.There was a time when you and I were close.Veryclose. Closer than most men are when together,” Edwin noted. The left side of his lip turned upward slightly in amusement.

This kid was nothing in the grand scheme of things. A little boy trying to make it big in a world he didn’t understand. Edwin had taken advantage of Matteo’s kindness and stolen information he hoped to use to get rich quickly, but at the end of the day, Edwin was just a boy, hoping that someone would take him seriously.

“Once again, you’re living in your own little fantasy world,Eddie.” Matteo knew how much Edwin hated being called by the childish name. The last time someone at the club called him by that name, Edwin had given the dancer a black eye. “We were friendly, that’s all. You wished that we were more, but we never were.”

Anger flared once again. Matteo had just enough time to tense his jaw before Edwin’s fist connected with his face.

Matteo chuckled.

“Still so sensitive. That’s why I never had you working the floor. You don’t have the heart or self-control to separate your feelings from business. And that’s why you will always fail in life. You’re ruled by your emotions, not by your head.”

Judging by the pissed-off look on Edwin’s face, Matteo knew that he was getting under the young man’s skin.

Good. Pissed-off people make mistakes. He just needed this idiot to make one so he could escape.

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