Page 44 of Veiled Vengeance

Dahlia scoots closer to the screen next to me. “That’s Greg, fucking asshole.”

Last week, Dahlia sat with my guys and gave them all the details she knew about Anthony’s “business,” including the addresses of prep houses. The locations Anthony uses for parties always change, but she knows about, what I assume is, most of them. Dahlia said this is the house where they keep some of the girls and women “in training,” and the children of their victims.

She told them how multiple women have gotten pregnant. Anthony always makes them carry the baby to term and then keeps the child away from the mother so she’ll stay in line. The whole practice makes me sick. I cannot imagine going through that, especially at such a young age like Dahlia—she was only sixteen.

“Greg is usually the one to run errands,” Dahlia adds.

“Errands? Like he picks up the dry cleaning?” Hayes raises a brow.

Dahlia doesn’t react to the joke. “Things like picking up drugs, transporting girls, and occasionally grocery shopping—everyone has to eat.”

I scrunch my brows. “Being high while watching kidnapped victims doesn’t sound like a smart business decision.”

The tired look in Dahlia’s eyes weighs on me. “The drugs aren’t for the men, they’re for the girls. If the girls become addicted, they’re easier to control, and Anthony has the assurance that the girls won’t run away—they’ll always come back to him for more. He said it’s like training dogs to know where their food comes from.” She says the last sentence with a sneer on her face.

Zane, Rio, and Asher don’t look surprised by the info dump—they know the drill. They’re familiar with the dark side of humanity. Hayes’s lips grow thin as emotion overtakes him while he looks longingly at Dahlia.

I want to ask, but I’m not entitled to her story. She doesn’t need to tell me the details of her tortured past to earn my compassion. She’s been a true friend and a silent supporter. She never pried, and I will give her the same in return.

My hand reaches for hers, and I give it a firm squeeze. She turns to me with a shaky smile.

Hayes gives his attention to Zane. “Are you going to let us in on the plan now?”

Asher answers. “Spencer, you’re with me. Dahlia, you’re with Rio. And Hayes, you’re with Zane. Dahlia and Rio will enter through an upstairs window of the room where August is being held. Zane and Hayes will go through the front door, and Spencer and I will go through the back door. Any questions?”

Hayes raises his hand. “Yeah, only about a hundred.”

“Save them for later,hombre.” Rio nods to the house as we see Greg take in the last of the groceries. “It’s go time.”

CHAPTER 18

RIO

The lighttap tap tapof footsteps trails behind me as I lead us across the street to the prep house, but Dahlia’s steps are inaudible. Before exiting the “mobile bat cave,” as Spencer calls it, we all loaded up with the supplies and weapons we would need.

Glancing back at Spencer, I realize we may have given her too much, but she didn’t complain. She knows we worry and need the peace of mind that comes with knowing she has everything she may need.

When we near the house, we break into three groups to take our positions. Zane and Hayes camp out under the window on the front porch, and Asher and Spencer lie in wait by the back door while Dahlia and I look for a way into the second-story window. She said that the last time she was here—a few months ago—this was the room where August was held.

I may be a sick fuck myself, but separating a young mother from her child is a type of sadism I refuse to subscribe to.

Dahlia sticks to me like glue as I make my way to an old, battered shed behind the house. There, we find a wooden ladder that has seen better days. She gives me a doubtful look, andI shrug my shoulders in return. We work together to lean the ladder against the house.

We don’t have much of a choice when our goal is to get August in and out without having to fire a gun. The more we can keep him out of the crossfire, the better.

“I’ll stand and hold the bottom while you climb up. Can you get the window open?” I whisper to her.

She replies with a simple nod, then soundlessly begins her ascent up the rungs. She’s so quick and efficient that the weathered wood barely has time to creak. Before I can blink, she has a knife in hand and jimmies the window open. The slide of the pane is smooth, and she climbs over the lip of the window before she waves me up. My journey up the ladder is not as quiet as Dahlia’s.

How the hell did she do it?

I pause after each squeak, waiting for thependejosinside to hear us. When they don’t come out guns blazing, I prove myself right that they are, in fact,pendejos.

I’m surprised this dilapidated thing hasn’t completely shattered under my weight. I’m not as big as Asher, but I’m no twig.

As I reach the top, I silently haul myself inside the open window. The room is bare and dusty, and there are three sleeping bags side by side along the far side of the room. The wood floors need refinishing, and the dirty floral wallpaper is bubbling and peeling away from the walls. A standing lamp flickers in the corner of the room.

I stop in my tracks when I’m met with three new faces, rather than one.

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