“Same,” I say.
“Let me show you the dress I’m wearing tomorrow. If it’s too much, I’ll get another.” She scoots beside me and hands me her phone.
I glance at the picture. “It’s cute,” I murmur—
The word slurs, my vision tilts, and my eyes flutter closed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
RUTHLESS
The last sex trafficker we had in the torture chamber sang like a canary when I threatened to shove a screwdriver up his ass.
We found his buddy eating with a young woman who looked half his age. I bet he pretended she was his daughter, but she really isn’t. More like his under age woman. Disgusting.
Legos plays the part of a valet while Psycho and I listen in through the earpiece, eyes on the camera feed.
“Have a nice dinner?” Legos asks.
The man smiles. “Yes.”
The young woman beside him forces a polite smile, one that doesn’t reach her eyes.
Legos jogs off for the car and returns a moment later. “Mr.?”
“Mr. Sherman.”
“Yeah, your car’s not starting.”
“That’s impossible—it’s brand new.”
Legos shrugs, hands on his hips. “Could be out of gas. Maybe a recall. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Sherman hesitates, then yanks the girl’s hand, pulling her with him.
“If it doesn’t start, I’d call a tow truck,” Legos says casually.
No reply. The man’s jaw is tight.
“Get behind the wheel and try it,” Legos suggests.
Sherman tells the girl to get in the back seat—odd choice. She obeys.
Sliding behind the wheel, he leaves the door open. Legos rests an arm on the roof, eyes on the dash.
Sherman turns the key. Nothing.
“I’ll call a tow truck. My driver can pick us up,” Sherman mutters.
“Okay, Mr. Sherman.”
Legos moves fast—tranquilizer dart to the neck. Sherman slumps over the wheel.
The girl doesn’t scream.
“We’re getting you to safety. Even if you don’t believe it,” Legos says.
Her mouth opens to release a scream this time, but he’s quicker—another dart. She goes limp.