Dropping my mags out, I slip new ones in, rapping the again of the weapons on my thighs to click on the clips into place. I push the slide on prime of every gun to load them each on the similar time.

A report goes off on my proper the place Rafe stands. A tender thud hits the ground upstairs, together with a tinkle of glass.

“Not anymore.” Rafe glances down at me, the psychotic glint in his eyes matching my very own. “4 in your left, you say?”

“Three.” I elevate my gun and hearth off a spherical.

“Holding depend?”

“No matter, Legolas.” The subsequent fool pokes his balding dome excessive of the desk, and I embellished his brow with a pleasant gap.

“That makes you the dwarf, proper?” Rafe goals to the facet of the desk, leaving one man alive together with his useless associates.

The final man runs for it. We elevate our weapons collectively, and the person goes down with two matching holes at the back of his head.

“Excellent.”

Ignoring Rafe’s barb, I monitor any motion round the remainder of the warehouse. The place is stacked with containers and a neat row of transport containers alongside a big again wall that appears like it will possibly slide open for simple entry. Not a single human is in sight.

Why do they want all of the containers?

I blow air out of my cheeks. “Fuck it. The place are the ladies?”

Rafe walks shortly to the workplace whereas I flip to research the again of the warehouse, operating my fingers alongside transport containers, rapping my knuckles on every one. God is aware of what else Kirril Singleton—Russian born, American mom—is smuggling into the nation, or out of it, however I used to be solely right here for one factor.

After I tapped on the third container, somebody inside knocked again.

“Rafe,” I name as the remainder of our workforce bust into the entrance of the warehouse, their weapons drawn in a pose worthy of a foul eighties motion film.

I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle, jerking my head to at least one facet.

Tommy Canaveri runs over with a pair of bolt cutters he picks up from the facet of the warehouse, half out of breath by the point he reaches me.

“Remind me to show your boys methods to jog.” I shake my head in disgust. “Are you doing the honors?”

“We’re not all as previous as you, asshole.”

Tommy wields these bolt cutters like he was born with the instrument in his fingers. Seconds later the padlock drops to the ground and the door swings open.

A fine-boned, pale physique tumbles out. I catch the woman earlier than she hits the bottom, taking in her bare state, and shrugging my jacket from my physique.

“Sweetheart.” I stare down on the woman who stares again with dark-brown, bloodshot eyes. Her options are nearly pixie-like, her barely gaunt physique giving her an ethereal look, like she doesn’t fairly belong wherever I’ve ever been. Darkish, matted hair tumbles over her head, crusted with fluids I don’t wish to take into consideration.

What the fuck has she endured?

“Are you able to hear me? What number of are you?” I wrap her in my jacket and maintain her in opposition to my shirt. The woman is roofed in filth, and God is aware of what else. Cuts and fading bruises cowl her physique—so skinny that she should’ve been in that container for a good time.

“What number of?” I elevate my chin and yell sharply over my shoulder, dropping my gaze to check her face. She doesn’t reply, at the same time as I stroke her cheeks and attempt to get some response from her.

“Eight,” Rafe’s voice comes from proper behind my head.

My head jerks up. “That’s not many.”

Often when Kirrill Singleton trafficked ladies, he introduced them in by the boatload—actually. “Eight is hardly value his whereas.”

I don’t notice I spoke aloud till Rafe crouches subsequent to me. “You’re proper.”

One thing in his tone rips my gaze from the woman in my arms. “What’s it?”

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