Page 26 of Sinful Secrets

“What I'm asking you, darlin’, is how could you not know that women, young women are being trafficked out of your little community and sold to be sex slaves, to be abused and probably killed… You grew up there, your father has a high standing, so how in the fuck did you not know this shit was going down? Or is it because you know it was God’s plan, so it’s okay,” he says sarcastically.

“I… I…. um, sex slaves?” I ask, my hands now shaking.

“Yeah, women and girls… Fuck, I don’t know, maybe boys too? Sold to people for them to abuse them. You're telling me, telling my club that you knew nothing about this shit?” he barks loudly, making me jump.

I shake my head. “No, no, that can’t be, they would never do that, some would get sent to other communities, but they wouldn’t do that,” I state, shaking.

“Mammoth, file,” he demands, holding out his hand. Mammoth gives him the file and he walks towards me, crouching down and emptying it. Photographs scatter the floor as images of women, young women stare back at me.

“No,” I whisper, tears stinging my eyes.

“Yes, darlin’, all these women have gone, all of these women have been sold to the highest bidder.”

I recognise faces. “Mary… Judith…” I pause as Rip holds up a photograph, and I sob, taking it from him. “Martha,” I cry.

“What is it, darlin’?” he asks. I look up into his eyes.

“I was entrusted to take care of her. Her mother sadly passed away randomly when she was ten-years-old. She is only fourteen, please tell me she is safe, please tell me she is okay,” I plead.

He grips his jaw tight and shakes his head. “I'm sorry, darlin’, we have no idea where she is,” he answers sadly.

I cry, the sound of my sobs echoing around the room. “You need to be honest with me, darlin’, and tell me everything you know. What about guns? You know about the guns?” he asks. I shake my head, still trying to control my tears. “So, you're telling me, nearly twenty years in the fuckin’ cult and you know nothing? You honestly expect me to believe that?” he snaps angrily.

“I'm sorry.” I sob.

“That’s enough!” Khan yells, coming to me, pulling me into his arms. “Jesus Christ, Pres, we know she's an innocent, stop questioning her like she's a damn suspect,” he defends.

Rip holds his hands up in defence. “Shit, I know. It’s just… fuck, we need a way in, and she is our only damn hope.”

I push away from Khan, wiping my eyes. I stand face to face with Rip. “I swear on my soul that I did not know any of this. What is it you need to know? You want a way in? Every Sunday at five p.m. everyone is sat down to eat. We…” I stop and correct myself. “They always eat at five p.m. everyday, but on Sunday we all eat together in the main hall. Father Isiah joins us every Sunday, all the elders do.”

He eyes sear into mine. “What about the guards? What about the gates?” he asks.

“The guards are brothers; they will still be there. The only way you will gain entry is on Fridays at nine p.m. when they have the delivery truck arrive and our shipments leave. One in, one out,” I answer.

“Thought you said you didn’t know about their shipments,” he fires back.

“Our blankets, we knit blankets,” I state.

“Ain’t no way there is enough demand for damn blankets to require a truck each week,” Mammoth adds, and I look to him. “You never thought to question that?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Why would I? My father raised me there. I lived there for most of my life. Why would I not trust my family?”

Khan tries to hold my hand; I snatch it away from him. I notice Rip’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. “Seems like Bambi is learning to walk just fine on her own,” he states, his eyes on Khan.

I fold my arms across my chest, keeping my eyes focused on Rip, and I take in a deep breath. “The gates are always guarded, there is also an alarm. No one that isn’t authorised will get in or out.”

“You got in and out doing your beauty thing,” Rip states.

“Yes, but I was driven, dropped off and picked up, and that’s only because of who my father is within the community. Even then I am––or was––the only woman that was allowed out to earn money,” I point out.

“What if you went back? What if you could get us access?” Rip asks.

“No fucking way, Pres. Have you seen what they have done to her back? No way are we risking her going back in,” Khan argues.

I take a deep breath, and as I'm about to speak, the door opens and I turn to see a tall dark man in an expensive suit walk in.

“Dreads, glad you made it, we’re nearly done here, then I will catch you up,” Rip calls out to him.

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