Page 80 of Tony

“And Hernando doesn’t have to follow any child welfare laws as to hours per day or week worked,” Matt said.

“A modern-day Fagan,” Tony said. “They do his dirty work and he takes care of them in the most minimalistic way possible.”

“Hernando’s laundries have expanded to twenty-four-hour service and have multiple hotel contracts. He’s rolling in the money and doesn’t have to pay most of his employees. He’s now moving into supplying girls for Quentin’s clubs.”

“Quentin runs the club legitimately with legal aged girls to serve and dance, but gets some underage girls to be in the upstairs rooms,” Matt said.

“And with the underground tunnels, they can get the younger girls in the back rooms without anyone noticing from the streets.”

“No way Quentin’s a one-man show,” Tony stated.

Matt spoke up, “Hell, he’s only one man in a whole industry, but we haven’t identified his immediate boss yet. We just know Hernando works for him, but no idea, as of yet, who Quentin reports to.”

“We’re getting search warrants right now to hit the grocery, laundry, and the club simultaneously. Best we can tell this is a huge operation and the DA was willing to let the investigation continue on its course so we could get the higher-ups but, now that we have Betina’s statement, we’ve got to hit them hard and fast.”

“Surprise is essential,” the Chief said, and then signed off as Tony’s group wished them luck.

Jobe looked around the table, “This one feels weird, Captain. We just provided some information that the police didn’t have and yet we’re not going after the bad guys.”

Gabe nodded, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

“How do you all think I feel every time you go out after all I’ve done is give intel?” Lily piped up.

“We did our job and we did it well. This time it’s up to the police to go after their mission,” Tony said.

Tony looked at his watch, seeing that it was just after noon. He walked out of the main conference room and toward his office as he called Sherrie. It went to voice mail but then he grinned...maybe she took my advice and is having that bubble bath.

* * *

Jogging up the club stairs, Hernando relished seeing Betina used, knowing that she’d be perfect for servicing men now. Seeing the door open, he assumed the client had left, but hoped that Betina had not escaped. Stunned, he looked down seeing the man barely lifting himself off of the floor with his pants around his ankles and Betina nowhere to be found. “You dumb fuck!” he screamed at the man trying to pull his pants up. “You let her get away.”

“Me, a dumb fuck? I paid for a scared virgin and you promised me that! Instead, I got my balls shoved up to my throat! Someone’s gonna pay,” the man growled, looking down on Hernando.

“She shows up with the police and no one’s gonna get paid, asshole. You can’t even subdue and fuck a kid?” Hernando’s panic was rising. Where could she have gone? Would she have gone to the police? No, then she would have to admit her part in recruiting.

Looking around wildly, his mind furiously worked to think of where she would be.

“Fuck!” the man bit out. “The thieving bitch took my cell phone.”

Hernando’s heart sank. With a cell phone, she could have called someone to pick her—Ms. Mullins. Goddammit! That’s exactly who she would have called.

Turning, he bolted out of the room and ran down the stairs with the yells of the dissatisfied client ringing in his ears.

Driving home quickly, he ran into the house, heading back to Betina’s room. Marcella walked out of the kitchen. “What are you looking for?” she asked as he rummaged through papers on Betina’s desk.

“Quiet, woman. That bitch daughter of yours is going to get me in trouble and if she does, your meal ticket is gone.”

“Betina? What has she done?” Marcella asked, her curiosity overriding the angry vibes pouring off of Hernando. She pulled his arm from the desk, “Tell me what you are doing!”

He whirled, backhanding her across the face. “I told you to be quiet. I offered her a chance to make money for helping me and she’s trying to get me arrested.”

Her face stinging, Marcella stood dumbly looking at the man in front of her. The one she hoped would marry her. And now, he appeared ready to kill her daughter.

Seeing Betina’s backpack sitting next to the desk, he dumped the contents on the bed, watching as papers fell out in disarray. Shuffling through them, he saw one with Court Services at the top. It had Sherrie Mullin’s name and phone number on the form. Pulling out his cell phone, he quickly input her information and easily pulled up Sherrie’s address.

Smiling at his ingenuity, he turned once again, this time to see Marcella standing in the doorway blocking his path.

“I don’t know what you want with Betina, but I won’t let you hurt her,” she said, her voice shaking with anger and fear.

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