Page 110 of Riot's Thorn
“I don’t think so,” Lucky says. “We’re making sure the cargo gets to the right place.”
“Absolutely not. You don’t have the clearance, and my superintendent is here.”
“Better come up with a real good story then,” Rigger says.
“Fuck.” Scar stomps his foot like a child. “Fine. But only one of you.”
Rigger flashes me a look. This is one of the things I’ve learned since joining the club. During situations like this, a lot is said just by quick glances, and I have to go against my natural instinct to avoid eye contact whenever emotions are high. It’s extremely uncomfortable but necessary when it’s life or death. I give him a slight nod.
“Okay. Riot will go.” Rigger lifts his chin in my direction.
I grip Tobi’s bicep roughly and pull him along, careful to keep him slightly behind me. I have to give the kid credit, because he keeps his face shadowed well with his hood. Following Scar, we weave through hundreds, if not thousands, of steel containers until we reach the cargo ship. The size of the thing is nearly indescribable. I’ve only seen them from a distance on the shore or in pictures, none of which accurately depict the sheer magnitude of this thing.
Immediately, my mind is flooded with a million questions. How many people stay on board while it’s at sea? What do their quarters look like? How much fuel do they use in a day? How much does it cost to fill up? How long does it take to fill up? What’s the max speed? How many containers can it carry? What kind of backup systems does the vessel have in case of engine failure? How do they ensure a balanced load? And on and on. It makes it hard for me to think about why I’m here and run through plans.
“The container is already on the ship.” He stops at a booth outside the vessel and hands me two helmets and reflective vests. “Put these on.”
I put my own on before slapping a helmet on Tobi and helping him into the vest. “Done.”
“She needs to lose the hood. It’ll look suspicious.”
Fuck. If he sees Tobi is a full-grown man, the only type of human who wouldn’t be trafficked, this will all be for nothing. “If she pulled down the hood, it’d look even more suspicious. The last customer she serviced was a little hands-on. It’s not pretty.”
“Jesus. The last one Bart sent was in a similar condition. You do realize my contact on the other side has to make money off these shipments, right?”
The last one? He has to mean Parker. My blood boils, and my Glock burns the skin of my back, begging me to put a hole in thisguy, but I breathe deeply and push away the black at the edge of my vision. Killing him won’t do me any good right now.
“Bitch to someone else. We already told you, we just deliver,” I say.
His head tips back. “I’m gonna lose my job, and my wife is gonna kill me.”
“That’s a problem for future you. All you need to worry about right now is staying alive long enough for her to kill you because your immediate threat is me.”
“Fuck. Okay, just keep her between us so she’s mostly hidden.”
That works. Scar doesn’t want to raise any flags, so he keeps his eyes forward, not even stealing a side glance at Tobi, and I keep my head up, acting as though I’ve been here a million times.
“Right back here.”
“The lashing rods are already in place. Give me a minute.” It takes him at least five minutes to release the rods keeping the container secured to the others. It fills my mind with a million more questions. I already know that once this is over and Parker is home safely, I’ll be doing a deep dive into container ships.
He lifts the steel bar locking the container and pulls it open. At first, I don’t see anything. After the first couple of rows of boxes, it’s pitch black. But then, the dirty face of a small Mexican girl pops into the light, wide-eyed and frightened, followed by an older Mexican girl, a thin white girl with blonde hair, and a small Black girl who looks incredibly sad. But no Parker.
“Hurry. Get her in. These containers aren’t supposed to be fucked with once they’re in place,” Scar says.
“Is it just the four of you?” I ask, the pit in my stomach growing. “There’s not another woman with curly blonde hair? She might’ve been injured when she got here.”
“Riot?” a voice croaks, echoing off the inside of the container seconds before the four girls part, leaving room for Parker to walk out. I’ve never felt such conflicting emotions, and I don’t know what to do first: kill Scarface over there or take my broken girl into my arms.
Her lips are split in multiple places, leaving splotches of blood around them. Her face is bruised and swollen. She’s clutching at her side as if her ribs pain her, and she’s fucking limping. What the hell happened to her?
“What the fuck? Who are you?” Scar asks, growing nervous.
“I’m the man here to rescue these innocent girls, you fuckin’ asshole.” I pull out my gun. “Keep your hands where I can see them.”
Tobi flips back his hood and pulls out his own Glock. “I’ll cover you. Get the girls.”
The second the piece is tucked back in my pants, Parker flings herself at me. She groans in pain, and I gently put some distance between us. “You’re hurt.”
