Page 31 of Wild Temple
There was a picture of a beautiful young girl with droopy eyes—clearly doped up. I had no doubt they were keeping these girls sedated with heroin or other opiates. The plan was to get them addicted. They’d do anything for the next fix. They couldn’t leave, even if they had the opportunity. It was standard operating procedure for scumbags like this.
The girl in the picture had dark hair, dark eyes, pouty lips, and olive skin. The price was listed below, along with vital stats—height, weight, age, measurements. There were three prices listed—one for the hour, one for the night, and one to buy outright.
The first image was only the beginning of the nightmare.
I swiped the screen to another girl.
Then another.
Then another.
It was heartbreaking. Every one of these girls had a family and loved ones somewhere in the world, mourning their loss, wondering where their little girl was. I kept scrolling through the images, hoping to find Isabella or Hannah while simultaneously hoping not to find them. I didn't want anyone to suffer this fate, but certainly not someone I knew and cared about.
I kept scrolling through the images and stumbled across a young blonde. She had blue eyes, elegant features, and golden hair that danced around her shoulders. Her svelte figure was on full display, leaving nothing to the imagination. These scumbags had stripped the girls of all their dignity. It was Kelsey. I recognized her from the memo Winslow had given me.
Anger swelled within. It was all I could do to maintain my composure and act dispassionate.
The waitress returned a few moments later, and I made my selection. I paid her in cash for the room and the girl. She thanked me for my business and pointed to the door across the room where the bouncer stood.
There was no receipt for my transaction. Nothing to prove money had ever changed hands.
"Well, my friend, this is where we part ways,” Rafi said. “I lived up to my end of the deal. I'll be seeing you around. No hard feelings.” Rafi smiled.
"You’re coming with me," I demanded. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
"I'm not into threesomes," Rafi said. "That's just not my thing.”
"You think I’m gonna leave you here so you can run off and blab your mouth? Get moving."
I slid out of the booth, and so did Rafi. We made our way across the lounge to the bouncer. He held out his hand and stopped me. "You only paid for one. Two costs extra.”
"How much?" I asked.
"Double," he said.
I dug into my pocket, peeled out a wad of cash, and paid the man.
And just like that, he pulled open the door and let us enter.
Rafi and I stepped into a stairwell that led up to the second floor. We took the creaky wooden steps up to the next level, where we met another bodyguard who stood at the top of the landing.
An earpiece wedged into his ear canal provided comms with the bouncer below and the waitstaff. "Room number four on your left."
The long black hallway had rooms on either side. Most of the doors were closed. A few were cracked open—enough for dim red light to spill out. Primal grunts and groans seeped through the walls.
The guard was armed—a small pistol holstered under his coat. Again, he was a big guy. An American. This was an international operation.
I feinted down the hallway, then snapped back and throat-punched the scumbag.
His eyes rounded as he clutched at his neck.
I put a heavy fist into his belly, doubling him over, then drove my elbow into his spine.
He collapsed to the ground, and I pounced on top of him and put him in a chokehold until he passed out.
"This bad,” Rafi said. “This very bad.”
I snatched the scumbag’s pistol, took his earpiece, and fitted it into my ear canal.
