Page 50 of Lies like Rubies, Part Two (Savage Jewels)

“Hey!” one of the men on the floor shouted. “I’ll fucking talk!”

“Grab that one,” I instructed. “Leave the rest.”

The warehouse went up in flames, the oranges and reds mixing with the fiery sunrise. When the sirens of the fire department interrupted our thoughtful contemplation, we left, the sole remaining captive in the trunk of Dante’s armored sedan.

The interrogation room in the basement of one of Dante’s many real estate holdings was bright white—white tile walls, white tile floors, white everything, and bright fluorescent light that showed every wrinkle and pimple of this pissant asshole who thought he could kidnap a girl and a confession would absolve him.

In moments, he was strapped into place, his sweaty andgreasy face at odds with the otherwise sparklingly clean room.

“Dante, you’ve been holding out on me,” I said, standing before a cabinet full of tools that gleamed in the cool light. I slammed the doors shut. “Let’s let him sweat while we take a look at these documents.”

Dante backhanded the prisoner on our way out the door. He could sit and stew in his own juices for a little while until I had a better line of questioning than just, “Who’s your boss?”

Hours later, Dante stood beside me under the blinding lights of the white room, his eyes flicking over our captive with fury and disgust, the acrid smell of the man’s urine permeating the room. He flicked open a switchblade and sliced across the man’s face, waking him from unconsciousness.

I put one knee down in front of the prisoner, carefully avoiding the puddle at his feet and looking up into the man’s eyes. “My partner over here burned the rest of your men alive. You know how the Russos feel about trafficking, especially after what happened to Ginevra when she was a kid.”

The man whimpered. “I’ll tell you anything you want,” he said, pissing himself again.

Dante swiped a finger through the blood on the man’s cheek. “That’s what I want to hear. Who was in charge of trafficking the girls?” he asked, running his fingers along the man’s collarbone in a movement that might have been sensual had his eyes not been icy cold.

“I don’t know,” the man whined.

Dante decked him. With an audible crack, the man’s cheekbone broke, and his scream echoed in the interrogation room. I’d missed the brass knuckles he wore when he arrived a few minutes before.

“Are you sure this man is worth your loyalty?” Dante asked, his voice low and angry. “Because he’s not the one in the torture seat. You are.”

Our captive trembled, then whispered, “Sergio Accardi came back to Yorkfield a month ago, said he needed money quickly, and that he had a buyer who didn’t care if the girls were willing.”

The man babbled, spilling every thought in his head.

“Gio Costa promised Sergio he’d step aside once Sergio reestablished a steady income for the family,” the man sobbed.

Dante narrowed his eyes. “And Sergio wants to do that by opening up the market in trafficking girls?”

The man sobbed his agreement. “He thinks he can double the volume if he starts trafficking in classier girls.”

“And you were helping him do that?” I asked, my voice sharp with disgust.

Dante promptly slit the man’s throat.

“Disgusting,” he muttered, watching as the prisoner bled out. He turned to me after wiping his hands on a clean towel and said, “What a fucking waste of time.”

“We saved a dozen girls from being trafficked,” I reminded him.

“No, we stopped a dozen girls from additional trafficking.” Dante’s glare was hot and furious. “We failed to save them before the abuse began.”

I hopedto slip back inside the house and wash up before waking Sofia. To my dismay, she was already awake and dressed, sipping on coffee as Nick prepared breakfast,looking more relaxed than she had since she stumbled into my apartment after her escape.

“What are you doing up?” I asked, boldly walking up to her and brushing my lips over her forehead.

She reeked of sex. I wanted to feel jealous, but all I felt was relief that she was letting one of us back in.

Her eyes took in our blood-soaked clothing. “Learn anything?” she asked, avoiding my question.

Dante growled, “Not a fucking thing,” as Nick wrapped his arm around her and gently kissed her forehead.

“It wasn’t entirely a waste,” I said. “Twelve girls saved from being trafficked again, and we have a bin of electronic equipment for Nick’s hacker friend to dig through.”

---