Page 44 of Dynamo
“And if I have to use my hand, I don’t give a fuck. But we’ve an attraction.”
“Wasn’t aware you were so imaginative. Guess that’s where your girls get it from,” Dynamo shot back.
I stepped nearer, considerate of her personal space and remaining careful not to touch her. “You and me, it’s going to happen. Don’t know when or where, but it is.”
Dynamo inched closer, and I froze. This closeness could trigger a panic attack. Mindful of her possible triggers, I placed my hands behind my back.
Awareness of my action shone in her eyes, and there was surprise too. “Think what you will. But I never want to ever fuck a man again. In fact, I’d rather cut his cock off.”
Dynamo stepped away and held my gaze before walking towards the house.
“More than one way to have a relationship,” I yelled.
Dynamo whirled a finger in the air and disappeared. A smile crossed my lips. There was nothing more I enjoyed other than a challenge, andDynamo had just thrown one down.
For the next few days, Dynamo managed to avoid me. As the girls were off school until Monday, they came with me to the temporary headquarters. Shit was hitting the fan as several of those who’d been arrested and then freed thanks to smarmy lawyers were now having attacks of guilt. Three of the assholes had come forward and declared their own wrongdoings. They weren’t only admitting to the slaves they’d bought but murder and a multitude of other crimes.
Jude had sent two teams to different countries to bring victims back. So far, thirty had been recovered. Ten had died in slavery, including a thirteen-year-old girl. There was a special hell for men like Winson. The scandal was everywhere, and the media were drowning in new revelations every hour. Little did they know, there was more to come.
So far, everyone had confessed on Romeo’s schedule. It was amusing how you could see they didn’t want to confess but couldn’t stop their mouths. Two had taken to social media to announce their guilt, and it spread like wildfire. The police were at their door within the hour of the live admission.
“Hey,” Jude said, sitting down opposite me.
“Gage and the others back?”
“Yeah. They delivered eight women to the hospital.”
I nodded. That was something else hitting theheadlines. Cops couldn’t go into a country and retrieve trafficked victims. Nothing was stopping us. Dead or alive, we’d brought them home. Forty victims, with hundreds more out there. This had been going on for over two decades. I dreaded to think of the death toll.
“Nice. Bodies?”
“Three. They were delivered to the morgue. Gage found them exactly where Winson said.”
“Christ.” I tipped my head back.
Caleb had been working with Cipher. Caleb wasn’t me, but he was on par with Cipher. We’d discovered an online spreadsheet with victims dating back fifteen years. They were both tracing them and trying to discover who posted it. Another asshole, Roger Jackson, had given us the lead and his logs.
Noah Myers, a local detective who’d had all this land in his lap, was working with us. He admitted it was against policy, but he wanted the victims rescued. As far as Myers was concerned, his boss could suck his dick.
“I’ve got the next two targets,” I said, tapping a map.
“Columbia—not surprised. How many are there?”
“Twenty-three.”
Jude shook his head. “We’re hitting the tip of the iceberg.”
I bit my lip. “Vermont. Exclusive whore house. Forty-nine. All taken to order.”
“Fuck!” Jude roared and picked his glass up and threw it. “The youngest?”
I closed my eyes. “Twelve.”
Jude’s fist slammed into a wall. “Who?”
“Calvin Cox.”
“Can we get to him?”
