Page 71 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

They worked like that for over an hour until the trailer was empty and there was a massive pile of boxes on the side of the road. The gang members were all awake now, and the team had moved them to one spot beside the truck, where they could keep an eye on them. The men were furious, shouting incoherent threats from behind their duct tape gags while wriggling around, trying to break free of their bonds.

Noah ignored them as he climbed into the emptied trailer; they weren’t going anywhere.

“Got anything?” he asked Rodrigo, who was busy tapping the walls in search of hidden compartments.

“Nothing yet.”

Noah and Rodrigo continued searching, even checking the truck’s cab to see if there was anything there, but they came up empty. On the ground, the gang members laughed at them.

“Cocky assholes,” Rodrigo muttered.

“Watch them,” Abasi said as he slid under the truck to check out its undercarriage with his phone’s flashlight.

“See anything?” Noah asked.

This was beginning to look like a waste of time. The sun would be up soon, and they had to get out of there and back to the warehouse before the roads became busier. Or someone noticed they were gone.

“Nothing yet,” Abasi called.

“Looks like Elle makes mistakes after all.” Rodrigo ran a hand through his hair, his eyes on the gang members. “I say we just call the cops and let them rip the truck apart.”

There was movement beneath the truck before Abasi appeared. His face was a cold, expressionless mask as he rushed past his teammates and into the trailer. As Noah watched, he fell to his knees and groped around on the floor. There was a click, and then a panel popped loose. Abasi ripped it away and stared into the space beneath it for a beat before springing to his feet. He stalked to the edge of the platform, drew his gun, and shot one of the gang members in the leg.

“What the hell?” Noah climbed into the trailer.

Abasi aimed again, but Noah was already moving. He threw himself at his teammate and tackled him to the floor.

“Shit!” Rodrigo joined them inside the trailer but didn’t rush to help Noah subdue Abasi, who had clearly lost his mind.

No, Rodrigo fell to his knees and began pressing the floor as Abasi had done, moving frantically along the wooden boards. There was a now familiar popping sound, and another panel came loose.

“There’s more of them,” he said. “Stop fighting and help me.”

Abasi tossed his gun aside, shoved Noah off him, and scrambled to the back of the trailer, where he pressed on the floor. Noah got to his feet and stumbled the few steps to Rodrigo.When he saw what was in the hidden compartment, he, too, fell to his knees.

It was a woman. Young. Partially dressed. Her blonde hair matted and her pale skin bruised.

“Is she alive?” Noah slid forward and reached into the shallow space to feel for a pulse.

He held his breath, waiting, hoping. “I have a pulse!”

“Me too,” Rodrigo snapped.

“And here,” Abasi said.

“Must’ve been sedated.” Noah joined his teammates in searching for other compartments.

They worked in silence. Unearthing space after space. All narrow, shallow compartments, like cheap wooden coffins, each one containing an unconscious woman. Twenty-one in total. All of the women were young, damaged, and sedated—and stored like cattle.No.Noah grimaced. Cattle were treated better.

“We can’t just phone this in and walk away.” Noah vibrated with rage. Abasi and Rodrigo didn’t look much better. “These women need medical attention, and we’ve no idea how long it will take to arrive. Do we take them out of the truck?”

Rodrigo shook his head. “Let the paramedics do that. We might cause more damage. At least now they have plenty of air.” He cast a grim look at Abasi. “How did you know?”

“Holes drilled into the underside of the vehicle.”

Abasi was the last to climb out of the truck. His gun was back in its holster, but Noah kept a close eye on him. The gang member he’d shot would live—probably. The team had done nothing to stem the bleeding from the gunshot wound to his leg, uncaring if he bled out. And yet, that was still better than they’d treated the women in the truck.

“Call it in.” Rodrigo ran a hand through his thick black hair. “We’ll wait for the cops and paramedics and deal with the consequences when they come.”