Page 5 of Savior
“Let me do something for you.” She almost pleads. I glance up from her hand into her pretty emerald eyes. “I owe you for-”
“You don’t owe me shit.” I tell her, and I mean it.
She blinks back at me. “You saved me.”
“Any decent man would have done the same.”
Her rosy lips press together for a moment, before she speaks again. “Then you’re the first decent man to cross my path in three years.”
I try not to scowl at her words. Not to think of how many men she’s had to do things with, that used her for their own selfishness… Then left her behind afterwards, for another to take his turn. My stomach churns and I swallow down the bile that wants to rise up my throat.
“There are two things you can do for me, doll.” She looks up at me curiously. “First and foremost, you can tell me all about that place they kept you at. Everything you know about the man in charge of you girls.”
She nods. “Behind the roadhouse, there’s a couple of trailers set up like cheap motels… worse than this place.” She begins. “That’s where we meet the Johns. When we aren’t… on dates… He keeps us locked in the cellar below the bar. There’s a door with a padlock on it, beyond the corridor on the opposite side of the bar… Our rooms are down there, when we aren’t working.”
“How many girls?” I may have to hotwire a cage, depending on her answer.
She shakes her head again, a slightly pained look in her eyes. “Just me, as of two days ago... The other four were moved. I don’t know where to. They don’t keep us too long in one spot. He took a liking to me though… I’ve been there a while.” She swallows before she continues. “It’s a small trafficking ring... sort of an underground pitstop. He makes money off us while he can, before the next transport is arranged.”
Damn. “So, this prick, he’s the head of this little lay-over operation?”
She nods. “He’s the President of The Devils’ Scorpions MC. They call him Asmo. Asmodeus, actually. But you need to be careful. There’s another club that frequents the bar. I think they’re dangerous, because he always dismisses me to the cellar when they’re headed over, like he doesn’t want this MC to know about us.”
“What club?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen them. All I know, is they supply him the drugs he uses on the girls who aren’t…” she stops talking, letting her words hang between us. I simply nod. I get it. She doesn’t have to finish her sentence. They supply the drugs for the girls who aren’t as compliant. Fucking scum. I’ve got a good idea from that reputation alone, which MC’s that might be. There are a few of them out this way. Dealing hardcore drugs is one thing, but human trafficking, especially of children, that’s a whole other level of low. If this Asmo prick is hiding the girls when they come around, that other MC probably isn’t even aware of his secret little operation.
I leave the bathroom door slightly ajar as I dress, so that I can hear her go on about specific details of the place. The layout, number of MC members, weapons, cameras, dogs, etc. I’m familiar with the front bar where she propositioned me after serving me a beer. By the time I’m fully dressed and step back out into the room with her, she’s told me all she can.
“What happens now?” She asks, peering up at me as I adjust the sheathed bowie knife at my hip.
“I send Asmo to Hell.”
She swallows again, but her eyes don’t look afraid. “What are you going to do with me?”
“Offer you a place to stay. I could use a little help at a roadhouse I own back on the East Coast. There are small rooms attached to the same building. Pick one. Live there. Nobody will bother you.” I say to her. “You’re a little young to legally bar tend, but the place is big. The girls back home could use another hand keeping shit in order and tidy around the club house. That’s all we’d ask of you.”
My cell buzzes on the bed and I watch her pick it up to look at the screen. The corners of her mouth curl up slightly. “A Viking is texting you.” She almost giggles for the first time since I met her days ago. “He wants to know where you are, if you’re okay.”
At least Viking gives a shit about me. “My Brother. We’re members of The Saviors MC out of North Carolina.”
She gives me a curious look, her thin brows pinching close together. “You don’t have much of an accent. I wouldn’t have known. You’re far from home.”
“I do a lot of traveling. I’m a bit of a nomad lately.” Anything to put some distance between Lucinda and I, if I’m being honest with myself. “This is a business trip.” I casually shrug, joking. I can tell she wants to smile a little more.
“On a motorcycle?” her tone is inquisitive. I only nod in response. The details aren’t anything she needs to know about. “What brought you to the Devils’ Scorpions roadhouse?”
“Chance.” Maybe fate. I don’t know. Though, I’m glad I wound up there. This girl needed to be rescued. And Asmo needs to be put to ground like I did his men.
“Does your wife know you’re in a crappy motel with a prostitute?” She asks.
“No… And that’s not what you are. That’s not even what you were.” I move to the dresser to grab my gun and check the magazine. Two rounds left. Gonna need to reload and grab my silencer. “Text Viking back, that all’s well. That I’ll be back in a day or two.” I tell her.
“You look like you’re getting ready to leave me here again.” She says, watching me move about the room.
“I am.”
“We can just leave together… Asmo will never think to look for me in North Carolina. I’ve never been to the East Coast. He’ll just cut his losses.”
