“What do you do with the girls here when you’re—” Travis sneered and almost spit out the words. “When you have no further need for them?”
“This guy Carlos usually buys them from us. Pays”—he stopped as a spasm of pain shook him—“five thousand a girl. He runs his own permanent business down south.”
Travis grabbed the photo from his pocket. He’d checked all eight rooms for any signs of Darcy. Seven girls, all drugged up on God knew what. But no Darcy. “This girl. Where is she?”
He blinked and squinted at the picture for a minute. “She wasn’t here long. Just long enough for us to contact the boss, let him know she’d arrived. They took her to another place to wait f-for the sale.”
Travis leaned down and pressed the gun against the guy’s package. “Where?”
The guy squirmed, trying to get away despite whatever pain it caused him from his bleeding leg. “I told you! Shit. The less we know the better. All I know is the sale goes down tomorrow. I don’t know where. We never do. They change. It’s usually held by seven, maybe eight, and the girls are sent off with the buyer. But the boss has some big party thing to go to, so we’re delaying it until midnight.”
Travis looked at him another moment, meeting the guy’s wide, panicked eyes. It was likely as good as he was going to get. With a smile, he fired the gun. And missed. Intentionally.
The spread of urine gave Travis a little satisfaction, but not as much as when he clocked the guy with the butt of the gun and he crumpled over.
Travis had to find Meredith and get out of here. He did a head account. Four guys. He’d taken out, in one way or another, four guys. One was missing. The goddamn cowboy.
Who’d had a hard-on for Meredith since he’d seen her.
Damn it. He raced to the stairs. If that guy did anything to her, he wouldn’t get any warnings before Travis fired.
…
H
e’d dragged her across the room as she kicked and screamed, trying to loosen his grip on her. But the son of a bitch was stronger than she’d given him credit, and her fight had done little to deter him. She’d been helpless then, pinned against the wall, her wrists held painfully above her head. Trying to figure out how she could distract him when the inescapable sound of a gun firing had them both whipping their heads to the door.
“What the—” he started.
Not wasting a moment, Meredith took advantage of his confusion and brought her knee up and into his groin. The guy bent forward and Meredith used the inertia to bring her wrists down, breaking his hold. Still clutching her cell phone, she smashed it against the guy’s nose.
He fell back, moaning and holding his hands protectively over his groin.
The sound of sirens approaching reached her at the same moment that Travis burst into the room.
He looked down at the pathetic lump on the floor, disbelief and relief on his face.
Meredith was shaking, her body suddenly cold. That shot…
“What happened? Did you find Darcy?”
The pained expression that crossed his face didn’t bode well, and her stomach lurched. His warm arms wrapped around her just as her knees went out from under her.
She let him hold her as he explained what he knew until the cops came in and the whole place turned to chaos.
Chapter Twelve
It was close to two in the morning before Meems pulled her Jeep into Meredith’s driveway to drop them off. With her car stolen and Bonnie probably halfway to Mexico, Travis had called the irritatingly adorable and brilliant computer genius to pick them up, certain that she would probably be awake and willing to help.
Meredith nearly had to bite off her tongue to stop from asking him how he knew the hours the woman kept. It wasn’t her business. He could take up with whomever he wanted.
At least, that was the lie she was telling herself.
Fortunately, through her fatigue, disappointment, and irrational jealousy, Meredith had the wherewithal not to take it all out on the woman. Even when every instinct begged her to snap when Meems had asked the ridiculous question of how Meredith was feeling. Instead, she’d managed to smile and politely respond that she’d been better as she slipped in the backseat, even though that had to qualify as the world’s biggest understatement.
With Travis sitting shotgun, he and Meems spent the drive home discussing the property records he wanted her to research to see if there was any connection between the owners of the club and the house. Maybe see if the owners had any other property in their name that might lead them to where Darcy was being kept. But Meredith was barely listening to them. She was too exhausted and numb, the taste of disappointment still bitter in her mouth.
She had been so certain they were going to find Darcy tonight. Bring her home.