“Same at the front. No one in. No one out.” Marcus wasn’t usually a man of many words but on ops, even less so.
“The cellar door is still barred from the outside. No one else made it past the indoors crew,” Aarav reported.
With the immediate threat eliminated, and Marcus’s eyes on the access road to make sure no reinforcements showed up, their attention turned toward the more important part of their mission. Making sure the victims were safe and well taken care of.
Ransom called for the medic. “Kennedy, we could use you in here. Brace yourself. I wish I could kill these fuckers again.”
Nolan hung back, letting Sola approach the freaked out survivors in their area. “Hey, you’re okay now. We’re not going to hurt you. We want to help you. Get you somewhere safe. Where you’ll never have to dothisagain. Assuming you don’t want to. And certainly never under these conditions.”
She waved toward the dirty mattress in one of the rooms. He discreetly scanned every woman, man, and child, angling his chest so that he fed their images back to the Shields’ headquarters for their records.
None of them were the woman he was looking for.
Now that the critical moments had passed, James’s voice was a lot less sure and somewhat vulnerable when he asked, “Does anyone see my sister?”
“Negative,” Ransom replied.
“Not me.” Aarav sounded like he hated to confirm it.
Sola called Laurel’s name as she checked a clump of women who’d hid in a bathroom. When she emerged, she shook her head. Nolan cursed then tapped his comms, hating to deliver the crushing blow to his friend. “I’m sorry, James. Laurel isn’t here.”
A whoosh of air was followed by several long seconds of silence.
“Okay. I guess that’s good, right? Besides, we knew it was a long shot.” James couldn’t quite disguise the disappointment in his voice.
“Don’t give up.” Jordan, the owner of Shield Security Services and their undisputed leader, probably had settled his hand on James’s shoulder at their command post in the mountain mansion Jordan lived in with his husband and wife, which used to serve as their temporary headquarters. Now that they were growing, James had taken on one final construction project overseeing the erection of a multi-story building that would include planning space, an armory, a gym, and adjoined apartments for their agents in Middletown. It would probably be less plush but way more convenient in the long run. Besides, they were more like family than co-workers, and staying together would only cement the bonds that helped them excel under intense conditions like these. “None of us will stop, James. Not until we find her or information about what happened to her at least.”
Nolan grimaced. He knew what Jordan was really saying. They wouldn’t give up until they’d found Laurel or discovered where someone had hid her body—and put them in the ground for it.
He thought again of the artist’s rendering of the woman Laurel would likely be today—high cheekbones, melancholy yet proud eyes, and a strong chin that erased any misplaced sense of her delicacy. He’d long ago learned to trust his gut in this business. And his instincts were screaming that Laurel wasn’t as far away as James might think.
They just had to keep searching and helping as many other people like her in the process.
“You’re looking for Laurel?” asked a pale woman, older than most, wrapped in a stained blanket. “Wavy brown hair, about this tall, same age as me?”
“Yeah.” Nolan tried not to act too interested lest he spook her. “Her family is hoping she’s safe. They love her very much and want to know she’s okay.”
“If that’s true, what’s her baby brother’s name?” The woman stood a bit straighter, defiant despite her circumstances.
James gasped on the other side of the comms.
Nolan grinned thinking of James as baby anything. He was cute as hell but a full-grown man. “James. His name is James.”
The woman blinked and a single tear rolled down her cheek. “I haven’t seen Laurel in close to ten years. But last I knew, she was working at Heels outside of town, earning her way out from under Draven. No one ever makes it. She knew that, but she said she had to try.”
“The strip club?” Not that Nolan had ever been to that particular establishment, but their briefing for the op had included it since it was part of Draven’s network and one where shady shit happened.
“Yeah. Once the women here age out…” She shuddered. “Anyway, if they’re pretty enough and haven’t been broken, sometimes theygraduateto the club. Draven says he’ll give them a job so they can pay off their debt to him and go free. He skims most off the top. Charges them for costumes, makeup, a place to stay, food, all that. It’s a waste of time and most either end up here again or…give up. I don’t know what happened to Laurel. But she never came back. I knew she wouldn’t, one way or another.”
“We can work with that. That’s great information. Thank you.” Nolan’s arms ached to hug their informant, but he was afraid she wouldn’t derive any comfort from the touch of a stranger, so he simply nodded instead. “If you go with Sola, she’ll make sure you’re safe, have clean clothes, warm food, and transition you to our friends from a shelter that’s equipped to set you up for success in whatever it is you want to do next. This nightmare is over for tonight and forever. No buyouts. No bullshit. Okay?”
“Who are you?” the woman asked, more tears streaming down her face. “Who would just…let us go? Help us? After all this time?”
“We’re the Shields.” Nolan smiled at her, nodded, then pivoted on his heel, not wanting to waste a moment. Once Draven got word of what they’d done here, who knew what he’d do next to protect what was left of his empire?
“Boss, I’m going to check out that club.” Nolan hated the thought of returning empty handed, seeing James—who’d come to be a friend in addition to a co-worker over the past few months—heartbroken, even if he had a sexy husband and wife to console him properly.
“Now? On your own?” Sola raised a brow at him.