Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Human. Fucking. Trafficking.
Unreal.
My stomach churns as I see sale after sale of women and children from all over the United States, Mexico, and even Canada.
They. Sell. People.
The knowledge of this hits me with a wave so strong and so powerful I stand up and run to the bathroom to empty all the wine and whatever is left of the ham and cheese sandwich from earlier. All of it ends up in the bottom of Preacher’s toilet just as the front door opens.
“Gia! You still here?”
I flush the toilet and rinse my mouth with the sound of Preacher’s heavy motorcycle boots sounding on the hardwood floors. I step out of the downstairs bathroom just as he turns the corner and glare at him.
“I’m still here for now, but I won’t be for long, you fucking rat bastard.”
Inside my chest, my heart is full-on galloping. I’m nervous to the point my hands are shaking because I am angry and disgusted, and honestly, I feel like a fucking fool all over again.
Maybe I’m not as good a judge of character as I think I am.
Preacher sighs in that patient way of his that, at this moment, aggravates the fuck out of me.
“What did I do to make you upset while I was gone, Gia?”
I let out a loud, harsh bark of laughter and shake my head. “Yeah, go ahead and gaslight me. Make me think that I’m the one with the issue.”
“Right now, it seems like you are the one with the issue.”
Oh, that deadly calm pisses me off even more. “I know, Preach. I know what you and your brothers are into. Don’t even pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He sighs, and in that moment, he looks tired. “Gia, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Be specific or be quiet.”
Damn, I hate that deep, commanding tone because it turns me on. My nipples go hard almost instantly, and my body shakes at the dark, slightly annoyed look he sends me.
“Trafficking, Preacher. That’s what the fuck I’m talking about. Human. Trafficking.”
Just saying the words makes me sick to my stomach and instantly, my arousal fades into righteous anger.
“Got nothing to say now, I see? You going to traffic me too? Is that why you brought me here? To test the wares?”
His jaw clenches, and his eyes darken. He’s the picture of barely contained rage, and for some reason, I’m not afraid. I’m still furious and waiting for whatever pretty words he thinks will make me forget this horrible revelation.
“The Reckless Souls doesn’t fucking traffic anyone. Not ever. You shouldn’t trust everything you hear.”
“Yeah,” I agree and get in his face. I step closer and poke his hard, wide chest. “I shouldn’t believe everything I hear, and I don’t, including what comes out of your fucking mouth!”
“Gia,” he growls, and the sound reverberates from the tip of my finger all the way down my arms and legs before pooling between my thighs.
“Don’t bother trying to come up with a reasonable explanation either because there is nothing you can say to explain it away.”
His calm demeanor is so damn frustrating it makes me want to scream.
“So, you don’t trust me?”
“Give me one reason I should?”
“I haven’t given you one fucking reason not to trust me, Gia. Every single time you throw a tantrum I come after you. When you throw yourself in harm’s way, I’m there to save you. So, please, tell me who else you should trust more than me.”
I laugh again, and it’s mostly sarcastic that he thinks so highly of his place in my life.
“Sure, Preacher. You’ve saved me a time or two, but make no mistake, there is only one person in the whole goddamn world that I trust. Ro.”
He blinks, and his spine stiffens. “So your friend told you my MC trafficked humans? Who is her source?”
“There is no fucking source, Preacher! I saw it for myself with my own eyes.” I brush past him and bump his shoulders with a grunt as I make my way to the living room.
“Gia, stop.”
His words stop me, and I turn to face him. “I was doing some digging on the dark web to see what else I could find on the Iron Kings, figuring I could use some leverage if—or when—they finally come after me for real.”
He steps in close enough that the smell of his cologne snakes into my nose and buries itself in my brain. “And?”
“And I saw it for myself. Women and children up for sale by the Reckless Souls. I. Saw. It.”
“You’re wrong,” he says because what the fuck else is he gonna say?
I shake my head and attempt to go around him, totally fucking done with this conversation.
“I’m not wrong, and I’m also done with this conversation. It’s getting us nowhere.”
I take the stairs up to Preacher’s bedroom two at a time, eager to get my shit and get the hell out of here. I toss what I have in the duffel bag, realizing I have to get the rest of my clothes from the dryer before I leave.