Page 44 of Fight for You
“Don’t bullshit me, Liam. If the club is running girls against their will, it’s called human trafficking. You’ll go down just like the rest of them. Doesn’t fucking matter how old you are,” I mutter, laying out the cold, hard truth. “You don’t get to deny people basic human fucking rights and walk away from it unscathed. If they're underage, it's going to be a whole lot fucking worse for you. Your best option is to fucking cooperate.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, trembling. “He has a couple who are fifteen or sixteen, maybe.”
Rage rips through me hot and fast.
That dirty motherfucker is running teenagers. Goddammit.
I shouldn't have left him alive back then. I should have killed his sorry ass before I left town.
I clench my jaw, fighting back the wave of fury rolling through me. "You know the girls?"
Liam shakes his head.
"Let me see your phone," I order, holding out my hand.
He eyes me for a second and then pulls his phone out and unlocks it before dropping it into my outstretched hand, his eyes wary.
"You're going to find out who they are," I tell him, plugging my number into his phone under the name Grover. If Kaleo checks his phone, which is doubtful, he'll be straight. Grover means nothing to Kaleo. "When you do, call Grover."
"Man, I don't know…"
"You want to go to jail?" I bark at him.
He shakes his head.
"Then find out and call me." I hand his phone back to him before pulling a stack of bills out of my pocket. Quickly calculating the street value of his supply, I peel off enough to cover the cost and hold it out toward him. "Here, take this."
He glances at the money and then at me.
"You want him to know you're talking to the DEA or not?" I ask, shaking it at him. He's not getting the drugs back. He can either take the money for them, or he can figure out how to explain to Kaleo that he doesn't have his drugs or his money.
Liam's smarter than he looks. He takes the money with a muffled curse.
"If he asks, you sold his shit to some little bastard with more money than brains," I instruct and shove the baggies into my pocket along with my cell. I tip my head to the side, silently telling him to get the fuck outta here.
He studies me for another minute and then beats feet. I watch him go, fucking seething with fury.
I warned the motherfucker seven years ago what would happen if I ever found out that he was running girls. He really should have heeded my warning. "Swear to Christ, I'm going to fucking demolish him," I mutter to myself before slipping back into the shadows to make my way back to my girl.
Chapter Eight
Cade
Then - Age Nineteen
"Titan, you're such an asshole!" January yells so loudly I hear her from the street.
"What the fuck?" I mutter, my eyes widening. I jog up the steps to their house just in time for something to crash against the wall inside. I yank the door open without knocking to find her and Titan facing off in the living room. Titan is on the far side of their old sofa, with January standing next to the television stand on this side, a remote in her hand. There's another in pieces at her brother's feet.
"Put the goddamn remote down, January," Titan growls, scowling daggers at her. There's a red mark on his cheek that looks suspiciously like a handprint.
"Stay out of my room and out of my business!" she shouts right back and stomps her foot. She lifts the remote over her head to throw it at him.
I take three quick steps in her direction and snatch it out of her hand before she can launch it at his head. Wrapping an arm around her waist, I pull her to me. She fights me, trying to break out of my hold as Titan rattles off a string of curses.
"Calm down, little monster," I murmur in her ear, worried she's going to hurt herself trying to break free of my grip.
She immediately stops fighting me and huffs. And then she cries out in alarm.