beam of his flashlight barely lights up the doorway. I push past and look inside.
“Christ!” My heart rate quickens before I can force it back to its slow, plodding pace. The veins in my temples bulge as fury fills me. “Fucking pigs.”
Max follows me into the room. He orders me to tell him what I see.
“It’s a procedure room.” My nose wrinkles at the stench. There’s more blood here than in the other rooms. Layers of dried blood pool on the floor beneath an examination table. It tells the tales of multiple victims enduring unspeakable acts.
“Well? What do you think?” Max watches me closely. Like the rest of the team, he’s aware of my personal connection to this mission. They all know Zoe’s mine.
“It’s a gynecologic exam table.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” He spits on the ground. “Expound on that.”
As team medic, my medical skillset comes in handy in the rare instances when one of us needs a little patching up in the field, but there’s no reason for my medical skills here.
The back of the exam table is set at an incline. Two metal poles with heel cups extend from the end. Unlike a normal GYN exam table, this one comes with shackles. Shackles bolted at the high end for the chest. Shackles to secure wrists a little lower down. Another runs across the hips to hold an unwilling patient as they thrash. Finally, there are two more straps at the feet.
“What were they doing? Rape?” Max growls.
“Could be.” I echo his rage. “The table definitely places a woman in a vulnerable position, but I doubt their customers would pay for damaged goods.” I glance around the filthy room, looking for anything that might explain what they did in here. “Check the trash can.”
Max heads over to a waste container. Instead of checking, he picks it up and brings it back to me. I’m smart enough not to reach inside. Who knows what might stick me and transfer disease.
Disease?
My eyes narrow and I pull out my knife. Using that, I dig through the contents.
“You seeing this?” My question isn’t for Max, but for Doc Summers watching from command.
“Yes.” Her crisp voice tightens. A tough cookie, nothing phases our indomitable lead physician.
“See what?” Max peers into the trash can.
“Those are STD kits. Tests for gonorrhea, chlamydia, and…” I sift through the contents. “IUDs? Doc, am I correct?”
Static over the coms crackles then clears. “Looks like they tested the girls for sexually transmitted diseases and inserted IUDs.” Her voice softens. “At least that answers one question.”
“What’s that?” Max turns the can over and dumps the contents on the floor, spreading them out. He does this to send better pictures back to base.
I glance at the trash and count IUD wrappers. “Looks like thirteen.”
“Sixteen chlamydia swabs. Thirteen IUDs.” Doc Summers confirms. “I’d mark that at sixteen victims.”
“Not thirteen?”
“If some of the girls already had IUDs, they wouldn’t place a new one.”
“How fucking considerate.” My stomach twists. They want the pleasure of raping their victims without the unwanted side effects pregnancy brings.
“Search the place.” A new voice rumbles through our comm channels. Forest Summers’ deep baritone is unmistakable and elicits an ass-puckering gluteal clench.
What the fuck is CJ’s boss’ boss doing on Overwatch?
My team worked with Forest Summers on an operation in the Philippines that went to hell in the blink of an eye. We’re a bit sensitive about that particular failure.
That had definitely been a FUBAR moment. We lost the head of our organization. I’m surprised we weren’t all fired on the spot. A couple months later, we redeemed ourselves and rescued him in a brilliantly executed raid, but still, that’s not something a person ever forgets.
Forest continues, “There must be something that says where they took the girls. See what the prisoners have to say.”
“With pleasure.” Not a fan of torture, per se, I love a good interrogation.
“We’re on it, boss.” Max gives a nod. All final orders come from him. I tap the button for the team only comm channel. “Alpha-four, we need to know where they took the girls.”
With Forest Summers’ interest in the mission, need means necessity.
“Copy that.” Griff loves getting his hands dirty.
If we can get the intel we need, we might be able to salvage this operation.
Three
Zoe
I wake to violent jostling followed by the sensation of the floor rising beneath me. The upward climb stops with a sudden jerk. Then we free-fall. Our screams end in a heart-wrenching, bone-jarring lurch moments later when the shipping container jerks.