”
They hesitated. Ten thousand cash right now versus the risk of driving to Denver with a girl who’d already tried to escape at least once based on the bruises.
I counted it out. Slowly. Making sure the girl saw. Making sure she understood I was buying time, not buying her. But she didn’t know that. She just stared at the money with dead eyes.
“Deal,” the leader said. He grabbed the cash. “She’s yours. But word of advice—keep her drugged. She’s a runner.”
They walked away. Got in the van. Drove off. I memorized what I could. White Ford Transit. 2018 or 2019. Dent on the left side. Broken taillight.
Then I turned to the girl.
She backed away. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m not going to.”
“You just bought me.”Continue reading…
