Page 51 of Deliverance

"But we have to," I agreed.

Zell's gaze flicked up to mine as though something had occurred to her suddenly. "Is Mr. Russo my father?"

I started to shake my head but then stopped. "I … I don't think so." I was almost positive Frank wasn't Zell's father, given he had said Saffron had married into the family, but I didn't think her dead husband was Zell's father either, so I really didn't know for sure.

"But you don't know?"

I blew out a breath. I could tell her he wasn't, but what if therewasa chance? "From what I've seen over the years, Mr. Russo and Madam are strictly business."

"Yeah," Zell agreed. "He's never wanted to see me."

"And plus"—I reached out and grabbed her hand—"I don't think Madam would let you sleep with your brother."

"Oh, gosh," she breathed. "I need to tell you something," she whispered.

"You can tell me anything."

Zell took a deep breath. "Frankie said that he'd get me out of here when he found out that I haven't been outside in five years."

"Really? How?" I arched a brow. A part of me hoped he would. Frankie might be the only one able to convince Frank to let Zell leave the penthouse again, even if it was just to feed the ducks, but if he tried to get her outwithouthis father knowing, it could be bad. Still, he was Frank's son, so could we really trust him? I suppose letting Zell leave would be up to Madam, though she didn't have a say the other night.

"He wasn't sure, and then he had to leave."

I squeezed the hand I was still holding. "Zell, that could be dangerous."

"I shouldn't trust him?"

"His dad owns us. I don't think Frankie is innocent in this."

"What do I do if he shows up like he said he would?"

I swallowed. "I don't know."

If Frankie showed up to get her out, I had to let her go. I wasn't her mother, and I wouldn't be able to go with her.

But Ric could.

Chapter Twenty-One

Ric

My phone rang as I got into my silver Cadillac Escalade to head to the penthouse. Looking at the screen, I was instantly confused by who was calling. "Sir?" I answered, not starting the engine.

"I need your help," Frank replied.

I blinked. "With what, sir?"

"Meet me at the warehouse."

I swallowed. "Now?" Every time I'd gone to the warehouse, it had been at night or before dawn, never in the morning or broad daylight.

"Yes." He hung up.

* * *

The vans that Frank's men used to grab women were lined up outside the warehouse, and Frank's limo was parked next to them. I pulled up next to it and cut the engine. I hated going inside the steel jail. Hated to see the women locked in the cages, knowing they were going to be sold. Hated to bring the girls back to be sold. But like everything else, I had no choice.

I pulled the metal door open, nodded to one of Frank's guards, and made my way across the warehouse toward the stairs. I didn't look at the few women who were awaiting their fates. Instead, I kept my gaze on the floor and then jogged up the wood staircase to Frank's office.