Page 58 of Stand: Part One

“Right, s-sorry, of course,” he stuttered as he finally found his feet.

Ricky followed me out of the lobby, ushered into place by my guards who kept him close behind me while Scott walked at my side. Rounding the corner to the back of the motel, I clocked the idling SUV parked nearby and headed for the old rusted door that led into a nondescript utility room. Behind the water heater was another door that led to the basement level.

We opened the unlocked door and descended the steps to enter an underground communal area where several young women had gathered. Three of them sat at the kitchen table, two were feeding their toddlers, and the other five sat on the leather sectional in front of the large-screen TV. I suspected the other six were busy doing their jobs. Someone was going to have to fill them in later. I wouldn’t want them to miss this incoming memo.

Most of the women ignored us without a second glance as we passed them in favor of the doorway at the end of the hall. Stepping into the office, my guards closed the door behind us as I moved to stand behind the computer.

“Pull up the account,” I told Ricky, nodding at the computer screen.

He sucked in a heavy breath before swallowing it down and making his way over to the desk, plopping his ass into the chair. When he finally had the account up, I leaned over his shoulder, making him even more visibly uncomfortable.

“Scroll down,” I ordered and watched for the specific transaction to come into view. “Stop,” I said, then pointed at the screen. “Explain that.”

Three hundred thousand dollars had been withdrawn from the account two weeks prior without my authorization to a car wash company just down the street—a company that Ricky’s girlfriend had recently purchased.

“I-I don’t know. I didn’t authorize that,” Ricky exclaimed. “I didn’t even know money had been moved.”

“You didn’t know?” I pressed. “You mean, you haven’t been monitoring the account?”

“I-I guess I missed it.”

I cocked a brow. “You guess you missed it? Ricky, I don’t allow you to run this operation with the exception of being sloppy. This should have been caught, addressed, and brought to my attention the very same day.”

“You’re right, I a-absolutely should have done that. I’m s-sorry I didn’t. I’ll pay better attention from now on.”

I rolled my eyes at the groveling. “It’s not just the lack of oversight. It’s the carelessness of leaving the account open for your girlfriend to steal from me.”

Ricky’s brows furrowed in confusion as he visibly paled again. “Wait, what?”

“We already saw it on the security cameras. She was here while you were checking the account. Then when you left the room to go handle the fight in the hallway, Britney took that opportunity to send herself a little early Christmas bonus.”

Ricky’s face went from white to green in an instant. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry. I’ll contact her right now and get this fixed. I promise, I’ll get the money back, I swear.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ve already taken the liberty of correcting the problem. Come and see,” I said, motioning for him to follow me back into the hallway.

Returning to the communal room, two more of my men stood beside a fifty-gallon metal drum they had carried inside while we were in the other room.

“Everyone gather around,” I ordered to the rest of the women in the room. “There’s an important lesson to be learned today.” Tentatively, they all rose from their seated positions and flocked around the drum. “I’d like you all to understand what happens when you fuck with my business.” Nodding, the lid to the drum was opened.

Audible gasps and cries shot through the air as the surprise was revealed. Britney’s bludgeoned and severed head was piled at the top of the rest of her severed limbs, blood and grime covering every inch of her exposed skin. The scene was already grotesque enough, but I think the smell really sold the show.

“Oh God,” Ricky murmured as he came face-to-face with what was left of his girlfriend’s body.

Britney had been a decent recruiter at first, promising each one of these girls who were more than down on their luck a better life than the one they were living.

She’d find them on the street, befriend them, earn their trust, then slowly bring them into the fold. She promised them a place to stay where they would be safe and cared for, where they could earn a living and eventually get back on their feet.

It was an easy sell, so easy, we didn’t even have to keep them locked up—because they simply had nowhere else to go. They were convinced they’d be arrested for prostitution if they went to the police, and not only that, but they would be putting their own family’s safety in jeopardy.

We took great care in ensuring there were no other alternatives for them, that leaving would be a grave mistake, and they were far better off here than out there.

“Let this be a reminder of what happens when you bite the hand that feeds you. We give you housing, food, drugs, security, even protect your kids from CPS, and all we ask in return is that you earn your keep while keeping your mouth shut. Is anyone else having difficulty with that concept?” I said aloud, staring down each one of them. Through quiet tears and uneven breaths, they all shook their heads, cringing with fear as they eyed the woman in the drum. “Good, then we’re all done here.” Turning to Ricky, who was still eyeing the drum, I placed my hand on his shoulder to catch his attention. “Find a new recruiter before the end of the week,” I told him, then turned away to head back up the stairs, annoyed I had to waste my time here at all.

This was the simplest of operations to run, and Ricky was starting to outlive his usefulness. The motel was the easiest place for trafficking, and I had about a dozen of these setups all over the state. The automatic check-ins and check-outs, third-party reservation systems, non-mandatory registration and identification, and guest privacy allowed the buyers complete anonymity and allowed us to easily wash the money through the motel revenue.

With the location being right off the highway, the number of truckers we got on a daily basis was so highly lucrative that we didn’t need to solicit much online, which would otherwise open us up to the potential problem of cops pretending to be buyers. So long as we kept up appearances, we had a very booming business.

I sighed as my phone vibrated in my pocket for what felt like the tenth time in the past hour. I pulled out my phone and a grimace formed on my face. The caller ID displayed the name of the last person I wanted to deal with right now. But at this point, it was inevitable. I was honestly surprised he’d waited this long.