The Billion Dollar Contract
They wore clothes that were too thin for March, their skin pale with cold or fear or both, and when the light hit them, they flinched back like beaten animals.
My knees almost gave out. Almost. But I locked them, forced myself to stand, forced myself to breathe through the horror. The wire was recording this. Recording everything. These women's faces, their terror, their violation.
"This is what we move, Mrs. Blackwood," Alexei said, his voice still conversational, still calm. "Women. Girls. They'll work for my associates in the Midwest. Brothels, massage parlors, private clients. Very profitable. Very reliable income stream."