into the hallway. “You can tell him to go to hell.”
She didn’t attempt to escape when Zane led her to his Hummer and opened the passenger door for her. She knew it would be wasted energy. He was infinitely faster than her, and by the looks of it mean enough to inflict pain should she not comply with his wishes. She wasn’t in the mood for physical pain right now – the emotional pain she felt was hard enough to cope with.
And there she’d thought she was falling in love with Oliver. Oh God, how stupid! And all the while he’d been deceiving her as to his intentions. At the first opportunity, he’d ratted her out to his colleagues. How could she have been so wrong about him?
“I need some more information from you. How many guards were on the premises?” Zane asked as he set the car in motion.
“There were always four of them guarding the top floor where we all lived and where they fed from us. But there were more of them.”
“How many more?” Zane insisted.
“At least seven or eight others. They rotated in and out.”
“And how many girls besides you?”
She hesitated. “Why do you want to know that?”
He tossed her a sideways glance. “Because I need to know what we’re dealing with.”
Unease crept up her spine. How would he use this information? To plan what to do with the girls? Where to set up shop once Scanguards had “freed” them?
“I asked you a question.”
“I don’t know how many.”
He clenched his teeth. “Talk, or I’ll make you talk.”
She had no doubt that he would, and she also knew that she had no strength left to fight him. “I can’t be sure, a dozen, but there’s one girl I hadn’t seen in a while. I can’t be sure that she’s still alive. And two new ones arrived recently. But I think it’s twelve.”
“All Chinese?”
Ursula nodded.
“Good.”
Then Zane fell silent. Clearly he wasn’t the type to make small talk. And luckily she wasn’t in the mood for it either.
During the rest of the short drive, she stared out the window. When Zane pulled the Hummer to a stop only a few minutes after they’d left Quinn’s house, she took in her surroundings. They were parked in front of a large corner building. It had four floors from what she could tell, and it looked like it was built around the turn of the century, or maybe a few years after it.
Zane motioned her to exit the car. Ursula closed the car door behind her, then looked at the large entrance door. Next to it, a brass sign was affixed to the wall. When she reached the door with Zane by her side, she read it. Executive Services, it said. Zane rang the door bell while she wondered what kind of business was located behind those elegant doors.
The intercom crackled. “Yes?”
“Zane for Vera.”
The buzzer sounded, and Zane pressed against the door, holding it open for her. Hesitantly, Ursula stepped inside. An elegant and opulent foyer leading up to a majestic staircase greeted her. To her left there was a lounge of sorts from which soft music and voices drifted to her. Along the right side, she noticed several doors.
Ursula followed Zane as he walked closer to the large staircase that dominated the far end of the foyer, her eyes still scanning her surroundings. As she walked past the lounge, she slowed her steps and focused her eyes. Women in revealing dresses sidled up to men who sat on comfortable chairs and sofas. She honed in on one couple. As the man drank from his glass, the beautiful black woman next to him draped her leg over his thighs, rubbing his crotch.
Ursula’s gaze whipped to the people who sat on another sofa not far from them. A similar picture presented itself. The woman was opening the man’s shirt, slipping her hand inside, while he, in full view of everybody, pushed the spaghetti strap of her dress off one shoulder and palmed her suddenly exposed breast.
Ursula turned to Zane and glared at him. “Ohhh! You brought me to a brothel! How could you?”
Not even from Zane would she have expected such cruelty, but apparently her skill at assessing people sucked. Zane was that cruel to bring her to the same kind of place she’d only just escaped from. That here, the merchandise was sex rather than blood didn’t matter. It was still the same thing.