Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,83

sections appear green. Dragonflies flutter their wings around the trees growing in the water, scaling the air. Gauzes of moss hang from the branches, broken and tattered, skimming the surface of the swamp. A few heads bop out of the water, and black, beady eyes are staring at me.

Alligators.

How many women and children are thrown in the water for food? Oh my god, what if Aidan isn’t alive? What if he’s in a belly of the swamp? No, I’ve come this far. Mercy says Aidan is alive, and I’m going to believe him. I’m close. I have to have faith. I can’t give up now.

My feet crunch along the long grass, squishing against the soft ground. The driver, another Hound, leads us to the door of the haunted house.

It looks like it would be. The wood is rotten, a few boards are missing, and the windows are broken and shattered. Tarps hang on the inside to cover the deceit on the other side. The steps groan and bend under my weight as we climb up the steps. The driver knocks, and Cohen keeps a firm hold on my arm.

“Password?” a voice says from the other side of the door.

“Peaches and cream,” the driver replies, and the door opens on a painful moan, echoing all the fears this place has undoubtedly holds.

Cohen pushes me forward, and I’ll have nightmares for the rest of my life after what I see. Along both sides of the room are small dog cages, the kind someone puts in their backyard to keep their pet in. Locked inside are children.

While dirty, as I walk by each cage, they seem healthy. They have an abundance of food and water. Some are crying, others are sleeping, but they don’t seem to have been abused. They are fully dressed and staring at me with curiosity.

Hope is a foolish thing to have right now, but I feel it when I see that the children are safe and without bruises. Maybe the monsters aren’t as monstrous as I imagined. Still, these men are what nightmares are made of.

Another thing I notice, there are no adults.

“I have someone interested in a mother child duo, so this works. I never do this, but the payout is worth it,” the man leading us to the back informs the driver and Cohen. “Luckily the little brat is still here. No one seems to want a child who is broken.”

Aidan.

Oh God. I bet he’s had so many seizures.

The water beneath us splashes against the wood, and that’s when it hits me that we’re on a houseboat. The breaks between the floorboards show the rippling of the swamp beneath us, and I know there are gators under there just waiting to take a bite.

We stop at a cage to the left, and in the back is a small figure curled up in a ball on a bed of blankets. Just like a dog, but it’s my son.

“Aidan! Aidan, baby! I’m here. Mommy is here,” I cry when I see his small body curled up on the floor.

“God, shut up!” Cohen tightens his grip, and I do as he says, but the overwhelming joy is impossible not to feel. It’s been too long without Aidan.

The man opens the cage, and Cohen cuts the zip-ties from my wrists and tosses the plastic inside. The greasy old man shuts the gate, and his pointy chin reminds me of a witch, but the scabs on his face tell me he’s a drug addict. The man locks the cage in place, and his eyes never leave me. “You’re goin’ to make me good money,” he says.

I crawl over to Aidan. He’s still sleeping. I shake him awake, but he doesn’t move. I snap my head in the direction of the men who think they have the power of God. “What’s wrong with him? Why won’t he wake up?”

“He kept cryin’ and seizin’, so I got some medicine from a doc and knocked him out.”

I’m not sure if I’m thankful or terrified that the man drugged my kid. “How can you care about their health when you treat them like this?”

“I don’t touch ’em. Don’t believe in that sort of thing. I have a business to run. I got bills to pay. They are fed, taken care of, so why you bitchin’?”

“Because the people you sell them to probably do.”

“Ain’t my problem, lady.” The chain hanging from his hips jingles as he walks away. Cohen squats and tilts his head, eying me from