Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139147 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 696(@200wpm)___ 557(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Two,” she carried on. “Why would you nab sex workers and strippers?”
“Because less people might notice them gone, or less questions would be asked when they are gone,” Harlow replied.
“That, for sure, but why?” Jessie pushed.
I should have added to my Angel posse a long time ago.
I knew this for certain when we all answered at the same time, “Human trafficking.”
I couldn’t say I hadn’t considered this too. They were buzzwords because it was a problem.
I just never allowed myself to go there, not to the “why,” because if I did, it’d hark way too close to what might have become of Macy.
But I couldn’t turn away from the “why” anymore.
I had to face it.
And that was really our number one possibility.
Okay, it might be time to hand this over to Clarice.
Or Cap.
I wasn’t sure where Nightingale Investigations and Security stood on pro bono criminal investigations. Considering how swank their office was, and the cost of what had to be a custom sculpture of a phoenix, my guess was, they weren’t big fans.
So it would be Clarice.
“Where are we going now?” Harlow asked.
“To go see Jinx, our girl on the street,” Luna told her.
“Right on,” Harlow muttered, like this wasn’t her first rodeo, when it was.
Luna took us to Sun Valley Motor Lodge and we parked.
I gave a crisp salute, and Luna gave a finger wave, to the dread night manager, Mr. Bad Mood, who was wearing his normal scowl with his eyes aimed our way, doing this as we headed to room number eight.
Luna knocked and called, “Jinx. It’s us.”
“Get in here, bitches,” she called.
We went in.
And we nearly ran into each other as Luna, in the lead, stopped dead.
I knew why.
Divinity wasn’t there.
But five other women, plus Jinx, were.
“You bitches are multiplying,” Jinx remarked, eyeing Harlow and Jessie.
“You’re one to talk,” I replied.
“Close the damned door,” one of the women said.
We shuffled fully in, and Jessie closed the door.
It wasn’t a big room, and since our hosts had taken all the places to sit, we lined up just inside the door.
“Dylan, Natalie,” I indicated each in turn, giving them their code names on the fly (I’d done my Angel research too), and seeing as they were semi-kinda second generation, I went with the movie, “this is Jinx and her friends. Jinx and her friends, this is Dylan, Natalie, Jill, and I’m Kelly.”
“Charlie’s Angels. Huh,” one of the women, a light-skinned Black lady in a pink wig who was sitting at the head of the bed, mumbled, putting it together surprisingly quickly.
Outed.
Whatever.
“Persia, Genesis, Cameo, Skyla and Lotus,” Jinx gestured to each woman, giving us their street names.
Pink wig lady was Persia.
At their monikers, which kicked ass, I wondered if we should have gone the stripper name route rather than the Angels, because, as just had very recently been proved, the Angels were obvious.
“You really walk up to that asshole’s house and demand his Rolex?” Lotus, a white woman with fake breasts and a belly-button piercing, who was lounged back in one of the chairs by the window, inquired.
I was seeing why we suddenly had assistance from these ladies.
“Extortion isn’t that easy,” I educated. “His wife was home, and I laid on the doorbell about thirty seconds too long. His wife was worried about who was at the door. If she wasn’t there, we’d be fucked.”
“Dope,” Lotus replied.
“Why are we here?” Luna asked Jinx.
“Divinity’s missing,” Jinx answered.
Oh snap.
I hadn’t had time to peruse the Republic the last few days.
Did I miss the report?
My girls looked at each other.
Jinx’s girls looked at us.
“Are there more women missing than are reported?” I asked.
“How would we know?” Skyla answered. “If I disappeared, no one would report me.”
“I would,” Cameo said softly.
Skyla gave her a surprised look, then her face gentled.
Aw.
“You need to find Jumper,” Persia told us, taking us out of the moment.
We turned to her.
“Jumper?” Luna asked.
“Jumper. Think his real first name is Guy. Don’t know his last,” Persia said. “He was banging Bambi.”
“You mean her boyfriend? Jazz?” I asked.
Persia busted out laughing, turning to her girls.
“Jazz,” she said, his name shaking with her hilarity.
“More like Jizz,” Genesis said.
“More like Numnuts,” Cameo put in.
“Jackass.” That was Skyla.
“Meathead.” Persia.
“Mutt.” Lotus.
“Cabrón.” Jinx.
This was familiar, and Luna and I exchanged a smile at the wonders of the sisterhood.
“Right. Jazz. Jumper. Numskull. Whatever,” Jessie put in. “Is this guy Bambi’s boyfriend?”
“Numnuts,” Cameo corrected.
“Yeah, whatever,” Jessie returned. “What’s with this guy?”
“Probably a coupla reasons you don’t give your real name to some stupid bitch you’re porking,” Jinx said. “Even your street name.”
In other words, so the cops don’t know who they’re looking for, and therefore can’t find him, when that “bitch he’s porking” turns up missing.
A shiver slithered up my spine, because that smacked of premeditation, not crime of opportunity.
“Know where to find this guy?” Luna asked.
“Thought that was your job,” Persia noted.