Shaqra
Shaqra was crowded for five in the morning. The men were dreary eyed from a night of drinking. Tartus was well known and respected among Shaqra"s clientele, so when he burst in they made no fuss. He was dressed in silk pajamas stained with sweat, dust and flecks of blood. His feet were bare. He walked to the center of the bar, stood on a chair and proclaimed, “I need men! I"m paying cash!”
* * *
Gip had been driving the truck full of girls for a little over two hours before he encountered the barricade.
“What the hell is that?” Gip said, rousting Drake from his catnap.
“Looks like a road block. It"s probably just routine, but just in case, have your hand on that switch.”
“You got it.”
Gip braked gradually, taking as much time as possible so he could think. Even if this were a
