Days had passed, and still no information.
It was a s*x-trafficking ring—that much I’d gathered, but why was I the only one? And why was I still there? I listened in to every conversation I could, faking sleep for inside information, but there was nothing.
Marco was in charge. He said little to me, barely even acknowledging my existence. He directed those who were there and fielded a few phone calls.
Domenico showed up late in the afternoon, with what looked like a case of sports drink under one arm and a duffel bag in the other. Marco took the case from him, and he passed by, not even looking at me as he headed to the crowd of men who were playing a game of poker. From what I could tell the one named Joey was winning handily, so much that the others were claiming that he was cheating.
