Two weeks had passed since the plane ticket incident and I was consistently making slow progress. A building had been acquired for the brothel, which was in an entirely different country than England. I had spoken to the women and men who'd stopped by Paris on their way to their final destination from Alfonso's warehouse, sans Henri, of course. I'd managed to strike a deal with all of them, granting them immediate freedom if they agreed to work for me.
Obviously I wasn't that naïve. Something other than freedom needed to be used as an incentive, so I offered them revenge on the one who'd ruined their lives. I was mostly honest and told them I'd been kidnapped and almost sent to the trafficking rings if I hadn't escaped. Part of that was true, the other part was a probability. Marco wasn't going to just give me back once he saw no more use for me. He needed to use me but had wasted time.
Sucker.
