“They’re here.” One of Frank’s men whispered.

 “Finally.” He grumbled, dropping his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with the heel of his shoe. The stubs of half a dozen others littered the concrete. They’d been waiting a couple hours. Frank walked across the second level of the empty parking garage they’d picked for this exchange. Along the way, he made sure his men were in place and out of sight. A little insurance and a nasty surprise for the other people if the deal went bad.

 Then he stood at attention, his back to a large black utility truck, the only vehicle on this level of the garage. Beside him was his assistant Vinny, holding a compact metal briefcase, not so subtly handcuffed to his wrist. They waited.

 A few minutes later, the sound of an engine echoed in the cavernous garage. A big white delivery truck with the logo of a major beer company splashed on the side slowly rolled up the ramp. It maneuvered around, eventually coming to a rest with its back towards Frank and Vinny. Leaving the engine idling noisily, two men got out, dressed in workman’s overalls. They walked around, stopping just bast the end of the truck.

 “You get them?” Frank asked, casually.

 One of the two nodded, pointing a thumb back. “A dozen, like you said, all choice goods. You got payment?”

 Frank nodded to Vinny who entered the combination on the briefcase. He held it up so the other men could see the stacks of crisp bills inside. One of them, the one who hadn’t spoken, started forward, a grin on his face. Frank held up his hand and, at the same time, motioned for Vinny to close and lock and case again. “First, let’s see the goods.”

 “Sure thing.” The two men turned back to the truck. A padlock was undone and the trailer door thrown upwards. While one of them started setting up a short ramp from the trailer down to the ground, the other disappeared into the dark interior. From inside came a murmuring, soft high voices moaning in fright and confusion.

 A moment later, the first of the goods appeared. She was a pretty young thing, early 20’s Frank would guess though it was hard to tell since a canvas sack was pulled over her head, leaving only a few blonde curls spilling out from the bottom. Below, her fit, young body was amply shown off by the short, strapless blue dress she wore. It’s miniskirt and the 3-inch heels likewise served to highlight her long, toned legs.

 The young woman stumbled forward, a combination of the bag and the heels she wore. As she twisted this way and that, Frank could see her hands were crossed behind her back and taped at the wrists. Muffled squeals suggested tape had likewise been slapped over her mouth beneath the hood. Awkwardly, she descended the ramp, guided by the man on the ground who dragged her into place, a couple yards ahead of the truck and stood her there.

 The first “item” was followed by more young women and girls, likewise bagged and taped and dressed for a night out in dresses and clubwear. As the last were unloaded from the truck they were lined up, two rows of six, bagged hears turning this way and that, muffled whimpers of fright echoing in the garage.

 “Not bad.” Frank said, stepping forward while motioning for Vinny to stay back with the money. Normally, it galled him, having to rely on an outside group to collect the product, but he had to admit, they’d done excellent work with this bunch, especially for a rush job. He stopped to give the first girl a closer inspection. She cringed, whimpering as she felt his hands on her, turning to a squeal as he yanked on her dress, sending it falling to the ground around her feet. Underneath, she had on a set of skimpy black lingerie. “Where’d you find this lot?” Frank comment casually, giving the captive woman’s body a brusque, efficient groping.

 “Grabbed ‘em leaving the clubs over on 5th.” The other man replied as Frank turned his attentions to the next poor girl, leaving the first shivering and sobbing.

 “Awfully close to home, isn’t it?” Frank commented. “Bit risky, pulling a big job like this in your own backyard.” He shrugged. That was the benefit of using a third party for this kind of work. It was harder to trace things back to their own organization. Even if the police did find the kidnappers, they’d get no further, especially since Frank and his men had ways of making sure the hired help didn’t squeal, one way or another.

He moved down the line, giving some girls a cursory glance and a rough patting, others a more thorough inspection of the sort he’d given the first, but he was quickly satisfied all of them here were choice goods and would fetch a good price at their upcoming auction.

Frank was just about to signal Vinny to hand over payment so they could wrap things up, when something drew his attention back to one of the captives. She was in the back row, second from the left, part of a group of four who were a bit smaller then the others. Teens, no doubt, who’d picked the worst possible night to try out a fake ID. Still, they’d sell just as well as the older slaves, better probably. This girl in particular, in the dark dress hadn’t needed more then a cursory inspection to let him know she fit the bill. But something drew his attention back to her right at that moment.

Perhaps it was the dress, which seemed vaguely familiar. Or it might have been the teen’s frantic grunting. Sure, all of the captives were sobbing and moaning as their situation sank in, but this girl wasn’t crying to try pathetically to bed to be let go. Her grunts had a more...insistent quality to them, like she had something to say and was talking to him, directly.

After a second’s thought, Frank gave in. He walked back over and grabbed the canvas hood, pulling it up. Frank gasped, a stab of horrible surprise shooting through him body. In front of him was his 18-year old daughter, Ruth, looking up, grunting something through the layers of tape plastered over her face. And she didn’t look happy...