Ms Patriot: The Heroine Trade (Chapter 3) (Patreon)

Chapter 3

“Ivan Chekov,” Jennifer muttered, reading off her monitor. “Russian mafia, specializing in human trafficking.”

Jennifer Jade sat at her desk high atop Jade Tower, wearing a cobalt blue mini-dress, dark pantyhose, and matching heels. All haute couture, of course. She felt safe in her place of power, where she controlled her vast financial empire. The beautiful CEO sat prim and proper, back straight, nylon sheathed legs crossed. Perfect posture as she worked diligently trying to find her lost protégé, and the evil men who kidnapped her.

She shook her head as she read Chekov’s five page long rap-sheet. How were men like that allowed to not only remain free, but live luxurious lives? Anyone who so much as looked at him could tell he was pure evil.

“Where is he now?”

None of the sex slavers she and Patriot Girl had fought that fateful night had been Russians, but they were part of the same gang. They answered to Mr. Chekov. The Russian’s prison mugshot on screen had him with a shaved head. His eyes were dark and cold like a pit viper’s. His body large, muscular, and powerful looking.

Reading further, she saw he’d escaped the Siberian prison five years earlier and was last seen in London one month back. The same night as four HM6 heroines went missing: Britannia, Vanity, Opal, and Scream Queen. He was the prime suspect in their disappearance since they were on a mission to capture him and his gang.

“Wow. That was the same night as Patriot Girl’s disappearance.”

Considering the time difference between the US east coast and England, they both happened about the same time.

Her heart hammered as memories of that dark night returned. She still couldn’t believe she failed her protégé so badly. It took two weeks to even determine who’d spirited the perky blonde nineteen year old away. Not King Pimp like she’d originally thought. No. It was the human traffickers. They snatched Patriot Girl away from the pimps in all the chaos of that fight.

“And they sold her on a Dark Web auction the next night,” she whispered, tears welling up. “Poor thing has been a sex slave for a month now, and I still don’t even know what country she was shipped to, much less the name of the man that bought her.”

Her beloved sidekick was wallowing in misery as she sat there. Maybe in a Bangkok brothel, or even a Sub-Saharan brothel. Or some Russian oligarch could’ve added her to his harem. Hell, she could still be in the US, just being kept hidden by some perverted billionaire with a super heroine fetish.

She continued her search, reading up on other members of the same gang of human traffickers. There seemed to be links to at least two Chinese Triads, as well. Could Patriot Girl be some Chinese billionaire’s plaything? Maybe in Hong Kong, or even Beijing? A Triad sex slave?

Heart racing, she sat back and did her breathing exercises to calm down. It took several minutes, but she finally got control of her emotions. Sometimes it all overwhelmed her while thinking about her protégé’s fate.

“All my fault. I should’ve gone straight to her when the tables turned,” she said. “What was I thinking?”

Her face heated. She dropped her eyes and grimaced, all of the feels consuming her again. Shame. Humiliation. Rage. Angst. They all hit her so hard at once. After a few, her baby blues lifted back to the screen, then cut to the time in the lower right corner.

“It’s after six,” she whispered, then glanced at the window. It was still light outside, but she could see the sunlight was starting to dim. “I should go home and suit up. See what I can find out out on the streets.”

So far, her informants had failed her. She even slept with two of them to encourage them to greater efforts, to no avail. All she got was the slavers were still in the city, still kidnapping mostly hookers and strippers. Taking women the police and society didn’t care about. Disposable women.

People are despicable.

Jennifer stood, standing tall as she smoothed down her body-hugging outfit. After closing her laptop, she flipped waist-length raven-black hair back over her shoulders, picked up her purse, and headed for her private elevator. Her car waited in the underground garage. It would take forty minutes to drive home. Jade Manor was north of the city, just beyond the suburbs, in a very exclusive enclave of billionaires.

Her ancestral home had been there in one form or another for over a hundred and fifty years. She still owned thousands of acres of virgin forest behind her home, while the other billionaires had move out there just a dozen years back to create that enclave.

Their arrival complicated her coming and going as Ms Patriot, but she was resourceful and adjusted.

Pressing her right index finger to the scanner, she accessed the elevator. Only her fingerprint worked.

“I vow I will find those white slavers and put them in prison where they belong,” she whispered as the elevator dropped down toward the basement. “I will not rest as long as even one of them is free to terrorize young women.”

The elevator doors opened to a loud ding. Opened straight into the garage, since she was the only one allowed the use it. Two security officers guarded the elevator and her car. Added since Patriot Girl’s capture, since it was remotely possible they could get her to reveal her mentor’s alter ego.

“Good evening, Ms Jade,” Officer Tanner said, tipping his cap to her. “Have a nice evening, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Tanner,” she said, striding past him, heels clattering loudly in that enclosed space. She looked past him to her car. The Tiffany blue Mercedes Benz waited in her assigned slot, but a black utility van was parked to the left. It was rare another vehicle was allowed to park next to her car. “Where did that van come from?”

It was parked with the sliding door right next to her driver’s side door. So Jennifer couldn’t see inside, but it looked empty.

“Not sure,” Officer Carter said, standing behind her car. “It was here when we came on duty two hours ago.”

That meant the previous shift allowed it to park there, or weren’t doing their job and some visitor took that slot while they weren’t paying attention. She made a mental note to speak with her head of security the next morning.

Walking between the two vehicles, she gave the van a dirty look. It showed her a major lapse in her personal security. Not good. Then she reached out and the door unlocked as soon as her fingers touched the handle with a loud click. Before she could pull and open the door, the sliding door on the van flew open with a metallic crash.

Jennifer cried out, whirling around to face the now open door right there less than a foot before her. Four large men lunged out at her. In sheer panic, the busty billionaire lashed out with a roundhouse. Thank the goddess she was wearing a short skirt, and not her usual tight pencil skirt. The kick pushed the guy on the end into the next man over and caused a domino effect. That gave her time to race away toward the back of the car. Officer Carter cried out and charged into the gap between the cars, coming to her defense.

Or so she thought.

“Not so fast, Little Girl,” he laughed, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her off the ground.

“Let me go!”

“No can do,” he laughed. “We were paid a lot of money to ensure you were captured by these boys.”

She froze. Her breath caught. They betrayed me?

Officer Tanner rushed up, pulled her arms back, and locked her wrists into handcuffs. She struggled, tugging futilely. Jennifer couldn’t break free of those handcuffs even if she was wearing her power belt. But depowered, she was no stronger than an Olympic class athlete. No match for six men.

“Good job,” one of her would-be kidnappers said with a thick Russian accent. “Give her to me.”

She slanted a look back at him, studying his familiar face through tousled hair. It still took a moment before she placed a name with the face.

Mikhail Popov! She thought. Russian mafia. One of the human traffickers I’m looking for!

Jennifer’s blood ran icy cold. Had they extracted her secret ID from Patriot Girl?