Cargo: A Leine Basso Thriller Read Online Free Page A

resembling a black helmet. Kylie was surprised the woman’s heavy makeup hadn’t melted from the thick humidity.
    The woman said something to the gunman who pointed his weapon at Kylie and her cellmates and shouted orders in Thai. Not sure what he’d said, Kylie didn’t move as the women began filing out of the cell. Sapphire turned back and nodded her head toward the others.
    “ Mama-san say we go.”
    “Go where?” Kylie asked, nausea rising in her throat. She didn’t like the mama-san or whoever this woman was and didn’t want to go anywhere near her.
    “Wherever she want.” Sapphire shrugged and joined the rest of the women.
    Kylie hung back, her natural obstinacy rearing its head. Terror fueled her anger, and she decided she wasn’t going anywhere, with anyone, ever.
    After the last woman had exited the cell, the remaining gunman, obviously upset that she didn’t follow orders, waved the barrel of his gun at Kylie and yelled. Kylie crossed her arms and flattened her back against the wall. Her knees shook, but she stood her ground. The words “fuck off” caught in her throat.
    The mama-san laid her hand on the gunman’s arm and he backed off. She walked back into the cell, stopping just short of where Kylie stood. Kylie was at least a head taller, but the woman’s bulk and gravitas told her she had all the power in the situation. A cloud of sickly sweet perfume engulfed Kylie and her eyes watered.
    “You go now,” the woman said in English, her eyes narrowing. “He kill you if you no do what I say,” she said, nodding toward the man with the gun. “You my property, now.” With that, the mama-san stepped away from Kylie and motioned to the gunman.
    Kylie darted to the side as he approached, intending to run past him, but he stopped her short, blocking her escape with his gun.
    In panic mode, Kylie turned away, but he seized her around the waist and wrestled her to the floor. The mama-san grabbed her legs, surprising Kylie with her strength when she secured her ankles with a plastic zip tie. Kylie screamed at them to stop and kicked with both feet. The mama-san drew her hand back and struck her hard across the face. Stunned by the pain, Kylie went mute as hot tears skidded down her cheeks. The gunman flipped her over and the woman lassoed her hands behind her back.
    Her wrists and ankles burning from the forced restraints, Kylie bit her tongue until she tasted blood, now afraid to anger either one of them. The mama-san said something to the gunman, and he dragged Kylie from the cell, taking her down the hall and into a rabbit warren of alleys.
    They continued along a passage to where another gunman stood near an open doorway. The man had a fierce expression with a deep scar running from the corner of his mouth to his ear, reminding Kylie of the bad guys in the late-night kung fu movies she’d watched with her brother before he died.
    As they drew near, she realized he was culling the women—the man with the scar would nod at specific girls as they passed and another man would pull them out of line and hand them off to someone else. When she and the gunman dragging her made it to the front of the line, the man with the scar directed them through an open doorway toward an idling van.
    Blaring horns and countless cars and scooters filled the crowded, narrow street with dozens of people racing by on their way to somewhere. No one paid any attention to them. Exhaust saturated the air, and Kylie held her breath so she wouldn’t choke. Advertising signs written in Thai cluttered the street, assuring her she was still in Thailand.
    The man carrying her shoved her head first into the open cargo area of the van. Kylie tucked her head and rolled to keep her face from skidding across the floor. She rocked to a sitting position, scuttling out of the way when another woman was pushed in after her.
    Kylie scooted back against the bare metal side of the cargo van and pulled her knees up. The door slammed closed.