Free Sold into Slavery by Claire Thompson Page A

sparkling silver eye shadow.
    Finally, using a small brush dipped into a pot of rouge, Alex painted Leah’s pink nipples to a dark rose color. Next, she was led to a large wardrobe set against the far wall of the bathroom. A white silk robe, so sheer it was see-through, was draped over her shoulders.
    “The steward will inspect you for flaws. If you please him, he may invite you to dine with him. If you displease him…” The guard trailed off, and Leah almost thought she saw him shudder.
    This involuntary action, more than anything he could have said, caused an icy rivulet of terror to trickle along Leah’s spine. She had a horrible feeling her punishment would go far beyond just being denied the chance to share a meal with this steward person. She knew she’d damn well better please him, whatever it took.
    In fact, she was certain her very life depended on it.

Chapter 6
     
    “I tell you, Reg, I’m worried sick. I think something’s happened to her.”
    After another fruitless visit to the local police, Devin called his longtime friend, Reggie Smith, who had lived in Thailand for the last decade and owned a string of convenience stores that specialized in British and European goods. They agreed to meet at a local pub that was a favorite among the British expats in Pattaya. Reggie had ordered lunch for them both but Devin had no appetite.
    As Devin began to relate the story of the missing Leah and his suspicions that there was foul play afoot, Reggie joked, “I know you’re god’s gift to women, Dev, but could it be the lady found a better offer? Did that even enter your egotistic mind?” He quickly sobered as Devin filled him in on the details, including the fact Leah had now been missing for at least twenty-four hours.
    “Wait a minute. Which hotel did you say it was?” Reggie asked, narrowing his eyes.
    “The Pattaya Gold. I’ve been staying there while I closed a beachfront deal.”
    “The Pattaya Gold, huh?” Reggie squinted at the ceiling, pursing his lips. “That name rings a definite bell. Let me just check something.” He pulled out his smart phone and busied himself for a few moments while Devin stared at the untouched food on his plate.
    Reggie looked up from his phone. “I thought so. That’s the one that was in the news last year. An American woman by the name of Jane Erwin disappeared from that very hotel. Caused a big stink in the international community. She’d checked in alone—her husband was to join her later in the month, once he’d finished up some business or other—but she apparently checked out four days after she’d arrived, according to the staff. Disappeared without a trace. The local police, notoriously corrupt, couldn’t find a single lead. The husband, at his wits end, hired a local private investigator who I happen to know, but I don’t think the guy made much headway either. Odds are pretty good she was sold off to one of the sex rings that run rampant in this country. Either that or she’s dead.”
    “Oh my god. Do you think that’s what happened to Leah?” Devin heard the panic in his voice.
    Reggie leaned forward, his expression serious. “These sex traffic rings are insidious. They mostly focus on local girls—girls who won’t be much missed, or whose families need the money so badly they just hand them over like chattel. But every once in a while you see a story in the paper about a European or American disappearing. Probably for every one that makes the news, there are two dozen others never reported.
    “I’ve got to do something. I’ve got to find her! The police—”
    “I wouldn’t waste any more time there,” Reggie interrupted. “I have a better idea. You should contact that PI I know—see whatever happened with that case. Maybe he could provide some direction.”
    “What’s his name?”
    “George Sirir-something or other I could never pronounce. Wait a second.” Shifting, Reggie reached into his jacket and extracted a long, narrow