Detective Billie McCoy groaned. A vile aroma drifted into her numbed awareness, drawing her from the sanctuary of sleep. She rolled her head to escape it. Free of the stifling odour, she settled. Although her sluggish body wasn’t ready to wake, her mind stirred with the unexpected stench. She was having trouble gathering her thoughts. Why was that? Despite the misty cloud smothering her senses, a vague recollection of the bush sat in her last memories. 

As her awareness sharpened, the aches from hard boards beneath her grew. Was she lying on a table? Or maybe a floor? 

The smell suddenly returned, intruding into her thoughts and drawing her out of her slumber. Billie jerked her head away. Her eyes shot open. For a minute, she stared blankly at the shape looming above her. Its poised hand held a small bottle; smelling salts. Her focus honed in on the face, and instantly her blood turned cold. 

Bland. 

A well-muscled woman in her forties, Bland’s dark, oily, bob-styled hair clung to the rounded face; her neck hidden beneath a double chin. Tattoos of crouching tigers stained the tight biceps on each arm under the rolled-up sleeves of her blotted army shirt.

It took all Billie’s willpower to control the shock gripping her, to hold back the fear and panic threatening to take over. The events and horrors of recent days flooded her mind. Billie had found herself caught up in a ring of human trafficking, organised by Bland’s associate, Captain Joseph Bates, Chief of Missing Persons, a member of the very same police force Billie worked for in Sydney. Billie and six young women, all fresh out of prison and carrying a strong dislike for cops, had found themselves kidnapped and whisked away in the back of a truck, travelling north under the cruel reign of Bland. Having been sold to a sheik at the end of their journey, Billie had managed to escape. Freeing the three remaining prisoners, she and the girls had hijacked a vehicle and fled for their lives, until they’d been ambushed and fired upon with tranquiliser darts, which had led to their recapture. Billie suddenly recalled Bates and Bland making their appearance moments before she’d passed out. Damn it. Of course they’d been behind the trap. But how had they found them? How did they know they’d be on that road? 

Her stomach tightened as she came to terms with this grim predicament.

“Hello, McCoy,” Bland said in a quiet, controlled tone. “Thought you could outrun us, did you? Well, this is our country, and we have friends where you wouldn’t believe. Breaking out was the biggest mistake of your life. And then to kill the sheik’s best girl, well . . . that was probably your second biggest mistake. He is very, very upset with you.” 

The detective kept her facial expression blank, hiding her struggling emotions and willing herself to stay calm. Something wasn’t right. She couldn’t believe how composed this usually loud, intimidating, and oversized monster acted. Bland was too composed. Billie lay motionless and met the woman’s unfriendly gaze with an impassive expression, offering no sign of weakness or distress that might feed Bland’s ego.

Bland’s dark eyes narrowed. Her voice hardened as she spat out her next words. “You made us out to look like fools, and for that, I’m going to make you wish you were dead.”

Anger and loathing burst through Billie’s initial shock. Sitting forward in a sudden lunge, she grabbed a fistful of Bland’s shirt with all intentions of pushing her out of her face. Only then did she register her hands were cuffed. Before she could shove Bland back, a pistol appeared centimetres from her nose. Billie froze. Her focus jumped to the .38. The small, ominous hole of the barrel staring her in the face carried a powerful message. She looked back into Bland’s savage eyes, ignoring the twisted grimace fixed upon her ugly features.

“You think I’m that stupid?” Bland sneered. “You have a lot to answer for, and if you want to start now, go right ahead.”

For a long moment, the two stared at each other. Slowly, Billie let go of the shirt and sank to the floor, resting her head on the hard boards. 

“That was a dirty trick with the truck,” Billie said with distaste. Set up to look like it had lost control, an old Bedford truck with a flat tyre had smashed into a tree and taken up the entire road, forcing them to stop and setting them up for the ambush.

“It worked though, didn’t it. We got want we wanted.” Bland’s sneer softened to a smug smile. “When we heard about the brother and sister hiding you down in the caves, it was only a matter of time before you surfaced. Thanks to our good friend, Mr Smith – you met him at the truck with the boy.” An evil grin lit up her face. “He explained there was only one road out of there that met the main highway, and as he knew the area so well, he was very keen to assist us. Yes, it was worth the wait for a few days in the bush. We couldn’t let our biggest trade simply drive off into the sunset.”

Billie didn’t answer. The last thing she wanted was to fuel Bland’s sick, twisted mind with any added conquest. 

Bland rested the gun under the cop’s chin and went on in a quiet voice, each word enunciated to emphasise them. “Seems you’ve been quite busy since you left us. When we called in to ask our friend Sergeant Wilford if he’d seen you, we were shocked to hear he was dead. My! We couldn’t believe what you’d been up to. And killing poor Karlib was near on as bad,” she scolded in a singsong tone, her stare unwavering.

Billie couldn’t deny she was surprised Bland was so informed. She knew Wilford? Shit. Obviously she knew a few others as well for her to be so up to date about him and Karlib. 

After their escape, Billie and the girls had followed the road right into Wilford’s rundown, pathetic town. The Sergeant had shown his hospitality by throwing the girls in a cell on false charges. On learning of Billie’s self-defence skills, he had then forced her to fight the local legend, a brawny aboriginal called Karlib. Both opponents had been armed with a spear tied to their wrists; it had been a vicious battle.

Again, Billie hid her feelings.

Bland continued. “The whole town is in mourning and is still very, very mad at you. What a pity we can’t hand you back to them, to let them have their revenge.” Bland smiled and shifted her weight, sitting back off the detective without altering the position of the pistol. “You know, they told us all about the fight . . . how you’d picked up some new injuries…”

The gun moved. In a slow drift, it traced down Billie’s left arm, for a moment resting lightly on her wound. Bland watched for a reaction. When none came, she pressed harder. The detective couldn’t stop herself wincing. Bland smiled and moved the gun on, tracking it downwards.

“You have to look after yourself now that you belong to the sheik. Maybe that little point slipped your mind. He is awfully anxious to have you back, you know.”

The gun rested on her wounded thigh. It took all Billie’s concentration to prevent herself reacting to the torment. When Bland pressed harder on her cut, she sucked in a slight breath. 

The big woman smiled. “I’m afraid you’ve upset him though,” she said, easing the pressure off the cop’s leg. “Mm, very much so. You see, killing his girl near on shattered him, but, then again, I’m sure you’ll be able to make it up to him.” 

In a blur, Bland lifted the pistol and rammed the butt hard into the cop’s cut ribs. Billie cried out with an agonising groan. Rolling onto her side, she curled up with her eyes shut tight, every breath expelled in grunts as she fought against the excruciating pain threatening to make her pass out. The blow was hard enough without having a major cut across her ribs.

“Oooh, silly me,” Bland said superficially. “I didn’t realise you were so sore.” 

Billie didn’t reply; she couldn’t. She fought to keep Bland in focus.

Bland grunted a short laugh and stood up. With a contented sigh, she lifted her gaze and looked around the room. The innocent action set Billie’s nerves off. Shit, the girls! Were they here too? As if on cue, a moan sounded. With Bland out of her face, Billie had a better vision of her surroundings. Sucking in short gasps, she lifted her head and looked around in a fleeting glance. Four walls surrounded her. The timber shack had been thrown together with odd-sized logs in their rough and raw state. It had no furniture or windows. The narrow gaps between the logs helped circulate the air against the heat. 

The three girls were sprawled around the floor of the room, one at the foot of each wall. Even in the dull light and after days of travelling, their beauty shone through. It was clear why Bates had chosen them. 

Sarah Jones lay opposite Billie, cuffed and secured with half a metre of chain attached to a large steel ring fixed to the floor. Only now did Billie realise she was secured in the same manner. The tallest of the group, Sarah’s short black hair set off her attractive fine facial features.  

To Billie’s left, Casey Reynolds slept. Thick, cropped blonde hair fell just above her shoulders. The wild, untamed cut carried a natural wave. A lengthy fringe hung down around a lightly tanned face. Billie knew from the brief time they’d shared together that a smile from Casey sparked prominent dimples in her cheeks.

Jane Walker lay to her right. Jane’s ‘girl next door’ image portrayed a subtle beauty to catch any man’s eye. Thick, brown, shoulder-length hair enhanced her dainty face. The button nose and thin lips were complemented by a clean, fresh complexion. Long eyelashes protected her closed eyes.

Jones moaned again. Concern ate away at Billie. She lowered her head, panting hard while watching the girl stir.

Bland returned her gaze to the detective and sighed. “I would so enjoy going to town on you McCoy, but, unfortunately, I’ve had orders to lay off. After all, you’re sold now, and the sheik wants you back in one piece. Pity.”

Billie’s fuzzy mind fought to overcome the torment hounding her. Bland’s comment stirred her reserves, motivating her to find the strength she so desperately needed to override the pain. 

Bland continued. “But as for this lot...” Turning, she ambled to Jones while keeping her gaze fixed on the cop. Billie tensed. She didn’t like this at all.

A grin sprang to Bland’s lips. “Well, it’s open slather.” Without a downward glance, she kicked Jones in the stomach. The girl cried out, curling up with short, sharp breaths.

Billie watched in horror. Jones was in big trouble. Bland was here strictly to cause misery, to throw her weight around, no matter who got hurt. Gritting her teeth, Billie rolled onto her knees. She gasped. A glance at Jones inspired her to keep going. With her cuffed hands supporting her tender ribs, she managed to sit up. Breathing hard, she leant forward to help ease the throbbing that came in waves. Somehow, she had to stop this bitch. Jones’ life could depend on it. 

Bland walked around Jones in slow steps, looking at her victim with a sour smile.

“W–what the hell d–do you w–want, Bland?” Billie gasped.

The big woman’s attention returned to her. The smile broadened. “Why, whatever do you mean?” With her stare locked on the cop, she kicked Jones in her lower back. Jones yelped a sharp cry and arched her back in pain. Every breath rasped through her lips. 

“Leave her a-alone,” Billie demanded, terrified the bitch wasn’t going to stop. 

Bland’s slow walk carried her around in front of Jones. She turned and faced Billie. The smile dropped. “Are you telling me what to do, McCoy?” she spat through clenched teeth. She kicked Jones in the ribs. The girl groaned again. She curled her knees up to protect herself.

Billie was at her wit’s end. Her gaze shot from Jones to Bland, locking on the big woman’s beady eyes in a challenge. The sneer was back on Bland’s face, demanding an answer. Hatred washed through the detective. It gave her strength – not only strength but a clearer outlook to the problem at hand. This wasn’t working; it wasn’t the right approach. Bland only wanted her to beg her to stop. Until she heard that, she wouldn’t let up on Jones. And this crazy woman could easily kill her if she wanted to. It was in her nature. Billie prayed the greedy side of Bland would hold her off – Jones wasn’t worth anything to them dead.

“No,” the cop quietly stated in response to the question, forcing her tone to remain calm. “Just let her be, okay? If you k-kill her, you’ve blown a few grand, right?”

Bland gave a slight, unconcerned shrug. “Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

Billie tensed at the cold, calculating words. Had she left it too late to succumb to her wishes? 

A wicked smile lit up Bland’s face. After a drawn-out moment, the big woman sighed. 

“Okay, McCoy, I’ll let her off. But remember this, if you give me a hard time, just one little ounce of trouble, I won’t stop next time.” The dark eyes narrowed. “Do you understand?”

Billie nodded. “Yes.”

“Good.” With no more to say, Bland turned and strode out, slamming the door behind her. Billie watched her leave, her hatred boiling over. She glanced at Jones who was still gasping in pain. Her eyes were closed tight, her face twisted in agony. Her hands clasped her stomach in an effort to ease the suffering. Unable to help her, Billie turned her attention to Jane and Reynolds. Both were coming round. It was all the time she could give them. She couldn’t hold back her own pain any longer. With Bland gone, the throbbing in her ribs consumed her, washing over her in persistent waves. Billie lowered her head onto the wooden floor and dropped onto her side. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, willing her body to relax. 

Moments passed before Jane’s quiet nervous voice broke the silence. “What’s going on? Where are we?” 

“I don’t know,” Reynolds said groggily, her tone just as strained. 

Billie briefly opened her eyes. Both girls were sitting. Reynolds crawled as close to Jones as her chain would allow. 

“Sarah? Sarah, what is it? What’s wrong?” No answer met her. “Shit.” Concern strained her voice. “McCoy? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Billie gasped, without opening her eyes. 

“What happened to you two?”  

“B–Bland.” 

An icy silence followed.

“Shit.” Reynolds’ voice was laced with fear.

“But . . . how? How did they find us?” Jane’s voice shook with disbelief.

“I don’t know, but they were definitely waiting for us. That truck was a setup. They put it there to get us to stop.”

“But . . . but how did Bates know we’d be coming along that road, at that time?” 

“I don’t know.” Reynolds’ voice turned to anguish. “Hell, we were almost out of here, almost home!”

Billie looked up at the girls. She could hear the hopelessness in their voices. “They knew–Wilford. The others filled them in. They’d been waiting–a few days for us beside the road.”

Both girls stared wide-eyed. 

“Shit.” Reynolds sat back on her haunches and gripped her head with her cuffed hands, as if to stop the words sinking in. “Well, that’s just great, isn’t it. Damn it!”

Billie watched her, hearing her distress. There was no denying it was a big hurdle to get over but, hopefully, once the shock settled, she would get over it and then be free to think pro-actively. The cop rolled onto her knees and attempted to kneel. A cry escaped her lips. She sank back down onto her heels, riding the pain with short, shallow breaths.

“I take it Bland’s still pretty upset with you,” Jane stated.

Billie looked at her and then Jones who gasped from the pain.

“She knows she can’t touch me. I’m already sold. That’s why Jones copped it. It’s Bland’s sick way of getting at me.” Billie returned her gaze to the two listening girls, delivering the rest of Bland’s ultimatum. “If I play up, she takes it out on you three.”

Except for Jones fighting to catch a breath, a heavy hush engulfed the room. Jane shook her head.

“Oh, really. Well, if she can’t touch you, why are you in so much pain?” she questioned, a touch of anger creeping into her voice. 

Before Billie could answer, Jones gasped from the floor, “McCoy? Was that B-Bland who c-caved my ribs in?”

Everyone turned to her. Her eyes were open, looking across at the detective. Billie gave a nod. 

“Yes.”

“Sarah, are you all right?” Reynolds anxiously asked. She looked her over, the worry painted across her strained features. Jones gingerly rolled onto her knees and sat up nursing her stomach. Her breath came fast and hard. She glanced at Reynolds and nodded.

“Yeah, I’ll live.” She dropped her gaze and stared at her cuffed wrists. “Shit, it’s starting all over again.” Her head shot up to meet Billie’s gaze. Her brow tensed in a reflective frown.

It surprised Billie. What had she done to deserve such an accusing stare?

“You knew,” Sarah said. “You knew something was wrong when we f-first stopped at the truck, didn’t you?”

The words stunned Billie. That’s what this was about? The uneasy feeling she’d had in the van before they’d been caught, warning her something wasn’t right? At the time, it hadn’t warranted enough significance, but now, it was an entirely different matter. Unsure if Jones was passing blame her way, Billie found herself on the defensive. 

“I didn’t know for sure.”

“But–you–knew something wasn’t right, didn’t you?” Jones insisted through her torment. 

Billie held her gaze, studying her resolute face plagued with twinges of pain. Jones wanted an answer right or wrong – not just an answer, but the truth. Blame wasn’t the issue here. The detective glanced at Jane and Reynolds. They looked just as curious. She sighed and turned to Jones. 

“Like I said, I had a bad feeling. I wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

“It doesn’t matter. You still knew something was wrong,” she maintained firmly. “Had we listened, maybe we could’ve prevented this.”

Billie shrugged half-heartedly. Jones had a point but it was too late now. “Maybe, maybe not. Bates’ trap was pretty much foolproof.” 

Jones nodded. “It still may have given us a better chance than we had, right?”

Billie struggled to understand where Jones was going with this. Her persistent questions seemed frivolous. “Jones, I really—”

“Yes or no?”

Billie hesitated and considered the question. She nodded. “Possibly, I guess, a small chance but I doubt if—”

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” she cut in over the top of her.

Billie stopped, watching her. It wasn’t worth pushing. What was done was done. 

Jones lowered her head. 

Billie exhaled. Rolling off her knees, she dragged herself to the wall and leant against it, stretching her legs out in front of her. Resting her head on the rough timber logs, she closed her eyes and took the time to think. Hindsight could be a real guilt tripper all right. Was Jones right in what she’d said? Bates had set such a fail-safe trap. Who was to say she would have sprung it anyway. How could she have contended against a dart gun? 

Reynolds sighed. “Bloody hell, they’ve really got us this time. No way will they let us out of their sight.”

“Hey, come on. We’ve broken away before, we can do it again,” Jane said, somewhat hesitantly.

“No, not this time. They’ll be expecting it. We’ve got no chance.” 

“There’s always a chance,” Billie said quietly, casting her a glance. Reynolds’ negativity was too strong for her liking. She badly needed her to keep her hopes up, to focus on how they were going to make it out of this mess.

“The hell there is. Even if we did get away, they’re never going to give us up. Shit, they’ll follow us again, all the way into George Street if they have to, just so we don’t blab our story and blow Bates’ cover.”

Billie lifted her head off the wall and looked her in the eye. “We’ll just have to be extra careful then, won’t we. Come on, don’t give up yet, you never know what’s ahead. I thought you’d appreciate that by now after what we’ve been through.”

“Ha!” Jones blurted, the sarcasm strong. “The cop’s great philosophy.”

Billie’s gaze shot to her. Instantly, she recognised the bitter tone that so regularly reared its ugly head. Disappointed Jones had turned on her so readily, Billie watched her haul her bruised body across to the wall. Jones fell into it with a gasp. She closed her eyes against the pain, resting a hand on her ribs. 

“Casey’s right. They’ll be on our backs the whole time.”

Billie refused to give in to her rising scepticism. “So what then? We just give in and let them take us without a fight? There is always a way out if you look hard enough.”

“Bullshit! Not this time,” Jones snapped. 

Before the detective could answer, the door opened. Billie dragged her gaze from Jones and rested her head against the wall, fighting her frustration. She had to keep the girls’ spirits up or they would lose out. Once hope was gone, so was everything else. Billie watched as the visitors entered the room.

Bates, Smith and two men walked in. In his late fifties, Captain Bates carried the same confident air Bland had. Short and plump, his rounded, beach ball face was clean-shaven. A thin strip of grey-flecked hair ran around the lower part of his bald head from ear to ear. As usual, his clothes were bright and contrasting.

Smith wasn’t as presentable. Encumbered with a large beer belly, a wild bushy beard and long oily hair accentuated his unkempt appearance. The two men standing behind him like dogs on a leash had to be the hired help. Scruffy looking with lean builds, their faded jeans and T–shirts were stained with dirt and grime. The stubble on their faces and lust in their eyes only added to their feral appearance. 

The party stood inside the door looking the girls over. Bates cast a careless glance at his prisoners. A smile tugged on his lips. 

Billie met his gaze with a blank expression, scarcely giving the other three a look. Her hatred was for the slave trader, and it had grown in intensity. 

“Well, I hope we have all recovered.” Bates said, his gaze roaming over the watching faces. It settled on Billie. “We outsmarted you this time, McCoy.”

She fought down her disgust. “You’re such a hero, Bates. It was a sick trick. Nothing short of what I’d expect from you.”

Bates sniggered. He strolled closer and bent over her, positioning his face in front of hers. “You’d better believe it,” he snarled with venom. “See, you won’t be getting away from me this time, you hear me? I am taking you back one way or the other, by whatever means I have to. I’ve had enough of your games, and you’ve wasted enough of my time. If I have to keep you drugged the whole way, don’t think I won’t do it. If I have to sacrifice one of your companions to keep you in line, don’t think I won’t do that either. Are you hearing me, McCoy?”

Keeping her face blank, Billie’s mind raced as she assessed how serious he was. Would he go to the extent of sacrificing the girls? Sacrificing his profits? It was hard to say.            

Bates chuckled. He straightened. 

The thought of Bates believing he was untouchable fired Billie’s emotions – threat or no threat. As he turned away, she hooked her feet around his right ankle, the leg he’d put his weight on. Pulling hard with one foot, she pushed with the other. The leg was yanked from under him. The boss man plunged to the floor.

Her unforeseen actions instantly started a chain reaction. In the back of her mind, Billie knew she was in a lot of trouble, but that was the price she was willing to pay. She’d started this; now she had to finish it.

The instant Bates hit the hard floorboards, Billie slammed her heel into the side of his jaw. The impact threw him over on his stomach with a heavy thump, leaving him too dazed to move.

The two men with Smith jumped forward. Billie buried her foot into the closest guy’s crotch, crippling him on the spot. He moaned and doubled over, sinking to his knees gripping his manhood. Using the heel of her sandal, she slammed him across the jaw, driving him into the floor. He was no more of a threat at the moment.

The other guy sidestepped his partner and threw a punch at her face. Billie ducked to the side. The fist flew past – straight into the wall behind. 

“Arggh!” The thug jumped back, nursing his injured hand. Billie drove her foot into his knee. A dull crack sounded. He dropped to the floor with a cry. Brought down to her level, she smashed the same foot into his jaw. He rolled across Bates and landed on his back beside him without a movement. 

Bates sat up and turned to Billie. Posing the closest threat, the cop struck out with her cuffed fists and slugged him in the nose. All her pent-up hate and anger were behind the punch. Bates dropped to the floor with a grunt, rolling away. 

Too late, Billie caught a glimpse of Smith stepping towards her with a raised hand. He slapped her hard. She fell sideways onto her elbows, her cheek stinging. A sharp pain cut across her wounded ribs. 

Smith reached down and grabbed her by the shirt, dragging her up to face him. Billie used the momentum he yanked her with and punched him in the face. The plump man staggered back with a grunt, blood gushing from his nose. Falling free of Smith’s grasp, Billie started to get up. Once she was on her feet, she could end this quickly.

A gun cocked to the side of her. 

“Damn it, McCoy, don’t even think about it. Stay right where you are.”

Halfway to her knees, the command pulled her to halt. She turned. Bates sat facing her, his Beretta aimed at her head. A savage glare twisted his chubby features, daring her to reject the order. His aim then dropped.

“You move another muscle, and I’ll put a bullet in your leg, you hear me? I don’t give a damn if I have to carry you out of here.” His tone held a hard edge. Billie had no doubt he meant every word.

Back on his feet, the guy she’d kicked in the crotch lunged forward. Billie turned towards him – and met his fist full on. Her head rocked to the side. She’d had little time to ride it. The blow thumped her into the wall, almost toppling her over. 

The thug grabbed her by the front of the shirt and hauled her up. He gave her no time to recover before following through with a second punch. A groan escaped her lips as she was flung backwards. Only the guy’s strong grip on her shirt kept her upright. Her head spun wildly. All strength was zapped from her body. Now she was completely helpless.