“Medical staff. Right. You’d have to check them out. Keep them healthy.”
“Someone to clean,” Roarke added. “You’d certainly need at least one disciplinarian.”
“Because no way a kid’s going to do everything you say right off.”
“Someone in charge of acquiring or manufacturing clothing, laundering,” Roarke continued, building the business in his mind. “And marketing. Photographs and vids, certainly to attract potential clients, so a professional there would be best if you want to showcase your product well. An IT man or team to set up and maintain the online areas. Office workers—you need records, after all. Banking—you need a way to invest your profits and enjoy them. It’s a considerable outlay, Eve, even for two or three girls at a time.”
“It’s going to be more. Say eight to ten. You make some bucks off the porn, but the major profit’s in sales. Sell one girl for five, six million, what do you do?”
“Put the bulk of it back into the business. You have salaries to pay. Mortgage or rent, food, and so on.”
“Keep one girl for six months, it costs—just say—half a million. Keep eight, it doesn’t cost eight times that. Like the car, right?”
He could follow her line of thought easily, as it simply made good business sense.
“Some of the expenses and outlay remain steady. The mortgage or rent wouldn’t change. If you’re heating or cooling the building, that wouldn’t change appreciably.”
“So, sell a couple of girls every few months—bumping that some with the porn—you’re going to see an annual profit. Millions in profit if you do it right.”
“You’re talking about a network, highly organized, with potentially dozens of people involved in the day-to-day.”
“Yeah, and maybe it’s a lot smaller than that. But you’d still need the elements you said. You’d need all that. French manicures, grilled fish and brown rice with veg. Her dinner,” she explained. “She stuck her fingers down her throat to boot some of it up.”
“Is that how she got out?”
“I’m betting it is. Who’s going to think some girl puking up her dinner’s going to run? Smart. Maybe she and Dorian pulled that together. I’ll find out when I find her.”
“Which you won’t tonight. I think you should call it. You’re tired and you’re hurting. Physically,” he continued. “Not just the eye, the jaw, but you’ve started favoring your side. I expect your ribs took a pounding.”
“I’ve got an ice pack on them. Well, it’s not cold anymore, but I put one on it.” She lifted her shoulders. “I needed to feel it.”
“I know. And in your place, I’d have needed the same. I’m not sure what that says about either of us. But you could use a round with the healing wand.”
“Yeah, well, I’m definitely feeling it. I was a little pissed you didn’t offer when I came up from the gym so I could tell you to bite me.”
“I was much too pissed myself to give you the satisfaction.”
He held out his hand; she put hers in it.
7
In the bedroom Eve stripped off her shirt while Roarke got a wand. Sprawled on the bed like a chunky gray ribbon, Galahad opened his eyes, gave her a long and clearly disapproving look as she peeled off the gel pack.
“That droid had a sneaky left,” Eve insisted.
Annoyed, she reactivated the pack, then pressed it to her jaw as Roarke came back in. He gave her ribs a long and clearly disapproving look before he shook his head.
“And was it worth it then?”
“Not really. I didn’t get enough out, I guess. I thought programming the female would make it more like I was pounding Truman, but that bitch is built. The droid, not Truman.”
She let out a hiss as he passed the wand over her ribs.
“Truman wouldn’t have landed any.”
He said, “Mmm-hmm.”
“She’s a bag of bones. The droid’s solid muscle, an easy buck and a half. With a sneaky left.”
“You dropped your guard.”
“I did…” Damn it. “Maybe. How do you know?”
“Even if I hadn’t watched for a moment or two, I can see the results, can’t I?”
“In some circles, that’s considered spying.”
“As you like,” he said easily. “After I saw it land this one?” He tapped a finger lightly on the cold pack on her jaw. “I took a shower and changed for dinner.”