Chapter 273: Missed Three Points, The Celebrity Effect

On a remote street.

Roger Bart was cleaning the car.

After finally tidying up the filth in the back seat, he stared at the damaged front of the car, feeling a deep sense of despair.

"F***, f***, f***, damn woman, now I have to pay for repairs," he cursed aloud.

Then, as a new thought crossed his mind, he realized that he had gotten his hands on a virgin. That could fetch a decent price at auction!

His mood lifted a little.

But as he thought about it more, the loss of another virgin made him feel like he'd missed out on a lot of money.

His mood darkened again.

He rubbed the bump on his head, which he got when he hit the car window. Cursing "Biu" again, he walked into a dilapidated three-story apartment building next to the car.

On the first floor, several heavily tattooed Eastern European men were playing cards, with loose bills scattered on the table.

Upon seeing Roger Bart enter, one of them teased, "Kid, you're lucky this time, snagging a virgin. You should be able to sell her for a good price. You'll get a decent cut, huh?"

"Enough, I'm frustrated. One of them escaped, and now I've lost a lot. Plus, I still have to repair the car!" Roger Bart responded bitterly.

"Hey, at least you're still making some money. Want to play a few rounds?" one of them suggested.

"No, I'm going upstairs to check if that bitch has woken up yet," Roger Bart said, shaking his head as he made his way up to the second floor.

On the second floor, the only person there was the driver, who was tending to his wounds in front of a mirror.

When he saw Roger Bart, he muttered, "Damn, I got screwed by a little bitch, those guys are laughing their asses off!"

"Next time remind me to carry some tranquilizers in the car. Ugh, that damn bitch, I'm in pain!" he added, grimacing in pain.

"Got it, Gravison," Roger Bart said, feeling a little better seeing the driver in such a miserable state. He resisted the urge to laugh.

Continuing upstairs, he reached the third floor.

Roger Bart took out a key and unlocked the iron door, finding Heather tightly bound on the floor.

"Mm-mm-mm, mm-mm, mm-mm-mm..." Heather moaned through the cloth in her mouth.

"You're awake? Want to talk? If you promise not to scream, I'll take that cloth out of your mouth," Roger Bart said.

"Mm-mm, mm-mm-mm!" Heather nodded frantically.

Roger Bart yanked the filthy cloth out of her mouth, throwing it aside in disgust.

The cloth was soaked with stomach acid, saliva, and stank terribly.

"Roger Bart, why are you doing this? Where's Biu? What did you do to her?" Heather asked, wide-eyed.

Roger Bart chuckled, a look of pity in his eyes.

"Why? Heather, that's a silly question. Of course, it's for money. Do you know that a beautiful girl like you could fetch $100,000 in the underground market? If you're a virgin, the price can triple..." he explained.

"Are you going to sell me? We're from the same place!" Heather exclaimed, her eyes wide with shock.

"Same place?" Roger Bart sighed and shook his head. "When you're struggling to survive, who cares about being from the same place? Honestly, I didn't want to get into this business, but I have to survive! America isn't heaven. No, it's not a paradise for the poor!"

"Do you know? In this country, you have to have money! Only then can you enjoy the good life!!!"

"Too bad your friend escaped. Otherwise, I would have made more money this time! By the way, you're a virgin, right?"

The last question made Roger Bart uneasy.

What if these two women had lied?

Heather didn't answer him but instead widened her eyes and spoke with some joy, "You said Biu escaped? That's great!"

"You shouldn't be so happy. You should be sad—your friend escaped the misery, but you'll still suffer. Isn't that something to be jealous about?"

"No, that's not right," Roger Bart responded.

"Look, you'll be bought by a rich man. Sure, you'll lose your freedom, but at least you won't have to worry about food and clothes. Your friend, on the other hand, will have to fight for her survival. You can't really say who's lucky and who's unlucky!"

"That's impossible."

"What's impossible?" Roger Bart asked, his face puzzled.

"Heh!" Heather chuckled twice, her gaze mocking as she looked at Roger Bart. "It's impossible for me to be bought by a rich man. Biu must have already called the police. I'll be saved soon."

"Heh!" This time, Roger Bart sneered, "Police? You're dreaming!"

"I'll tell you this— even if your friend called the cops, with the Las Vegas police's efficiency, they won't even start working on the case until tomorrow. And by tomorrow morning, you'll be shipped out. By the day after tomorrow, you'll be on a private plane to Europe. At that point, no one will be able to find you."

This wasn't just a scare tactic— in Las Vegas, criminals did indeed act faster than the police.

But Roger Bart had missed three key points:

This case involved Martin, a powerful and influential celebrity;

Martin would use his resources to investigate the case;

The police officer handling the case was a fan of Martin.

At the police station.

"We've found Roger Bart! Let's go!" the female officer said confidently, her eyes filled with the unspoken "Praise me, praise me!" look.

Martin gave her a thumbs-up and flashed a charming smile. "You guys are fast. I'm impressed!"

The female officer immediately felt her body go weak but managed to stay strong with her "strong" will.

"I'll go with you, I can identify him," Biu spoke loudly.

Martin glanced at her and saw the determination in her eyes—she was probably eager to see her friend safe.

Turning to the officer, Martin said, "I'll go too. I'm pretty good with my hands, and my bodyguard is excellent."

The female officer smiled and complimented him, "I almost forgot—Martin, you're our American hero."

She added, "Technically, the police shouldn't bring civilians along for the operation, but—"

The female officer winked at Martin, "We can't stop citizens from traveling the same road as us."

Martin immediately understood.

"Gordon, go drive," he said. "Biu, come with us."

For this operation, Martin had rented a car from the hotel, without a driver accompanying them.

Roger Bart was still continuing to talk about the "wonderful life" of being bought by a rich man.

Perhaps it was to ease his own guilt.

Before selling any abducted girls, he would always try to convince himself with these speeches.

He knew full well that before the girls were sold, they were drugged for easier control.

Even after being bought by a rich man, they would continue to be drugged regularly, robbing them of the will and strength to resist or escape.

These drugged girls would become the rich men's toys, tortured in bizarre ways, and few ever lived past the age of 35.

Roger Bart was simply seeking psychological comfort for himself.

Suddenly, a loud banging sound came from downstairs.

"POLICE! Hands up!"

"They have weapons!"

"Open fire!"

Then came the sound of gunshots.

Roger Bart turned around in shock.

He heard Heather laughing, "See? My friend brought the police to find me."

"This is impossible! How did the police find this place so quickly? We were supposed to abandon this place tomorrow—how did they get here so fast?!"