Reid and Prentiss focused on a storage building with two guards posted at the main doors.
"This looks like the place," Prentiss quipped. "What are you thinking?"
"We need to do this quietly. There are more guards inside and maybe a few on the backside of the building. If I were to guess, at least ten."
"So, we should get moving," Prentiss suggested.
Reid reached down and took hold of a fist-sized rock and snuck up behind one guard; he swiftly cracked him upside the head. As his body hit the ground the other guard turned around. Before he was able to aim his handgun, Reid had grabbed ahold of it with his left hand then popped him three consecutive times in the face with his right.
Reid glanced at both men as they laid on the ground then after knowing they were clear, he waved Prentiss over.
She rushed up behind him. "Remind me to never piss you off." She stepped over the bodies and followed him as they carefully entered the building and could hear a man talking in the distance. Then came a second voice. The men appeared to be talking to each other.
"Eastern European." Prentiss announced, referring to their accents.
Reid nodded in agreement and then moved deeper into the building. He stopped and held his finger up to his lips.
"Some kind of machine?" Prentiss whispered as they both listened to a heavy vibration.
Reid expressed puzzlement but they both pressed on. The agents moved closer to the sound and soon had their answer. A woman was lying unconscious on her right side. Most likely drugged as a man crouched over her with a tattoo machine in his hand. Reid used his arm to push Prentiss back against the wall and he backed up next to her.
"We have to get these girls out of here," Prentiss insisted.
Reid thought for a moment. "Okay, here's what we're going to do."
Hotch answered his door to see a boy about ten years old standing in front of him. "Can I help you?" Hotch asked curiously.
"I was told to give this to you," the boy announced as he handed him an envelope with Aaron Hodges written on it.
Hotch looked up to see the boy running back down the hall. He went into his room and opened the letter which read:
Aaron, I'm sorry but I just can't be with you anymore. Please take care of yourself. -Alex
Hotch shook his head and went to search for Rossi.
Duncan finished another cup of tea as Alex entered the room wearing skinny black capris, black slip-on shoes, and a bright yellow, off the shoulder, scoop neck top.
"That suits you," he admired with a grin.
"I look like Laura Petrie," she laughed at herself.
"I think this is a good time to take a walk. Will you join me?" He stood up and held out his hand toward the doorway.
Alex was skeptical but she accepted.
Duncan escorted Alex out to the massive, well-groomed garden on the estate. "This is my favorite spot," he confided in his normal soft tone.
"Duncan, please share with me what you actually do for Sloane," she requested as they walked toward the large fountain which was the center of the garden.
"I help to establish mutually beneficial relationships between men of a particular social stature, and the women who meet their needs. I also ensure that both parties fulfill their part of the contract, all while protecting the privacy and safety of Julian's employees and clients," his words rolled off the tongue.
"So, essentially, you're a pimp," she stated plainly.
Duncan stopped in his tracks. "That's a harsh way of looking at it."
"I call a spade a spade," she wasn't shy about her statement.
"Women come from all over the world to have the distinction of being one of Julian Sloane's girls. Sloane's mark opens doors for them that wouldn't otherwise be available."
"That is your explanation why someone would willingly be tattooed and sold off like property?"
"Since the dawn of time there are women who desire wealth, nobility, admiration, and they would do anything to obtain it. That is still true today. And that is what we do; we help make connections. Powerful, wealthy men are looking for particular women. Women who are brilliant, alluring, and most of all they can be discrete."
"And the tattoo?"
"Fine quality needs branding."
"Literally," she quipped.
"If you want a designer handbag, you look at Prada, Coach, Marc Jacobs; their brands mean something, hold value. When our buyers see that "X" on their skin they know the quality they are getting."
"So, you are telling me that all the girls you deal with are here voluntarily?"
"Of course. I welcome the new girls frequently."
"Let me ask you something," she stared into his eyes. "Have any girls showed up without any clothes on, drugged, and desperately trying to leave?"
Duncan sat on the edge of the stone fountain. Alex seated herself next to him and took his hand in hers. "Duncan, I know that you are a good person, but at some point you have to know that some things that have been going on around here aren't right."
"Of course I know that. Sloane has bended the law a few times, and even flat out broke it. But like I told you, these women have come to Sloane willingly," he tried to justify.
"But what about all the ones that aren't?" Alex questioned.
"What are you talking about?" Duncan was legitimately concerned with her implication.
"Are you saying that you really don't know? You're not just turning a blind eye; being a good soldier for your boss?"
Duncan furrowed his eyebrows, "If women are being hurt and forced into something they don't want to be, I wouldn't take any part in it." He stood up in frustration. "I hope you know that I would stop it."
Alex threw her arms around him. "I'm so relieved to hear you say that."
Prentiss stood just inside the main doors to the building and then let out a horrified scream; she quickly pushed open the doors and ran out past the guards who were still out cold.
Reid watched as the guards from inside the building rushed after Prentiss thinking she was a girl who was escaping. One-by-one Reid took them out, swiftly and silently.
Reid opened the door and let Prentiss back in, "we need to hurry."
Prentiss rushed to the girl who was being tattooed and checked her pulse. "She's alive, but still unconscious.
"Help us, please," a faint voice called out.
The agents walked behind the large crates to find three young women laid out on an old, dirty mattress locked up in a cell.
"Is this all of you? Any other girls here?" Reid asked feeling distressed.
"No, only us," one girl responded.
"Come on, we are going to get you out of here. Are you able to walk on your own?" Prentiss asked as she helped the girls up.
Reid went back to the tattooed girl and pulled her over his shoulder. "Let's go."
Prentiss led the group to the door. With a gun in hand she checked outside, "it's clear." The group ran back to their boat.