by Zoey Parker
“So far, so good,” Jenny whispered.
“Stop talking to yourself,” I said. I wished she could hear me. The next time I did surveillance, I’d make sure the person I sent in had an earpiece.
I checked out the street. My guys were still waiting at the corners for my signal. If things went south, I would lean on the horn, and they would go in. It wouldn’t be safe, no matter what, but I couldn’t leave a civilian in there alone.
“Gareth will see you.”
“Be cool,” I said. “Be cool, please.” I closed my eyes with my fists against my forehead, wishing I could be in there with her. Not being able to do anything was driving me crazy.
I opened my eyes to find people walking around the street like nothing was happening. They could do that. Most people had no idea the sort of shit that went down all around them every day. They didn’t know I just sent an unarmed girl into an MC clubhouse.
“Hi,” I heard, and my blood ran cold. His voice. He was right there, across the street from me. All I had to do was go in and…
“Hey. I’m here to ask about the auction.”
“What makes you think there’s an auction?”
“I heard about it from a friend of mine. She knew I needed money, and word gets around.”
“So you need money?”
“Yeah. I need to get out of my parents’ place. I need to move away. It’s so shitty there.”
Gareth snorted. “Been there.” Then he went quiet. I imagined he was looking at her like a piece of meat. “Did your friend tell you what we need from you? Who we need you to be, I mean?”
“Who you need me to be?”
“A virgin. Are you?”
She giggled. She could be an actress, easy. “Yeah. Not something I like getting around, though, so don’t tell my friends. They’ll think I’m a prude.”
Gareth laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, your friends don’t know how much money virgins can make. Won’t they feel like assholes for giving it up to some jerk they met at school?”
“So I can make a lot of money? That’s true?”
“Oh yeah. I just had a girl make thirty grand the other night.”
“Thirty thousand dollars? That’s crazy!”
“And you’re younger and prettier than her, too,” Gareth added. I bristled at the way he talked about Michelle. Jenny was younger, but not by as much as he thought she was. That was okay, since I wanted him to think it. I just didn’t want him to talk about her or even think about her. She was too good for him.
“So you think I could make money at it?”
“Oh, sure.” He sounded like such a sleaze. I could almost hear his dick getting hard.
“When’s the next auction?” Jenny asked. Good, good, I thought, listening hard. Get all the information like you really need to know.
“In a week,” he said. “At our warehouse on the docks.”
“How many guys show up? How many girls do you usually auction off?”
“Plenty of men, but they’re all high-class guys. They have the money. It’s word-of-mouth—and we only let in the best. I mean, it’s not like we can place an ad or anything. The people who know only talk about it with the people they know, if you get what I mean. Friends at their level.”
“So, rich?”
“Sometimes.” He chuckled.
“Old?”
That question, he didn’t answer as quickly. “Ehh, sometimes older. Sometimes younger.” I remembered some of the men I saw at the last auction and shook my head at the way he was bullshitting her. Odds were whoever bought one of the girls was at least twice their age.
“And I don’t get any say in who I go with?”
“That’s just not how it works. They win, they get you. I can’t ruin my rep just because a girl isn’t turned on by the man who wins her.”
“I get it.”
“Besides,” Gareth added, “it’s a lot of money, and it’s only one night.”
“You’re right,” she said. “It’s just a lot of money. It’s worth it.”
“So, are you in?” Even his voice was slimy.
“Sure. Only, there’s one thing…” Go easy, I thought. Don’t overdo it. Please.
“What is it?”
“See, I’m not technically of age.”
I grimaced. This was it. I hoped she handled it the way we talked about. I hoped she wouldn’t go off-script.
A pause. “What’s not technically? What does that mean?”
“It means…I’m seventeen. I didn’t want you to find out after and, like, take my money or something.”
“You’re seventeen? When’s your birthday?”
“I just had it last month.”
I held my breath, closing my eyes. Come on, Gareth, go for it.
“That’s fine.”
I pumped my fists, pounding on the ceiling. I got him.
“Are you sure? Is it okay for me to be part of it even though I’m seventeen? I don’t wanna get in trouble or anything.”
“Good girl!” I said. “Get him.”
Gareth snorted. “It’s fine. Nobody will ever know.”
“That’s what you think, fucker,” I said with a grim smile. People would know. Plenty of people would.
Then I heard a firecracker going off. Only it wasn’t a firecracker. It was a gunshot. And it hit me in the arm, going right through the open window.
“Fuck!” I screamed, looking around. I couldn’t see anybody—they could have been anywhere around the clubhouse. And they’d spotted me.
I picked up my phone. “Get her outta there, now! I just got shot in the arm!”
“Are you okay?” I heard.
“I’ll be fine, just get her!” I drove away as fast as I could without getting into an accident. I could only hope they didn’t know she was with me. I had the evidence, but I didn’t wanna risk her.
As I drove, I waited for the phone call to confirm they got her out. When Spike called, I breathed a sigh of relief.
“What are you gonna do about that arm?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I’m going home first. Not the first time I ever got shot,” I pointed out. I hung up and drove home. No way I could go to the hospital with a gunshot wound.
Now that it was over, and I had the evidence against Gareth, I couldn’t wait to get on with my life. I had to get home and tell Michelle.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Michelle
I stood, ready to greet Eric when he came through the door.
Mac was right. I had to stop telling myself all the reasons we couldn’t work out and start focusing on all the reasons why we could. His goodness, his kindness. The part of himself he did his best to hide. He couldn’t hide it from me. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered. The way he treated me, and the way I felt when we were together. Not his record or his gang. We would find a way around that together.
The doorknob rattled. I frowned and instinctively moved toward it to open the door for him. Must have forgotten his key, I thought. Then I stopped myself. How could he have gotten back without his keys in the bike’s ignition?
It all went through my head in an instant, and I knew it wasn’t Eric even before the door burst open and I was face-to-face with the man who held the gun to my head in the van.
A low moan escaped my mouth as I scrambled away from him. I turned to bolt for the back door, but that door was being forced open as well. I changed course, my feet flying before I could think. I dashed up the stairs, hands grabbing at the steps above me as I fled. I heard their footsteps below me, the sounds of their laughter. They knew I couldn’t get away. So did I.
I went to the bedroom, army crawling beneath the bed. I’d dropped my phone on the couch when I stood up. Shit! I couldn’t even call the police. Terror washed over me, filling every part of me, and my brain screamed in panic. There was nowhere to go.
Where the hell were Joe and Pete? Didn’t they know this was happening? Had they taken a break? Oh God—what
if they were dead? I covered my mouth with my hands to stifle a whimper. I was truly all alone.
Footsteps on the stairs. They were tormenting me, drawing it out. I kept my mouth covered, struggling to control myself. All I could do was pray they’d get distracted, or that Joe and Pete were only unconscious and would come to and rescue me. Or that Eric would come home early, and they would run.
Eric. Where was he? No way they would let him catch up with him this time. I couldn’t stop shaking, and the louder the footsteps, the harder I shook.
I saw black leather work boots in the doorway. They stayed there for a moment, then went further down the hall. He was starting at the end and working his way down to me.
A weapon. Was there anything around here? Anything I could use? I closed my eyes and thought hard, going through the room in my head. It was fairly uncluttered—there was nothing I could remember.
He searched the bathroom. I heard the shower curtain open. Then the guest bedroom. I barely held back my sobs as he searched the closet. He was toying with me, and I hated him so much for it.
Finally, more footsteps. The work boots appeared again in the doorway. I held my breath. Please come home, Eric. Please come. Please. Help me.
“Where are you?” The voice was low, a sing-song. I closed my eyes and sobbed helplessly. It was pointless to try to fight him. I was only drawing out the inevitable.
He sat on the bed, and it sagged down toward me. He had me trapped, and wanted me to know he had me trapped.
“You got away last time, but your boyfriend’s not here, is he? Those two assholes outside won’t help either. They’re both taking a nap in the yard. They’ll have pretty bad headaches when they wake up.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“So it looks like it’s just us, little lady. Either you come out from wherever you’re hiding yourself, or I pull you out. You won’t like it when I pull you out.”
My body froze in place. My muscles just wouldn’t move. My eyes were still closed, my hand over my mouth, and I wished one more time that Eric would come to save me.
He didn’t. The man in the work boots slid to the floor, on his hands and knees, and looked at me. “Come on out,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
I stifled another sob and worked my way out. I didn’t want him to grab at me, to force me. I knew he was for real when he said he would hurt me otherwise.
I stood, and he took me by the arms. “Nice to see you again,” he growled, pulling me close to him like a lover pulling his woman to him for a kiss. I shrank away from him, recoiling in horror. His breath reeked of liquor and cigarettes and sour food.
I heard footsteps behind me and an instant later, stars exploded behind my closed eyes as someone hit me over the head. Everything went black.
***
When I came to, I was in a small, dark place. I was rocking back and forth gently, almost soothingly. At first, I wanted to close my eyes again and let the rocking motion lull me to sleep.
Then I remembered. Everything came back to me at once, including a pain in the back of my head. I winced, touching my hand to it. My hands were free—that was something at least.
I was in the trunk of a car. That was why I rocked back and forth. It was better than the back of a van, surrounded by lecherous pigs. But not much better. At least in the van I could breathe when I wasn’t on the verge of hyperventilating.
What was the game this time? Vengeance for me getting away? Or was Gareth as obsessed as Eric made him sound? He was determined to hurt me, or to hurt Eric. No matter what it took, he was going to get what he wanted. Whatever that was.
Would he kill me right away? I shook myself, unable to believe I could have such a terrible thought with a complete absence of emotion. It was just a fact at this point. They kidnapped me and they would do what they wanted. I hoped it wouldn’t take long.
I realized I was counting on Eric saving me right away, like he had before. That was why none of it seemed real, why I could think about them killing me without being horrified. I didn’t even feel like I was about to cry. Nothing registered. I was numb. Because I couldn’t completely believe it was all for real. I held on to the belief that Eric would come for me.
That’s probably not going to happen this time, I told myself. I had to get used to the idea that I was on my own. Gareth would be more careful now. He wouldn’t make it so easy. If nothing else, he seemed like the type who learned from his mistakes. It had been a mistake to make it so easy for Eric to catch up with the van after the first couple of idiots tried to get away with me. This time they hadn’t snatched me from the middle of the street. Joe and Pete were unconscious or worse, going from what the one guy said about them having headaches when they woke up. Nobody would be able to tell Eric where I was or even how long it had been since Gareth’s crew took me. It was a much more solid plan.
I had to start coming up with my own plan, then. I had to take control of my fate if Eric couldn’t help me. I ran through a list of possibilities in my head as the car bounced and bumped along, flinging me to and fro. They clearly didn’t care about me arriving unbruised.
I could pretend I didn’t like Eric, that he was holding me for the money. That I would otherwise not want to spend a minute with him. I would have to get back in touch with the old me, which sounded funny seeing as how it was the “me” from a day earlier, or maybe a day and a half. Everything had happened so fast. I’d gone from hating Eric for playing games with me to wanting him in my life for good.
Was I good enough to pull it off? I thought I was, considering how dire the situation seemed to be. I would do just about anything to get out of there with my life…without them hurting me.
But would he care, this Gareth person? Or would he see it for the tissue-thin plot it was? Just another thing I’d seen on TV that I hoped would work in real life.
It was worth a shot. I didn’t have anything else. I was sure any of them could overpower me. I wasn’t about to use my sexuality in any way—I couldn’t imagine seducing any of them, and I hadn’t met them all yet. Besides, considering that I’d been a virgin only days earlier, Gareth would see through that, too. I wasn’t experienced enough to plausibly seduce any of them.
I couldn’t help whimpering when the car came to a stop. This was it. I had to get control of myself. No way I could let them have the upper hand on me.
Please come, Eric, I thought. Otherwise, it was up to me. Please, God, help me. How many times had I prayed for help since Mom got sick? More times than I could count. Funny the things you think about when you’re trying to hold a panic attack at bay.
The doors to the car opened and slammed shut. I closed my eyes tight, bracing myself for the sound of the key in the lock. I didn’t know if I should pretend to be unconscious or what. They might not want me to know where we are. But if I was unconscious, it gave them free reign to do what they wanted with me—like when one of them would have to lift me out of the trunk, for instance. Bile rose in my throat and I opened my eyes. I would stare them down. I wouldn’t give the sadists the satisfaction of knowing they terrified me.
The trunk opened, and I was face-to-face with my new best friend.
“Oh, you’re awake,” he said with a grin.
“Yeah, and you’re still alive. Disappointing.”
He smirked. “Nice, thinking you can be a smartass like that. You think your boyfriend’s gonna come save you. Is that it?”
No better time to start than the present. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Whatever you say.” He took me by the arm and pulled me out of the trunk. I was a little unsteady, and my head throbbed like hell, but I did my best to keep my composure. I looked around. We were in back of a building, sort of nondescript. I heard traffic nearby, though, coming around all directions. We were in town somewhere. It surprised me. I thought for sure they would have taken me out to the woods or some remote place.
“Come on.” Fingers dug into my bicep until I yelped as he pulled me into
the building.
“Where the hell are we?” I asked, looking around.
“None of your business.” He shoved me into a chair in a tiny room.
“Funny. I think it is my business. You kidnapped me. Remember?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t give you rights or anything. Get over yourself.” He sneered and stepped back, leaning against the doorframe leading to a hallway. The walls were plain drywall, reminding me of the way the warehouse was refurbished for the auction. There were a lot of voices coming from all around me. I wondered if this was the gang’s headquarters, or whatever they called it. My blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with dozens of men, all of whom were enemies of Eric and his club.