“Anyway,” he continued, “the reason I called is because yesterday Ivanov had a ten-million-dollar infusion.”
“And you think it’s separate from the cash?”
“I know it didn’t come from Ivanov himself. I traced it back to Elliott.”
I turned a circle as I blocked out the people around me. “So Elliott is helping to fund the Ivanov bratva, why?”
Garrett’s eyes opened wide as he looked my way.
“Hold on,” I said to Mason. “What?”
“Flight plan is filed. Hillman is minutes from the airport and the plane is fueled and ready to fly to Corpus Christi.”
“Mason,” I said back into the phone, “we’re headed to Corpus Christi. Hillman’s going to retrieve Ruby. I’m not letting that fucker near my daughter for any longer than necessary.”
“Sparrow—”
“I left him a voicemail,” I interrupted before more could be said. “Man, I need to trust my gut. I’ve been sitting still on this too long. Besides, the way I see it, we’ve got advantages here. They don’t know we’re here. Hillman doesn’t have the manpower of Ivanov. And they won’t expect us. I feel it...it’s now.”
“Keep us updated,” Mason said.
I appreciated him not trying to talk me out of it.
“Take every precaution,” Mason said. “We need you—all four of you—back here. We’ve got a war going.”
“We will.”
“Hey,” Mason said, “for what it’s worth, your gut’s track record is pretty fucking good. I believe in you.”
“Thanks. Can you keep Madeline’s necklace monitored? Sometimes on the plane...”
It was more than that. I didn’t want to hear anything that would set me off more than I already was. To pull off Ruby’s rescue, my head had to be in the fucking present.
“Consider it done,” Mason answered. “We have capos on one who can tag team.” One was the floor of our glass tower where other members of the Sparrows came, went, and worked. “We’ll inform you if there’s something that can’t wait. Otherwise, radio silence until we hear that you’ve succeeded.”
“I’ll call once we have the asset.” Fuck, Ruby wasn’t simply an asset. It was a title given in instances like this, and I presumed that my mind was moving away from paternal feelings to my job, what I did.
I had no idea if I could be a father. I knew I could do what we did and were about to do.
Feelings got in the way. I needed a clear line of thinking.
Leaving our computer equipment in the hotel suite with a do-not-disturb sign on the door—yeah, real high tech—and a slight adjustment to the lock mechanism, we hurried to the SUV in the parking garage.
As we did, I called Marianne and the rest of our flight crew. Garrett was mapping out our approach. Romero was going through a list of supplies, and Christian was driving. We were a team and together we’d get this done.
There were multiple airports in Corpus Christi. Garrett was ensuring that we’d land at one different from Hillman yet close enough to get to his by car, set up, and be ready for our ambush by the time he arrived back with Ruby.
By the time we reached the airport, our flight plan had been approved and we had two cars waiting for us in Corpus Christi.
As we boarded the plane, I spoke to Millie. “There are certain cases kept in the luggage hold. I need them up here before we take off.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. All of them?”
“All of them. Christian and Romero will help. They’re heavy.”
I looked at my men. “You’ve got this.”
“Yes, sir.”
Madeline
Seventeen years ago
How many eyes were upon me?
My body trembled as I was told to step up. The surface under my feet was smooth and cool.
Was I upon a raised platform?
“This young lady is ready for your bidding, sir,” a man said, his voice very near.
The room filled with murmurs as my hair was released, the length cascading down my back. Next, he tugged at the belt, allowing the sheer drape to fall open.
“A lovely, willing specimen,” the same voice continued. “She’s eight weeks from her delivery, plenty of time to train her to your liking.”
A deep voice spoke in heavily accented English. “Have you had her?”
The draping was removed, leaving me completely exposed as cool air rained down.
The first man continued speaking. “Look at her nipples, so responsive. Perhaps we could add a few clamps.”
“Have you taken her?” the deep voice asked again.
The man beside me ran his hand over my midsection. His touch sickened me, just as the men upstairs from the cell did. As with them, I’d learned to not respond.
“Would you believe she’s a virgin?”
The room broke out in laughter.
“To answer your question,” the first man said, “Mr. Ivanov, yes, I have. I enjoy new merchandise. She had a little more fight in her then, but I’m sure you can mold her to your liking.”
He had?
This was one of the men from Dr. Miller’s.
My hands flinched as I made sense of this revelation.
The room hummed in agreement, yet I couldn’t see what was happening.
The air around me moved as someone brushed against me. From the scent of cologne, I assumed another man.
What were they going to do?
Together, they gathered my hands and secured them behind me. I wasn’t sure what they used. There was no click as there would be with handcuffs. The binding was secure yet soft.
With my hands behind me, my shoulders pulled back, making my breasts and midsection pronounced. The man who helped was gone. It wasn’t that I knew by sight, but by the loss of warmth and lessening of the cologne.
“Lovely breasts,” the first man said. “Mr. Ivanov, I’m sure if you chose to pass on this one, someone else among us could find good use for her. Hell...”
My neck straightened and breath caught as his cold hand lowered to my breast.
“...I may need another go at her.”
“Take off her blindfold,” the man with the accent demanded. “I see her breasts. I want to see her eyes.”
“Very well.”
The blindfold slipped away.
My breath caught as I took in the vast number of eyes peering my way. Well-dressed men of all ages were spread around the room, focused on me. They were all different, some with gray hair, some with blonde, and others with dark. They had different skin tones, from light to dark. There were ones with wrinkles and others with the glow of youth. All were the same with their attention directed on me. My hands twitched to move, to cover myself, yet the binding reminded me of the warning I’d received, stilling my attempt.
Swallowing, I scanned their faces, searching for their distaste at this demeaning display. Searching for a sign of humanity, even for one with downcast eyes instead of ones filled with lust. I found none. Instead, with drinks and cigars in hand, their gazes simmered with amusement. They weren’t seeing my discomfort or recognizing how wrong this was. No, they were bidders at an auction, buyers of art or perhaps a thoroughbred horse.
The reality hit me.
I wasn’t an anomaly.
A naked woman poised in the midst of these men wasn’t extraordinary.
In fact, it was quite possibly commonplace.
“Is the child yours?”
I followed the voice; it was the same one as before with the accent, the one who had told them to remove the blindfold. The possessor of the voice was tall and broad with dark hair and striking features. His stare was more discerning than the others, critical and decisive. Only his dark eyes moved as he scanned from my head to my toes. He appeared unaffected as if this were again a daily occurrence—with one difference. The longer he stared, the deeper his breaths became. It probably wasn’t noticeable to those around him. It was to me.
“Is it?” he asked again.
The tall dark-haired man’s chin rose. “Turn, girl, show us your body.”
There was no one to look to for direction and no one to encourage or discourage.
Do as you’re told.
I peered down at my feet. The platform where I stood was round and probably four feet in diameter. The man who had been beside me was now among the silently waiting crowd. With my hands bound and all eyes on me, I focused on balance.
Taking a deep breath, I did as the man asked. Moving my feet, I turned all the way around once and then again. By viewing the room in 360 degrees, I discovered there were more men present than I’d realized.
“What is your name?” the same man asked when I stopped.
“Madeline, sir.”
“Last name?”
“Miller,” the first man said. “Madeline Miller. She’s one of Miller’s girls. He’s a legend in my mind. Among the forgotten, he finds us the best and ripest, if you know what I mean.”
More laughter from the crowd.
The dark-eyed man wasn’t laughing. His gaze was on mine. I wanted to look away, to hide, but that wasn’t possible. Finally, I lowered my lids and my chin, fearful of staring his way longer.
“Mr. Ivanov?” the first man asked.
That was the dark-haired man.
Mr. Ivanov lifted his glass to the crowd. “More cognac and cigars. Enjoy yourselves and the senator’s generosity. Let the girl stand untouched for now as we admire her beauty throughout the evening. Later, I will make my decision.”
Stand.
I did.
This time I could judge how much time passed by the hands of a large grandfather clock on the other side of the room. It had been near eight-thirty when the blindfold was removed. It was now approaching one in the morning. My bladder needed relief and my stomach was empty.
I continued to stand.
All around me, the men ate, drank, and smoked. Suit coats and ties were discarded, buttons undone, and sleeves rolled up. Some men played cards while others told stories with groups of eyes turning my way. Occasionally, one or two men would come close, their gaze simmering with lust as their erections grew beneath their trousers. Not one person spoke to me. It was as if I were an inanimate object for their viewing, a statue. It wasn’t only the male guests who saw me. Servers, men and women alike, came and went, either oblivious to my presence or uncaring.
As time continued to pass, the crowd began to dwindle, and still, I hadn’t been released from my platform. My attention went from person to person, always landing back upon Mr. Ivanov. There was something about him that told me he was the honored guest. I watched as he whispered something to the man who appeared in charge. I’d come to know through listening that he went by several names: Rubio, Senator, and Senator McFadden.
The two whispered back and forth until Mr. Ivanov stood tall and offered his hand. Immediately after their handshake, Mr. Ivanov spoke to the crowd. “Leave us.”
“Everyone leaves,” the senator said. “Those who want to remain for the continuation of festivities are welcome to join me in my study. Mr. Ivanov is ready to interview Miss Miller more—intimately.”
The remaining crowd murmured with sounds of approval as they filtered from the room.
It could have been the length of time I’d stood, hunger, thirst, or maybe it was the word: interview. Whatever it was, it was as if the temperature plummeted, causing my body to tremble and the room around me to sway.
I tried to move my feet.
Numb, they were lead weights from the hours of standing. Closing my eyes, I gave in, knowing I was about to fall.
A strong hand came to my side and then a presence.
My eyes flew open.
He was here—Mr. Ivanov—on the platform with me, keeping me steady.
Turning toward him, I was eye-level with the buttons of his pressed black shirt. Cologne filled my senses. Unlike the men in the rooms, this wasn’t stale or unpleasant. I looked up beyond his wide chest and broad shoulders to his stern expression.
“Miss Miller, may I help you down?”
Nodding, I tried to speak. “Yes, thank you, sir.”
What was he going to do?
Moving wasn’t as easy as I’d presumed. My feet had lost their feeling. My arms and legs ached. With the assistance and stability of his large hands at my waist, I managed to step from the platform to the rug below. As I did, I stumbled, falling against his solid chest. Immediately, I flinched back.
“Do I frighten you?” he asked, releasing my waist.
“No, sir.”
His finger and thumb pinched my chin and pulled it upward. “I will accept no less than total honesty. Do I frighten you?”
I stared into his dark eyes. “Yes, sir.”
He released his hold. “Now that was easy. Would you like me to release the ribbon?”
Ribbon.
Without my answer, he gently turned me around and reached for the binding upon my wrists. It slid from my skin. I hadn’t realized how sore that position made my shoulders. Out of pure relief, I groaned as my wrists became free and arms fell to my sides.
“Better?” he asked as he tucked the red satin ribbon into the pocket of his trousers.
“Yes, sir.”
He gestured toward one of the leather chairs. “Sit, you must be tired.”
I was, but I was still nude and it seemed improper.
Mr. Ivanov must have sensed my unease. He walked to another grouping of chairs and came back with his suit coat. Though I hoped he’d wrap it around me, he laid it upon the seat of the chair and nodded.
Obeying, I sat upon his coat on the edge of the chair and he took the seat opposite me.
“Tell me how you became one of Dr. Miller’s commodities?”
Commodity.
Not even a girl.
Commodity: a raw material that can be bought and sold.
That definition seemed accurate. I sat taller. “I was sold.”
“How much?”
“I wasn’t told.”
His gaze narrowed. “You’re a smart girl.” He reached out and ran his finger over my cheek.
I fought the urge to flinch away, yet his action wasn’t painful or demeaning.
“I can see intelligence in your eyes,” he went on. “You weren’t told your price, but you know. Tell me.”
“I overheard them talking, three hundred dollars for me and five hundred for my baby.”
He scoffed. “Is that a lot of money?”
“It is to me.”
“One million,” he said.
“What?” It was a number I’d heard only in fiction.
“I told Senator McFadden that I’m willing to pay one million for both of you.”
“You did—both?”
“I said I was willing. The deal is contingent upon our discussion.”
“You mean with me?”
“Yes, you.”
This was an insane conversation. And yet it was a conversation. This man was asking for my input. “You are willing...a million...why?”
“Tell me, is that a sufficient amount?”
I couldn’t compute his question. “Are you asking me?”
“Miss Miller, if you’re unable to converse...”
“No, sir, Mr. Ivanov, I am able to converse. It isn’t something I’ve been able to practice much lately, but, sir, I am capable.”
Despite my nudity, his gaze was on my eyes, as if we were two clothed people having a discussion.
“Tell me your worth, Miss Miller?”
“My worth?” I took a deep breath. “I’ve never considered it.” I looked down and then sat taller. “But the worth of my baby is more than a million.” My head shook. “There’s no price tag.”
“I see,” he said, standing.
I reached out for his hand. As I did, we both stilled.
My pulse raced.
Was this unacceptable?
Would I be punished?
Would I be sent back?
I pulled my hand back. Swallowing my fear, I spoke, “Please, sir, stay. To answer your question, I don’t know my worth.”
He sat again.
“I don’t,” I went on, “but as I said, my baby...” Tears came to my eyes. “If you’re offering a chance for me to stay with the baby—with you... If that’s what you’re offering and if I have any say in this transaction, I say yes.”
He tilted his head from one side to the next. “You know nothing about me.”
“I don’t care.”
“Tell me why?”
“You may be a bad man.” I looked around the now-empty room. “I mean, what kinds of men do what was just done, leaving a nude woman on display?”
He nodded.
“I don’t care,” I went on. “The money is irrelevant. I won’t see a penny. I didn’t see any of the eight hundred or a penny that the customers paid.” I took a breath. “I don’t care about that either. I want nothing more than my child. Ever since...when I heard them discuss selling my baby, I’ve been terrified. Whether you’re good or bad, if you’ll take me and my baby, I will go.” I shrugged. “I would suppose in reality, I have no choice. I didn’t before, but I want you to know, I will go willingly.”
“You get to be with your child. What do I get out of this transaction?” he asked.
I looked down at my naked form. “I realize I’m not...”
He again lifted my chin. “Not what, Miss Miller?”
“I’m used.”
“Would I pay one million dollars if I didn’t see your value?”
He saw value.
“What will I need to do?” I asked.
“What if I say this...” He gestured to the platform. “...what was done tonight? What if I say things you can’t even imagine?”
My imagination was more experienced than he knew.
“Does it matter,” he went on, “if you stay with your child?”
It didn’t.
“No, sir.”
Leaning back against the leather seat, he laid his arms on the armrests. “Stand, let me see you closer.”
Relaxing my arms at my sides, I straightened my neck and stood. The tingling in my feet was still painful, yet I could stand. One small step and then one more, and I was standing before him.
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