by KD Robichaux
“Only three more? We were seven short this shipment. What the fuck are you thinking only bringing me three?” the accented voice, which I know belongs to Flores from the description in his profile, says.
“Sorry, boss, but with the curfew still in place, the… product has been harder to acquire,” the other man explains, fear lining his tone.
“Well then, you’re going to have to be more creative. There are many ways to acquire what we need during the day. You’ll just have to be more careful about it,” Flores growls, and I realize I’ll have not one, but two murdering assholes to take care of tonight. If this other man is the one kidnapping the girls who end up dying during transport and after, then he’s just as responsible for their deaths as his employer.
As their back and forth continues, I creep closer, now hearing muffled whimpers coming from the vehicle, and my stomach goes tight. There are girls in the back of the goddamn van! And suddenly, this has turned into a rescue mission.
“Show me the others. We ship tonight. Saxton will be here in an hour. Same as always, he’ll load the sealed and marked container onto his eighteen-wheeler, and it’ll be loaded onto the ship by morning once he reaches the coast. I will dock your pay for the missing four. But next time? There will be no next time,” Flores warns, and as I make my way to the end of one of the stacks, I peek around to see their retreating backs as they disappear behind another.
I sprint on silent feet to the back of the van, hoping like hell it’s unlocked, but of course it’s not. Glancing around the side of it, I see the driver side door is open. Bingo! I yank the keys out of the ignition and hurry to unlock the handle before twisting it and pulling the door open.
My heart seizes at the sight before me.
Three terrified faces of young women stare back at me. Their hands are duct-taped behind them, and their mouths are taped shut. Tear-streaked dirt covers their cheeks, but for the most part, they look externally unscathed.
I lift myself into the back of the van and pull my knife out of my pocket, trying to ignore the panicked intakes of breath from the petrified girls. I need to focus on getting them free and listening out for Flores and his goon, but know I should reassure them.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you,” I whisper, cutting the duct tape from around one of the women’s wrists. I don’t waste time with the piece across her face; she can do that herself while I work on getting the others loose. When I’m finished, I tell them, “You’re free to run, but we’re miles from anything. I’ll get you to safety, but I have to do something about the men who took you first. Either way, you never saw me. Understand?” I meet each of the girls’ eyes, trying to convey with a look the importance that they never mention me.
The brunette on my left speaks up quietly. “That’s the guy from the news, the one who’s been running the sex trafficking ring. They let him go a couple weeks ago.”
“I kno—”
“I heard them say there are more women here somewhere. We’ve gotta save them,” the blonde to my right says.
“That’s what I’m here to do,” I assure her, even though that’s not quite the whole truth. “Here are the keys to the van. I’ll take care of everything. When I get the others free, get everyone to safety. Go straight to the hospital. I just need your promise that you never saw me. One of you were able to get the tape off and helped the others get free. You don’t know what happened to the guys who took you. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” the third girl says, and the others nod their agreement. “We know what happened to the women he took before. We owe you our lives. We won’t say a word.”
“All right. No matter what you hear, do not come looking,” I order, and with one last nod from the girls, I turn and hop out of the van, closing the doors behind me quietly but leaving a crack so they know they’re not trapped.
I run up to the nearest stack of shipping containers, turning to press my back against the cool metal as I glance around the end. At the far end of the yard, I see the two men dressed in white. The goon is holding a gun aimed inside the open door of a rusted dark-red container, while Flores checks something off on a clipboard, glancing up every few seconds to look inside.
Hurrying to the opposite end of the one I’m hiding behind, I swiftly make my way up the column of containers until I’m on the same row as Flores. With so many witnesses, I have to be fast and think about how to do this without any of the girls inside the container seeing me. Three, I can trust not to say anything about me. But who knows how many are in there, and for how long? Many could be on the verge of a psychological break. I can’t risk anyone giving my description to the police.
“Here goes nothing,” I murmur to myself, and I rear back and kick the metal container I’m hiding behind with my steel-toed boot. In the quiet of the night, it makes a light gonging noise. It’s not very loud, since the metal is thick, but it’s just enough to have Flores spinning around to look in my direction. From his position though, he would be looking into pitch darkness, since there isn’t one of the huge lights on this column. It’s on his.
“Did you hear that?” he asks his man. And just as I was hoping, he orders, “Go check it out.” The other guy turns toward me, pulling his aim away from the women inside the container.
I watch as Flores closes the metal door and locks it, so I’m safe from being seen by so many eyes. He slips the clipboard into a pouch attached to the lock, which I assume is the marking he mentioned before. Even though I’d love nothing more than to take care of the Saxton person who carries out the shipping aspect in Flores’s trafficking ring, I need him to do his job one last time.
As the goon approaches cautiously, his weapon leading the way, I get into position, ready to take him out first. Just as the black revolver appears from around the corner, my hands shoot out, pulling the fucker out of the row and slamming him up against the back of the shipping container so swiftly that he drops the gun. My grip wraps around his throat, shutting off his ability to scream… and breathe. My hand, nearly the size of a dinner plate, feels like it could snap the man’s neck like a twig, and within a minute, he no longer has a pulse. I drop him to the ground, kicking his gun behind him as I hear Flores approaching.
“Jefferson?” he calls out. “Did one of them get free?”
Of course that’s what he thinks. He believes he’s been entirely too sly with the whole deliveryman switch to worry about anyone else being here besides the women they kidnapped. Well, he’s in for a rude awakening.
Just as he rounds the corner, I allow him just enough time to see his man on the ground, crumpled at his feet, and I take pleasure in the shocked expression that takes over his face as his eyes lift, lift, and lift some more, until he meets mine. He pales in the dim light, and a smirk lifts one corner of my lips as I jerk him forward, spinning him just before wrapping my arm around his neck.
It almost seems unfair, the difference in our sizes. It’s like holding an adolescent he’s so much smaller than me, but then I remember what he’s spent the last several years doing, kidnapping women and selling them overseas to the highest bidder, causing the deaths of countless innocent victims, and I no longer feel the twinge of guilt. With little effort, I feel the fight and then the life leave Flores’s body, and I allow him to fall to the ground. Bending down, I pull the keys from his pocket.
Leaving the two men there, I hurry back to the van, opening one of the doors. The girls’ faces fill with relief when they see it’s me. “I need one of you to take these keys and go free the other women. I can’t allow them to see me. Too many witnesses who could release a description of me.”
“Are the men…?” the brunette asks shakily, and I nod. “I’ll do it.” Her voice steadies, and she reaches her hand out.
When I place the keys in her palm, I help her from the back of the van. “Leave them in the lock once the women are out. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but everyone should be able to fit in the van. Go straight to the hospital,” I instruct. “It’s the l
ast container on the left. A rusty red color. Leave the clipboard.”
“Got it,” she says, and she turns but pauses. Spinning back around, her arms wrap around my waist tightly for a brief hug. “Thank you, whoever you are.”
I can’t help my smile as a feeling of accomplishment fills me. Mine is normally a thankless job, one of avenging those who are already gone from this earth. It’s with great pride I murmur, “You’re welcome,” before I send her on her way with a light pat on her back.
I give the other two girls inside the van a salute before I disappear into the shadows. I watch with satisfaction as nearly all of the women inside the container burst into tears of relief as they see it’s the brunette struggling to open the heavy metal door and not the men who took them. “We’re free!” she tells them. “Go to the van! Hurry!” And my heart thuds in my chest as all of them empty out of their cage, some holding hands for support, while others haul ass towards safety.
When I hear the doors of the van slam shut and the ignition start, I wait just a few moments to make sure they’re gone before I get to work. Bending down, I feel for a pulse on each of the men, not taking any chances. But I have nothing to worry about, because they’re already going cold.
I haul their bodies into the shipping container that once held the women they planned to sell as slaves, closing the door and locking it with the keys the brunette left just like I asked. And several minutes later, just like Flores said, I watch as the container is loaded onto an eighteen-wheeler and disappears into the night, hopefully never to be opened again until it arrives at its overseas destination.
Chapter 5
“According to our guy, the container wasn’t opened before the ship departed. We’ll continue to follow up and hope it fizzles out without their boss, but knowing the money that’s in sex trafficking now, more than likely, one of the lower guys in Flores’s ring will take over. All we can do is be vigilant about keeping up with them, cutting them off at the quick before they can make a shipment,” Justin tells me, and I run my hand through my hair.
“Job well done, Brian. Here’s that check you told me to hang on to for you,” Kenton says, and I take the payment from his outstretched hand, fold it up, and stick it into my back pocket.
“I gotta say though, bro. You didn’t make it look like an accident,” Justin points out.
“I figured the people opening the container expecting to find a bunch of young women to sell as sex slaves wouldn’t exactly be the types to go running to the police to tell them they found two dead bodies instead.” I shrug.
He chuckles and leans back in his chair. “Fair enough.”
“Got a question for you guys. Might sound a little strange,” I warn.
“Shoot,” Nico prompts, putting his elbows to his knees as he sits forward and links his tattooed fingers together.
“Never been to Nashville before. Do you know of any reputable establishments around here like mine?” I ask, and they all grin.
“A club of the kinky persuasion?” Justin clarifies.
“Yep.”
“Makes sense. Nothing like offing scumbags to get the mortality juices flowing, am I right?”
“Something like that,” I reply.
“I know just the man to call,” Kenton says, and pulls out his cell. He hits a button before setting it on Justin’s desk, and the ringing sound comes through the speakerphone.
“What’s up?” a deep voice answers.
“Kai, you know any good BDSM clubs in Nashville?” Kenton asks, and the man on the other end of the call chuckles.
“Does Autumn know about this?” he responds.
“Not for me, motherfucker. Friend of mine is visiting from North Carolina. He owns one there and… needs his fix,” Kenton explains, his eyes shifting to me.
“I’ve got a buddy who runs one there. If his nightclub in Vegas is anything to go on, then it’ll be nice as fuck. I mean, not as nice as mine, but ya know. Only thing is, I don’t think they let single men in. Only single women and couples,” Kenton says, his voice sounding regretful.
“I won’t be alone,” I speak up, and Justin holds out his fist toward me.
“Daps, my man,” he tells me, but then his face screws up. “Wait… it’s not one of the chicks you rescued, is it? That would seem… wrong. Like taking advantage—”
“Fuck off. Of course not. My girl is back at the hotel.” I shake my head, then turn to Kenton. “I’d appreciate that information.”
“Club Sybian is the name. You’ll see why when you get there.” We exchange goodbyes, and the call disconnects.
Kenton holds out his hand to me. “It was cool meeting you. If we ever need your skillset again, we won’t hesitate to call. Thank you for taking care of the problem so quickly.”
“No worries. You’ve got our number,” I say, shaking his hand and making my way to the door as I give Justin and Nico a chin lift.
Now, I’ve got a much more pleasurable reward to collect.
Chapter 6
“Oh, fuck,” Clarice murmurs, as we pull into the parking lot of the BDSM club. On the way back to the hotel to pick her up, I called Seth, and he did some swift research for me to make sure this place was up to par. A dirty little hole in the wall would never do for my girl, and seeing that the club I owned is ranked one of the top three in the country by the BDSM community, I’m a bit of a club snob myself, spoiled by our rules and standards. Thankfully, Kai hadn’t steered us wrong.
I chuckle at her reaction when she sees the name of the club. “Just wait,” I tell her mischievously, my eyes twinkling when she meets them with her half-excited, half-nervous ones.
“Goddamn it, Bri. Don’t you remember what happened the first time you put me on one of those things? I couldn’t even fucking walk afterward. You had to carry me for the rest of the night!” she complains.
I smirk. “Oh, I remember. It was fucking awesome.” I laugh as she swats my chest with the back of her hand.
“Awesome, my ass,” she grumbles.
“That was years ago. Maybe your tolerance is higher now.”
“Maybe your tolerance is higher now,” she mocks in a sneering voice, unbuckling her seat belt.
Quick as a cobra strike, I hook the back of her head in my palm and pull her toward me, my voice dropping low as my fingers sink into her scalp. “Keep it up, lover. I’d love nothing more than to punish you like last time. I had a lot of fun turning your ass red in Raleigh.”
She swallows thickly, her eyes turning dark and lustful. “Sorry, Knight.” She whispers my Dom name, remembering it’s my turn to dominate since I completed my mission.
“Good girl. Now let’s go.” I give her a quick kiss on the lips before letting her loose.
She’s my perfect submissive after that, staying slightly behind my towering frame as we register. My business’s reputation precedes me, allowing us free access to a private room once the woman at the door sees I wrote Owner next to my club’s name under Membership. This happens pretty often. Other clubs hope I will recommend their establishment to anyone who asks, since mine is so highly acclaimed. Word of mouth is our community’s most important form of advertising.
I take Clarice’s hand, and she looks up at me, surprised. A lot of Doms don’t hold hands with their submissive, because it’s a show of equality between them and their partner. I usually don’t do it, just because Clarice is funny about PDA, especially since we aren’t officially in a relationship. Even when it’s my turn to be the dominant, I don’t force the show of affection, knowing it makes her uncomfortable. But as we entered the main part of the club, it was my instinctive reaction to take hold of the woman I know in my heart is mine.
The space is crowded, three times as busy as my club on any given night, which is saying a lot. But we’re also in a much bigger city than the small military town in which I live. Seeing the room we’re assigned on the back wall, I head that way, keeping a tight grip on her tiny hand as we weave through the masses. The bass of the mus
ic thumping in my chest, and the swirling lights, strobes, and lasers, irritate my senses, making it hard to breathe. My blood pressure rises as the bodies brush against me, and knowing they’re touching my Clarice, as I pull her through the crowd, makes my pulse quicken until every muscle in my body is tense and ready to strike out.
Finally, I breathe a sigh of relief once we’re closed inside our private room.
I feel Clarice’s soft palm on my stubbled cheek and realize I closed my eyes once I’d shut us in. When I meet her worried gaze, the anxiety caused by the ruckus out there leaves me. “You okay, big guy?” she whispers, my sweet girl coming out of her submission as she presses her front to mine, knowing her closeness always calms me.
I allow myself to soak in her warmth, feeling the tension leave my body. After a few minutes, I stand up straighter and nod, giving her a reassuring smile. “All good, lover. Let’s begin,” I say quietly, and she steps back once more after giving me a quick sultry grin, returning to her submission like she’d never come out of it. After giving her the command, we both undress quickly, lust crackling the air between us. Wanting to touch her, I reach out and take her hand, leading her over to the device the club was named after.
“During my research of this place, I discovered a lot of the equipment here is handmade by some of the talented members. Each private room contains a Sybian, but the attachments and other devices in the rooms vary. I chose this one, because of this particular setup,” I tell her, stroking the cold metal of the frame standing over the saddle-shaped vibrating machine.
I watch as her eyes take in the modern-day stocks the club owner himself welded, her gaze filling with heat. Once a submissive is placed within its grasp, they won’t be able to move their upper body whatsoever. But there’s a surprise in store I’m not willing to share quite yet.
Taking hold of one side of the metal arm, I open the stocks, the metal hinge not making a sound as it swings open. “Kneel over the Sybian, facing me,” I order, and my cock flexes as I see her position her perfect, bare pussy on the ribbed rectangle along the top of the saddle. “Arm’s up.”