by Jennifer Ann
Sasha directs us to line up and return to the back room. As we’re filing out, I catch sight of Jack and Michael bound to metal chairs in the back of the room, their faces mostly obscured by dark shadows. But there’s no missing Michael’s intense gaze.
I stop dead in my tracks, worried if I leave with Sasha that I’ll never see him again. Dryden won’t let him simply walk away from this night, especially if Kerissa was telling the truth and he really did have some kind of hand in Rambone’s murder.
But after everything Kerissa told me, can I trust that Michael was telling me the truth this whole time and wasn’t simply using me? Can I believe that he loves me, and wants us to have a life together? In the hallway he seemed ready to take a bullet before he’d let Dryden take me away. But how much of that was an act?
Then his beautiful eyes locked with mine silently convey the answer I’ve been searching for since he left me in the safe house. There isn’t a hint of anger, apology, or regret to be seen. The man staring back at me doesn’t seem the slightest bit affected by what just happened to the woman he allegedly loves. He merely dips his chin as if giving me a final goodbye, and I think I see his lips curl with a smile.
Ripping my gaze away from his, I storm from the room behind Tatum. I’m done being fucked over by men.
Never again.
As Tatum and I silently dress alongside the other girls who all cry uncontrollably just as I had the first time I was auctioned off, I catch part of a heated conversation around the corner.
“And how exactly can you be sure we can trust this guy?” Sasha snaps. “He came here without a direct invite from the club. For all we know, he could be an undercover cop!”
“Winnie checked his credentials,” Dryden answers in a calm, smooth tone. “He’s some big-shot TV exec from New York and he has the money. I assure you, the man’s no cop.”
Tatum and I exchange an unsure look before Dryden strides into the room. Skin crawling with the memory of him saying he wanted a taste before he sold me off again, I straighten my shoulders when meeting his cold gaze.
“I’m sorry to say this may be our final goodbye, sweetheart,” he tells me. “Sounds like your new master will be shipping you off to New York, so I’m not so sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
“I promise you will,” I snarl. “No way I’m letting you continue with this bullshit. You’ve sold your last woman—underage or otherwise. I will find a way to stop you.”
With a dark laugh he steps closer to run his fingertips down my back. “Your hero is minutes away from taking his last breath, and you’re about to be hauled a thousand miles away from here. I fail to see why you feel so confident that you can actually follow through with such a threat.”
“Hands off, she’s mine now,” a dark voice rumbles from the doorway.
The man in the three-piece suit saunters into the room, the threat he gave Dryden backed up by the dangerous glint to his beautiful blue eyes. There’s something behind the stranger’s gaze that makes me want to trust him, even though I know better after the first round with Dryden. And the man has a mouth that’s far too pretty for an asshole who gets off on buying women like property. From the way his muscles flex under the suit, it would seem he also has the kind of body that would make any woman wet on impact. What happened to the sadistic fuck that made him see woman as property? Does he not have a respectable dick to match the rest of his alluring features?
The man steps between me and Tatum, clamping his hands around our upper arms in a way that’s possessive yet oddly gentle. Comforting, even. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to be on my way,” he tells Dryden. “I’ve arranged for a presidential suite downtown to properly welcome these two, and we’re wasting my valuable time.”
Dryden shakes his head. “I’m afraid you’re not going anywhere until your debt’s settled.”
“I gave your man a certified check,” our new “owner” replies, his words clipped. “My bank in New York approved the transaction.”
“Cash is the only acceptable form of payment. You think I’m foolish enough to accept a check that can be traced?”
“I’m in town on business and only heard about this sale a few hours ago. You can’t expect me to produce that kind of cash on such short notice. I don’t see the problem here. I requested the check be made payable to The Four Brothers MC in the name of charity. If you have a problem—”
“As a matter of fact, I do have a fucking problem.” Dryden tugs me away from the man hard enough to bruise my arm. “You weren’t on the original guest list, Mr. Roberts. I find it highly suspect that you just happened to be in town on business and simply heard about this exclusive event. And on top of it, you have the balls to offer me a check for something that could land us both in prison.”
“Heyyyy…whoa!” A brown-eyed woman with long dark hair and blue ombre stumbles into the room, tugging at her worn Deadpool t-shirt like she’s either ready to strip down or pass out. “Am I—hiccup—interrupting somethin’? I was—hiccup—looking for the hot biker dude who—hiccup—wanted to hook up. Anyone in here—hiccup—seen ‘im?” Her eyes widen on the man in the three-piece suit. “Or maybe—hiccup—you’re up for a little fun, hot stuff?”
The man Dryden called Mr. Roberts lurches at our captor. Hardly a second later, Tatum removes the gun from Dryden’s jacket before he can react. “Girls, run!” she yells over her shoulder.
Confused by the sudden turn of events, I stand rooted in place, mouth slack as I watch it all go down. In a flurry of commotion, the other girls flee screaming, Tatum points the gun at Dryden’s head as Mr. Roberts wrestles him down to the floor, and the room fills with armed thugs that force the girls back inside.
“Tatum O’Connor, federal agent!” my friend yells, releasing the safety on the handgun. Her eyes don’t stray from Dryden, but she turns her head a little to the side, addressing the others. “Nobody fucking move a goddamned muscle! You’re all under arrest!”
Dryden grabs Mr. Roberts by the wrist, but doesn’t move as if gaging the severity of his situation. “This must be a fucking joke,” he says with a dry laugh. “If you’re with the feds, then where’s your backup?”
Tatum releases an amused smirk. “Don’t worry, they’re on their way.” She tips her head in Mr. Roberts’s direction. “Grab the phone out of his back pocket and dial nine-one-one. Tell them to send all officers on duty, and notify Cameron Berg of the ICE agency in Miami that one of his agents has uncovered a trafficking ring out of Tampa.”
“So they’re not on their way,” Dryden snickers. He thrusts his head back into Mr. Roberts’s skull and Tatum fires the gun into Dryden’s foot, creating a perfect hole in the center of his leather boot. With his anguished cry, I’m comforted by a warm rush of satisfaction.
“They’re on their way,” Tatum assures him. She glances over her shoulder. “Anyone else want to see whether or not this is a fucking joke, or do I need to put a bullet in your president’s heart to get my point across?”
The woman with the blue ombre giggles at Tatum, seeming all at once perfectly sober. “Damn, girl. You are bad—ass!”
Mr. Roberts’s deep voice quietly rumbles amidst the concrete walls as he relays Tatum’s instructions to the dispatcher on Dryden’s phone.
“Now tell your men to place their weapons on the ground and take a step back while we wait for the nice police officers to arrive,” Tatum instructs as she aims the gun at his head.
“You don’t have anything on me,” Dryden insists with a dark sneer. “At the most I’ll get a few months in prison. I don’t have anything higher than a misdemeanor on my record, and I have the money to hire some of the best attorneys around. Maybe I won’t even have to serve any time and just do a little community service.”
“That may be, but the delusional future you’re planning won’t be possible if you don’t tell your men to back away. Don’t force me to fill you with bullet holes.”
“You heard her,” Dryden tells them with a resolved gru
mble.
One by one, guns are dropped to the floor all around us, sounding like rain drops on a metal roof. When the woman with the blue ombre begins to slide the weapons away from Dryden’s goons with her foot, I decide her and Mr. Roberts must be part of Tatum’s undercover team.
As the man nearest me shuffles back obediently, I see an opportunity and don’t give it any other thought. Leaping forward, I snatch the man’s handgun and turn to point it at Dryden.
“What are you doing, ‘Lex?” Tatum asks. “I’ve got this under control.”
“No, you don’t. You heard him.” I brace my arms and release the safety. “He won’t have to do any real time when this is over. He won’t ever stop selling women for money, T. There’ll always be young girls that he can easily kidnap right off the streets and force to do disgusting things to perverted men who should have their dicks severed.”
When Dryden throws me an amused grin, it’s all the added motivation I need to pull the trigger, but somehow I hold off. “I’m not afraid of you, Alexa. You’re no different from the weak little girl I bought all those years ago.”
Tatum looks unable to swallow when she looks my way. I catch her gently nudging the fake buyer with her foot. “Grab a gun and find Michael. Tell him I need him here. Now.”
“Mr. Roberts,” or whatever the hell his real name is, releases Dryden then swipes a gun off the floor and disappears around the corner.
“Alexa, think about what you’re doing,” Tatum warns. “Is this piece of shit really worth the time you could end up serving?”
Still staring Dryden down, I nod. “As long as it means he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“Alexa, is it?” the girl with the blue ombre says, taking cautious steps closer. With a smile, she raises one hand in greeting. “Hey, I’m Phoebe. My fiancé, Jace—the hot guy in the suit that bought you—was in the Marines with MJ…er, Michael. It’s taking me a little extra time to catch up with everything that’s going on, but from what I’ve learned, Michael was recently let out of prison and the two of you have something going on. Am I right?”
I simply glance over at her for a second, trying to decide if she’s all there, or if she’s into some serious drugs.
“Okay, let’s assume that I am,” Phoebe decides with a casual shrug of one shoulder. “I can say from experience that it’s not worth jeopardizing your time with Michael over this butt nugget. Right after Jace and I found each other, we were separated by some brutal mistakes that were made, and the time we spent apart was excruciating. We’re talking fingernails being pulled off their nail beds kind of pain—not that I know, but I’ve heard that’s pretty bad. So if I’m right and you do love this Michael guy the way I think, don’t do something that could keep you from living your happily ever after with him. Let your friend and the police take care of the guy so you can walk away from here tonight as a free woman.”
Although I know she’s right, I still can’t help wondering if there’s any legitimacy behind Michael’s confession of loving me. And I’m not about to express my fears in front of Dryden and a room full of thugs.
“This has nothing to do with Michael,” I lie, quickly swiping at a lone tear slipping down my cheek.
“This has everything to do with me,” Michael disagrees, suddenly appearing behind Phoebe alongside Jack and Jace.
The second I look into my man’s beautiful green eyes, all the questions that have piled up since I began to learn the truth begin to fade away along with any doubts that we won’t survive this. My heart pangs with the truth I refuse to acknowledge. Despite my best efforts to walk away, I love Michael Harrison. And from the way he’s looking at me, I can only assume he feels the same.
Damn him.
18
Michael
Walking in on the sight of Alexa holding a gun to Dryden’s head was a total mind fuck that I don’t have the capability to handle. I literally clamp down on my tongue when I’m ready to tell her to pull the trigger and put an end to the sick fucker’s miserable existence. After all, she served in the military, though not in combat. She’s strong enough to handle whatever consequences would come out of it. But there’s no way I’ll stand back and watch as she’s hauled off to prison.
“Put the gun down, Alexa,” I plead instead, slowly shuffling toward her. “Everything that has happened tonight is my fault. If anyone deserves to pull the trigger and face punishment for his death, it’s me. If I hadn't been a selfish prick worried about getting my revenge against him and Rambone, he would’ve been in prison years ago after he murdered my mom.”
Alexa’s back becomes rigid with the revelation, but her eyes don’t leave mine.
“You don’t have any proof that I ever laid a finger on her,” Dryden snarls. “But I did everything in my power to ensure the prosecutor put you away for stabbing my brother.”
“Didn’t have to touch him,” I say with a shake of my head. Flexing my fingers into fists, I turn to face him. “His own fucking daughter hated him even more than I ever did. She was pissed that he kicked her mom out without offering any money or the help she needed to get clean. He knew she’d die on the streets, one way or another. Kerissa spent her childhood listening to Rambone bang club whores in the next room, day and night, while she tried to raise her little brother on her own. She was convinced it was Rambone’s fault that Kalvin died from an overdose since he wasn’t a real father to either one of them. She blamed him for the death of everyone she loved.
“When I found her that night, standing over him with the bloody knife in her hand, Rambone was already dead. There wasn’t anything that could be done to save him at that point, even if I wanted to, so I helped her instead. Kerissa might be fucked in the head, but Rambone made her that way. I never really loved her, but she was like family—the kind that doesn’t fuck you over. She didn’t deserve to spend life in prison on top of her shitty childhood.”
Dryden’s eyes narrow. “You expect me to actually believe your bullshit story, MJ?”
“I couldn’t give a shit less what you believe,” I growl. “It was stupid to let you live as a free man all this time. I should’ve told someone the night I heard you and Rambone talking about my mom’s murder…how you wanted her gone because you thought she’d tell my old man and Jack about the illegal shit you were running through the club. The cops wouldn’t have tried to pin the murder on my old man, and he wouldn’t have tried to kill himself. And you sure as hell wouldn’t have gotten your hands on my girl or any other woman, you sick fuck. I made too many mistakes, and it’s time to fix them. You’ve run out of second chances, Dryden.”
Moving in behind Alexa, I brush my lips against her ear while setting a hand against her back. She shivers beneath my touch before slightly melting into my chest. “Give me the gun, baby girl. I can’t fucking stand the thought of you throwing your life away because I failed to handle this the right way. I love you too much to let that shit happen.”
The slow whine of sirens from far away begin to ping through the warehouse, and Alexa’s shoulders break with a quiet sob. “He didn’t just ruin your life, Michael! He ruined mine too! And countless others! If we let the police take him out of here, it won’t be long until he’s free to ruin more!”
“I know, baby,” I whisper, moving my hand up her back to massage her neck. “But I can’t let you be the one to stop him.”
“Neither one of you will be going to prison on my watch,” Tatum tells us over her shoulder. “I promise you both I’ll do everything in my power to make sure he stays locked up long enough for his cellmates to properly punish him for everything he’s done.”
Again Dryden snickers, making it almost impossible not to finally kill him by any means necessary. “Think again, sweetheart.”
Seeing a flash of metal at his side, I wrap Alexa in my arms and begin to twist my torso until she’s out of harm’s way. Multiple gunfire becomes deafening over a burst of shouting and screams. It all happens so suddenly that I can’t be sure who’s shooting, an
d if anyone’s shot. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’ll die before I let anything else happen to Alexa.
When I feel a sharp sting graze my back, I wonder if I’ve made my final wish.
“Michael!” Alexa screams as I fall to my knees, bringing her down with me.
Fuck me. Was I really shot?
Just like with the Taser, I’m unable to move, speak, or virtually do a goddamned thing. Except this time there’s an immeasurable pain spreading through my body as if someone ripped my guts from my chest. The metallic tang of blood fills my mouth when I cough. Alexa kneels beside me, cradling my face in her hands. Tears stream down her cheeks as she repeats my name over and over, begging me to answer.
My eyes slide from her beautiful face to the flicker of red and blue lights against the warehouse ceiling.
Within seconds, my heavy eyelids close and everything muffles until it’s silent.
Waking to the sight of my girl at my side, squeezing my hand, I’m convinced I’ve died and moved on to somewhere my greatest fantasies can come to life. Hair returned to its natural dark color, white button-down shirt showing a hint of a lacy bra…even her face is glowing like an honest to God angel. And when her blue eyes find me and she smiles this heart-stopping, gorgeous smile that steals a moan from my throat, my mind is made up.
This has to be heaven.
Then I register the beep of machines and fluorescent bulbs over her head.
Guess I didn’t die after all. The dull pain in my back should’ve been another tip.
“About fucking time,” she mutters with a drawn-out huff.
In a blur she’s on her feet, laying a soft, gentle kiss on my lips. My burning lungs fill with her floral perfume until my dick’s painfully hard. The soft hum she makes deep in her throat releases something feral, and my vision becomes hazy.
As her lips linger, preparing to pull back, I grunt and thread my fingers through her hair, bringing her back down to my lips. No way in hell I’m letting her leave me again.